Can I be brutally honest? Life hurts. Sometimes we pretend it doesn’t. We paste a smile on our face and go about daily tasks with the pain silently locked inside. Only God sees the bleeding of our hearts. But are we meant to grieve alone? Is pain supposed to be hidden? My family is broken.
“Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.” I have given a great deal of thought to these words from the book of James recently. It is not always easy as a college student to think the
I used to find my identity in my introversion. I was naturally shy in high school, and I needed something unique to set me apart in high school when my personality had not fully developed and I was insecure. I thought that introversion would be what set me apart, that it made me creative and
At the beginning of Christmas Break, I went to Washington, D.C., with some friends. As you’d expect in a big city, we saw several homeless people. Occasionally, they would walk up to car windows to beg. That’s always a difficult situation. Awkward. Also as you’d expect, people avoided eye contact and sped away as soon
“The poem we read gave an interesting description of snow melting,” Jeremiah said to me. “It was beautiful, I guess, but it didn’t ask me to do anything. So I don’t see why we had to read it.” I don’t think Jeremiah understood how much he had said in those three sentences. But those three
Have you ever pulled up to a drive-thru window to find that the person in the car in front of you had already paid for your order? When I worked at Starbucks, I was always surprised when someone would start a “pay-it-forward” chain. The next person would pull up to the window, try to hand
On Christmas Eve of 1914, British troops, entrenched along the front lines of World War I, heard singing in enemy German camps. The song they heard was “Silent Night, Holy Night.” In a rare moment of unity between warring parties, the British joined the Germans in song from their own trenches beginning the famous “Christmas
I’m white. I have never understood what it is like to be an African-American. Or Latino. Or Asian. Or Indian. The truth is, I will never fully understand what it’s like to be anything but white. So I have to make an intentional effort to understand what it’s like to be an ethnic minority in
Sometimes people like to tell me about Mozart, the genius who started composing musical pieces at the age of 5. Which is true. He would sit at the piano and play while his father would copy his new pieces down. When he was 5, he wrote three pieces within a few weeks. I am pretty
Pornography. This column just got awkward. That word itself can bring out a nervous laugh, a slight blush or—more likely—awkward silence. “Silence” is a word that too often describes the conversation about pornography. Although its prevalence in our society is nearly epidemic, most people don’t seem to want to talk about this problem called pornography.