“Paper or plastic?” The question barely registers. I look down at my nuts in a vice grip, and then back up at the pimply teen. “Plastic.” I pay and wait for the last few bags to be loaded into the cart. My balls are killing me. “Would you like help with that sir?” God...

Life was not fair. Period. She knew it. She accepted it. Nevertheless, what was happening in her life was something she did not plan for. She was stressed out. Her life had turned into a circus. Juggling between work and household chores, she felt herself being reduced to smithereens. The cleaning, dusting,...

“Welcome to our mid-week service,” the tiny old man in front of the pulpit spoke. The handful of people in the pews smiled back their greetings. Even Regina lifted her head, panted, then settled back down on the floor next to the old woman, Annie Williams, known to most of the congregation as Aunt...

[Editor's Note: This week, we are going to be running excerpts from David Zimmerman's new work, The Parable of the Unexpected Guest. You can read Part One here. David is an editor at IVP Books and a columnist here at the Writers Collective. Follow ongoing adventures with the unexpected guest on Twitter...

[Editor's Note: Over the next three days, we are going to be running excerpts from David Zimmerman's new work, The Parable of the Unexpected Guest. David is an editor at IVP Books and a columnist here at the Writers Collective. Follow ongoing adventures with the unexpected guest on Twitter at @unexpguest.] Part...

  Sanballat steadies the ladder without complaint While I pry at the rotted eaves and soffits framing my bungalow. This deserved my attention much earlier, like other matters I’ve neglected: My character and who I am becoming. Sanballat steadies the ladder and salutes procrastination’s potency.   I...

Sitting atop a tree limb, Peering down, I pray. There’s a preacher in town. Some say he’s a Messiah. I just want to see him. Humiliated on my perch. No better than a raven. A short man. Hardly taller than a child. Searching for an answer. My life is a paradox. My name means “pure and...

Somewhere in March I stumbled upon a call for poetry “This is my Story” and knew that I needed to participate. I resonated with the need to share our stories and lessons learned along the journey of faith.  I assumed my submissions would fall by the wayside like most other efforts, but I was pleased...

A meditation in poem on Good Friday (Matthew 27, Luke 23). The morning came before sleep, My eyes held open in hazy fear, Body tense, and spirit quenched, Fists holding tightly to nothing, As if time could be restrained in the palm of my hand. Death was in the air, and coming for me. My sentence ringing...

Frances peered skeptically over the ledge. “Are you sure the instructions Lennart gave us were right?” she asked her brother, Emil.  “Why would we need to do something so risky?  Why would he ask us to do that?” “You know exactly what the compass said,” Emil replied.  “It said that we...