Next Chapter: By No Means!

New Beginnings

Rebecca, I didn't wake up one day suddenly aware of my sin.
It took your courage to name reality — and to walk toward help, even if I didn't follow.
You told me you were going to counseling. That I could come if I wanted — but you were going no matter what.
I didn't realize it at the time… but that moment would expose everything I had been hiding.
I didn't come to change. I came believing I was right.
But God began to break through.
Not all at once. But enough to begin the death of who I was pretending to be.
This week, I want to honor that moment — and the line you were brave enough to draw.

The Invitation

Next Monday evening, just after my game,
there's space again for worship — quiet, unnamed.
At Stocksdale Park, beneath open sky,
no performance, no pressure — just drawing near why.

We meant to go last week, and life came instead —
and so we went where He gracefulyl lead.
So we'll try again, it will be alright —
just another small step into stillness and night.

Elijah won't meet us when we arrive,
but He is with Christ, and fully alive..
And like David said, in sorrow still true -
“I'll go to him”… and in worship, we do.

Come if you're willing — no script, no demand —
just your heart, and your steps, and an open hand.
We won't forget. We'll remember and sing,
to the God who still holds him, and holds everything.

The Clue

I thought I was guarding myself.
But really, I was guarding a lie —
that I was fine,
that you were the problem,
that my shame was strength.

And I wore that like armor.
Controlled, careful, unflinching.
Even before God, I managed the image.
I thought insight was repentance.
I thought pain earned me a pass.

But then truth came —
not in a flash,
but as a sentence I couldn't explain away.

The next chapter waits
in the place someone finally said it,
and I couldn't pretend not to hear.

.stillchoosingyou.love

Relational Reaches

I'll be sitting with Romans 6 for a few minutes tonight — just reading, not studying. You're welcome to join me if you'd like.

I'm planning to make breakfast for the family Saturday morning — slow, peaceful, no rush. There's a seat for you at the table if you want it.

I'll be driving to small group on Sunday. No agenda — just a quiet ride together. You're welcome to come with me.

I'm setting aside time Monday for a simple lunch — just the two of us, no expectations. I'd love for you to join me if it feels right.