Cory Asbury released the award-winning song, “Reckless Love”, in 2017 and was thrust into the crosshair of Christian critics. The worship leader was accused of misrepresenting God as “reckless”. He took advantage of the spotlight to talk more about God’s love. “…His love bankrupted heaven for you. His love doesn’t consider Himself first… He doesn’t wonder what He’ll gain or lose by putting Himself out there. He simply gives Himself away on the off-chance that one of us might look back at Him and offer ourselves in return.”

We’re in week three of school holidays, and it feels like my skin is buzzing with over-stimulation and high needs. I’ve been more irritable, often setting off a chain reaction with my son who shares my snap-crackle-pop nervous system. My world shrunk as my thoughts looped on my own struggles. This isn’t my first rodeo. I’m painfully prone to self-rumination.

I don’t think it’s just me. The Israelites sung “songs of ascents” to turn their minds from hardship to hope on the arduous journeys to Jerusalem.

Human nature is drawn to hiding and disguising. It’s our futile attempt to protect ourselves from the effects of sin. It started in the beginning. Adam and Eve exchanged walking with God for a taste of life outside of Him. After just a bite, “they made coverings for themselves… and hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden.” (Genesis 3:7, 8)

Much later, sinful King Ahab of Israel convinced righteous King Jehoshaphat of Judah to go to battle with him. Prophets had predicted Ahab’s death in this battle.

Hello Dude Perfect!

I'm sending a SEEMINGLY unimpressive "Trick Shot" video you inspired for two reasons:

1. I made a promise to a 7-year old.

2. I'm wiling to bet even my small testimony matters.

I've been praying specifically for "the joy of the Lord" for our family this week. Our autistic son is in a kind of burnout I never knew a child could experience. He is home with me full time and has almost no ability to access to himself, relationships, or any measure of delight. Paradoxically, our household feels like we're walking on eggshells AND our legs have been cut off at the knees.

Since interceding for joy, the meltdowns and heartbreaking moments still happen... But joy entered too. Joy that felt foreign. Joy that didn't match, didn't fit, and didn't "fix"anything either. Honestly, it gave me false hope at first. Maybe this would end soon. Maybe the intensity would let up a little. But that's not it.

The joy of the Lord isn't the absence of hardship. It's the nearness of Christ.

I clocked a new level of “frazzled” this week. I couldn’t even tolerate a worship song playing in the background of my overstimulating life. Surprising even to myself, I responded by burying myself in stories. The memoir of an admirable Christian leader played in my headphones while I folded towels and mashed potatoes. I read the journal entries of a 19th-century woman’s journey toward God when I would normally turn to social media. Internalizing the way others told their stories quieted my own story just enough to give me a small measure of perspective.

We were washed with wonder and welcomed with dignity today at Wonderdal World . Jam and I had the “Edutainment Centre” to ourselves… well, us and an entire staff.

We’re in a parched and painful season right now with Benjamin’s nervous system disability. He’s at home with me full time, and his smiles are few and far between. The whole family is taking strain.

I didn’t take a single Father’s Day photo or do a gushy post, although he’s so gush-worthy. BUT a friend recently resurfaced this old beauty and it deserves a place here.

2015. Lifa was seven and hardly had any teeth that whole year.

This was before we were married, before he ever called him Dad. We had no idea what God was doing, but we all knew He was in the center of it. Family began in a usual way, an out of the ordinary order for us. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

In honor of today’s Call to Worship, I went all the way back to our move to Cape Town and captured my weightlifting journey in less than 90 seconds.

I’ve been a self-taught weightlifter for ten years. I purchased a secondhand set of adjustable dumbbells a few years ago when caring for a very young child and one with extra needs made it harder to get to the gym. Those dumbbells finally broke beyond repair last year, so I joined an Olympic weightlifting gym. I had never learned the Olympic lifts but quickly fell in love with the sport. I decided to go all in and even got a pair of lifting shoes for Christmas. I could feel strength building in my entire body and see the evidence of muscle definition. Gaining strength has always been a way for me to honor God with the body He’s entrusted me with.

I was excited to get back to the gym after our recent trip to America. My son with a nervous system disability has gone into a state of burnout, however, and I am currently his 24 hour co-regulator.

My son’s nervous system disability is preventing him from participating in typical 7-year old things right now. Even the most basic parts of daily life are too taxing right now.

I sent our hairstylist an SOS message this week, promising to comb out the matted mess on the back of his head before we came for a “no grooming required” cut. She gave me a speedy trim while my son warmed up to the environment with headphones on

Welcome to the wonderful world of Wyatt.

You never know what you’re gonna get, but you know you’re gonna get it 100%.

Like Wyatt says, “When you turn 43, you don’t get taller. But you do get better.”

A poor subject asked Alexander the Great for a small financial gift. Alexander gave him a large city. When the poor benefactor insisted the gift too great, Alexander responded, “The business is not what thou are fit to receive, but what it becometh me to give.”

I read this account in a Biblical commentary, paralleling the extravagant gift to God’s lavish supply of wisdom for those who ask. (James 1:5.) Upon further investigation, I learned Alexander the Great most often gave for self-glorification. The large gifts were cruel burdens for those not equipped to bear the responsibility.

Welcome to Baking with Wyatt… where you just never know what’s gonna happen in the kitchen.

Have you ever sat down for “quiet time” with the Lord, but your thoughts were too loud? Or determined to “get back on track” after wandering off the narrow path but didn’t know how to find it? A relationship with God can feel intangible and hard to grasp, at the current speed of life.

Recently, after a whole lot of life left my head spinning, I sat in front of my Bible blankly. I wondered if ancient words would land on present turmoil. I turned to the Psalms, knowing the authors poured out unfiltered emotions and messy life in those pages. I found relief in Psalm 105. The first five verses actioned specific ways to turn toward God while life rocked, rolled and roared.

We met 20 years ago. I had just turned 22 and moved to LA by myself to start a graduate program at Fuller Seminary. It is a WILD understatement to say this small-town girl had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

I moved into an apartment on campus with two perfect strangers. We slid notes under the doors of the other women on our floor, inviting them over for ice cream. That was the unexpected beginning of the most authentic friendships I've ever had…

One week ago, I was boarding the last flight home from our two-month USA trip. I enlisted USA’s Transport Security Administration’s (TSA) support service for each flight because my autistic son struggled tremendously in transit. “TSA Cares” provides a Passenger Support Specialist to get you through security and to your gate.

Our last flight departed from “the world’s busiest airport”. I had been warned repeatedly that support was dependent on availability, and they were “very understaffed”.

We are HOME! I don’t think it’s ever felt so good to be home. Eight weeks of international travel. Over 30 hours to get home on the last leg. We did it! The boys did great! Happy brothers!

I called her… actually I think I just texted her… at the end of February and told her I had to come to America with the kids. She didn’t skip a beat. She just asked when she should fly in to help. She’s been ALL over the place with us over the last two months, sacrificing more than even I can understand. And she’s really seen the underbelly of special needs parenting.

But she’s never stopped being my mom first. In our worst of times on this trip, when I need the most help, the kids won’t let anyone but me near. So my mom stands back, quietly, longingly, and watches over ME. She gives her whole self, even when she feels stuck on the sidelines.