I’ve never been much of a ‘morning person’. My father, by contrast, most certainly was. All the years I knew him, there was never a day wherein my father so much as even slept in. Not by my recollection, at any rate.

Do you suppose even the trees grow weary because of sin? Not their sin, mind you—but ours. The Fall claimed more victims than mankind only: “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Romans 8:19-21).

What thoughts come to mind when you think of the word history? Do the syllables conjure up memories of dreadfully boring school assignments and dusty books, prescribed by teachers whose minds were dustier still? Or, does a more romantic feeling overcome you? Feelings of deep mystery and high adventure; long shadows of thought cast by untold, ancient memory and the dwindling light of torches as they dance upon Roman forts and ancient pyramids. Indeed, what does history mean to

Behold the mystery of mysteries as the infinite becomes infant. Marvel as God condescends to man in matchless humility; swaddling Himself not only in simple cloths but flesh itself. Tremble before the mighty truth that eternal God took on a human nature while still reigning as sovereign King who rules from everlasting to everlasting in light unapproachable.

Sasha, mine and Elaina’s Australian Labradoodle, had only been gone for a few days before the signs of her absence became clear. By gone, I do not mean deceased; she was simply out of the house. Out of the country, in fact. Indeed, our dog was on vacation in Florida.

After several years of regular, weekly writing, now seems as good a time as any to explain what the name of my blog, Iotas in Eternity, could possibly mean. If you’ve been perplexed, my apologies for the wait. Indeed, over the years I’ve received no shortage of questions about the title, though I am most happy to explain the rationale behind my word choice.

Have you ever paused to consider what language we will speak in Heaven? There will be, after all, souls and creatures beyond count with which we will engage in conversation and friendship: how is it that we will communicate?

Well does the Bible describe us as sheep. And not as sheep only, but sheep who are prone to wonder—to wonder from Him who made us, saved us, and loves us most.

“This court, over which I am sovereign and Queen, finds you charged, Sir Gabriel the Knight, of the most heinous crimes against this land and her people. How do you plead?” The voice of the Queen, resolute and sharp, rippled across the room with an unnatural power.

I love donuts. My wife, less so. Indeed, her giving me a hard time about junk food has been a long-running gag in our marriage.

If you were pressed to keep one book of the Bible at the expense of all the others, which book would you choose?

Several years ago, a young man from a church neighboring my own was given a severe cancer diagnosis seemingly overnight. Though the cancer was detected early and swiftly acted upon by doctors, the disease was spreading rapidly nonetheless—a terminal diagnosis seemed imminent.

Only a veteran of the Great War could have penned The Chronicles of Narnia.

The Gospel is the Good News of Jesus Christ; it is the very backbone of all that Christians believe and the sum and substance of all that the Bible preaches.

Sanctification begins in the mind of the believer only after they have been given new spiritual life by God the Holy Spirit.

A fairly common question among Christians goes like this: “When were you saved?” When well-meaning folks ask this question, they are typically just trying to get to know you better.

In the wake of Charlie Kirk’s assassination, I’ve seen many people over the past month—particularly young men of about my age—strive to take up the banner of “I am Charlie Kirk.”

In the beginning, the Lord God breathed upon a young world those words befitting the creation of Adam, the first man: “It is not good that the man should be alone” (Genesis 2:18). As Christians, so must we eschew isolation and seek rather to gather regularly as the body of Christ.

I did not know Charlie Kirk; I never had the opportunity to meet Charlie Kirk; and, to be quite honest, Charlie didn’t rank highly among the conservative voices I find myself regularly listening to. I’m not even American. Though, I did frequent his content more than occasionally and I respected him deeply. All that to say, Charlie Kirk and I were not friends; but as two souls united to Christ through faith, he and I were and are brothers.

The world of Formula 1, like most any other sport, is just that—a world unto itself, littered with legends, seemingly arbitrary rules, and teams that mean little to the world outside of the fanbase.

To describe The Space Trilogy as Narnia for adults, or merely as Narnia in space, would be a disservice to Lewis’ work.

Over the last few years, humanity has ushered in a grave new world with the advent of Artificial Intelligence. A grave new world of increasing darkness and deception, all the while clothing its dark members in palatable shades of grey and muted tones of white as they issue from places of deep shadow; sometimes growing so bold as to masquerade as messengers of light.

Why do you want to go to Heaven? I assume that, when it comes time for you to die, Heaven is the place you want to go to—only a madman, or worse, would desire the alternative. But why do you want to go there?

It may surprise you to learn there is a strong case to be made for Charles Spurgeon having been the most prolific writer in the history of the English language. That is, among all those who have ever written in English, Spurgeon may have penned and published the most words—ever.

It is a humbling experience to share the Gospel with little children. They ask a lot of piercing questions; good, simple questions that insist upon straightforward answers.

Marriages grow cold not because husband and wife begin falling out of love, but because they begin falling out of repentance. The sin-swept wane of many years and the hardening effects of bitterness left unchecked and unrepented of render many cold and callous, unable and unwilling to turn from sin. Unwilling to towards a living and loving Savior in Christ who stands ready to forgive those who forsake their sin and cling to Him for lasting healing.

Like many of you, I’ve often heard folks say something along these lines: “Well, in Biblical times things like that used to happen, but not anymore.” More often than not, we use the phrase “Biblical times” in our conversations to denote some particularly miraculous time or event in Biblical history such as the flood, the exodus from Egypt, the halting of celestial bodies, or Jonah’s being swallowed by a great fish.

While I’ve always enjoyed writing, it wasn’t until after my father passed away that I truly took up my pen and got to work.

L.M. Montgomery’s novel Emily of New Moon was the required reading of my undergrad that, quite possibly, excited me the very least. How could the misadventures of a young girl on Prince Edward Island possibly compare to the heroic heights of Beowulf or the literary—and ocean—depths of Moby Dick?

Over the course of the last year, I’ve taken on the labyrinthian task of dipping my toes into the murky depths of church history.

Fresh out of university, famed author and conservative commentator William F. Buckley Jr. penned God & Man at Yale: The Superstitions of ‘Academic Freedom.’ Though he was only twenty-five at the time and would go on to author many other books, God & Man at Yale remains Buckley’s most widely recognized work. In it, he dismantles “the extraordinarily irresponsible educational attitude that prevailed at his alma mater” during the 1950s.

Though my grandmother didn’t speak much English, I loved her very much. More importantly, I knew that she loved me even more than could be imagined—no words in any language were needed to convey that reality. While my grandmother passed away some time ago,—almost fifteen years now—she remains in my memory as one of the warmest, kindest, and sweetest souls that I’ve ever known.

Several years ago, Jordan Peterson appeared on the rather popular Lex Fridman Podcast. In no time at all, a discussion arose between the two men regarding their favorite author—the great Russian writer, Fyodor Dostoevsky. Their conversation was narrowing in on this point: which of Dostoevsky’s novels can rightfully claim the title as the greatest book ever written, Crime and Punishment or The Brothers Karamazov?

While no one has had a perfect childhood, many of us had a good childhood—even a great one. I, for my part, had a great childhood.

Yesterday my sister married the love of her life in Kitwe, Zambia. Cheyenne, the oldest among my three younger sisters, had first met...

The dark night of the soul—have you tasted those bitter waters, believer?

I only met Steve Lawson once, but the memory of our meeting has cast a long shadow in my memory—particularly in light of recent events.

Just as a piece of literature should tell us something about its author, or a timepiece its architect, so too does creation reveal its...

Many years ago, a large African-American man was riding the Detroit city bus on route to some destination of his.

On the second of May 2011, the United States military conducted “Operation Neptune Spear” in Abbottabad, Pakistan.

Have you grappled with the fact that our world is one born out of the most curious of all possibilities?

The Lord Jesus is the once and future King, reigning both now and in the ages to come, without end.

In a few short phrases, Jesus provides the everlasting solution for all earthly sorrow, sin, and guilt: “repent and believe in the gospel.”

My father was a horologist by trade. I suspect the word horologist is a mystery to many of you; perhaps as esoteric as the line of work...

Several years ago, I heard a story by R.C. on the issue of guilt and forgiveness.

Perhaps I am just an old soul, but I feel the weariness of this world more and more with each passing year.

Part Christmas story, part ghost story, part lament against Lady Ireland, The Dead has become a mighty footing in the cathedral that is...

Before I settled into the profession of teaching, I worked for a number of years in the world of concrete.

Life is filled with empty chairs, is it not? Grief feels most fresh when the milestones of life begin to pass us by.

All of history is His story - and we're living through it. Every day, every moment, counts for eternity and counts for Him.