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Last October, my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer. My mom came upstairs and sat on my bed to share the news with me early one Saturday morning when I was home for a weekend visit.

My heart sank, not only because my aunt is one of the strongest, most vibrant women I know and has already been through enough, but also because I had been long ignoring a sizable lump in my own breast.

Have you ever put money in a vending machine and then had the bag of chips get stuck? It’s an infuriating experience, and hardly matters that I’ve only lost about 50 cents. I put that money in the machine and I expect to get my chips! So I will do whatever I can to get my snack unstuck: stick my hand as far up the delivery slot as it will go; kick, shake, and rail at the machine; and in general make a fool of myself. But usually, there’s no getting those chips out.

We are all different. We have different physiques, intellects, and temperaments.

Let me be blunt: Jesus is not your superstar. He’s not going to bring glitter or glamor or bedazzle your life. He’s not here to entertain you. He’s not here to make your life more convenient or more comfortable.

In saving our lives through the cross, Christ conferred a value upon them. How are we to spend ourselves?

I am a best friend gal. I love my best friends—my tribe of women! One of the many reasons I loved being in a sorority and on sports teams is that they gave me more time to hang out with my best friends. (And yes, I have plural best friends.)

We invite you to reflect with countless Christians around the world on these beautiful words from early church father John Chrysostom as part of your Easter celebration.

Are there any who are devout lovers of God?
Let them enjoy this beautiful bright festival!

Why is Good Friday, well . . . good? Even a casual acquaintance with Good Friday observance suggests it ought to be called Sad Friday, Bad Friday, or God Is Really, Really Mad Friday. (Sorry—I couldn’t resist the Dr. Seuss allusion.) The question remains, however: why call it Good Friday when the events are so horrifyingly bad? 

There I was, almost 25 years old, hugging a toilet bowl in the middle of the day

Why am I here? I want to be on campus, ministering to my students. I want to be seeing people come to Jesus! Healing! Miracles! Life transformation!

Instead, I was scrubbing a toilet in an assisted living home.

In this crucial moment, kneeling on the bathroom floor, resentment swelled in my throat and stung like bile.

What’s the difference between a haircut and an amputation?