Dear Mr. Abercrombie & Fitch, Nobody likes you anymore. You messed up. You said that you only want the cool kids wearing your brand. You don’t want to sell clothes to anybody who doesn’t fit your ideal of sexiness. You said some dumb stuff, and now your image is hurting. Now there’s a video going around the internet where some dude is giving a bunch of your clothes to homeless people, just to stick it to you and your exclusive ideas of “coolness”. (Just between

Last Thursday I skipped breakfast and had pizza for lunch. I had pizza for supper too, if those stale circles of hard dough anemically sprinkled with cheese and sold shrink-wrapped and frozen can be called “pizza”. I wish I could say this sort of behavior is abnormal for me. It’s not. My diet all too often resembles that of a foraging goat; I eat everything I can get my hands on (so long as it’s full of protein, carbs, and salt) and wash it down with copious amounts of co

Earlier this week I wrote about how the internet is full of beautiful friends that we’ve never met. Caroline is one of those friends. I love this story, and I think you will too. There’s so much of what she’s written here that resonates with my own heart. It’s about everything good and beautiful in the world – Jesus, a honeymoon, freedom, and the beach. Enjoy!  -Micah __________________ Those of you that know me know it is rare to see a picture of me engaged in some

I love the internet. I know, it’s bad for me. Staring at a screen all day will prematurely glaze my eyes. Typing too much on my phone will result in gnarled, misshapen thumbs. My attention span is already shot. Eventually the internet will swallow me whole. The internet is not only ruining my own body and mind, it’s ruining our society too. Back in my day, kids played outside and got skinned knees. Friends were a thing you had in real life, followers were called “stalkers”

“I believe that somewhere, somehow, you’ve heard the music. Distant or close, you’ve heard the song of your belovedness. It’s a song of unrestrained joy, a song of hope and belonging. A song that calls you into the future. Can you even imagine what it would be like to dance the dance of children, the dance before innocence was lost?” – Prototype I can’t remember now where I first heard of Jonathan Martin. Looking back, it seems as if he’s always be

God, sometimes I feel  like I’m not a good Christian in Your eyes,   like You’re a Father disappointed in me,  frustrated, wishing I would do more, be more,  and I wonder are You proud of me? Am I a good Christian?  Do I make You smile? I don’t want to fail.  I don’t want to disappoint You.  and sometimes I feel like I’m  not as spiritual as I used to be.  I’m afraid that I’ll slip away from You,  slowly fade and become lost. I don’t want this. Can I stop trying to earn Your love?  Can I stop tr

I have a dream. I’m at a park, or a convention, or at the White House, and he’s there too. I wait around for the chance to talk to him for a moment. When he sees me, I hug him. I tell him that even though I don’t like all his policies and stuff, I love him. I apologize for all the terrible things people say about him all the time. I ask if we can take a picture together, for me to put on Facebook. Then I wake up, disappointed that it was just a dream. I’ve had this dream

“Brothers and sisters, you can be free!” The words came fast and rushed up from inside my heart. I hurried to write them down, driving on the freeway scrawling nearly-unintelligible phrases on the nearest scraps of paper I could find. That was a month ago. Now I’m sitting here on this cold Wednesday morning when one cup of coffee is not nearly enough, and I have trouble believing my own words. You can be free. It’s the hope, I think, that has kept me walking forward. That

Warning: There’s a heartbreaking, disturbing image in this one. I was going to write something different today, but I don’t want to anymore. This has been a terrible week, and the words I was going to toss into the air would have felt empty and worthless in the whirlwind. So instead you get this – scattered thoughts and reflections about our shattered world, penned by cold fingers at the end of a terrible week. _______________ Twitter has changed us. I think that there was once