Several months ago, as I was returning to work one afternoon, I noticed there were no cars at the drive-thru of a local coffee shop – where there is always a line. So I decided to swing by and take advantage of this rarity, plus I had a gift card, so even more reason to do so.   It had already been a particularly difficult day, and I was emotionally depleted, so this unexpected treat was quite welcomed.  If there was anytime I could use a little pick-me-up, it was certainly now.

There are times in life when you find yourself in the middle of a desert place. Perhaps you got there because you lost your way.  Perhaps you made a series of wrong turns.  Or perhaps you made just one wrong turn.

“I can’t take it anymore!  God, please take this!” These were the words I silently prayed a few months ago as I stood at the kitchen sink while chaos was unfolding around me, which was part of a series of interrelated and increasingly difficult circumstances that I had encountered over the past several years.

I was raised in church.  My dad was a pastor, and throughout the years, I saw a lot of good in church … but I also saw a lot of bad.  A lot of hypocrisy.  Not from my parents and not from everyone, but from many people in the church-going community.  In my experience, instead of love and grace, much of all the church goers offered was judgment.  The very people who were supposed to show the love of Christ and to extend lavish grace and forgiveness were instead the ones to pass the most judgment and condemnation.