Our dads and our moms and our pastors and our theologians need to be mindful of the actual blight that is actually afflicting most of our gardens and the entire countryside all those gardens are situated in.

Stories tell us what the world is and what we are in it, and stories, like the men who tell them, can lie while still being entertaining.

Part 2 of a serial story of a Christian with a problem. 

To say it had started nine days ago with the dream, the nightmare, really, would be true but misleading.

He’d wrestle with the kids in the front yard if it was summer or go inside and read them a story if it was winter, always careful to turn the pages of the book with a paper towel since he hadn’t washed his hands yet. That could wait.

Certain kinds of memories didn’t have long lives in Sunbury. So no one truly knew about what happened out under the trees.

I started with that simple question concerning old stories of graveyards and missing bodies. By the time the story had thoroughly unfolded, it held older questions, along with the men and women of a town called Sunbury who had to ask them on a few nights in the 1800s, when everything was at stake.

Children see themselves in stories. All people do, but the thing that makes this something to be accounted for especially in children is that the stories haven’t hardened yet.

The Conclusion of a Serial Story of Repentance

Part 4 of a Serial Story of Repentance

Part 3 of a Serial Story of Repentance

Part 2 of a Serial Story of Repentance

Part 1 of a Serial Story of Repentance

The world felt a little different for my children last night.

When a man has been thoroughly ensnared by the conspiratorial mindset, reason and the use of logic are no longer the primary tool being used in constructing his view of reality.

Without men, the world would be a wild and desolate and nameless place.

The beauty of femininity is a million miles deep. It stretches down to the bedrock of this glorious, buzzing, humming, thriving, groaning world.