Healing a Burned Soul

I recently went to see Joshua at Sight & Sound Theatre, and I walked in expecting a powerful production—but I didn’t realize I was walking into a moment of conviction. Every production Ive been to at Sight and Sound has left a lasting impact but this one hit in the season I am in. Not loud. Not overwhelming. But quiet. Deep. Personal. There was a line that didn’t just stay on the stage—it followed me out, settled into my spirit, and hasn’t left: “Lord, help me trust You here.

Shalom… and welcome. It has been over 100 posts since I welcomed people so I wanted to jump back. Not just to words on a page, but to something I believe the Lord Himself has breathed into existence. Before anything else is said, let this be clear—this space, these words, this story… none of it belongs to me. Every ounce of it is the Lord’s. Every piece of healing, every moment of endurance, every breath that carried me here is a testimony of His mercy, not my strength. For y

We were sitting in a circle at a seminary—men and women, many of whom had walked through incarceration, all carrying different stories, different burdens, different pasts. And then there were those of us who had come from college for a week of missions. Different worlds, brought into one room. One by one, we made simple statements. “I’ve traveled outside the country.” “My favorite color is blue.” “I’ve been arrested.” After each statement, we tossed a spool of yarn across the