'Because Souls Are Like Gardens' is a collection of fictional and non-fictional musings—anywhere from life's quirky moments and general happenings, to thoughts and experiences around Jesus, the Kingdom, and truth. Much like a garden, what is planted here today, will be different to what is planted here tomorrow. Happy Pickin's!
So many people saying prayers, creeds, “praise Hims” and “Hallelujahs” without any (or at least maybe a strained) actual heart connection with the Person they’re proclaiming those things about. Their relationship with God either doesn’t exist, or it exists, but it’s stuck, because...
Mary’s little lamb, Polly.
I’ve been thinking about you a lot this week—like a real lot.
Who would have thought a small town of 1,400 people could call the heart so?
Micro shots with my macro interest: A brief introductory walk around my garden to enjoy the first flowers of Spring.
Living in a small country town has had it’s benefits—especially during CoVid. Even though I live alone, I have been grateful for much: the obvious and the not-so-obvious...
Religion is a horrible ambassador for the character and qualities of the person of Jesus. Anyone who has truly encountered the love of Jesus cannot reject or deny Him without some kind of internal struggle, duress or distraction, because (as with any relationship) there is usually grief directly proceeding a breakup...
I suppose it would be easy For this universe and the next To collapse in on themselves— Whether through fatigue or choice— In response to the chaotic airwaves currently Having their say, Their way, Their complete disregard for Who Jesus is, Where He stands, And what He wants...
I woke to the sound of my flatmate leaving for work. I heard what I thought were his footsteps walking down the hallway, his keys jangling at the front door as he unlocked it, the chain falling as he unlatched it, and then the squeal of the front door as it opened...
My own unfulfilled expectations Led me to desert places, Where I thirsted For finality, and success. Those occasional oases Gaslit my senses— Like mirages moving gracelessly...
