I was going to say the last several months have been quite a battle, but honestly, the last five years in Costa Rica have been a battle. What’s been the effect on me?

We are living on a coffee plantation. Most weekday mornings, the small crew of coffee pickers come through the gate, dragging along their nine and eleven-year-old children to play while they pick.

Whenever I browse social media, I consistently see posts about “the only 5 magical things that can do everything better…” #clickbait

Seven years ago, my life changed. We added a dog to our family. The idea of getting a dog was not mine.

I was a little naughty.

My college roommate, Troy, was visiting me in Pennsylvania from his home in North Carolina. I had just started getting to know a cute girl (who I later married.)

I was speaking with a church that has been without a staff worship leader for nearly a year.

Yesterday, I was battling low-grade anxiety for most of the day.

Read these lyrics written by a 23-year-old slowly and prayerfully.

Losing our normal, hurts. We had rhythms. We had reasonably certain expectations. How should we, as worshiping Christians, grieve our loss of normalcy?

What am I taking to heart?

I received this question from a deeply frustrated worship leader:  “How do you lead worship when you’re feeling down and discouraged and your heart feels like a brick even when you’ve spent the whole week praying for a change and your brain rebels and refuses to stay focused on God and keeps reverting to your insecurities and fears and even though you’ve practiced until your fingers have permanent ridges and the songs run through your head like an endless soundtrack and things still don’t happen the way you practiced them?”

I got together with some friends and had seven gifts I wanted to give them. These gifts would provide a backdrop for testifying about what God had been doing. It was a real encouragement for us, and I wanted to bless you with those things.