Storms are part of life. Some of them we see coming, and we have at least a little time to prepare. Others seem to come out of nowhere. One phone call, one diagnosis, one accident, one conversation, one loss, and suddenly life doesn’t look anything like it did the day before. When we hear the word storm, we usually think of dark skies, thunder, lightning, and strong winds. But some of the hardest storms we will ever go through happen inside of us. Grief, trauma, fear, anxiety

I've been thinking about this week's revival. Not because every question I had was answered, but because it left me with new questions. I think that's one of the ways God works. Sometimes He doesn't overwhelm us with information. Sometimes He plants a seed that keeps growing long after we've left the church. As I think about everything James Cowan shared over those three nights, one theme has stayed with me. Now faith. It wasn't just a phrase he repeated. It was the thread th

"She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: 'You are the God who sees me.'" Genesis 16:13 There are moments in life when you don't just feel broken; you feel invisible. Grief has a way of doing that. The phone stops ringing. People go back to their routines. Conversations become normal again. Before long, it can feel like everyone else's life has picked up where it left off while yours is still standing in the rubble. Hagar knew that feeling. She was an Egyptian servant

Sometimes I think we underestimate the power of our church family. Hebrews 10:25 says, "Not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching." As you see the Day approaching. Every single day, we're one day closer to seeing Jesus. Let that sink in, every single day. That means every single day the enemy is fighting even harder to pull us away from Him. Not always in obvious ways, either.

If you've ever met someone who always seems to have it together, you've probably learned that appearances don't always tell the entire story. Some of the deepest wounds are the ones no one can see. They don't come with a cast, stitches, or a scar. Instead, they show up in sleepless nights, anxious thoughts, unexpected tears, or the constant feeling that you're just trying to make it through another day. Maybe you've been there yourself. The truth is, every one of us has menta

Suicide changes everyone it touches. Family members, friends, coworkers, classmates, first responders—every person carries a different kind of wound after a suicide loss. Today, though, I want to share the journey through the eyes of a mother. I lost my oldest son, Coty, to suicide in 2014. Even after all these years, I remember that day with perfect clarity. In fact, I remember the day and a half leading up to it just as vividly. I remember our last conversation. My mom and

People have asked me before how I can still believe in God after everything that has happened in my life. After the losses. After the funerals. After watching people I love struggle and suffer. After losing my son, my brother, and my mom. After grief changed me in ways I never imagined it could. And honestly, I get it. Because there were moments I asked that very same question. There were nights I sat in complete silence, and other nights I screamed and cried in anguish, tryi

There’s something unique about sibling loss that is hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. It’s a grief that often goes unseen, tucked quietly into the background while life continues moving around you. But losing a sibling changes you. It changes the history you carry, the memories you hold, and the future you thought you would share. I lost my younger brother in 2013 when he was only 37 years old. There were five years between us, and from the very beginning, our story sta

There is a particular kind of grief that can come after losing someone who lived with a long-term illness. For months, or maybe even years, you may have lived with the awareness that this day could come. You may have watched their health change, adjusted to new realities, and tried to prepare yourself for the possibility of saying goodbye. And because of that, some people assume the grief will be easier. They may even say things like, “At least you knew it was coming.” But kn

There are some kinds of grief that carry questions alongside the pain. When someone we love dies by suicide, the heartbreak is often tangled with confusion, guilt, and a thousand unanswered thoughts. Many people find themselves replaying moments in their mind: Was there something I missed? Could I have said something different? Should I have known they were hurting that deeply? These questions can echo loudly after a suicide loss. Unlike other kinds of grief, suicide often le