The past few days I’ve been thinking a lot about the Lord’s Supper and pondering what it means, not only in general, but to me personally. What does it mean that I, Sheila Walsh, a broken person, have a Savior who allowed wicked men to break His own body—for me? My mind travels back to [...]

When trust is shattered when you are a child it is a wound that hides in the basement of our souls. Other wounds heal but trust seems to be the very last casualty. We learn to love again, to laugh again but to trust? The trouble is when trust is broken it affects every relationship. This wound, this slammed shut door does not allow us to be selective. If affects our ability to trust God too.

In a moment I am twelve years old again. It’s the middle of the night. I get up to go to the restroom and as I pass my mother’s bedroom door I see that the light is on. I reach my hand out to go in and then I stop. She is crying. It is primal and raw.

The question I asked myself was, “Do I trust the heart of the One who is moving my life?”