A shepherd pauses to listen intently for any strange sounds coming from the pasture. Slowly, he scans the far edges of the field for dangers lurking in the darkness. He’s not frightened; being a watchman is a normal part of protecting the flock. But tonight is not a normal night

Our behavior was never the basis for our Father’s love. That was settled at the cross when Jesus suffered, died, was buried, and rose again. At salvation, we exchanged our self-righteousness for His righteousness. We are seen as spotless. We’re His beloved.

There are moments in life when love feels distant—when you’ve lost your footing, your strength, or your sense of who you are. Yet it’s in those moments that the relentless love of Jesus shows up most clearly. His love doesn’t wait for us to have it all together; it meets us right in the middle of the mess, the diagnosis, the heartbreak, and the questions. I know that love intimately. It has been my constant companion, my teacher, and my lifeline. In March of 2023, I received

The Lord displayed His grace by bringing these lives together: one with a broken heart, the other abused and homeless. He knows that in this life, we will go through trials and heartaches. But He promises, through Jesus, to deliver us out of them all in victory and with strength. His love is so great that He will reach out in answer to a simple prayer—even bringing an abandoned little dog to a man’s doorstep to help ease the pain of a loss.

There are sons and daughters, husbands and wives, grandchildren and loved ones who have lost their way in a dark and broken world. Confused and wounded, many are searching for refuge in all the wrong places—places that lead only to deeper pain and despair. Some turn to drugs, alcohol, or destructive relationships in a desperate attempt to fill the emptiness inside. Others chase identities that were never meant to define them, living in lifestyles that mask deeper wounds.

If you’ve ever felt unseen at the table, weighed down by the ache of rejection or the sting of family dysfunction, I want you to hear this truth from my heart to yours: God’s relentless love can heal what feels unhealable—and even more, it can restore generations.

For any born-again believer who asks God for something in accordance with His will, they receive His word (or promise). And as they faithfully stand by that promise, without focusing on their situation, they get to see it manifest in their physical life.

These two, grit and grace, become the way we walk out relentless love in daily life. Not perfectly. Not flawlessly. But faithfully, one surrendered step at a time.

This is a deeper well. A place of yielding, where we lean into the flow of the Holy Spirit and move with courage and faith. God is awakening an attentive spirit in His people, a sensitivity to His voice and a boldness to obey it. This isn’t just about moving mountains in our lives; it’s about shifting generations through prayer, faith, and fire.

We must lay what we’re carrying down at His feet and leave them there. Then there will be nothing to keep us from getting close to Jesus as we abide in Him. There is a woman in Scripture who shows us how she laid her burdens down so that she could abide, fully engaged, at the feet of Jesus. Let’s do Bible study!

So many tears. I never knew a person could cry as long or as often as I did in those first weeks after discovering my husband’s secret struggle with porn. The tears showed up without warning—in the shower, in the car, in the dark hours of the night when sleep wouldn’t come. I was sure the pain would stop once he fixed himself. After all, it was his fault we were in this mess. I told myself my healing would come when he finally got his act together.

I never imagined this path would lead me to selling my art. I never imagined strangers would want to hang my work in their homes. Today, I create one-of-a-kind pieces, each infused with emotion, faith, and inspiration from the natural world. Every painting tells a story. No two are the same, because every piece is a reflection of a moment — just like that quiet morning under the bay leaf tree.

You’re working. You’re obedient. You’ve said yes to the call of God on your life. You’ve launched the thing. You’ve poured out your heart. You’ve stewarded what He gave you with excellence… and yet? The invitations aren’t coming. The stages aren’t opening. It feels like everyone else is being noticed—but not you. I know that season. I lived that season.

The practice of abiding may take time, but it is so worth it! It can transform your life.  Are you ready to accept the invitation?

As we approach the second half of the year, let us reflect on Ephesians 3:14-20. I pray we remain rooted in love—for ourselves and for others—standing firm in faith, led by God’s Spirit, and energized by His power as we bring Him glory through our words and actions. No matter the challenge, crisis, or storm, each day—as Christ followers—in every human interaction, we have the opportunity to be a light in the darkness.

“Just rest in the Lord,” my best friend mumbled into her coffee cup as she scooted out of her chair to leave the cafe. I had just confided in her about a situation at work that was worrying me. It felt good to vent to a trusted friend, and as I gathered my belongings to follow her out, I felt better cathartically, superficially, but did I really feel better?

The slow cadence of small, white-capped waves slides against the sand, rolls over beach wood, and washed-up stones. Between horizon and water, there isn’t much difference between the blues. Wisps of clouds hang in the azure sky, mirroring the sparkle of the lake with a shimmer of its own. My legs stretch, weight shifting on a driftwood log lodged with sand as I take my time exhaling a long-kept breath

Many of us even heard those pointed words growing up: “Shame on you,” accompanied by a wagging finger. Raised to be a good, obedient, nice girl, you re-double your efforts, especially with God, to silence the shame.

For so many years, I tried to manage a life of constant busyness. My pace was rush, rush, rush — day in and day out. It felt like all I did was shuffle my kids around, toting them to-and-from private school, a 25-minute commute each way. For several years, when they were on different schedules, I drove this path back-and-forth several times a day. Five years of this wore me down.

I still remember the moment I had to face that question myself. It was my 43rd birthday, and I was in so much pain—physically, emotionally, spiritually. I had been struggling with chronic autoimmune diseases for over a decade, visiting specialist after specialist, while slowly watching my health, my relationships, and my joy fall apart. I was overweight, in constant pain, emotionally unstable, and spiritually weary. I had withdrawn from friendships. My marriage was strained.