A reflection on the professor who challenged my assumptions, demanded more than I thought I could give, and helped shape how I think, argue, and believe. Remembering Dr. Thomas Kotulak and the lasting impact of a teacher who refused to let his students settle for easy answers.

We spend a lot of time talking about the justice of God, debating it and pointing to it when the world feels like it is falling apart. But Paul’s warning in Galatians is aimed straight at the heart. The real question is not whether we believe in God’s justice, but whether we truly live under it and what is stopping our involvement in the life of the Spirit.

Watching two quarterbacks kneel in prayer during a national championship game raised an uncomfortable question: what happens when both sides ask God for the same thing? From football fields to political divides and even the Civil War, this reflection explores the danger of assuming God takes sides, and the harder truth Scripture reveals.

Turning pain into purpose sounds spiritual, but what happens when suffering does not produce anything measurable? This final post examines why faith is not proven by productivity and why Scripture makes room for grief that never blooms.

“Drink the lemon juice” sounds more honest than forced positivity, but it still places the weight of suffering on the one who is hurting. This post examines how silent endurance is often mistaken for faith and why Scripture never calls us to suffer alone.

“If life gives you lemons, make lemonade” sounds wise, but what happens when suffering is too bitter to sweeten, too deep to optimize, and too real for slogans? This post examines why forced positivity often fails and how Scripture invites us to sit honestly with our pain.

“If life gives you lemons, make lemonade” sounds wise, but what happens when suffering is too bitter to sweeten, too deep to optimize, and too real for slogans? This post begins a four-part series examining why popular Christian catchphrases often fail us in moments of real pain and how they can quietly distort our understanding of suffering and faith.

Matthew 6:21 asks a question I was not sure I knew how to answer. Where is my treasure? After everything I have gone through, the honest answer feels unsettling. What I once held close is no longer around. I know Jesus is not talking about houses or possessions, but that only makes the question harder. If my treasure is not material, then where is my heart? Maybe this verse is not condemning loss, but inviting me to discover what remains when everything else has been stripped away.

Five years after entering the Craft, I am finally stepping forward as Junior Deacon. After loss, grief, and a TIA changed my life, I am learning that service is not about perfection, but about showing up as you are.

In Christ, God was not waiting for humanity to come to its senses. He was already moving toward us, refusing to keep score, choosing reconciliation over condemnation. Paul reminds us that this grace does not stop with our salvation. If we have been reconciled, we have been entrusted with a message, and a role. We are not enforcers of morality or guardians of culture. We are ambassadors, sent to reflect the heart of a God who still makes His appeal through broken people.

Too often, we focus on the return of Christ in ways that stir fear instead of faith. While Jesus is coming again, the gospel was never meant to scare people into belief, but to draw them into His love and grace.

I’ve loved westerns my whole life, but it wasn’t until I revisited my favorite films that I realized how few movies I’d actually watched—and how much they shaped my understanding of justice, character, and consequence. From 5 Card Stud to The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, this is my ranked journey through the west, on film and in memory.

Scripture is clear about sin, but it is just as clear about grace. This reflection examines what the Bible actually calls an abomination, challenges selective outrage within the Church, and asks whether we extend the same mercy to others that we hope to receive ourselves.

It’s 1:47 a.m., and sleep won’t come. Sitting alone at the kitchen table with cold food and loud thoughts, I wrestle with love, loss, faith, and the simple decision to stay. This is what survival looks like tonight.

Commitment isn’t a feeling. It’s a decision to stay, repair, and choose love even when it hurts. This is my reflection on what it means to believe in commitment when you’re the one left holding it alone.

From the Garden of Eden to Jesus on the mount, the battle has never been about temptation alone, but about identity and truth. The most dangerous lies are not spoken to us, but the ones we quietly accept when desire begins to rewrite what we already know.

George Washington’s words on choosing good company carry deeper meaning when we remember he was a Brother Mason. Freemasonry seeks to surround men with virtue, faith, and accountability, not to create goodness, but to strengthen it. Who we walk with shapes who we become.

Months of sleeping on a couch left me longing for a bed, until a drive through downtown Louisville showed me how close I’d come to giving up—and how much I still have to be grateful for.

A reflection on grief, divorce, and the unexpected power of “Amazing Grace.” Even when love feels lost and hope feels thin, grace still holds us, and it has not let go yet.

"Peace isn’t just the absence of conflict—it’s a daily choice we make with our hearts and actions. Psalm 34:14 reminds us to seek it and pursue it, even when the world around us feels chaotic. This Sunday, let’s reflect on where we can be peacemakers in our own lives."

I never loved football, never had a true college team, and never believed Indiana would matter on a national stage. And yet, there I was, listening to the Rose Bowl on the radio, realizing I was witnessing something I never thought I would see in my lifetime.

A new year has a way of whispering invitation and challenge at the same time. We feel the tug toward renewal, but we’re not always sure what needs to change. A prayer journal can become a quiet companion on that journey, guiding your thoughts, anchoring your heart, and giving you a place to grow.

After 500 posts, this blog has become more than a collection of thoughts. It is a witness to faith lived honestly, questions asked without fear, and growth that only comes through persistence and grace.

The divorce is final, but the grief is not. Almost a year after separation, I am left wrestling with fear, faith, and the haunting reality of being unseen. This is a reflection on hoping for a miracle that never came, and choosing honesty when gratitude feels forced.

As I prepare to publish my 500th blog on New Year’s Eve, I find myself looking backward before stepping forward. One of my earliest posts was nothing more than a video of Gene Kelly dancing through the rain, and somehow, that still feels right.