We live in a world that often forgets how to grieve. This past week, following the sudden passing of a Senator Lindsey Graham, my social media feed filled with a sobering reminder of just how insensitive people can be. Amid the standard news reports, there was a steady stream of callousness—phrases like "good riddance" and "no loss there."

"Being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ." — Philippians 1:6

In his letter to the Galatians, the Apostle Paul gives us a direct command for our daily lives:

Most days, I don’t think much about what I wear. I have a style I love—cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. It’s comfortable, it’s traditional, and quite frankly, it’s just me.

Psalm 23 is arguably the most famous piece of poetry in human history. It is printed on coffee mugs, framed in hallways, and read at gravesides. We know it so well that we can recite it from memory without actually hearing what it says.

Recently, I’m having one of those seasons where life doesn't just feel busy—it feels heavy. Lately, I have found myself hitting my recliner at the end of the evening, absolutely spent. Between the deeply emotional work of caring for aging parents, walking a terminally ill pet through their final days, keeping up with the wonderful chaos of grandkid activities, staying faithful to church ministries, and just trying to keep the day-to-day household chores from piling up, the demands are overwhelming.

We are masters at muddling the middle ground.

If you’ve ever found yourself in a high-stress situation, you know it has a funny way of revealing what’s truly inside us. Pressure doesn't form our character; it squeezes out whatever is already there.

In the summer of 1858, Abraham Lincoln stood in Springfield and issued a warning that echoed far beyond the halls of government: "A house divided against itself cannot stand." We often read these words as a lesson in history, but they are more accurately a lesson in the anatomy of the human heart. We spend years trying to inhabit the middle ground, convinced that a neutral heart is a safe heart.  But neutrality is a myth.

Last week, we talked about the necessity of Taking Action. We established that while God reveals the path, we are the ones who must take the initiative to put one foot in front of the other. But what happens when we can't see around a bend in the road?  Do I trust the Creator of the path or do I stop and look for another route?

We’ve all been there. We stand at a crossroads in our lives—maybe it’s a decision about a career, a difficult relationship, or a nudge to step into a new area of service—and we pray for one thing: Clarity. "Lord," we say, "just show me the path. If I knew exactly which way to go, I’d take it."

This blog shares insights from my research on Isaiah 30:20-22, which states, "And though the Lord give you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, yet your Teacher will not hide himself anymore; your eyes shall see your Teacher, and your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, 'This is the way, walk in it,' when you turn to the right or to the left. Then you will defile your carved idols and say to them, 'Be gone!'"

"So you also must reckon yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus."  Romans 6:11

I don't know about you, but I often feel like somebody else is in control of what happens to me every day.  I'm not a control freak by any means, but I don't want life to happen TO me.  I would much prefer if I had some control over life.  Is that realistic?  What does God tell us about that?