Today, I wanted to share a simple, comforting meal inspired by foods that would have been common in Jesus’ time — not bread, not lentils, but fish, olives, herbs, figs, and honey. Foods from the Sea of Galilee region. Foods of everyday life.

Have you ever watched the trees on a breezy day? Leaves dancing. Branches bowing. Hair blowing across your face like it has somewhere important to be. You don’t see the wind. But you sure see what it does. No one stands outside and says,“Well, I can’t see it, so I refuse to believe in it.” That would be… windy nonsense. (Yes, that is now a theological term.)

Have you ever sat down to pray and thought…I want to talk to God, but I don’t even know where to start. Your mind feels crowded. Your heart feels tired. And the words just won’t come. If that’s you, let me gently tell you something very important: You are not bad at prayer. You are human. And God understands that. Prayer is not a performance. It’s a relationship. And sometimes, relationships grow the most in the quiet moments when words are hard.

There’s something about cold weather that makes us crave food that feels like a hug. Not a polite side hug… but a full, blanket-and-socks-and-you-don’t-have-to-talk kind of hug. Enter: chili. Faithful. Reliable. Always shows up when things get chilly — kind of like God, honestly. Whether you’ve had a long day, a long week, or a long season (you know the kind), this is the kind of meal that says: sit down, breathe, and let something warm you from the inside out.

Have you ever had one of those moments where something inside you just… wakes up? Not because life suddenly became perfect. Not because all your problems packed their bags and moved out. But because, in the middle of ordinary days and unanswered prayers, you felt a quiet nudge that said:There’s more. And God is closer than you think. That, sweet friend, is often where spiritual awakening begins. Not with fireworks — but with a whisper.

Have you ever felt like your faith was… tiny? Not absent. Not gone. Just small. Quiet. A little shaky around the edges. The kind of faith that says, “Lord, I believe… but I’m also kind of scared.” If so, you’re in very good company. Because when Jesus talked about faith, He didn’t point to something massive and impressive. He pointed to something small.

The phrase “born again” can feel loaded. For some, it brings to mind awkward conversations, loud debates, or a version of faith that feels more like pressure than love. For others, it’s a phrase they’ve heard their whole life but never fully understood. And for many, it’s quietly stirring a question they’re almost afraid to ask: Is there really a way to start over? Jesus’ answer is yes. But maybe not in the way you’ve been told.

If becoming a Christian meant we instantly stopped messing up, never said the wrong thing, never lost our patience, and always responded with perfect grace…✨ church parking lots would be the most peaceful places on earth ✨(and yet… here we are). So when we read: “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”— 2 Corinthians 5:17

There are a lot of things competing for our attention these days. Our phones buzz. Our tabs multiply. Our “just one more scroll” turns into thirty minutes we’ll never get back. And yet—there is something sacred about opening a book. Not tapping. Not swiping. Not being interrupted by a notification telling you someone you barely know just posted lunch. Just you. A story. And the quiet presence of God meeting you right where you are. Reading has never been obsolete.

There was a time when I never thought twice about what was in my makeup. If it smelled nice, worked well enough, and fit the budget, into the basket it went. I didn’t question ingredient lists I couldn’t pronounce, or why my skin felt irritated after using certain products. I didn’t connect my daily habits with my faith. But eventually, after 3-bouts of cancer between my teens and 20's, a quiet nudge began to surface. Not fear. Not guilt. Just awareness. As Christians, we’

One of the most beautiful truths of our faith is this: our Father in Heaven is a healer. Not distant. Not stingy with grace. Not waiting for us to get everything right first. He is close, compassionate, and deeply invested in our wholeness—body, mind, and spirit. “I am the Lord who heals you.” — Exodus 15:26 And here’s the part that often surprises people: through Jesus, we’ve been invited into that healing work ourselves. Wait, what? We can heal? Read more on healing.

I thought I would mix things up today and bring you a sweet little recipe to try for you and your family. KEY INGREDIENTS FOR MOIST PUMPKIN MUFFINS

BUYING WITH CARE What we put on our skin matters. What we clean our homes with matters. Who we choose to buy from matters. And yes—even what a product is called matters to me. I’m a reader. I’m a label-turner. I’m the person who wants to know what’s in it, where it comes from, and what the company stands behind. Is it good for me? For my family? For the planet? Not because I’m perfect or extreme, but because my faith and my values don’t clock out when I’m shopping.

Humility is often misunderstood. Many think it means shrinking yourself, downplaying your gifts, or walking quietly so no one notices you. But biblical humility is not about becoming smaller — it’s about becoming rightly aligned. To be humble is to know who you are because you know whose you are.

Gratitude has a way of softening the heart. It slows us down long enough to notice what has always been there—God’s steady hand, His quiet provision, His goodness woven into both the beautiful moments and the hard ones. Today, I’m writing from my heart about gratitude—not the polished, picture-perfect kind, but the daily, practiced, sometimes tear-filled kind that whispers, “Thank You, Father,” even when I don’t fully understand.

If you’ve ever wished you had a little more clarity—a little more confidence in what God is saying, or a little more wisdom in the choices in front of you—you’re not alone. Every believer, no matter how long they’ve walked with God, has moments where they wonder: Is this God’s voice… or just my feelings?I s this decision wise… or am I being pulled by emotion? Is this situation okay… or is something off spiritually? This is where discernment comes in.

Yes! They appear in Scripture more than once. The most famous moment? Esau traded his birthright for a bowl of lentils. Genesis 25. Imagine being SO hungry you give away your family destiny for soup! (I get it… lentils are good, but Esau—buddy, choose a sandwich or something.)

Have you ever caught yourself thinking something about you that you would never, ever say to another human being? “You’re not good enough.” “You can’t do this.” “Everyone else is better.” I have. Many times. And if I’m honest, there have been seasons where what others said became louder than what God said about me. Just like Julia Roberts said in Pretty Woman: “The bad stuff is easier to believe.” But friend—that was never the truth. Words matter.

Miracles. God has never stopped speaking, healing, or revealing His power. Throughout the centuries, there have been countless miracles—some quiet, some public, some recorded by eyewitnesses who had nothing to gain by lying.

Here’s the beautiful, complicated, hope-filled truth: **No—WE don’t heal ourselves. But yes—God may heal THROUGH us.** We are vessels, not the source. When Jesus said that faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains (Matthew 17:20), He wasn’t giving us a superpower. He was giving us confidence in His power. When Jesus healed, He often said:“Your faith has made you well.”Not because faith healed them, but because faith connected them to the One who could.

Prayer.It’s the daily friendship God desires to have with you—the kind where you can show up in your slippers with messy hair, coffee breath, half-awake, offering up a simple, “Good morning, Lord,” and He beams like you just gave Him the greatest gift.

If Satan rebelled, why didn’t God just get rid of him? Why allow him to linger? It’s a fair question—and a deeply human one. We feel the weight of spiritual battle. We see the brokenness. We long for peace. So why does God allow the enemy any space at all? The Bible gives us beautiful clues that point to God’s love, His justice, His eternal plan, and His perfect timing. As we walk through Advent—the season of longing, waiting, and hopeful expectation—this truth becomes even m

Thanksgiving is a beautiful holiday because it brings out something tender and true in us. It’s the one of the two days a year where the world seems to collectively pause, take a breath, and say, “Okay, let’s remember what actually matters.”

Anxiety has a way of lying to us. It whispers, “You’re stuck. You’ll never be yourself again. You’ll always feel this way.” But the Word of God speaks a greater truth: “Fear not, for I am with you.” (Isaiah 41:10)