I’m thankful for a lot of things; some are obvious – like Cheri’s willingness to go for 54+ years of marriage with a knucklehead, and my God-given victory over leukemia, and an amazing downline of kids/grands who are honoring God with their lives – but others are less so. Here’s one: I was never notable

When was the last time you got a Standing O? It was great to be in church yesterday. Our pastor took the time – early in the service – to ask the folks in the auditorium who had served in any branch of the military – Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, Coast Guard – to

So, here’s a grand-prize question for an offbeat gameshow: who was a more successful performer in their respective field: John Paciorek, or Paul the Apostle? You must to click through to find the surprising answer… You already know that I’m setting you up to invest the next five minutes into a meaningful take-away. Between Paciorek and

Follow the Money. The quote comes from the script of the movie, All the President’s Men; it came from a conversation between Bob Woodward – the investigative reporter from the Washington Post who, with his writing partner Carl Bernstein, broke the story on Watergate – and Deep Throat, the alias used by the secret informant

Every week, my Monday missive hits 8000+ in-boxes; our “read rate” is pretty high. I always invite a reply/response; most don’t take the time to talk back. Bud Hancock is the exception… Bud is an iconic figure in Redding, California (check him out: LinkedIn) He’s a wise sage; still engaged and engaging. He’s got a

It’s mid-October; the numbing effects of American life are reaching into the stability of souls, every waking hour. Shut-downs; tariff tsunamis; wars in Ukraine and Gaza; Nat’l Guard troops on assignment to bring order: are you feelin’ it yet? Will pro baseball’s end-of-season play offer any relief? The effects of World War I were still

Let’s close the doors and windows and shut off the cameras and microphones. We need to create a virtual saferoom for the next five minutes and talk turkey about our Sunday morning neighbors. This isn’t gossip; it’s something far more crucial than cranky banter about mediocre minutia. What’s up? Almost four years ago, my health

The fact that you’re reading this – and, that I’m sending this – means that Joshua Mhlakela – a self-described “born again believer” in South Africa who is not a pastor, apostle or bishop (his self-descriptions) didn’t have the date right. He’s become quite the world-wide-web celebrity over the last few weeks, since appearing on

Shattered. Fractured. Disrupted. Fragmented. Splintered. Split. Ruined. Destroyed. Those terms are all capable of turning joy into sadness and lament when applied to something that was originally intact, but is now broken, seemingly beyond repair. Deep grief assumes that the disintegration is irreversible. That informed diagnosis is an honest assessment of our American culture, c.

Now hear this: it’s personal. And, to the degree that it’s personal, it’s not subject to scrutiny or substantiation by anyone else. “The truth” has given way to “My truth.” Facts that are universally and objectively certain are no longer the basis for thinking and believing. The traditional oath administered to a witness in a