Hosanna!
It’s Palm Sunday, or Passion Sunday, a day of celebration! But why do we celebrate the soon-to-take-place Crucifixion of our Lord?
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
It’s Palm Sunday, or Passion Sunday, a day of celebration! But why do we celebrate the soon-to-take-place Crucifixion of our Lord?
In a world filled with moral confusion and noise, the book of Isaiah reminds us that God is still speaking—and our greatest need is to listen.
“My son, Jason, is getting married on Friday, and I am responsible for his wedding toast. I’d like some wisdom to pass on, the only problem is, I don’t have any.”
Though Moses stands at the center of the Exodus story, the quiet faithfulness of Miriam and Zipporah reminds us that God often advances His plans through people whose brief appearances carry lasting significance.
Lent is a forty-day wilderness season that echoes the many forty-day periods in Scripture—especially Jesus’ time in the desert—reminding us that fasting and self-denial are not punishment but God’s way of strengthening us and drawing us closer to Him.
After 80 years of testing self-governance with God at arm’s length, it should be obvious that we can have social order with faith, or secularism with chaos, but we cannot have peaceful coexistence without accepting our place in the universe – subservient to a higher being.
Some of the sharpest minds of the last century sensed the reductionist story was missing something. Carl Jung looked inward and saw conflict. The ego — the conscious “I” — wants control, moral self-justification, narrative dominance. It insists on sovereignty. Jung recognized the ego was not the whole self and that something beyond it pressed inward, demanding humility and reordering. He called that pressure the “Self.” He diagnosed the tension correctly. He simply refused to name the external authority behind it.
Growing older—and even retiring—isn’t the end of purpose but a new season where God continues to give joy, wisdom, and plenty of reasons to laugh.
Carrie Prejean Boller is a very attractive young lady with a very ugly soul. She claims to be a Roman Catholic, but I have to ask: is her Bible just one of those small New Testaments that the Gideons leave in hotel nightstands? Does she cover her ears during the first reading on Sunday Mass, …
In 2024, the world tuned in to Paris and was treated to a lavish, high-budget revival of pagan imagery—complete with nods to Dionysus, the ancient god of intoxication, ecstasy, and losing yourself so completely that personal responsibility becomes someone else’s problem. It was art, we were told. It was symbolism. It was “inclusive.” It was definitely not accidental. And it certainly wasn’t Christian.
If NATO ever needs a real-world case study in territorial conflict, dominance hierarchies, and cold-weather logistics, they can skip the war colleges and simply hang a bird feeder in northeastern Michigan. Within hours, it becomes a contested supply hub. Within days, a full-blown squirrel conflict emerges—predictable, ruthless, and strangely educational.
If you hate your political opponents so much that you bring in foreigners to stay in power, you’ve set the stage for a civil war. A civil war unbound by the Geneva Convention
Cancel culture seeks justice through exclusion, but the gospel calls Christians to a better way.
Below the marble statues and museum mythology, the Greek and Roman “lesser gods” look suspiciously like something the Bible already warned us about: rebellious spiritual beings posing as divine authorities, corrupting humanity, and manufacturing a counterfeit religion of power, lust, blood, and “enlightenment.”
The Holy Spirit is like a child waiting for snow—unpredictable, quietly exciting, and full of promise that something ordinary is about to be changed by God.
I believe most people today are so caught up in the “material world,” the world we live in, see and experience, that we forget there’s a whole other realm out there — just as real as the material world, but one we, as human beings, are unable to see with our eyes. I’m talking about the spiritual realm.
The old preacher sipped his thermos of coffee, holding a fishing rod in the other hand. He asked what I wanted most in this life. I stared at the lake surface and told him I wanted peace. I was young, I came from a broken home. Peace was all I wanted.
Words matter. UFO became UAP. Sightings became sensor data. Rumors became congressional hearings. And then came the most carefully engineered phrase yet: “non-human biologics.” That term didn’t exist to inform you—it exists to prepare you. It introduces a category without evidence, certainty without clarity, and authority without accountability. It tells your brain, “Accept the possibility first; we’ll define it later.” That’s not science. That’s narrative conditioning.
Winter cleaning, whether of our homes or our hearts, invites us to slow down, reflect honestly, and allow God to renew our hearts with grace.
January may feel like a long, cold stretch of waiting, but God uses these ordinary, in-between times to shape our faith, deepen our trust, and remind us that He is just as present in the January gloom as He was in the December joy.