Tag Archives: Bereavement

come through

What Do I Do When It Seems God Hasn’t Come Through for Me?

What Do I Do When It Seems God Hasn’t Come Through for Me?

  How do I continue trusting Him when my dreams have fallen apart? Have you ever asked these questions? Surely, we all have. Because life is tough and unpredictable and rarely happens the way we plan. When my twenty-one-month old daughter, Haven, was diagnosed with malignant brain cancer, these were the question scrolling through my

One Plot or Two

Editor’s note: Kayla Stoecklein is a voice of compassion and hope for those oppressed with the mostly-taboo topic of suicide. It’s a delicate issue, one haunted by shame and fear, and one that needs to be brought into the light of God’s grace. In Fear Gone Wild, Kayla shares her and Andrew’s story but above

Cherish Today

Cherish Today

Stop Wishing for the Next Season of Life and Start Living Today’s Tell me if this sounds familiar. You’re seventeen years old, a senior in high school, and all anyone can ask you about is where you’re going to go to college and what you’re going to major in. You finally choose a college and

The World’s Worst Neighbor

That’s me. I’m terrible at neighborhood stuff. I’m aware of this. I don’t like it, and I’m trying to change it. Because I’m socially awkward, the last thing I ever want to do is strike up a conversation with the guy walking in the apartment next door. I’ve got nothing to say. I’ve even practiced

Relentless: A Prison

A God who is with you in your doubt ~ John Flavel, Late minister of the Gospel at Dartmouth It was my third trip to the airport in four days. And I had at least a half dozen more coming up in the days to follow. The day after traveling home from a conference and

Journey into the Fire of Surrender

For He will be like a refiner’s fire or a launderer’s soap. He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver; He will purify the Levites and refine them like gold and silver. — Malachi 3:2-3 The embers glowed as the blacksmith stoked the fire. One callused hand held a piece of metal to

Home For Christmas

I pulled my five-year-old closer to my chest and planted a kiss on the top of her head. I was reading about the memorial services for the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting. My daughter Lenya was sitting on my lap, snuggling me. We had nicknamed her “Lenya Lion” for her ferocious personality

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