In Gennesaret

It’s one of those things that you are embarrassed about later, even if you really shouldn’t be. When I got home from a play Saturday night, I went into my bathroom to get ready for bed and saw the door to my walk-in closet was shut. That may not seem weird to you, but it was to me. In fact, that was my exact thought: “That’s weird. Why did I shut the door?” Because I almost never have a reason to shut that closet door. It gets better. I reached out to open the door to put my shoes away, and the door was locked. Y’all, I didn’t even know that closet door could lock. “What the heck . . . how in the world did I . . .?” I looked the knob over and messed around with it for a while. There was one of those little pokey-hole things (forgive my limited mechanical vocabulary), and I started looking for a paper clip to poke in there and get the knob unlocked. All the while I’m thinking, “How in the world did I accidentally lock this door? I mean, I never even have a reason to touch the kno

It’s one of those Bible stories that you’ve heard a million times if you grew up in the church. It’s at the end of Mark 4: Jesus calming the storm. But Alistair Begg preached on the story the other day on my way to work, and I was reminded once more that the Word is “living and active . . . discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” God has already used the calming the storm stories in a mighty way in my life (thus the name of this blog -- you can read about that  here ). So, I  was  listening to Brother Alistair with a calm smile. Yes, yes. He calms our storms. Hallelujah, thine the glory. Jesus saves, Jesus saves. But then Alistair took a detour that was new to me. Although we may wonder, he said, why the Lord allowed this sudden storm, perhaps it is more profitable to ponder the things that we know are not reasons for the storm. For instance . . .  The storm did NOT happen because they were being disobedient. Jesus specifically told them, “Let’s go over to the ot

I post the following with great trepidation. And it saddens me that I have to be so afraid. How did we get to the place where we can’t disagree without being mean to each other? I have NO intention to use this blog as a political platform, but I am aware of the scope of my audience here. I may speak now and never speak on the matter again . . . but I’m not sure I’ll be able to live with myself if I don’t speak up at all. So . . . here we go. ----------------------------------------- Having lived in Sioux City for a few years, I have many friends in Iowa – people whom I love and respect. People who are very likely Republicans. People whom I expect to be voting in next week’s caucus. So, I’m making a passionate plea to you, my hawkeye friends: if you intend to caucus for Trump, please reconsider. Let me start here: You’re reading this post written by a friend whom you also love and respect (I hope). A friend who I would guess agrees with you on most policy issues and probably share

Ann-Margret gave me the idea. In her regular weekly email I subscribe to, she shared with us that this year, she was making resolutions that were doable and enjoyable. “Use more stickers.” “Bake more cookies (and then give them away).” Things that were easy to accomplish and that would add joy to her life. Oh, I like that idea. I am a Planner to the core of my being. I set goals, make lists and charts, with sub-lists and outlines . . . New Year’s resolutions are right in my wheelhouse. But she’s right that those kinds of resolutions often start feeling like the critical schoolmarm, shaking her finger at you about all the ways you are failing and how you need to whip yourself into shape. My shape does indeed need some whippin’ in a few areas. However, I am actually more likely to act without the necessary enforcement of the whip if I’m in a rested, joyful state to begin with. I can pass up the extra dessert if I don’t feel like I need it to boost my sagging energy a bit. I can tackle