My first thoughts of Africa were wrapped up in idealism, dripping with it. I had romanticized Africa as a place of simplicity, poverty, culture and beauty. Like other Americans, I imagined Africa as it belonged in the travel magazines, in the headlines of the newspapers and in the argument for why children should finish their dinners.

Perhaps, we sentimentalize places and people who are different from us until we truly know them. Or perhaps we long for them, in the way Isaiah longed for a New Jerusalem. As a 21-year-old, I co-founded Blood:Water Mission with the belief that we could eradicate HIV/AIDS and provide safe water for all. If we could simply rally enough people to care, certainly there could be…

Does the term Zerrissenheit mean anything to you? It sounds like the cousin of gazuntheit, but its meaning is quite different than an exclamation after a sneeze. The German term is loosely translated to mean torn-to-pieces-hood. Hurry, distraction, worry and pre-occupation are all expressions of the Zerrissenheit lifestyle. It’s one that I am quite familiar with, though, not proudly. Amidst the rush of trying to serve our friends in Africa with access to safe water and HIV/AIDS care for the last eight years, I have let the health of my own life deteriorate. The rotten fruits I have been producing are exhaustion, fear, jealousy and anxiety, things we all agree make up a lousy story.

On MySubplot.com, I committed to practicing the spiritual discipline of Rest. I am a month into my sabbatical, and am just now

I believe that God speaks to us in the everyday moments of our lives – the people we pass by on the street, the whispers of heaven through a quiet walk in the woods, the glimpses of new perspective that come from the simple art of paying attention.

When I was 9, I met a homeless man who changed my life. He stood alone on a…

It’s amazing how quickly we can forget our own stories. We are inundated with the immediate pressures of today, and if we are lucky, we find time to look ahead with vision for the weeks or years to come. But how much time do we spend considering where we have come from? I realize that I have not spent enough time remembering my own story.

Last weekend, James and I drove several hours through winding mountain roads to find ourselves in a secret garden and quaint lodge at the foot of the Smoky Mountains…

I came home from work on the evening of August 29th, flipped through the major network channels and was quickly disturbed by the bickering and bantering of the political campaigns, advertisements, and pundits. I felt an ache in my gut, a sadness in my heart for the way our country conducts itself through the election season, from both sides. I turned the tv off, trying to keep cynicism from creeping in.

So when I received a call the following day with…