I used to look at my stretch-marks and c-section incision and see a wrecked and worn body. Yet because I know that Christ too bears scars, even in Heaven, I can look at my own as a beautiful manifestation of his self-sacrificial love in me.
I’m very excited to announce that I’ve signed with The Good Book Company to publish my first book. A global publisher with locations in the US, UK, Australia and New Zealand, their authors include Tim Keller, John Piper, Albert Mohler, Matt Chandler, Trillia Newbell, and many other household names. Their books are distributed throughout the English-speaking world and translated into over 40 languages across the globe.
Dear Jenn is a new blog series in which Jennifer will be answering questions from her readers. This week’s question is from a gentleman in Australia who asks: “My friend has PTSD from his father passing away from cancer. They were very close and he’s been having panic attacks, nightmares, and episodes of severe depression. His family is Christian, but …
Human emotion is complex. We are created in the image of a complex God and the emotions we feel – though corrupted by sin – are like his fingerprints on our hearts. In this damaged and dying world each of us experiences abuse, betrayal, abandonment, loss, or heartbreak. How do we cope in a Godly way?
My mom knew that my dad was a pervert with a violent temper who never apologized for anything. She thought that if she submitted to him and was a good Christian wife, he would eventually become a good Christian man, repent of his sin, and love her. Her background included catholic, charismatic, and reformed doctrines, and there was a copy …
There were many times, particularly when I was a teenager and young adult, that I took great solace in hymns. Some seem to think that’s a bit odd. I suppose it is unusual for a teenager to gravitate so strongly toward “old-fashioned” music. However, the lyrics of hymns tend to be much more rich, thoughtful, and profound than your typical …
I had hand-drawn cards from my kids, a bottle of wine and roses from my husband, but I felt I couldn’t fully appreciate them. Mother’s Day just wasn’t about me. There was an emptiness that could only be explained by the hole that was left by my mother.
Because, no matter how smart, strategic, or passionate you may be, you have been sent out as sheep among wolves.
I stole his gun. I hid it, unloaded and wrapped in a towel, in a box of chintzy craft supplies, knitting, and fashion accessories I’d accrued as a teenager. It was the last place he’d look. I left the ammo in his dresser drawer. It was my way of mocking him, as if to say, “I’ve taken your power, but left the bullets so you can play marbles with them.”
In a dramatic piece published by The New Yorker, author Rebecca Mead refers to, The Passion of Emma González, comparing the plucky teen girl to Joan of Arc, and by implication, Jesus Christ. While the writer no doubt intends the saintly veneration of González, she is contributing to the psychological crucifixion of these children.