Navigating the Seasons of Life: 10 Guideposts for the Journey

The mornings are a bit cooler, the days are a little shorter, and the leaves are undergoing a slight change of color. All these indicate we are experiencing a change of seasons.

Arthur Rubenstein observed, “The seasons are what a symphony ought to be: four perfect movements in harmony with each other.”

The writer of Ecclesiastes reminds us that life moves in rhythms and cycles, much like the seasons of the year. “For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” (3:1) There are times of planting and times of harvest, seasons of joy and seasons of grief, moments of building and moments of letting go.

The wisdom of this ancient passage isn’t just poetic; it’s profoundly practical. It reminds us that life is not static. Just when we think we’ve figured out the season we’re in, life shifts again. As the philosopher Heraclitus once said, “The only constant in life is change.”

Learning to navigate these changes with faith and perspective may be one of the most important spiritual disciplines of all.

1. Life has many seasons—and each one has value.

Just as winter, spring, summer, and fall each have their beauty, so do the seasons of life. The joys of youth, the responsibilities of adulthood, and the wisdom of later years all carry purpose.

In the early 20th century, author L.M. Montgomery wrote in Anne of Green Gables, “I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” She wasn’t just talking about weather—she was celebrating change itself.

Each season of life, whether vibrant or quiet, gives us new ways to experience grace and growth.

2. Change is inevitable—growth is optional.

We can’t control when the seasons of life change, but we can control how we respond. Some resist every shift; others adapt and grow stronger through it.

When the Boll Weevil infestation devastated cotton crops in Alabama in the early 1900s, farmers could have given up. Instead, they adapted—planting peanuts and diversifying their farms. The town of Enterprise, Alabama even erected a monument to the boll weevil, calling it “the herald of prosperity.”

Change is often uncomfortable, but when we face it with courage and creativity, it becomes the soil for new growth. William Arthur Ward surmised, “The pessimist complains about the wind; the optimist expects it to change; the realist adjusts the sails.”

3. There’s a time to hold on and a time to let go.

Ecclesiastes 3:6 says there is “a time to keep and a time to throw away.” That may be one of life’s most challenging lessons.

Sometimes faith calls us to persevere. Other times, wisdom calls us to release. Letting go of resentment, of unrealistic expectations, of past hurts all create space for new beginnings.

Insightful counselors call this “decluttering the soul.” When we release what weighs us down, we find new freedom to move forward.

4. Every season has the potential to be a blessing or a burden, and sometimes both.

Even the most joyful seasons carry challenges, and even the most painful seasons can reveal hidden blessings.

When Helen Keller lost her sight and hearing at a young age, she faced unimaginable obstacles. Yet through her teacher Anne Sullivan’s perseverance, she learned to communicate and became a global voice for hope. Keller later reflected, “Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.”

Our seasons of struggle can shape us in ways comfort never could.

5. We are not defined by the season we are currently experiencing.

If you’re in a season of loss, don’t assume it will last forever. If you’re in a season of blessing, don’t take it for granted. Seasons pass, but identity rooted in God’s love endures.

The prophet Isaiah spoke of this divine constancy: “The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.” (Isaiah 40:8)

Whatever your current chapter, remember that your circumstances do not define your worth. Your worth is instilled in you by your Creator.

6. God Is present with us always and helps us navigated every season.

The writer of Ecclesiastes does not suggest that God only works in the pleasant seasons. God is present in the times of mourning and in the times of dancing, in the tearing down and in the building up.

Corrie ten Boom, who survived the horrors of a Nazi concentration camp, once said, “There is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.” Even in seasons of suffering, the presence of God remains our steadying force.

Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore reminds us, “Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn is still dark.”

7. Seasons of waiting are not wasted time.

Waiting seasons can feel like winter—quiet, still, and unproductive. But just as winter prepares the soil for spring, God often uses our waiting to strengthen us for what’s next.

When Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years, he could have let bitterness consume him. Instead, he used that season of confinement to cultivate wisdom and patience. When he emerged, he led South Africa toward reconciliation rather than revenge.

Seasons of waiting may slow us down, but they also deepen our character.

8. The season you are in will not last forever.

Every chapter has its closing paragraph. If you’re in a difficult season, take heart—it won’t last forever.

Maya Angelou penned, “Every storm runs out of rain.” And when the storm does pass, you’ll often find that your roots grew deeper while the rain fell.

Likewise, when you’re in a joyful season, savor it. Celebrate it. Write it down. Because the seasons are continually changing.

9. Gratitude Is the key to navigating every season.

Gratitude is what turns survival into peace. Whether life feels easy or hard, gratitude grounds us in God’s goodness.

Psychologists have shown that people who practice daily gratitude experience greater joy and lower stress. Long before modern studies proved it, scripture taught us to “Give thanks in all circumstances.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

10. Embrace the journey, not just the destination.

In every stage of life, God is shaping us through beginnings and endings, sunshine and rain.

When C.S. Lewis lost his wife, Joy, he wrote, “The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That’s the deal.” He had learned that love and loss are part of the same sacred story.

So be careful not to rush through the seasons. Don’t resent the winters or idolize the summers. Embrace the full journey, trusting that God is at work in every one of them.

Life, like nature, moves through cycles—birth and death, gain and loss, laughter and tears. You may not choose the season you’re in, but you can choose how to live in it.

As you navigate your current chapter, remember the message behind the poetry of Ecclesiastes: Every season can clarify meaning, cultivate faith, and convey beauty—if we’ll slow down long enough to notice.

You do not travel this journey alone. God, who governs the seasons of the earth, will guide you through the changing seasons of life.

If I Should Die Before I Wake: 10 Perspectives on Death as I Grow Older

Most of us learned the bedtime prayer long before we understood its meaning:

“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

As children, we prayed those words without fear. As adults, they sound a little more sobering. That simple prayer confronts a reality we spend much of our lives trying to avoid — the fact that life is fragile, and death is certain.

The anonymous writer of Hebrews put it bluntly: “Just as people are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment” (Hebrews 9:27).

Facing our mortality is not morbid; it’s clarifying. As the philosopher Socrates once said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” Facing death honestly helps us live more intentionally, more gratefully, and more faithfully.

Here are 10 reflections on mortality to help us live with hope and die with peace.

1. Life is a gift that should never be taken for granted. James 4:14 reminds us that life is “a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” Every sunrise is a gift, every breath a miracle.

Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl observed that the difference between those who survived the concentration camps and those who didn’t was often the ability to find meaning, even in suffering. “When we are no longer able to change a situation,” he wrote, “we are challenged to change ourselves.”

Gratitude transforms survival into living. Don’t take the ordinary for granted; it’s where the extraordinary hides.

2. Death Is a certainty we should not fear. Emily Dickinson penned, “Because I could not stop for Death — He kindly stopped for me.” Her calm acceptance captures a truth many of us resist: death is inevitable, but not necessarily tragic.

The older I get, the less I fear death itself, and yet the more I want to avoid a prolonged dying process. While we don’t get to choose the way we depart this world, I often tell my wife, “If I don’t wake up tomorrow morning, I’ve had a good life. And you can say, ‘Thank you, Lord. That’s the way he wanted to go.’”

For followers of Christ, death is not the end of the story. As Paul wrote, “To live is Christ and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). Our hope isn’t in escaping death, but in trusting the One who conquered it.

3. The ultimate mortality rate Is 100%. Every generation learns the same lesson: no one gets out of this life alive. But that doesn’t have to sound grim. It can actually sharpen our focus.

Benjamin Franklin once quipped, “In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.” But even Franklin understood that certainty can bring clarity. Living with the end in mind helps us prioritize what truly matters.

4. You write your own eulogy each day that you live. Every decision, every conversation, every act of kindness or cruelty writes another line in your story. The question is — what will your story say?

The tombstone’s “dash” between birth and death represents your life. What fills that dash? Maya Angelou wrote, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel.”

When you reach the end of your days, may people remember that your words healed, your presence mattered, and your faith endured.

5. Focus on things of eternal significance. Buford Green, a wise friend of mine, once said, “I’ve never seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul.” You can’t take it with you. But you can leave something behind—faith, love, integrity, and kindness.

Jesus taught us not to store up treasures on earth, but in heaven. Eternal investments look like compassion for the poor, forgiveness for the wounded, and service for the overlooked. The things that outlive us are usually the things we did for others.

6. The best way to prepare for death is to live every day to the maximum. The Latin phrase carpe diem—“seize the day”—was first written by the poet Horace more than 2,000 years ago. It still holds wisdom.

In our era of constant distraction, we can spend hours scrolling, comparing, and worrying. But as author Annie Dillard observed, “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

Live fully present. Watch a sunrise. Call your mother. Forgive someone. Laugh often. Reggie McNeal once said, “The enemy of your soul whispers fear and worry all the time, and if you listen to that roar, you’ll never hear the Spirit speak.” Tune out the noise and tune in to the sacred.

7. Prepare for death spiritually and logistically. As Jesus said, “Love the Lord with all your heart, mind, and soul, and love your neighbor as your self.” Confess your sins regularly and receive God’s gift of forgiveness. But also make the practical plans. Writing a will, organizing your affairs, or discussing end-of-life wishes with family members isn’t pessimism—it’s love in practical form.

Years ago, a parishioner told me, “I don’t want my kids to have to guess about my funeral. I want them to be free to grieve, not to argue.” Her preparation became one of the greatest gifts she left beh

8. Live with a sense of mission and purpose. In other words, serve God by serving others, especially the disadvantaged and underserved. And live so that there’s no doubt about what you believe or who you follow. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who faced death in a Nazi prison, said before his execution, “This is the end—for me, the beginning of life.”

Build your life around Christ’s teachings and compassion. The best way to prepare to die is to live each day as a gift to God and to others

9. Wake up before you die. The late preacher Tony Campolo told of a Buddhist monk who once said, “You Christians teach your children to pray all wrong. You teach them to say, ‘If I should die before I wake.’ It would be better if you taught them to pray, ‘If I should wake before I die.’”

Campolo explained that many people go through life half-awake—distracted, numb, and unaware of the sacred all around them. The tragedy isn’t dying before you wake up—it’s never waking up while you’re alive.

Take time to wake up to God’s love, to beauty, to laughter, to grace.

10. Let death catch you from behind, living generously and faithfully. You can’t control the timing of your death, but you can control the quality of your life. Live so that death finds you authentic in faith, generous in spirit, and awake to God’s presence.

Don’t sit around dreading death, or awaiting its arrival drearily. Whatever your limitations, live with a grateful heart and a positive spirit.

When I was a teenager, I once spent the night in a casket. A friend invited me to go camping behind his house. However, a storm rolled in unexpectedly. His stepfather worked in a funeral home and had shipping caskets in the storage barn. So when the rain began, we moved our campout to the barn and converted two of the shipping containers to beds. It was eerie but unforgettable. I agreed to this arrangement under one condition: That we leave the lids open. 

There will come a day when the casket lid will close on my life. But until then, I want to make every day count. As the writer of Romans reminds us, “Whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord” (Romans 14:8).

Someone once asked, “How do you know if God’s purpose with your life is complete?” The answer is, “If you have breath, God is not finished with you.”

We prayed the old bedtime prayer as children, but maybe, just maybe, we should also pray this prayer as adults:

“If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
But if I should wake before I die,
I pray the Lord to teach me how to live.”

Life is short. Death is certain. As long as we have a pulse, may God give us the grace to be fully alive.

10 Things to Remember When You’re Having a Tough Day

Some days start fine and end hard. Other days seem tough from the first cup of coffee. Whether it’s the loss of a loved one, a financial setback, a work crisis, or just an accumulation of small frustrations, we all have days when our spirits feel heavy and our energy runs low. Those are the moments when we most need perspective, patience, and grace.

Here are 10 things to remember when you’re having a tough day—truths that can anchor your spirit when everything else feels uncertain:

1. This day will not last forever. When life feels like it’s closing in, it helps to remember that tough days don’t last forever. As Psalm 30:5 promises, “Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning.”

In the middle of a storm, it’s easy to believe the clouds are permanent. But even the longest storm eventually gives way to light. When you’re in a dark season, hold on to hope—it’s the bridge that carries you to the other side.

Albert Camus discovered, “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”

2. You are not alone. When we struggle, isolation often follows. But even when you feel alone, God is near. God hasn’t gone silent; God does however invite us to lean in closer.

Sometimes comfort comes from others, such as a text from a friend, a prayer from a pastor, or a quiet reminder that you matter. Don’t hesitate to reach out. Connection can be holy medicine.

During the early months of the recent pandemic, when many people were struggling in solitude, I remember a church member saying, “I can’t fix everything that’s broken, but I can still pick up the phone.” That one call, that one connection, can change someone’s entire outlook.

3. You don’t have to have it all together all the time. There’s a lot of pressure to appear strong, capable, and composed. But pretending you are fine when you are not is exhausting.

As author Brené Brown reminds us, “Vulnerability is not weakness; it’s our greatest measure of courage.” God never asked us to be flawless—however, God does call us to be faithful. Even the Apostle Paul admitted, “When I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:10).

4. Take one day at a time, one step at a time, and one issue at a time. When life feels overwhelming, break it down. You don’t have to solve everything today—take the next right step.

Think of marathon runners. They don’t conquer 26 miles all at once. They take it stride by stride, breath by breath. The same is true in life: progress comes through small, steady steps.

Lao Tzu surmised, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

5. Practice the pause. Even Jesus often withdrew to quiet places to pray (Luke 5:16). If he needed moments of rest and renewal, so do we.

A few deep breaths and a simple prayer, like “Lord, give me peace for this moment,” can steady your soul. Step outside, feel the sunlight, listen to the rhythm of creation. Sometimes that pause is not a break from real life; it’s the moment that helps you remember what’s real.

6. Gratitude changes perspective and clarifies our focus. Gratitude doesn’t erase hardship, but it transforms how we see it. When you start naming blessings, even small ones—a sunrise, a child’s laughter, a quiet cup of coffee—you begin to notice that goodness still surrounds you.

A Harvard study found that people who kept gratitude journals were happier and more resilient. Long before that, Scripture reminded us, “Give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). Gratitude doesn’t ignore pain—it redeems it.

7. It’s okay to ask for help. You’re not designed to carry everything alone. Seeking help from a counselor, a mentor, or a trusted friend is not weakness but wisdom.

During one of my toughest seasons in ministry, a friend reminded me, “Even shepherds need shepherding.” She was right. Asking for help is not a sign of failure; it’s a step toward healing.

There’s an old African proverb that advises, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”

8. Remind yourself of what is true, and not just how you feel in the moment.  Feelings are powerful, but they aren’t always accurate. When the noise of fear or disappointment gets loud, anchor yourself in what you know is true: God loves you, your life has purpose, and this struggle will not define you.

A wise therapist told me, “Your emotions are real, but you have to let them know they’re not the boss.” Let faith be the compass that steadies you when feelings fluctuate

9. Rest Is sacred. Fatigue makes small problems look like giants. God built rest into creation not as a luxury, but as a rhythm of grace. Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is take a nap, eat something healthy, or get outside.

Even Jesus took time to sleep in the middle of a storm (Mark 4:38). Rest is not giving up—it’s gearing up.

10. God is at work in seen and unseen ways. When life is chaotic, it’s hard to see God’s hand. But faith reminds us that even when we can’t trace God’s plan, we can trust God’s heart.

Romans 8:28 assures us that God works in all things for good—not that all things are good, but that God can bring good out of even the hardest experiences. Like a tapestry, the threads don’t make sense up close, but step back and you see the design.

Back in his day, Charles Spurgeon famously preached, “God is too wise to be mistaken, and too good to be unkind.”

Bad days happen. But they don’t have the final word. Every tough day offers a chance to rediscover grace, lean into faith, and grow in resilience.

So if today feels heavy, hang tough! Your story is not yet complete. And whether you have been bruised by the unfairness of life, stung by the cruelty of others, or wounded by self-inflicted mistakes, you can write a better chapter tomorrow than the one you are living today.

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Just Hanging Around: The Brown Bat on Our Front Porch

(Stock photo)
A couple of months ago, a family member noticed a brown bat hanging on our front porch. Since then, our new friend has made frequent appearances. But over the past week, the bat has been there almost every afternoon, resting quietly in the shade just above the door. At first, we weren’t sure what to make of this tiny visitor. Was it lost? Was it dangerous? Or was it simply taking a break from its nightly rounds?

Curiosity soon turned into fascination. So, I did what any curious person would do — I looked it up. That’s when I took a deeper dive into chiropterology — the scientific study of bats. It comes from the Greek words cheir (hand) and pteron (wing), meaning “hand-winged.” And it’s an apt description. A bat’s wing is really a modified hand, with long, finger-like bones stretched out under a thin layer of skin. The more I read, the more amazed I became at these misunderstood creatures.

The brown bat on our porch, I learned, is probably an Eastern small brown bat, a species common throughout much of North America. Far from being pests, these bats are actually helpful neighbors. Each night, a single brown bat can eat hundreds of mosquitoes, moths, and beetles, serving as nature’s pest control service, free of charge.

In the 1920s, the Texas farmer Charles Campbell discovered how bats could protect crops from insect infestations. He built the first “bat tower,” inviting bats to roost nearby so they could feast on pests at night. His experiment was successful, and ever since, people have come to view bats not as villains of the night, but as quiet allies in the balance of nature.

Today, bats are even finding a role in technology. Modern scientists study how bats navigate with sonar to improve drone guidance systems and medical imaging. What once seemed mysterious is now inspiring innovation, a reminder that creation itself holds lessons awaiting our discovery.

Still, bats tend to get a bad reputation. They’re often linked with darkness, caves, and spooky stories, unfair associations that miss their real purpose. Watching our little brown bat tuck itself into the same quiet apex of our porch ceiling each afternoon has reminded me that even the most misunderstood creatures have a place in God’s plan.

As one biologist observed, “To study bats is to see beauty where most see only shadows.” God’s creation is full of surprises, and sometimes, the reminder of divine creativity is right at your door.

So now, when I step out on the porch and look up, I’m grateful for our tiny tenant. Bats are stealthy creatures, yet they remind us that there’s fascination in things we often overlook, and purpose in things we often misunderstand, even the eerie things.

Rather than wishing our bat would stay away, we want our friend to hang around a while and feast on our lakeside mosquito population so that they do not feast on us.

10 Life Lessons I Am Learning from Golf

Even in my 30s, I never imagined myself playing golf. Our high school didn’t have a golf team at the time. I didn’t enjoy watching golf on TV. There were only a few courses in our part of the state. Apart from pastoral responsibilities, most of my time was spent on continuing education.

Once we moved to Kentucky and I finished my educational programs, I took an occasional walk at the course near our home. One afternoon, a few friends from my breakfast group put a seven-iron in my hand and challenged me to hit toward the green. I was hooked.

The next morning, my friend, Bob, left a golf bag containing an old set of Power Built clubs and a few golf balls on my porch. I called my friend, Darrell, who had been a high school golf coach earlier in his career, and asked him to give me a few lessons. And I’ve been learning to play the game ever since.

Golf is more than a sport. It’s a mirror of life—frustrating at times, exhilarating at others, and always filled with opportunities to learn. Over the years, I’ve discovered that golf is a surprisingly good teacher, offering lessons that extend far beyond the fairway. Here are ten life lessons golf continues to teach me:

1. Be patient. Progress is gradual. Golf is not a game of instant gratification. The pace is slow, and progress occurs over a prolonged period of time. Bobby Jones once said, “Golf is a game that is played on a five-inch course—the distance between your ears.” Like in life, patience isn’t passive. Patience is the active discipline of steady focus.

2. Every shot counts, but one shot doesn’t define you. One bad swing can feel catastrophic, but the round isn’t lost. Ben Hogan, who came back from a near-fatal car accident to win majors, reminded us: “The most important shot in golf is the next one.” That’s also true in life. Mistakes don’t define us unless we stop moving forward.

3. Practice and preparation matter. Arnold Palmer became famous for his pre-shot routine. He believed consistency in preparation led to consistency in play. The same is true in life: the habits we practice daily—prayer, reflection, study, planning, exercise, visioning, work ethic—shape how we perform when it counts.

4. There are many factors outside your control. A sudden gust of wind, a bad bounce off a tree, or a tricky lie in the rough all remind us of life’s unpredictability. As in faith, the key is learning to let go of what we cannot control and focus on how we respond.

5. Respect the game and the other participants. Golf is built on etiquette, which includes things like replacing divots, being quiet during another’s swing, and respecting the pace of play. This culture of respect is a life lesson we need off the course, too. One of those lessons is to treat others with dignity in all kinds of circumstances.

6. Be flexible and learn to adapt to unfairness. Courses are different, weather changes, and no two rounds are the same. Jack Nicklaus once said, “Golf is not, and never has been, a fair game.” Adaptability, whether on the 18th green or in the twists of life, is the difference between frustration and resilience.

7. The mental part of the game is as important as the physical. Golf legends like Tiger Woods talk often about mental toughness. You can have the best equipment, but without focus and confidence, the game unravels. Our mindset in life can determine our outcome or effectiveness.

8. Relationships enrich the game. While golf can be played alone, it is most often enjoyed with others. I have continued playing golf more for the friendships than the progress of my game. Some of the best conversations happen walking down a fairway. Similarly, life is richer when shared in community with others such as your family, friends, and church. A deep sense of community is what makes life’s journey meaningful.

9. Enjoy the scenery along the way. Another reason I’ve continued playing golf is that I enjoy the outdoor landscape. Golf courses are often constructed in beautiful settings. If all you focus on is your score, you’ll miss the sunrise over the trees or the quiet stillness of a lake or the deer running across the fairway or the eagle soaring overhead. Life, too, is more than deadlines and goals. Life goes better when you take time to notice the beauty of creation.

10. No matter how you start, you can finish well. A round of golf is judged by how you finish, not how you start. Gary Player, known for his determination, once said, “The harder you work, the luckier you get.” The same applies to life. Finishing with integrity, faithfulness, and determination, especially when you’ve experienced a few setbacks, is challenging but rewarding.

Golf, like life, is both humbling and inspiring. It teaches patience, resilience, and gratitude. It sharpens our focus and tests our ability to remain calm under pressure. The next time you step on the course, remember, golf is not just about the score. It’s about enjoying the day and soaking up the lessons learned along the way. And I’m still learning.

Marriage and Stuff: 7 Things I Wish We’d Been Told 40 Years Ago

On September 7, 1985, Amanda and I stood in front of the congregation at the Post Oak Springs Baptist Church, exchanged wedding vows, and promised to love, honor, and cherish each other for life. The sanctuary was packed, a garden of ferns filled the choir loft, and the reception consisted of a simple buffet of wedding, nuts, mints, and punch. We were young, hopeful, and ready to face the world together.

Now, 40 years later, we’ve discovered that marriage is the greatest classroom of all. It teaches lessons you never thought you needed, often through life’s pop quizzes you didn’t see coming. Looking back, I sometimes wonder what would have been different if someone had pulled us aside that day and whispered a few of things we were about to learn in the trenches.

Across the years, as I have met with couples for “pre-marriage counseling,” I have shared some of the insights we’ve gleaned from our experiences along the way. Here are a few of those lessons:

1. Love is less about feelings and more about choices. The butterflies fade, the flowers wilt, and the honeymoon ends. But choosing each other every day, especially on the hard days, is what keeps the bond strong.

2. You can’t fix each other. I think every couple thinks they can sand off their spouse’s rough edges. Turns out, each person’s rough edges tend to create a bit of healthy tension that keeps you engaged in the relationship. The truth is, marriage is about helping each other grow, not remodeling each other into your dream spouse.

3. Laughter really is medicine. We’ve learned that a shared laugh can dissolve tension faster than a well-argued point. A good sense of humor is as important as a good budget.

4. You will disappoint each other. Perfection is a myth. Forgiveness is a must. Grace has saved our marriage more times than strategy ever could. So keep making more space for grace.

5. Time is one of your most valuable gifts. Careers, calendars, and commitments will fight for your attention. But nothing nourishes a marriage like time together. Even ordinary moments—a walk, a meal, a quiet evening—become more meaningful when shared.

6. Change is constant. We’re not the same people we were at 21 and 25, and that’s a good thing. Healthy marriages make room for growth, reinvention, and a few gray hairs.

7. Faith anchors you. Storms come—stressful circumstances, health scares, and compounded grief—but faith has been our ballast. As Ecclesiastes reminds us, “A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”

If I could go back and whisper something to that young couple at the altar, I’d say: “Relax. You won’t have it all figured out. Just keep choosing each other, keep laughing, keep forgiving, and keep leaning on God.”

For your marriage to have durability, you can never put your relationship on cruise control. You will be called on to be focused, faithful, and flexible. Maya Angelou nailed it when she wrote, “Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.” 

Forty years in, our relationship is still growing, not because life has been easy, but because we’ve weathered it together. And if marriage means you have to wade through  “stuff,” as the title suggests, then I’m grateful for every bit of that stuff—because it has shaped us into who we are today.

Here’s to the next chapter of love, laughter, and learning together.

A Tall Tale: A Brief History of Bell Mountain

Tyler Knott insists, “Mountains know secrets we need to learn. That it might take time, it might be hard, but if you just hold on long enough, you will find strength to rise up.”

This year we are spending Labor Day weekend in a cabin in Hiawassee, which is one of our favorite places to visit. Our cabin is high on Bell Mountain, just below the historic park and overlook.

Perched high above Lake Chatuge in the Blue Ridge Mountains, Bell Mountain offers one of the most breathtaking views in North Georgia. But its story is about more than scenery—it’s about scars, preservation, and a community that saw beauty where others saw only rock.

Nowadays, Bell Mountain provides one of the most scenic overlooks in the Appalachian chain. When most travelers think of the peaks of North Georgia, they automatically think of Brasstown Bald, which boasts the highest elevation in the Peach State. However, Bell Mountain, which looms above Lake Chatuge and overlooks the valley to Brasstown Bald, offers a panoramic postcard view of the lake and the North Georgia and Western North Carolina mountainscape.

In the 1960s, Bell Mountain was targeted by the Hiawassee Stone Company, which blasted away at the peak in search of quartzite. The mountain’s once-smooth crown was left jagged and scarred, leading some locals to call it an “eyesore.” Yet others believed that even broken landscapes could hold meaning and purpose.

One such believer was Hal Herrin, a local businessman and conservationist. In 1971, he purchased the mountain and willed it to Towns County so it could be preserved for future generations. For decades, access remained limited, but Herrin’s gift ensured that Bell Mountain would not be lost to industry. In 2016, the county developed the Bell Mountain Park and Historic Site, complete with observation decks and interpretive signs.

Today, visitors can stand where dynamite once shattered stone and instead experience serenity—watching the sun dip behind the peaks or the mist roll across Lake Chatuge. The graffiti that now covers the rock face has become a kind of cultural quirk: while controversial, it is also a reminder of how humans leave their marks, both destructive and creative.

Bell Mountain’s story is one of transformation: what was once blasted and scarred has become a place of reflection and wonder. Standing there, I am reminded that mountains, like people, even wounded ones, still rise to inspire.

Cold Mountain: Where History, Folklore, and Storytelling Meet

It’s been almost 20 years since my first visit to Springdale Golf Course. On my first trip there, the starter pointed toward a nearby mountain peak and said, “That’s Cold Mountain.” Then he cast his hand across the panorama of the community and added, “And this is where the story took place.”

Yesterday, I joined a group of friends at what is now the Springdale Golf Resort. I recalled my first introduction to Cold Mountain, and I revisited the progression of how the story, the novel, and the movie evolved.

Rising over 6,000 feet in the Pisgah National Forest of western North Carolina, Cold Mountain is a peak rich with both natural beauty and cultural significance. Located about 15 miles southeast of Waynesville, its rugged slopes have watched over centuries of Appalachian life. Long before it became famous in literature and film, Cold Mountain was home to Cherokee hunters, later to pioneer families who farmed its foothills, and eventually to soldiers who marched off to fight in the Civil War.

It was that Civil War heritage that inspired Charles Frazier’s 1997 novel, Cold Mountain. Frazier, a native of the region, based the story loosely on family history and local lore. His tale follows W.P. Inman, a wounded Confederate soldier who deserts the battlefield and makes a dangerous trek homeward. His journey mirrors the experiences of many disillusioned soldiers of the time, while his beloved Ada Monroe, left behind to manage her late father’s farm, embodies the resilience of Appalachian women. The novel, steeped in historical detail and place-based authenticity, went on to win the National Book Award and cemented Cold Mountain’s place in American literary imagination.

Hollywood soon took notice. In 2003, director Anthony Minghella adapted the novel into the film Cold Mountain, starring Jude Law, Nicole Kidman, and Renée Zellweger. While the story is set in Haywood County, North Carolina, the filmmakers chose Romania as the primary shooting location. Why Romania? Its unspoiled landscapes better resembled the 19th-century Appalachians than the modernized North Carolina mountains, and the cost of filming abroad was considerably lower. Still, the production team worked hard to capture the spirit of the Blue Ridge, consulting historians and even drawing on Appalachian music traditions for the soundtrack, which featured performances by Alison Krauss and Jack White.

The film proved a success, grossing over $173 million worldwide and receiving seven Academy Award nominations. Renée Zellweger won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress for her unforgettable role as the feisty Ruby Thewes. Beyond the accolades, the movie rekindled interest in the real Cold Mountain, drawing visitors from around the world who wanted to glimpse the peak that inspired the novel and film.

Today, Cold Mountain remains a powerful symbol. It can be summited only by a strenuous 10.6-mile hike via the Art Loeb Trail, but it can also be admired from overlooks along the Blue Ridge Parkway. Whether encountered on foot, in the pages of Frazier’s novel, on the silver screen, or viewed from the nearby golf course, Cold Mountain continues to evoke themes of perseverance, homecoming, and hope. It is both a real place and an inspiring narrative, a reminder that local folks in local communities have some of the best stories to tell.

Flour Sifters, Ceramic Bowls, Rolling Pins, and Family Traditions: The Legacy of a Hot Buttered Biscuit

This past weekend, my wife baked homemade biscuits for our houseguests. The warm, buttery aroma drifting from the kitchen stirred up a flood of memories. As we gathered to enjoy biscuits, bacon, and eggs, someone commented that many of our grandmothers used to bake biscuits daily—and how some even had a dedicated “biscuit drawer” to store the extras.

That simple observation took me back.

I remember that my Grandmother Howard had a kitchen cupboard with a built-in flour sifter that matched her yellow Formica table—the very heart of her kitchen. Countless stories and meals were shared around that table. Mawmaw, as we called her, made what we jokingly called “choke biscuits” using Gold Medal flour, buttermilk, and lard. Her biscuits were hearty, rustic, and unforgettable.

Grandmother Ginn—Big Mama—made hers in a large ceramic bowl with White Lily flour, buttermilk, and Crisco oil. She cut them with a round metal cutter, her motions quick and confident. Neither of my grandmothers had a biscuit drawer, though—because there were rarely any leftovers worth saving.

My grandfather had a deep love for biscuits, often paired with either red-eye gravy or sorghum syrup. He bought syrup in a tin from a mill near Waldo, just outside Talladega, or picked up a jar at Collinsville Trade Day on Saturdays. His red-eye gravy was a Southern classic—made from ham drippings and the last few tablespoons of Red Diamond coffee in the percolator.

History tells us that biscuits weren’t just comfort food—they were survival food. During the Civil War, soldiers often carried “hardtack” biscuits, dry and long-lasting, though lacking flavor. Back home, families learned to stretch their resources, using flour, lard, and buttermilk to make tender biscuits that became a symbol of home and hope. In kitchens across the South, biscuits became both a daily ritual and an expression of care.

When Big Mama later transferred from the Blue Mountain Cotton Mill to the Anniston Army Depot, she started buying Butter-Me-Not biscuits from the IGA on Quintard Avenue. They were okay, but never as good as homemade.

When I reached sixth grade, Big Mama decided it was time I learned the craft. She had me sift flour into a mound, press my finger into the center to form a crater, then fill it with Crisco oil and pour in the buttermilk. I stirred with a fork, kneaded the dough gently on wax paper dusted with flour, flattened it with a rolling pin, and cut out the biscuits. Into the oven they went—350 degrees for 15–20 minutes—rising to golden perfection.

As Rick Bragg reflected on his momma’s biscuits, he reasoned, “Every biscuit does not have to be perfect or uniform on the outside. It was the chemistry not the aesthetics, that mattered. If you had good flour and fresh ingredients and took the biscuits from the oven at just the perfect time, well, ‘it didn’t make much difference if you had a ragged biscuit or two in the batch.’”

It’s been 53 years since those early lessons. Since then, I’ve made thousands of biscuits and even taught a few others how to make them.

These days, when I enjoy a biscuit from Jack’s or the 278 Restaurant—or even from Cracker Barrel, where nostalgia is served alongside sausage gravy—I can’t help but reflect on the sacredness of that biscuit tradition. Food culture has changed, but the hunger for connection and comfort remains the same.

And for me, the best biscuit still comes from Big Mama’s cast iron skillet, topped with either local honey or my wife’s homemade strawberry freezer jam.

Now that’s a feast—and a legacy—worth savoring and passing along.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who now serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

Resounding Gratitude: A Reflection on Psalm 138

Phoebe Birkhimer, a beloved church member and neighbor of ours during our years serving at the First Baptist Church of Williams, was known for her avid and personal note-writing. In 1992 when I had knee surgery, Phoebe baked cookies and sent them to our home as I was recovering. As an expression of gratitude, I sent hand-written notes to all who had provided food and flowers during my recuperation, including Phoebe. A few days later it happened…I received a “thank you” from Phoebe for the “thank you” note I had sent to her. Now that’s a lot of gratitude!

Psalm 138 is a song of praise and gratitude attributed to David. In The Message, “thanks” or “thank you” occurs six times. That’s a lot of gratitude. This resounds as a chorus of appreciation for God’s love, faithfulness, and strength. Then the psalmist proceeds to thank God for what God has done and for what God is going to do.

This psalm is a reminder that our relationship with God should be marked by gratitude and appreciation for God’s character and God’s actions on our behalf.

In seasons of trial or uncertainty, gratitude can be difficult, but it tends to be life-shaping in all kinds of circumstances.  When we shift our focus from our predicaments to God’s faithfulness, our hearts are infused with hope and courage. David’s experience reminds us that even when the path ahead seems daunting, God walks with us, providing the grace and strength we need to confront each challenge.

Take time to lift your voice in praise and gratitude to God. Alice Walker, author of The Color Purple, says, “’Thank you’ is the best prayer that anyone could say. I say that one a lot. Thank you expresses extreme gratitude, humility, understanding.”

A deeper dive…What are some specific things you want to thank God for? How has God shown steadfast love and faithfulness in your life?

Prayer for today… Thank you, O God, for your goodness and faithfulness in my life. I am grateful for your love, mercy, and grace that strengthen me on my journey. Thank you for hearing my prayers, guiding my steps, and providing for my needs. Now cultivate in me a heart of gratitude as I grow to trust you more. Amen.

(Barry Howard is a retired pastor who now serves as a leadership coach and consultant with the Center for Healthy Churches. He and his wife live on Cove Lake in northeast Alabama.)

(A version of this devotional was first published in Reflections Daily Devotional Guide.)