“Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing’” (Luke 23:34). These words have often unsettled me. I understand the first part, “Father, forgive them.” But then comes, “They don’t know what they’re doing”?

The morning air is cool, still heavy with the hush of dawn. The desert stretches in every direction, dry and rugged, its dormant sands waiting for the heat of the day to rise. Inside the tent, the silence is different — thicker, heavier. You take a breath.

“Jacob left Beersheba and set out for Haram. When he reached a certain place, he stopped for the night because the sun had set. Taking one of the stones there, he put it under his head and lay down to sleep” (Genesis 28:10-11). Here’s to those who have reached a “certain place.” There’s nothing special about this place. It just

“But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us” (2 Corinthians 4:7). Homemade ravioli. Sunday sauce. Stuffed artichokes. These dishes and more composed the many spreads of one of my favorite and most vivid childhood memories: Sunday gatherings in

The inception of the holiday season here in the U.S. is signaled not by the first snap of autumn chill or falling leaves but by the decor section of your nearest big box store. Summer’s grip has barely loosened before the ubiquitous marketing machinery sets into motion advertisements, jingles, scents, and flavors

"Mykolaiv...Mykolaiv...There, I found it." One year ago, I was zooming in on Google Maps to locate the city where Karina last told us she lived. It was in southeastern Ukraine. A port city. My shoulders sank. This was an area of contention in the then beginning stages of the war. My wife and I had been unsuccessfully

“But why?” If you’ve raised children, you’re familiar with this innocent, yet sometimes dreadful, question. Before becoming a parent, I thought I would always have reasoned answers to my kids’ “But whys?” We’d engage in thoughtful conversations on human

It was a spring morning like any other for my wife, Kathy and then two-year old son Eliah: playtime at the local park. Our son was enjoying himself in the sandbox, when another little boy showed up with his mom. As the boys got busy playing, the moms exchanged small talk. Kathy immediately noticed the jogging stroller and running clothes. “Are