The Glory of Grace

By Matt Tully

A few days ago, while driving home from an ice cream date with my wife, Tenth Avenue North’s song “Oh My Dear” began to play on our car stereo.  If you have never heard to the song before, I’d encourage you to listen to it.

The songwriter recalls a difficult time when his future wife, with tear-filled eyes and a trembling voice, confessed past sins to him that had previously been kept hidden.  He sings,

The Barrel of a Gun: How Violence Kept Him from Leaving

By David T. Ulrich

Published in The Moody Standard 76:11. This story is adapted from interviews with a male Moody student. Names are changed to honor confidentiality.

“At about 1 a.m. in the living room, I finally stood up and said, ‘I’m going to break up with Haley tomorrow, and she’s gonna blow my brains out.’ My friends on the other couches chuckled when I said it. It sounded absurd—Haley, do this? But they didn’t know how much I’d been lying.

The Rising Sun

By Tony Robledo

A narrative, inspired by a prayer titled “At the dawn” written by Walter Brueggemann:

A fine thing, I am: a man of my word.

I won’t make you a promise I can’t keep–you can count on me. I’ll be there. Because I’m a man of my word.

In fact, I think the other day I told you to meet me at the Third Coast–the one on Dearborn–so I could catch up with you and the latest news and, how is home? Good? So glad to hear it. And I want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’ll listen; I’ll soothe your sobbing, heaving soul and I’ll be the one you call when it matters most. I’ll be there–I told you I would. Because I’m a man of my word.

Spare the Rod: A Physically Abused Child Learns Righteous Resistance

By David T. Ulrich

Published in The Moody Standard 76:9 This story is adapted from interviews with a female college student. All names changed to honor confidentiality:

“‘Spare the rod, spoil the child,’ my mom and dad used to say. So they couldn’t risk being light on the rod.

“One time I made a snack for myself before dinner: cottage cheese and applesauce in a bowl. But I couldn’t finish it—maybe it had gone bad, or else I just felt sick—but I couldn’t get through the whole thing. Mom said she wouldn’t feed me anything else until I finished my bowl. This was her ‘discipline.’ Doesn’t seem so extreme, right?

Letter of Lament

By Danielle Germaine

Dear Friend,

How are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked. Just one year of college and our lives have torn us apart. I must say, the news I received today was pretty shocking. Things have changed.

I remember this time last year where we were. Small group Bible study, learning about how to live the desire-filled lives God gave us in a way that pleases Him. I remember our days of volleyball games, club meets, and crazy middle school band obsessions. I remember your purity ring that shone as radiant as you. I remember watching you, in awe, as I saw you gleam with each guy you were with. I remember our mission trip to Mexico and getting ready for the sophomore homecoming dance together.

Lament of the Lonely

by Jessica Jentink

It is not good for man to be alone.

Or so You say.

Why does it seem like You’re asking me to call it good? And along with You, all those contented, clueless couples that have forgotten what it means to be alone?

“God is all you need.” They hand me the well-intended phrase like a couple of Advil. Well, this is a virus and your pills do nothing to lessen my pain.

“All you need.”