no passport required…

no passport required…

There was a time in life when I thought a good spiritual life and understanding of missions was valued by how many stamps I had in my passport. To say that I built a house in Mexico, or held a baby in Kenya, or fed the homeless of South America seemed like a great way...

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being married to a missions pastor…

being married to a missions pastor…

What living with the Mobilization Missions Pastor looks like: Matt: Did you know the lotto is up to 453 million dollars? Me: No way! Wow, maybe we should play. Come on, it’s only one dollar! Matt:  Why? What what you do if you won 453 million dollars? Me: Oh muh...

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stand by me…

There’s a time in life when friends can take you to places higher than you thought you could ever go. For Charlotte and Jonathan, that’s exactly what happens. In this amazing clip about the duo, you see how—even in hurt or pain—they stand by...

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katniss, freedom, and faith…

katniss, freedom, and faith…

To anyone who knows me, I live for stories. My perfect day includes sweat pants, a salad from Chipotle, my bed, and a good book. But there comes a time when a book, a series, a plot line, or story reel you into a land you can actually believe you belong in. A land...

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catalyst west coast…

catalyst west coast…

Oh it’s that time of the year again! Yes, the time when amazing leaders, teachers, and entrepreneurs gather in sunny Southern California for three days of amazingness. I’ve blogged about Catalyst before, but I every year there’s new elements that...

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virgin diaries, kissing, and chewing…

The din and chatter of singles seeking significant others, waiting for the proverbially One, and kissing dating goodbye is deafening. People talk about singleness like it’s disease, or worse, like it’s a death sentence. Both married and non-married people...

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living in a city of regret…

living in a city of regret…

I had not really planned on taking a trip this time of year, and yet I found myself packing rather hurriedly. This trip was going to be unpleasant and I knew in advance that no real good would come of it. I’m talking about my annual “Guilt Trip.” I...

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broken…

broken…

Today I made a boiled egg for a breakfast.* In my haste of trying to get out the door, I placed my egg into a clear baggy and raced out of the door. By the time I reached the office, pulled out my laptop, and placed my lunch on my desk, I realized my boiled egg had...

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what do you want…

what do you want…

We sat in folding chairs as the room emptied out. Her story was tragic and broken and gut wrenching, like so many women today. Absentee father, addictions, a financial cycle from wealth to poverty to wealth to poverty. We went from one story to the next about her...

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I’m a writer and teacher in love with two men: Jesus and my husband, Matt. [You might not find this funny, but I laugh at myself, so it all balances out.]

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