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A Reflection on Psalm 73

We live in a world where comparison is no longer occasional — it is constant.

Every day, we scroll past curated images of other people’s lives: beautiful homes, thriving businesses, luxury vacations, glowing families, and effortless success. We are shown highlight reels, not behind-the-scenes realities. We see outcomes, not the compromises. We see prosperity, not the price paid to obtain it.

And if we are not careful, what we see begins to move what we believe.

Our footing becomes unstable not because God has moved — but because our gaze has.

There are moments when the world feels unbearably loud with injustice. When violence is normal, corruption is rewarded, truth is twisted, and those who are trying to live righteously feel worn down by it all. In those moments, heaven can feel painfully quiet. We pray. We wait. We wonder. And sometimes, like the prophet Habakkuk, we ask the question we are almost afraid to say out loud:

Where are You, God?

Habakkuk lived in a time that feels eerily familiar. He looked around and saw violence in the streets, injustice in the courts, corruption in leadership, and the righteous being pushed aside while the wicked prospered. The law had lost its power. Justice was

Reflections from Habakkuk 1

There are moments when the world feels unbearably heavy — when suffering seems louder than hope, injustice feels stronger than truth, and God’s silence feels more painful than our unanswered prayers. In those moments, our hearts do not form neat theological statements; they form questions. Honest ones. Urgent ones. Why, Lord? How long? Where are You in all of this?

It is in those moments that we discover something sacred: we feel safe asking hard questions when we trust the relationship. Children who are secure in their parents’ love are not afraid to ask “why” when something doesn’t make

Trusting God’s Sovereignty Instead of Writing Our Own Story

It is that time of year again.

The end of the year is when people naturally pause to reflect on the past and look ahead to the future. We evaluate what we accomplished, what we didn’t, and what we hope to do differently next time. We plan. We reset. We dream again.

But for those of us who follow Christ — or as some prefer to say, are disciples of Christ — reflection goes deeper than goals and resolutions. It becomes a spiritual posture.

Some no longer like the word “Christian” because, sadly, in America, the label does