A Broken Little Heart

I have a friend who, a few years ago, stopped believing in the same kind of Jesus that I do.

“In you and you and you, and in me, and sun and sky,” she would say, pointing to each with frustrated enthusiasm, conflicted that others didn’t see or experience the freedom of believing in her God, or at least in some kind of god who was, and is, and is working in everything.

She was an existentialist, perhaps, or an earth mother, although I don’t believe she’s read Kierkegaard or is a listener of Krisha Dass. Neither label would even half capture what kind of person she is, though I would like to acknowledge that this is true of most labels.

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Artist Highlight: Adam Whipple

Don’t listen to Adam Whipple’s new record if you’re going through something hard. I mean, seriously, don’t. Don’t listen unless you’re ready to work through those complex, deep-down feelings inside you. But, if you are ready, then oh, boy; The Broken Seasons will deeply reward you.

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Me and Rich and Jesus

I was in my parents’ kitchen when I heard the news. It was twenty years ago, but I still remember standing in the tight space between the fridge and the stove, surrounded by the warm browns of the tiny floor tiles and cupboards, thinking that a light was gone. Rich Mullins had died.

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Good Grief

“Life is pain, highness” says the blue eyed Westley to his fair Buttercup in The Princess Bride. “Anyone who says differently is selling something.”

But most of us would rather listen to a salesman than Westley; because pain is, well, painful, and we prefer to ignore its thorny role in our lives.

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