I am not a saint. I am, however, beginning to learn that I am a small character in a story that is always fundamentally about God.

In observing the Sabbath, one is both giving a gift to God and imitating Him.

Some days I am not sure if my faith is riddled with doubt or whether, graciously, my doubt is riddled with faith.

The only other person I have fallen in love with that way is Jesus, and I hope that goes more smoothly. I hope I remember, when I'm bored with Him, and antsy, and sick of brushing my teeth next to the same god every morning, I hope I remember not to leave Him. I am not so worried that He will leave me. The Bible, after all, is full of stories about God sticking with His Bride, no matter how stiff-necked and prideful and unfaithful she may be.

I feel annoyed that in His wisdom, [God] chose to reel me in with middle-brow Christian fiction. It could be worse, I suppose. I could have come to faith while reading Left Behind.

I am not a saint. I am, however, beginning to learn that I am a small character in a story that is always fundamentally about God.

I doubt; I am uncertain; I am restless, prone to wander. And yet glimmers of holy keep interrupting my gaze.