How blind we can be in our own folly, holding the knife in our own backs as we desperately search for the assassin.
There are nights like tonight where I feel that the words are just stuck inside me, begging me to make sense of them.
What if we began to speak life into the darkness? What if we began to invite others to share their stories, to share their fears, to share their dreams, to share their doubts, and to share their hopes?
God has a strange way of showing up in the wounds and light always finds its way through the dark.
There are days when hope arrives in a gentle whisper, while despair screams from the rooftops; but these momentary feelings do not have to define who we become.
How many times have I lost out on a dream, an activity, a relationship, or an spiritual moment because of my destructive thinking? How many times have you done the same?