"Tears-pouring-down-my-face, couldn't-talk-couldn't-breathe kind of laughing. Screaming laughing. So hard that I was sobbing because I couldn't get it together."
"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
In churches across America, a quiet but consequential conversation is unfolding. It often begins with a question—sometimes whispered, sometimes posted publicly on social media....
Why do we have no problem praying for God to heal a child’s cancer, but feel odd asking Him to fix our stuffy nose? Do we assume He’s too busy to deal with the little stuff, or are we limiting what He’s capable of and what He cares about?
"We all would rather monologue then dialogue and this means we have to be content with our stereotypes about each other. It’s nonsense, and I’m opting out."
