As a child, I lived Denver, Colorado for several years. Bungalows and Tudor-style homes lined our block. Each home had a front porch and it wasn’t uncommon for neighbors to visit each other on cooler spring and summer evenings. There were advantages and disadvantages. On one hand, we knew who
God doesn’t need me. He doesn’t need my love, praise or loyalty. He doesn’t need my time, money or obedience. He doesn’t need my mega-church, micro-church or sermon. He doesn’t need my worship song, mission project, or leadership. He doesn’t need anything from me. For many years I felt I
I met over 20 young, international pastors back in 2006. They came to Dallas Theological Seminary for a month to attend classes, stay with host families and to encourage each other. Those who were able to host and interact with these men saw a true glimpse of what the universal
I admit . . . I’m a protective father. I’m sure people have seen me in public hovering near my 2-year old as she runs around doing what toddlers do best. Playgrounds heighten my protectiveness. If Haley Joel Osment’s character saw dead people in The Sixth Sense, I see accidents
It’s Monday morning in America . . . did you get the recommended 8-9 hours of sleep last night, pop up at 5:30 a.m., give a high-five to the morning and whistle the tune of “It’s going to be a great day”? Did you have a two-hour “quiet time”? Are
