When fear and pain shake our hearts, trusting God can feel impossible. In this devotional, I reflect on Psalm 56:3–4 and share how surrendering our fears to Him—even in the hardest moments—can bring peace that holds steady.

<p>When concrete is freshly poured, it is smooth and unbroken, but over time the ground shifts, the weather changes, and cracks begin to form. Left alone those cracks can widen, letting in rain and cold, and eventually weakening the whole foundation. The same is true of people.</p><p>Life wears on all of us. Stress, loss, disappointment, and seasons of struggle leave fissures in hearts and relationships.

This week, death has been heavy on my mind. The tragic crash of the UPS plane and the stories of those who barely made it out alive shook me. Then I learned that a former pastor I knew had passed away. On top of that, my son in law's grandmother continues to battle cancer and other medical issues, and her struggle reminded me of my own mother and grandmother and how they faced their final days.

Every weekday for the last four years I’ve driven to work in Louisville with a kind of background soundtrack: the distant rumble of jets overhead. Whether I’m caught in traffic, merging on I‑264 into I‑65, or simply looking up at the sky as I pass the fairgrounds or the football field at U of L, the planes are there. Like the wind, like the hum of the city: familiar, constant, expected.

We live in a world quick to divide people into us and they. Yet as Christians and Masons, we are called to something higher. Christ draws others to the light, and Masonry teaches us to keep that light burning. Us must include even those we see as the problem, or it is no longer us at all.

When someone explodes in anger, lists every past mistake, then demands silence in the name of forgiveness, healing cannot happen. Forgiveness releases bitterness, but reconciliation requires honesty, accountability, and love. God never asked us to ignore pain. He asked us to pursue peace and truth together.

She stood there, marked by time and cancer, yet more beautiful than I had ever seen her. Not because of what remained unscarred, but because of what she had survived. It was a kind of beauty you feel with the heart—quiet, resilient, and sacred. And in some small way, my love for her only deepened, silent and known only to me.

Christian supporters must evaluate leaders by God’s standards, not fear or politics. President Trump may hold office, but claiming he is God-anointed misrepresents Scripture. Courts, ICE actions, and rhetoric reveal the difference between law, morality, and political performance. True faith requires discernment, justice, and care for the vulnerable.

After seeing posts mocking SNAP users, I have to ask — what the hell is wrong with you? Most recipients are kids, seniors, or disabled. Real fraud is under 2%. Jesus said, “Feed the hungry.” Mocking the needy isn’t Christian. Rethink your words, your faith, and your compassion.

Scripture 1 Peter 5:8-9 (NIV) Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. Reflection When I read these verses I am struck by how concrete Peter's warning is.

Archie Bunker and George Jefferson were more than sitcom characters—they were reflections of America’s struggle with race, power, and progress. Decades later, the same issues still shape our news, music, and entertainment. From All in the Family to The Neighborhood, we’re still confronting what was and what is.

October 28, 2024, Matt fixed the brakes while Dad, weak from strokes, watched. He found a rusted screw bit, gently set it down, and smiled. Simple moments like that now feel sacred. Forty-seven days later he was gone, 101 days before my wife asked for a divorce.

Rodney Dangerfield once joked, “Don’t talk about yourself so much. We’ll do that when you leave.” Aaron Burr told Hamilton, “Talk less. Smile more. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.” Both lines, one comedic and one dramatic, point toward an ancient truth found in Scripture and Freemasonry alike: real strength is shown not in how much we say, but in how we live.

This Thanksgiving, while many prepare to feast, others face empty plates because of political games and public cruelty. As social media mocks the poor, it’s time for Christians to take a stand. Jesus didn’t call us to ridicule those in need—He called us to feed them, love them, and see Him in their faces.

When love ends by choice, it feels like the cruelest kind of death. I used to scoff at Tennyson’s words about loving and losing, because when someone you love walks away, those words feel empty. Yet in my pain, I’m learning that divine love—God’s love—never fails, even when human love does. It’s what keeps me from being lost completely.

The deepest wounds don’t always come from the world—they often come from the people sitting next to us in church. I’ve been broken by the very body meant to bring healing, yet I’m learning that even in the pain, grace still whispers. The Church may fail, but Jesus never does.

People love the idea of knowledge but few are willing to pay the price to gain it. We cling to comforting stories, like the polished version of Thanksgiving, because they make us feel good. But when the truth challenges what we’ve been taught, many reject it. Real knowledge demands humility, and wisdom requires us to face uncomfortable truths. Without that, all we have are myths that divide instead of understanding that heals.

Depression isn’t just sadness — it’s a fog that traps you inside your own mind. Each day becomes a quiet fight to survive, to make it one more night, one more breath. This reflection shares the raw reality of living with Major Depressive Disorder, the struggle with overeating, and the quiet power of simply staying alive when everything feels impossible.

Today was one of the hardest days of my life — the day my divorce papers were filed. I was too drained to even complain, but then a quote from Dr. Robert H. Schuller appeared in my feed: “Tough times never last, but tough people do.” Had it come from anyone else, I might’ve ignored it. But his words — simple, hopeful, and real — reminded me that storms don’t last forever, and neither will this pain.

A heartfelt reflection on a complicated relationship with my father, memories both cherished and painful, and the longing to hear his voice one more time.

A heartfelt letter to my lifelong friend Miranda — my sister’s childhood companion, a brave survivor, and a shining example of courage and grace as she faces another round in her battle against breast cancer.

Yellow journalism once filled newspapers with half-truths and emotional headlines, but its spirit didn’t die with the printing press. Many news outlets — and even parts of the Church — still feed on sensationalism. This reflection looks at how that mindset has woven itself into Christian culture and how we can return to the quiet, steady truth of the Gospel.

While watching the Coral City Camera to keep my screen from timing out, I was unexpectedly drawn in by the graceful way fish seemed to soar through the water — a quiet reminder of God’s beautiful design in creation.

In 2019, I wrote A Virtuous Wife while recovering from two strokes, clinging to Proverbs 31 and the hope that love could heal what was broken. Six years later, life looks very different. The marriage I once celebrated is over, but the lessons remain. I’ve learned that virtue isn’t only found in another person — it’s also found in the courage to forgive, to grow, and to walk with God when everyone else is gone.

Growing up on five wooded acres taught me to love the quiet adventure of the countryside. Each fall, I searched for puffball mushrooms, never realizing how much they mirror our Christian lives. Like the puffball, we may look healthy on the outside, but only when examined closely do we see what’s really growing within.