I bought books that year. Piles and piles of missionary biographies. A Chance To Die. Jungle Pilot. Evidence Not Seen. The Little Woman. These Strange Ashes. They stacked by my bedside and I immersed myself in the lives of men and women who gave up everything for the sake of Christ. I learned. Words from Nate Saint…
Her hair was tossed in a crooked pony-tail, the torn pink jacket slung carelessly over her shoulders. Her knock on the door was timid. When I opened the door she sent me a gap-toothed smile and I would have given them anything they asked for. Becky and Tommy. Neighbors. Eight years old. And in desperate…
God had worked miracles. Moved mountains. And I was still stressing over money. I stared at my eight-fifty an hour paycheck and the mortgage book in my hand and my calculating mind couldn’t make it work. I wish I could say that I trusted, I wish I could say I knew, but I didn’t. I fretted. Forgot…
My faith was small. It could not be compared to even a mustard seed. Perhaps more like a chive seed. A fleck of black on your palm. Too small to hold between your fingers but visible. I was working every day at the bank at four-corners in the center of town. The one in the…
I was eighteen. I braved the storms so expertly. I faced the sorrows so bravely. I proclaimed so very loudly that the God I served calmed wind and waves and I had no reason to fear. It was true but I didn’t really know it. There was head-knowledge that had not turned into heart-knowledge…
I was fifteen the first time I stepped foot into another country. The blistering heat, the half naked children running the streets, the stench of open sewers. It ruined me. Shook the core of my American idealist mentality. Left my soul thirsting for truth. I promised myself, right there on those dust covered streets, that…
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