I’m not a theologian, nor do I care much for religious rhetoric.  In fact, I really wish I didn’t find myself muddling through so much frustration regarding religion and church related issues.  I wish I could just sit back and enjoy this time of still being in between churches, but stepping outside of one local body has continued to affect my view, bringing clarity and challenge. Often, when you stay in one place, under one teaching for an extended period of time, though the teaching can be wonderful, your view of the… Read More

Across from me, on the sofa, sat someone I considered a close friend, I tried to absorb her words.  “Pastor committed adultery.”  At the time, my fragile faith easily shattered.  I fully trusted no man, as I uncovered time after time the betrayal in my own memories that I had stuffed inside out of survival.  I struggled to process what she told me.  A small amount of trust in our pastor had been built over time, but now the crashing and burning of it imminently loomed.  What was my friend’s motivation?  Was… Read More

Leaning over the side of the bed and tilting the alarm clock towards me, I read the time for the fifth time that night, 3:30 a.m. Wide awake again. After losing my last child in an early miscarriage, weeks of insomnia had set in. “Will I ever sleep again, Lord? Please help me rest. I can’t do this anymore.” My tears wet the pillow. You will rest in me dear one. The familiar voice soothed my fears for a moment. I released a deep sigh, scooting my back against my husband’s for… Read More

My friendship with the Holy Spirit began when I was a teenager. Before that, I knew Jesus as my savior, but not as my friend. At the time I met the Holy Spirit, my life had been turned upside down, inside out. My parents divorced, my mom remarried: from Baptist to Pentecostal, from severe abuse to a new man in the house. I quit high school my freshman year, because of health issues, yet found myself forced to return to school, spending most of the first few months of my sophomore year… Read More

Cars, semis, pick-up trucks, and motorcycles zipped around us in a game of Russian roulette. At least that’s how Atlanta traffic feels to me. Yet, to our far left, the cars glided with ease at great velocity, speeding out of sight unhindered by the weaving, honking, frustrated drivers around us. “What’s that lane?” our new driver in the family Sarah, inquired. “The Palmetto Pass Lane,” her father said. “You pay a fee that gives you permission to travel down that lane.” As my husband spoke the words, another voice echoed in my… Read More