Over the years I have often found myself repeating these same words: We are in a tough spot again... Christians so often reference the 11th hour, when our last-minute God seems to miraculously show up, not in our timing, but in  his,  so the saying goes. But what happens when he doesn't show up? What about those times when the thing we were sure he would not allow to happen actually DOES?  I recently received the following text from a close friend: And this is only one of several difficult things happening in their lives.  Last night I sat in a sermon, where my Pastor, Ed Newton, was talking about the 11:59 mark - but have hope, he said, because 12:01 is coming!  We are in a tough spot again...  He asked, who in the crowd are in an 11:59 moment? Raise your hands. Of course, I did. We are there! He spoke a word over the crowd, a prophetic word I believe, that 12:01 is coming. The dark night of the soul is almost over and a new day is about to dawn...

70 Days. 70 days that feel like 70 years. 70 days a fisherman’s Widow, a title unbefitting a 24 year-old. 70 days of   gut-wrenching tears, unwanted change, rage, and depression.   Seeking a few hours away, a few hours to forget, I step out of the building on Table Bluff.   Across the small field of grass, I see a stand of trees clumped together, like a group of gossiping church ladies after Sunday service.    Behind me I hear the hum of fifty chattering voices bustling about, preparing to share a common meal. The crisp ocean breeze stings my cheek and wisps my hair. The salty smell simultaneously consoles and depresses me, binding me to this sacred place.    The bright sun high overhead invites me from the shadow of the doorway. The distant lapping of ocean waves calls me to traverse the short jaunt from the cold, protective building to the mystery beyond the trees. Like a teenager hesitant to break into a new crowd, anxiety rises within me a...