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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 __________________

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. Friend

“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 f

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 bec

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. T

“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 c

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 te

Note: This post is written as a response to some of the ideas contained in a blog post by Derek Rishmawy. My response is strongly filtered through my own experience, and the shared experiences of others in similar situations. Derek has been so kind as to comment, and point out some mistakes I’ve made in this post. I certainly failed to clearly differentiate between Rishmawy’s words and those of Keller. I

“But one last thing,” she asks. “How has Jesus dying on the cross healed you?” A bunch of words bounce through my head, and I’m not sure what to say. We’ve been discussing atonement theory for the better part of an hour, but those phrases are just a bunch of words now. Theological phrases fall flat in the empty spaces between incomplete stories. I know all the Bible verses; I’

Warning: I’m going to talk about physical and verbal and sexual abuse.  I used to be a big fan of talk radio. I used to drive around Minneapolis in my beat-up two-door Cavalier with a McCain sticker on the back, jamming out to the sweet sounds of Glen Beck and Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity. I used to think the Tea Party was awesome (after all, who WOULD want higher taxes?). I used to think that the liberal age