The Ghost in the Blind Spot
I have a habit of checking my rearview mirror five times before a lane change, just as I’ve spent weeks scouring European forums before buying a single camera. This obsessive need to triple-check every detail makes the command to "walk by faith and not by sight" feel like a steep, misty climb for a man like me. If you’ve ever felt like your "what if" imagination is a ghost in your blind spot, you might find comfort in the fact that God treasures the cautious Thomases just as much as the bold Peters.
The Eight-Cent Tragedy
I still remember the crushing disappointment of watching my eight-cent Eskimo Pie slide off a crooked stick and melt into the hot Texas concrete. We like to think we outgrow that kind of envy and loss, but as the years pass, the price tag just gets higher and the "shiny red cars" of life leave us just as hollow. If you find yourself stuck in a cycle of always wanting more, come read why a posture of gratitude is the only real cure for a lifetime of small tragedies.
All Our Needs
I stood on a deserted stretch of road by the Houston Ship Channel, staring through the glass at my keys hanging in the ignition of a locked car. Just as panic started to set in, I looked down and found a pristine wire coat hanger sitting in the gravel exactly between my shoes. It felt like a minor miracle, but it taught me a major lesson about how God’s quiet providence meets our needs before we even think to ask.
The Millionaire I Never Was
I was seventeen years old when a man in a sharp suit convinced me I’d be a millionaire by the time I hit thirty. I spent years chasing that low-hanging fruit, only to realize much later that falling short of that goal was one of God's greatest kindnesses to me. If you’ve ever felt like a failure for not reaching your youthful ambitions, come read why the "richest man in six counties" usually doesn't have a million dollars in the bank.
The Interest Rate on Worry
I’ve heard it said that worry is just interest paid on trouble before it’s even due. My father, a child of the Great Depression, carried invisible scars that made him approach every day like a burn victim eyeing a flame—always bracing for a disaster that rarely came. If you’ve spent your life "catastrophizing" small setbacks into imaginary wars, come read why borrowing peace from the future only leaves you bankrupt today, and how to finally silence the whisper that asks if God is really going to take care of you.
The Ghost of “If Only”
I spent years listening to a voice on the radio tell me I had missed my window, convinced that a mortgage and a family had made my dreams impossible. At thirty-two, I found myself delivering pizzas and feeling like God had shipwrecked my life, only to realize that "if only" is a ghost that doesn't know how to tell time. Whether you’re facing a broken relationship or a career that feels like a dead end, come read why there is simply no such thing as "too late" when a sovereign God holds the calendar.
The Great Spectacle Hunt
I spent fifty years wearing glasses because of a third-grade scheme that backfired, only to end up after cataract surgery as the very man I used to laugh at—the one with reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. But misplacing my spectacles on top of my own head taught me a lesson about spiritual drift: having the truth nearby doesn't help much if you aren't actually looking through it. If your perspective has felt a little blurry lately, come read why a closed Bible is just like a pair of lost glasses—and how slowing down to see things God’s way is the only path to real peace.
The Longest Walk
I remember the sting of feeling like an unwanted consolation prize at a church retreat, sitting at a side table while the room buzzed with laughter I wasn't part of. Decades later, I found myself standing in another dining hall, faced with the choice to either join my comfortable circle of friends or pull out a chair for the man sitting all alone. If you've ever felt the pull of the "easy" conversation over the call of compassion, come read why the longest walk we ever take is often just across a crowded room.
Beyond the Deepest Seas
You know the feeling — a wrong you committed surfaces out of nowhere and sits on your chest like a stone. You'd bury it if you could. But how deep is deep enough? The Titanic rests two and a half miles beneath the Atlantic, and the world still found it. Challenger Deep drops nearly seven miles, and even that's not far enough. The nearest star beyond our sun is 25 trillion miles away — still not enough distance to outrun what haunts you. But God didn't ask you to bury it. He already carried it farther than east is from west.
When the Doctor Closed the Door
I sat alone in a cavernous surgery waiting room, watching a cheerful episode of I Love Lucy that felt like a cruel joke against the silence of the hospital. I was only twenty-one years old when the surgeon finally walked in, his face tight with the kind of news that shatters a young man’s world in a single sentence. If you’ve ever felt the "mud and mire" rising around your feet, come read how a Gideon’s Bible and a steady hand helped me find solid ground when I had no strength left of my own.