Wild Horses

Posted on August 23, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

A Hike in the Woods

Earlier this week, I went for a solitary hike along a beautiful mountain path called the Bridle Trail.

It was one of those spectacular mornings when creation seemed especially determined to show off.

Morning light filtered through the pines.

The air was cool and fresh.

The mountains surrounded me.

A quiet mountain trail winding through pine and aspen trees on Casper Mountain in Wyoming
The trail through Casper Mountain on an early morning hike.

And as I hiked, I found myself thanking God for the beauty of everything around me.

Before long, that gratitude led me into deeper business with the Creator of everything I was admiring.

And me.

It has been just over a year since my dad passed away, and as I walked, I began reflecting on everything that has happened since then.

Spiritually.

Emotionally.

Geographically.

It’s been quite a year.

And suddenly an image popped into my mind.

A marathon.

A Marathon at Sprint Pace

That’s what this past year has felt like.

A marathon.

Except even that didn’t seem quite right.

I’ve always been amazed by elite marathon runners. They run mile after mile at a pace faster than I could run a single mile.

I’ve joked that I could stand around resting at mile marker 25, wait for the leader to arrive, and then challenge him or her to a race to the finish line.

They’d still beat me.

That’s when another description occurred to me.

This past year has felt like a marathon-sprint.

A long race run at an absurdly fast pace.

So much has happened. So much has changed. So much has been accomplished.

And lately, I think I’m feeling some of the accumulated effects.

Not complete exhaustion.

More like a persistent, low-grade weariness.

As I continued hiking, I started taking inventory of something more important than everything we’ve accomplished over the past year.

My walk with God.

Holding On for Dear Life

There have been wonderful stretches during this past year when I’ve felt remarkably close to God.

But there have also been times when that closeness seemed to fade.

Times when my attention wandered.

Times when old patterns of thinking or behavior began creeping back in.

Times when the things of this world seemed more compelling than they should.

As I thought about those moments, an image appeared in my mind.

I pictured myself clinging desperately to Jesus’ feet.

Holding on with everything I had.

Don’t let go.

And then something occurred to me.

Maybe that was part of the problem.

I was still imagining that everything depended upon how tightly I could hold on to Him.

And if this past year has taught me anything, it’s that my strength has limits.

Physical strength.

Emotional strength.

Spiritual strength.

Eventually, I get tired.

So the image in my mind changed.

Instead of seeing myself desperately clinging to Jesus…

I saw Jesus clinging to me.

That changed everything.

When My Grip Gets Weak

Jesus said:

“My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand.“

—John 10:27–28 (NIV, emphasis added)

I love that picture.

I’m in His hand.

My security doesn’t ultimately depend upon the strength of my grip.
It depends upon His.

That doesn’t mean I can’t wander.

I can.

Sometimes I turn my attention away from God and toward the things of this world.

Sometimes, without even consciously realizing what I’m doing, I begin straining against what can feel in the moment like the “confines” of God’s love.

I want to do what I want to do.

I want what I want.

I want to decide what’s best for me.

It’s an ancient temptation.

In the Garden of Eden, the serpent began with a deceptively simple question:

“Did God really say…?”

—Genesis 3:1 (NIV)

The lie underneath the question was even more dangerous:

Maybe God is withholding something good from you.

Maybe you’ll be happier outside His boundaries.

Maybe you know better.

Thousands of years later, the enemy still whispers variations of the same lie.

And sometimes I still listen.

Who Is Holding Whom?

The Apostle Paul understood this struggle.

He wrote:

“For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out.”

—Romans 7:18 (NIV)

I know that feeling.

Left entirely to myself, I’m too easily tempted.

Too easily distracted.

Too easily fooled.

Too willing to believe that perhaps this time the serpent has a point.

That’s why the image of Jesus holding onto me was so powerful.

Paul writes:

“The Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.”

—2 Thessalonians 3:3 (NIV)

The Lord is faithful.

Not Dave is faithful enough.

Not Dave is strong enough.

Not Dave will never get distracted again.

Thank God.

Because none of those statements would provide much reassurance.

My faithfulness fluctuates.

His doesn’t.

Wild Horses

And that’s when an unexpected song began playing in my head.

The Rolling Stones’ “Wild Horses.”

Written by Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, the song contains a line I’ve heard countless times over the years:

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

Suddenly those words meant something entirely different to me.

Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.

Not because I’m strong enough to resist them.

Not because my grip on Jesus is so extraordinary.

But because His grip on me is.

Paul expresses that assurance far more powerfully in Romans (in probably my favorite passage in the entire Bible):

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers… will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

—Romans 8:38–39 (NIV)

Nothing.

Not temptation.

Not exhaustion.

Not grief.

Not doubt.

Not the enemy’s lies.

Not even my own occasional attempts to wander away.

Nothing can separate me from the love of God in Christ.

Wild horses don’t stand a chance.

Wild Horses Christian devotional image illustrating Romans 8:38–39 and the promise that nothing can separate us from the love of God

The Boulders Beneath My Feet

By this point in my hike, the trail itself seemed to join the conversation.

I had reached a stretch littered with enormous boulders.

And as I walked among them, another image from Scripture came to mind.

Jesus said:

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.”

—Matthew 7:24 (NIV)

I found myself thanking God.

Thanking Him that, through His grace, He has helped me build my life on something stronger than myself.

Because if my foundation were my own strength…

my own discipline…

my own wisdom…

my own goodness…

I’d be in trouble.

Eventually, every one of those things fails.

But the Rock doesn’t.

Large boulders overlooking a sunlit mountain valley on Casper Mountain in Wyoming
The boulders beneath my feet reminded me to be grateful for the Rock beneath my life.

The writer of Hebrews puts it beautifully:

“Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

—Hebrews 13:5 (NIV)

That’s the foundation.

Not that I’ll never stumble.

Not that I’ll never become distracted.

Not that I’ll never take a wrong turn.

But that He will never leave me.

The Race Isn’t Over

Maybe that realization is especially important after a year that has felt like a marathon run at sprint pace.

Because the race isn’t over.

The writer of Hebrews tells us to:

“…run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”

—Hebrews 12:1–2 (NIV)

Actually, Hebrews doesn’t tell me to fix my eyes on my performance.

Or on how far I’ve already run.

Or on how tired I am.

Fix your eyes on Jesus.

That’s where I went wrong in the image that first appeared in my mind.

I was looking at my hands.

Am I holding tightly enough?

Perhaps the better question is:

Whose hands are holding me?

A Final Encouragement

Eventually, my hike came to an end.

But the conversation stayed with me.

A year after losing my dad, I’ve traveled farther than I could have imagined—spiritually, emotionally, and geographically.

There have been mountaintops.

There have been valleys.

There have been times of remarkable closeness with God.

And there have been times when I’ve wandered toward the edge of the trail.

But through all of it, He has remained faithful.

I’m still learning to cling to Jesus.

I hope I always will.

But I’m even more grateful that my salvation doesn’t ultimately depend upon how tightly I can hold onto Him.

He’s holding onto me.

My strength may fail.

His won’t.

My attention may wander.

His doesn’t.

My faithfulness may falter.

His never will.

And because He has helped me build my life upon the bedrock of Jesus Christ, I can keep running the race He has marked out for me.

Or, on a beautiful morning in the mountains, simply keep hiking.

Knowing that whatever lies ahead…

wild horses couldn’t drag me away.

Not because of the strength of my grip on Him.

Because of the strength of His grip on me.

A Question to Sit With

Am I exhausting myself trying to hold onto God in my own strength…

or am I learning to rest in the truth that He is already holding onto me?

Small mountain stream flowing through rocks and dense green vegetation on Casper Mountain in Wyoming
A quiet mountain stream along the Bridle Trail on Casper Mountain.
Sunlit rocky canyon and pine forest overlooking the plains from Casper Mountain in Wyoming
Morning light reaches into the canyon on Casper Mountain, with the Wyoming plains stretching into the distance.
Two dogs hiking a rocky trail through pine trees overlooking Casper, Wyoming from Casper Mountain
My hiking companions chasing squirrels on Casper Mountain.
View of Casper, Wyoming and the surrounding plains framed by pine trees from Casper Mountain
Looking down on Casper and the wide-open Wyoming plains from Casper Mountain.
Posted in Christian Living, Walking with God | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Love Finds a Way

Posted on August 16, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

Introduction: How Will They Know?

Jesus once gave His followers a remarkably simple way to identify themselves to the world.

He didn’t say people would recognize us by the churches we build.

Or by how much Scripture we know.

Or by how well we can defend our beliefs.

Or even by how often we’re right.

He simply said:

“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

—John 13:35 (NIV)

Love.

That’s supposed to be our identifying marker.

And lately, I’ve found myself wondering what it would look like if we took those words completely seriously—which, of course, we should do since Jesus said them.

Not just on Sundays.

Not just with our families and friends.

Not just with people who think like we do, look like we do, vote like we do, believe like we do, or treat us kindly.

What if love became the filter through which we passed virtually everything we did?

Every conversation.

Every disagreement.

Every social media post.

Every response to an insult.

Every interaction with a stranger.

Every ordinary moment of every ordinary day.

Paul puts it about as simply as possible:

Borrowed from YouVersion

Everything.

That’s a pretty high bar.

What Does “Everything” Mean?

I’ve been thinking about what that command might mean practically.

If I am going to say something to another person, can I say it in love?

If I am going to do something that affects someone else, can I do it in love?

If I am going to post something online, can I post it in love?

If I am going to disagree with someone, can I disagree in love?

And if I can’t…

maybe I shouldn’t do it.

Or perhaps I need to find another way to do it.

Because love finds a way.

That doesn’t mean every interaction needs to be sentimental.

It doesn’t mean we spend our days wandering around telling everyone how wonderful they are.

And it certainly doesn’t mean we have to agree with everyone.

Jesus didn’t.

Love Doesn’t Mean Agreement

Jesus regularly disagreed with people.

He confronted hypocrisy.

He challenged religious leaders.

He called people to repentance.

He overturned tables in the temple.

He never confused love with approval.

Neither should we.

There are times when loving someone means telling the truth.

Paul describes Christian maturity as:

“…speaking the truth in love…”

—Ephesians 4:15 (NIV)

Notice that he doesn’t tell us to choose between the two.

Truth without love can become a weapon.

Love without truth can become little more than sentimentality.

Jesus embodied both.

So if I believe someone is wrong, love doesn’t require me to pretend otherwise.

But it should affect how I respond.

I can disagree without belittling.

Correct without humiliating.

Establish boundaries without hating.

Stand for what I believe without treating someone who disagrees with me as my enemy.

And even if someone chooses to make himself my enemy, Jesus gives us some rather uncomfortable instructions:

Borrowed from YouVersion

Apparently, nobody gets excluded from “everything.”

But Have You Met People?

This all sounds wonderful until we actually encounter other human beings.

Because people can be difficult.

Some are angry.

Some are rude.

Some are selfish.

Some seem to enjoy provoking others.

Spend five minutes reading comments on almost any controversial subject online and you’ll discover that humanity hasn’t exactly perfected this love-your-neighbor thing.

So what do we do when someone comes at us with anger, hatred, contempt, cruelty, or even foolishness?

Our natural instinct is often to return fire.

But Paul offers another way:

“Do not repay anyone evil for evil.”

—Romans 12:17 (NIV)

And a few verses later:

“Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

—Romans 12:21 (NIV)

I love that. Easier to say than to do, but still, it is sage guidance.

Don’t let someone else’s behavior determine yours.

Someone else’s cruelty doesn’t give me permission to become cruel.

Someone else’s anger doesn’t require my anger.

Someone else’s insult doesn’t require my insult.

Someone else’s contempt doesn’t justify my contempt.

If I respond to hatred with more hatred, hatred wins.

I’ve allowed someone else’s behavior to change mine.

But love finds another way.

Love Is Not a Greeting Card Sentiment

It’s easy to talk about love as though it’s something soft.

Pleasant.

Polite.

A nice sentiment printed inside a greeting card.

But that’s not the love Jesus demonstrated.

Biblical love is powerful.

It moves toward people who are hurting.

It forgives people who don’t deserve forgiveness.

It serves people who can offer nothing in return.

It stands up for people who are being mistreated.

It tells the truth when remaining silent would be easier.

It absorbs an offense rather than passing it along to someone else.

And ultimately, it lays down its life for another.

Jesus said:

Borrowed from YouVersion

Then He showed us exactly what He meant.

The cross is what God’s love looks like when fully unleashed upon a broken world.

It isn’t passive.

It isn’t weak.

And it certainly isn’t sentimental.

Love is a force that changes the world.
It changes relationships.
It changes enemies into friends.
It changes broken people.
It changes the person receiving it.
And perhaps most importantly, it changes the person doing the loving.

Imagine what could happen if millions of followers of Jesus began taking seriously His command to love this way.

Not merely talking about God’s love.

Deploying it.

One conversation.

One act of forgiveness.

One meal.

One encouraging word.

One difficult relationship.

One hurting person at a time.

Maybe we spend too much time wondering how Christians can change the world.

Jesus already told us.

Love finds a way.

What Made Jesus So Compelling?

When I read the Gospels (and watch The Chosen), I’m continually struck by how people flocked to Jesus.

Crowds followed Him everywhere.

They pressed around Him.

They brought their children to Him.

They brought their sick friends and family members.

People climbed trees to see Him.

One group was so desperate to get a friend near Him that they tore a hole through somebody’s roof.

Certainly, some came because they wanted to see miracles or hoped Jesus would heal them.

But I suspect there was something else that made Him compelling.

People who had spent much of their lives feeling judged, rejected, ignored, or condemned discovered that Jesus was different.

He saw them.

The woman at the well.

Zacchaeus.

The woman caught in adultery.

Lepers whom others wouldn’t touch.

Children whom His own disciples tried to send away.

Tax collectors.

Sinners.

Outcasts.

You and me.

Jesus didn’t pretend their sins didn’t matter.

But neither did He reduce them to their sins.

He saw people whom God loved.

And they knew it.

What If We Looked More Like Jesus?

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if every follower of Christ treated people that way.

What if the people around us knew beyond any doubt:

Christians aren’t here to condemn me.

They’re here to love me.

They’re here to listen.

To encourage.

To help.

To pray.

To walk beside me when life falls apart.

To tell me the truth when I need to hear it.

And, most importantly, to introduce me to the God who loves me more than I can possibly imagine.

I wonder how full our churches might be if that’s what people consistently experienced from those of us who claim the name of Christ.

Jesus said love would identify us as His followers.

John takes the idea even further:

Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.

—1 John 4:7 (NIV)

Then he says something extraordinary:

No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.

—1 John 4:12 (NIV)

No one has seen God.

But perhaps they can catch a glimpse of Him through us.

Showing People What God Is Like

That’s where this becomes much bigger than simply trying to be nicer.

When we love someone, we have an opportunity to reveal something about the character of God.

A God who doesn’t wait for people to clean themselves up before loving them.

A God who loved us while we were still sinners.

Paul writes:

Borrowed from YouVersion

That’s the message we have the privilege of carrying into the world.

Not:

Get yourself straightened out, and maybe God will love you.

But:

God already loves you.

He loves you enough that He sent His Son for you.

Jesus willingly took upon Himself the consequences of everything you and I have ever done wrong.

That’s not a message of condemnation.

That’s the greatest love story ever told.

And perhaps people will be more willing to hear about God’s love when they have already experienced some of it through us.

Love Finds a Way

So what does this look like tomorrow morning?

Probably nothing dramatic.

It might mean listening when we’d rather talk.

Being patient when we’re irritated.

Forgiving when we’re hurt.

Helping someone who can’t repay us.

Refusing to join a conversation that’s tearing someone else down.

Responding gently to someone who speaks harshly.

Praying for someone who has mistreated us.

Telling someone the truth because we genuinely care about that person’s well-being—not because we want to prove ourselves right.

Sometimes love may require a difficult conversation.

Sometimes love establishes a boundary.

Sometimes love says no.

Sometimes love confronts.

Sometimes love forgives.

Sometimes love serves.

Sometimes love simply sits quietly beside someone who is hurting.

Love doesn’t always look the same.

But love always seeks the good of the other person.

A Simple Question

Maybe there’s a simple way to begin.

Before I speak…

Can I say this in love?

Before I respond…

Can I respond in love?

Before I post…

Can I post this in love?

Before I act…

Can I do this in love?

And if the answer is no…

maybe I shouldn’t do it.

Or maybe I simply haven’t found the right way yet.

Because Jesus didn’t call us to win every argument.

He called us to follow Him.

And He told us exactly how the world would recognize us when we do.

By our love.

A Final Encouragement

The world has plenty of anger.

Plenty of judgment.

Plenty of division.

Plenty of people shouting at one another.

I’m sure it doesn’t need Christians adding more of the same.

What it desperately needs is Jesus.

And for reasons I don’t completely understand, Jesus has chosen people like you and me to help show the world what He is like.

Imperfect people.

Still-growing people.

People who sometimes lose our patience and say things we wish we could take back.

But people in whom His Spirit lives.

People learning, one interaction at a time, to love as He loved us.

Maybe that’s one of the greatest opportunities we have each day.

To leave the people we encounter with a slightly better understanding of what God is like because they encountered His love through us.

So when anger says, strike back…

Love finds a way.

When pride says, prove you’re right…

Love finds a way.

When disagreement says, make them your enemy…

Love finds a way.

And when we aren’t sure what to say or what to do…

perhaps we can simply ask:

Jesus, how would You love this person right now?

Then follow where He leads.

Because if love is how the world is supposed to recognize us…

may we give them plenty of evidence.

A Question to Sit With

If someone knew nothing about Jesus except what they experienced through me today…

what would they believe He is like?

Posted in Christian Living, Faith in Action, Love and Sacrifice, Walking with God | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Going Home

Posted on August 9, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

Introduction: You Can’t Go Home Again

This weekend, my wife and I returned to Colorado Springs to visit our son and his wife.

In many ways, you could say we were going home.

We lived here for more than 30 years.

That’s longer than either of us has lived anywhere else.

We raised our children here.

We built careers here.

We made friends here.

We celebrated birthdays and holidays here.

We watched our children grow from little kids into adults.

So as we drove back into town, you might expect that I would have been overwhelmed by nostalgia.

I wasn’t.

Don’t misunderstand me. I have wonderful memories of our years here, and I’m grateful for them.

But coming back didn’t feel like coming home.

And that surprised me a little.

There’s an old saying:

You can’t go home again.

The phrase comes from the title of a novel by Thomas Wolfe, and the older I get, the more I understand what it means.

Because perhaps what we really want to return to isn’t a place at all.

It’s a time.

And we can’t go back there.

The Place Is Still Here. The Time Isn’t.

Colorado Springs is still here.

Many of the streets are the same.

Some of the restaurants and stores are the same.

The mountains still rise dramatically to the west, providing one of the most beautiful backdrops of any city I’ve ever seen.

But the Colorado Springs where we raised our family exists now mostly in our memories.

Our children aren’t little anymore.

They don’t need rides to school.

There are no practices to get them to.

No homework to supervise.

No Christmas mornings with three excited little children bounding out of bed to see what Santa left behind.

And that’s okay.

Those were wonderful years.

But they belonged to a particular season.

Perhaps that’s one of the strange things about nostalgia.

We think we’re longing for a place.

But often we’re longing for the people we were—and the people we loved—at a particular moment in time.

You can return to the place.

You can’t return to the moment.

A Longing We Can’t Quite Satisfy

That realization reminded me of something C. S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity:

“If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

—C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, Book III, Chapter 10, “Hope”

I’ve always loved that thought.

Lewis wasn’t suggesting that the beautiful things of this world don’t matter.

Quite the opposite.

They matter tremendously.

But perhaps part of their purpose is to awaken in us a longing they can never completely satisfy.

We experience something beautiful…

and we want it to last.

A perfect family gathering.

A spectacular sunset.

A child’s laughter.

A Christmas morning.

A wonderful vacation.

A quiet evening with someone we love.

For a moment, something deep inside us says:

This.

This is what I’ve been looking for.

But then the moment passes.

The children grow up.

The vacation ends.

The sun disappears below the horizon.

People we love move away.

Some eventually leave this life altogether.

And we find ourselves longing for something we can’t quite recover.

What if that longing is telling us something?

Longing for a Better Country

The writer of Hebrews describes men and women of faith who understood that they didn’t quite belong here.

Speaking of Abraham and others who trusted God, he writes that they:

…admitted that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.

—Hebrews 11:13 (NIV)

Then comes this beautiful explanation:

Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

—Hebrews 11:16 (NIV)

A better country.

Maybe that’s what we’ve been longing for all along.

Not yesterday.

Not our childhood home.

Not the town where we raised our children.

Something better.

Something ahead of us.

Paul expresses the same idea:

But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.

—Philippians 3:20 (NIV)

Our memories may be behind us.

But our Home is ahead of us.

A man walks away from Yesterday toward Home Ahead as sunlight illuminates a distant city, illustrating the Christian journey toward our eternal home.

Heading Home

There’s another biblical story that comes to mind when I think about going home.

When God delivered the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, He didn’t simply rescue them and immediately deposit them in the Promised Land.

There was a journey in between.

God had to lead them out of Egypt.

And in a sense, He also had to get Egypt out of them.

They had spent generations living as slaves. Even after they were physically free, they repeatedly looked backward, sometimes remembering Egypt more fondly than it deserved to be remembered.

At one point, when the journey became difficult, they actually said:

“We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic.”

—Numbers 11:5 (NIV)

Funny how nostalgia can work.

They remembered the menu.

They seemed to have forgotten the slavery.

Perhaps we’re not so different.

God is continually calling us forward, but sometimes part of us still wants to go back—to an earlier time, an easier season, a familiar place, or a previous version of ourselves.

But God isn’t merely leading us from somewhere.

He’s leading us toward something.

And along the way, He is changing us.

Maybe that’s part of what this journey toward Home is all about. God leads us out of our own versions of Egypt—the things that enslave us, define us, frighten us, or tempt us to turn backward. And then, with our cooperation, He patiently works the Egypt out of us.

Old habits.

Old fears.

Old attachments.

Old ways of thinking.

The journey matters because God isn’t simply preparing a place for us.

He’s preparing us for the place.

We can be grateful for where we’ve been without mistaking it for where we’re going.

Glimpses of Home

This changes the way I think about some of my favorite memories.

Maybe those wonderful moments weren’t simply experiences to enjoy and then mourn when they were gone.

Maybe they were glimpses.

Signposts.

Little previews of something better.

The warmth of family gathered around a table.

The security of being surrounded by people who love you.

The joy of laughter.

The beauty of creation.

The feeling that, for just a moment, everything is exactly as it should be.

Perhaps those moments awaken something within us because they resemble, however imperfectly, the Home for which we were created.

And maybe that’s why we can never quite recreate them.

They were never the destination.

They were pointing toward it.

A Place Prepared for Us

Shortly before His crucifixion, Jesus spoke words of comfort to His disciples:

“My Father’s house has many rooms… I am going there to prepare a place for you.”

—John 14:2 (NIV)

I love the language Jesus uses.

My Father’s house.

A place for you.

He could have described eternal life in abstract theological terms.

Instead, He described something that sounds remarkably like…

Home.

A place where we belong.

Our eternal Home, prepared for us.

A place where the longing finally ends because we’ve arrived at what we were longing for all along.

Something Better Than Nostalgia

There’s nothing wrong with nostalgia.

I enjoy looking through old photographs.

I enjoy remembering our children when they were little.

I enjoy thinking about the adventures my wife and I have shared over the years.

Those memories are gifts.

But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking backward.

God isn’t calling me back there.

He was there, certainly. In those days.

But He’s also here.

And He’s leading me forward.

And He’s leading us forward.

There are still adventures ahead.

Still memories to make.

Still people to love.

Still work God has prepared for us to do.

And ultimately, there is a Home waiting for us that will make even our happiest memories seem like previews.

When We Finally Get Home

The Bible gives us a glimpse of what that Home will be like.

Near the end of Revelation, John writes:

Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them.

—Revelation 21:3 (NIV)

And then:

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…

—Revelation 21:4 (NIV)

Think about that.

No goodbyes.

No growing apart.

No relationships broken by distance, disagreement, disease, or death.

No wonderful moment followed by the realization that it can’t last.

God Himself dwelling with us.

Perhaps that’s the place our best moments have been whispering about all along.

A Final Encouragement

So maybe Thomas Wolfe was right.

You can’t go home again.

I can’t return to the Colorado Springs where my wife and I were raising three young children.

I can’t step back into those Christmas mornings.

Those school years.

Those family dinners.

Those ordinary days that I didn’t realize at the time would someday become treasured memories.

And that’s okay.

I’m grateful for those years.

I treasure the memories.

I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

But I don’t need to go back.

Those years weren’t the destination.

They were part of the journey.

And perhaps some of the things I loved most about them—the laughter, the family, the belonging, the sense that for a moment everything was exactly as it should be—were little glimpses of something I’ve been longing for all along.

Home.

Not the home behind me.

The Home ahead of me.

Jesus said He has gone there to prepare a place for us.

So maybe Thomas Wolfe was only half right.

You can’t go home again.

But by the grace of God, you can go Home.

A Question to Sit With

What have I been longing to return to…

and could that longing actually be pointing me toward the Home God has prepared for me?

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Let Patience Finish Its Work

Posted on August 2, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

Introduction: The Biggest Project of the Summer

Looking back over this summer, I’ve begun to realize something.

The biggest project God has been working on wasn’t our house.
It was me.

If you’ve been reading my recent posts, you know that my retirement hasn’t exactly started the way I imagined. Instead of leisurely mornings and grand adventures, thanks to the house we bought in Casper, Wyoming, I’ve spent much of the summer repairing drainage, fixing sprinkler problems, tackling one unexpected project after another, and making more trips to the hardware store than I care to count.

There were days when I wondered if we’d ever reach the end of the list.

Now, as I look around our yard and house, I realize we’re finally beginning to see the finish line. We’re not there yet, but at least it’s in sight.

The drainage works.

Many of the repairs and renovations from our list are complete.

The house is starting to feel like home.

And that has caused me to reflect on another kind of work that has been taking place all along.

Letting Patience Finish Its Work

Last week, I wrote about God’s extraordinary patience with us.

This week, I’d like to consider why He is so patient.

The Apostle James writes:

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

—James 1:2–4 (NIV)

Some older translations use the word patience instead of perseverance, which I think beautifully captures the idea James is expressing. Whether translated patience, perseverance, or steadfast endurance, the point is the same:

God is producing something in us.

James doesn’t simply say that trials happen.

He says they accomplish something.

And then he gives us a fascinating instruction:

Let perseverance finish its work.

In other words, don’t interrupt the process.

Remodeling More Than a House

As I have reflected on these past couple of months, I was reminded of one of my favorite passages from C. S. Lewis’s classic book Mere Christianity. His words describe God’s work in our lives better than I ever could:

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first perhaps you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised.”

— C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity, Book IV, Chapter 9 (“Counting the Cost”)

That certainly resonated with me. When I first read those words years ago, I appreciated the metaphor. This summer, I lived it.

The first big unplanned project of my summer has involved quite a bit of getting the drains right.

But Lewis doesn’t stop there.

He continues:

“But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense.”

— Mere Christianity

Isn’t that often how life feels?

Just when we think we understand what God is doing…

He begins another project.

One we never asked for.

One we don’t understand.

One that seems to take far longer or hurt more than we expected.

The Path to Hope

Paul the Apostle describes the same process in Romans:

Borrowed from YouVersion

I love that progression.

Patience, otherwise known as suffering.

Perseverance.

Character.

Hope.

Hope isn’t where the journey begins.

It’s where it leads.

As I look back over this summer, I can honestly say that’s exactly what I’ve experienced.

Not because the projects themselves have been enjoyable.

They haven’t.

Not because I suddenly enjoy building drainage systems.

I don’t.

But because I can now see the light breaking through the clouds.

The endless list has become a manageable list.

The overwhelming projects have become finishing touches.

Instead of wondering whether we’ll ever enjoy this home…

I’m beginning to imagine what next spring and summer might look like.

Morning coffee on the patio.

Playing with the grandsons in the yard.

Friends and family gathered around the table.

Time to simply enjoy the place we’ve spent so much time preparing.

Hope has quietly begun replacing discouragement.

The House God Is Building

Lewis brings his illustration to its magnificent conclusion:

“You thought you were going to be made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

— Mere Christianity

What a remarkable thought.

All summer long, I believed I was remodeling a house.

God was remodeling a heart.

The drainage mattered.

The repairs mattered.

But perhaps the greater work was happening where no one else could see it.

Expanding patience.

Deepening trust.

Cultivating gratitude.

Growing perseverance.

Building character.

And quietly leading me toward hope.

A homeowner leans on a shovel after completing backyard projects as sunlight breaks through storm clouds and a rainbow stretches across the Wyoming sky, symbolizing hope after seasons of perseverance.

The Storm Is Passing

Lately, it feels as though the storm that’s been raging all summer is finally beginning to pass.

The wind has settled.

The clouds are starting to break apart.

Sunlight is finding its way through again.

Soon, the only reminders of the storm will be the fresh smell after a cleansing rain, greener grass, and perhaps—even if only in my imagination—a rainbow stretching across the gleaming azure Wyoming sky.

Maybe that’s what hope often looks like.

Not pretending the storm never happened.

Not forgetting how hard it was.

But recognizing that God was faithful through every moment of it.

And by recognizing, remembering.

And remembering, turning back to God with gratitude. Even thanking Him for the things I really didn’t like at the time I was enduring them. Counting the blessings I discovered along the way.

A Final Encouragement

Perhaps you’re in the middle of your own storm today.

Maybe you can’t yet see the sunlight.

Maybe the list of problems still feels endless.

If so, don’t lose heart.

God isn’t finished yet.

Let patience finish its work.

Because the God who patiently walks with us through every trial is also patiently shaping us into who He created us to be.

And when He is finished…

You may discover that the greatest work He accomplished wasn’t around you.
It was within you.

A Question to Sit With

What might God be building in me through the very season I’ve been asking Him to end?

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The Patience of God, Revisited

Posted on July 26, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

Introduction: Growing Older… and (Hopefully) Wiser

One of the unexpected joys of growing older is occasionally realizing that God has been quietly changing you.

Not all at once.

Not dramatically.

Almost so gradually that you don’t notice it happening.

Until one day you realize you’re responding differently than you would have years ago.

I had one of those moments recently.

As I’ve shared in previous posts, my retirement has involved spending a great deal of time working on projects around our new home in Wyoming. Those projects have also given me something I never anticipated: many hours with my almost-four-year-old grandson.

He’s become my little coworker.

He asks a thousand questions.

He wants to help with everything.

Sometimes he actually helps.

Sometimes… he mostly slows me down.

And you know what?

I love every minute of it.

That surprised me.

Not because there’s anything wrong with him.

But because years ago, when my own children were little, I suspect I would have become impatient with their “help”.

Back then, I was usually trying to accomplish something. Get things done. Lots of things.

Now…

I’m trying to enjoy someone.

Somewhere along the way, I think God has made me a little more patient.

Please don’t misunderstand me.

I still have plenty of room to grow.

But I do think I’ve come a long way from where I once was.

And that realization led me to another thought.

If I’ve Grown More Patient…

…how patient must God be?

After all, He isn’t merely older than I am.

He is eternal.

The Ancient of Days.

The One who has never been in a hurry because He has never been constrained by time.

Scripture repeatedly describes Him this way:

The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love.

—Psalm 103:8 (NIV)

Slow to anger.

Patient.

Not because He ignores sin.

But because His love is greater than His desire to punish.

Patient Even with His Enemies

Perhaps the greatest display of God’s patience is found in the cross.

In his letter to the church in Rome (and to all of us), Paul the Apostle writes:

Borrowed from YouVersion

Think about that.

God didn’t wait until we got our act together.

He didn’t wait until we deserved forgiveness.

He didn’t even wait until we stopped opposing Him.

Paul goes on to say:

For if, while we were God’s enemies, we were reconciled to him through the death of his Son…

—Romans 5:10 (NIV)

Enemies.

Not merely indifferent.

Not confused.

Enemies.

And yet God responded…

not with revenge…

but with rescue.

That is patience beyond anything I can comprehend.

And He’s Still Patient

Sometimes I imagine God looking down at me after I’ve said something I shouldn’t have.

Thought something I shouldn’t have.

Or responded in a way that doesn’t reflect Jesus very well.

In my mind, I picture Him sighing.

“Come on, Dave… you can do better than that.”

Maybe you’ve imagined something similar.

But then I remember the gospel.

Romans 8:1 reminds us:

Borrowed from YouVersion

Notice what Paul doesn’t say.

He doesn’t say God ignores our sin.

He says we are no longer condemned because Jesus has already borne that condemnation.

So instead of pushing me away…

God picks me up.

Dusts me off.

Reminds me whose I am.

And gently calls me to keep becoming more like His Son.

I can’t help but think of Jesus’ words to the woman caught in adultery:

“Then neither do I condemn you… Go now and leave your life of sin.”

—John 8:11 (NIV)

Grace first.
Transformation second.
That’s God’s way.

Jesus sits beside a weary man in a peaceful garden, offering comfort and patient encouragement as the evening sun shines through the trees.

Becoming Like Our Father

The more I think about God’s patience with me…

the more I want that same patience to overflow into my relationships with others.

Especially the people closest to me.

Children.

Grandchildren.

Friends.

Neighbors. Even the annoying ones.

Strangers.

Perhaps spiritual maturity isn’t measured merely by how much Scripture we’ve memorized.

Or how much theology we know.

Perhaps one evidence of becoming more like Jesus is simply becoming more patient.

After all, patience is one of the fruits of the Spirit.

Not the fruits of trying harder.

The fruits of the Spirit.

As His Spirit changes us…

our patience grows.

A Final Encouragement

Looking back, I’m grateful that God has slowly been teaching me patience.

Not because I’ve mastered it.

Far from it.

But because every small step reminds me of Someone whose patience is infinitely greater than mine.

A God who loved me while I opposed Him.

A God who still loves me when I stumble.

A God who refuses to give up on me.

If that’s how patient He is with me…

perhaps I can be a little more patient with others.

Especially the little coworker wearing work gloves who keeps asking,

“Grandalf… can I help?”

Perhaps the reason I can enjoy his “help” more today isn’t because he’s gotten better about actually helping. It’s because God has been changing me.

A Question to Sit With

Who in my life has been testing my patience lately…

and how might remembering God’s extraordinary patience with me change the way I respond?

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Buried Blessings

Posted on July 19, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

Introduction: Not the Retirement I Imagined

If I’m honest, retirement hasn’t started quite the way I imagined.

Like many people approaching retirement, I pictured more days shaped by what I wanted to do.

More adventures.

More leisurely mornings.

More writing.

More time enjoying this new season of life with my wife.

Instead…

I’ve spent much of the past month and a half digging trenches.

Repairing drainage.

Fixing water problems.

Making repairs.

Running to the hardware store so often that I think they should probably assign me my own parking space.

Sometimes it has felt like one long project interrupted only by the next one.

And while I’ve tried to keep a good attitude, there have certainly been moments when I’ve thought,

“Lord… surely we’re almost done now?”

Maybe you’ve experienced seasons like that too.

Not necessarily with a house.

But with life.

One challenge gives way to another.

One problem gets solved…

and another appears.

Looking for the Blessings

During this time, I’ve tried to remind myself of the obvious blessings.

I’m thankful we were able to buy this home.

I’m thankful we’re close to our children and grandchildren.

I’m thankful I have the time to work on these projects because I’m retired.

I’m thankful God has given me the health, strength, and resources to keep moving forward.

Those are all genuine blessings.

But they aren’t the blessings I want to tell you about today.

Because recently I realized…

God had buried another blessing underneath all the dirt.

Literally.

An Unexpected Helper

As I’ve mentioned before, I have two grandsons.

One recently turned two.

The other will soon celebrate his fourth birthday.

I adore both of them.

But if I’m being honest, I’ve often felt a stronger connection with the younger one.

The older grandson naturally gravitates toward his mom (my daughter) and my wife whenever they are around.

That’s perfectly normal.

He’s four.

Of course he wants his mom.

The younger one, on the other hand, has generally been content being relegated to grandpa when mom is occupied with his big brother.

So that’s simply how our relationships developed.

Or so I thought.

Grandalf’s Little Coworker

Then all these house projects came along.

One thing I’ve learned about my older grandson is that he absolutely loves having a job to do.

Whenever he sees me working outside, he comes running.

“Grandalf… can I help?” (I asked to have the boys call me “Grandalf”, with a tip of my hat to “Gandalf” from Lord of the Rings.)

My answer to him is always yes.

He’s so serious about his responsibilities that we bought him his own pair of work gloves.

He loves them.

Now…

Let’s be honest.

He isn’t exactly speeding up the projects.

In fact, if anything, they take a little longer.

But I’ve discovered something.

The projects aren’t really about the projects anymore.

They’re about us.

While I dig trenches, he asks a thousand questions.

“What does that tool do?”

“Why are you digging there?”

“Where does that pipe go?”

“Why are you doing that?”

I always take the time to try to answer his questions and explain things in ways I think he’ll understand. I love watching his little mind soak it all up.

Sometimes we even pause work altogether so we can dance to the music I have playing.

During one particularly hot afternoon, he decided his primary assignment was spraying Grandalf with water.

Oddly enough…

that turned out to be genuinely helpful.

I’ve laughed more than I expected.

Smiled more than I expected.

Connected more deeply than I expected.

A grandfather and his young grandson work together on a backyard drainage project, illustrating the unexpected blessings God can reveal in the midst of life's challenges.

The Blessing Hidden Beneath the Dirt

One afternoon it suddenly occurred to me.

If these house projects hadn’t happened…

I probably wouldn’t have spent nearly this much one-on-one time with my grandson.

God had buried a blessing inside a trial.
What I initially saw as an interruption had quietly become one of my favorite parts of retirement so far.

Would I have chosen many weeks of drainage and other household problems to get there?

Probably not.

But would I trade these afternoons with my little coworker now?

Not a chance.

I Wonder…

That experience has made me wonder something.

I wonder how many blessings God buries inside our hardships.

I don’t pretend to know why He does it.

Perhaps it’s because blessings discovered unexpectedly become treasures.

Perhaps it’s because hardship slows us down enough to notice what we would otherwise overlook.

Perhaps it’s because He’s teaching us to keep looking for His goodness, even when life feels heavy.

Whatever the reason…

I’m beginning to suspect that some of God’s sweetest gifts are hidden beneath piles of frustration.

Looking More Carefully

James wrote:

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds…”

—James 1:2 (NIV)

For years, that verse puzzled me.

How can we possibly rejoice in trials?

Maybe part of the answer is this:

Because we never know what God is growing…

or giving…

or revealing…

beneath them.

Sometimes the blessing isn’t the end of the trial.
Sometimes it’s what we discover while walking through it.

A Final Encouragement

I’m still looking forward to the day when all these projects are finally behind us.

I’m sure I’ll enjoy our home even more then.

But I also hope I never forget what these projects gave me.

A little boy in work gloves.

A thousand curious questions.

A few impromptu dances.

Some unexpected laughs.

And a friendship with my grandson that’s deeper today than it was just a few months ago.

That was a blessing I never would have found…

if God hadn’t buried it beneath a pile of dirt.

A Question to Sit With

What blessing might God have buried inside the very challenge I’ve been asking Him to remove?

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God Is Good Even When Life Isn’t

Posted on July 12, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

Introduction: One More Thing…and Then Another

Have you ever had one of those seasons where it seems like life just won’t let up?

You solve one problem…

only to discover another one waiting around the corner.

That’s been my life lately.

A little over a month ago, I retired from my “day job”. In preparation for that, a few months earlier, my wife and I had purchased a home in Casper, Wyoming. We love the location. We love being close to two of our children and our two grandchildren. We love the possibilities this new chapter of life holds.

What we haven’t loved are the seemingly endless surprises that have come with the house.

Drainage problems.

Water issues.

Repairs.

Unexpected expenses.

Projects that looked simple but somehow turned into much larger undertakings.

Sometimes it feels as though every time we finish one project, another one (or two or three) appears to take its place.

If I’m honest, there have been moments when I’ve wondered:

“Lord… can we catch a break?”

Perhaps you’ve been there too.

Maybe your challenges have nothing to do with a house.

Perhaps it’s your health.

Your finances.

A difficult relationship.

A prodigal child.

Loneliness.

Grief.

Or simply one exhausting season after another.

When life becomes difficult, one temptation quietly begins creeping into our hearts.

We start focusing almost exclusively on what’s wrong.

God Is Still Good

One of the simplest—and most profound—statements in all of Scripture appears over and over again.

Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever.

—Psalm 136:1 (NIV)

I’ve noticed something about that verse.

It doesn’t say:

“Give thanks because life is going well.”

It doesn’t say:

“Give thanks because all your prayers have been answered.”

Or:

“Give thanks because your circumstances are easy.”

Instead, the reason for our gratitude is much deeper.

God is good.
Not merely because of what He does.
But because of who He is.

His character doesn’t fluctuate with my circumstances.

He is no less good on my hardest day than on my easiest.

The Enemy Loves a Negative Focus

I’ve become convinced that one of the enemy’s favorite strategies is remarkably simple.

He doesn’t always have to destroy our lives.

Sometimes he simply has to redirect our attention.

Toward disappointment.

Toward frustration.

Toward everything that isn’t going the way we hoped.

The more we stare at our problems, the larger they seem to become.

Eventually they begin crowding out our gratitude.

Hope slowly gives way to discouragement.

Optimism gives way to negativity.

We begin wondering if God has forgotten us.

Or worse…

whether He is somehow punishing us.

I’ve had those thoughts.

Maybe you have too.

But they’re not from the heart of God.

Paul points out in his second letter to the church at Corinth:

The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.

—2 Corinthians 4:4 (NIV)

Gratitude Changes What We See

I’ve found myself trying to ask a different question.

Not:

“Lord, why is this happening?”

But:

“Lord, what are You teaching me through this?”

That simple shift changes everything.

Instead of dwelling on what is going wrong, I begin remembering what is going right.

I’m thankful that we were able to purchase this home.

I’m thankful that one of our children and our grandchildren live nearby, and one of our other children lives in the home full-time, looking after it when we are away.

I’m thankful that God has given us the resources to address these problems.

I’m thankful for the health and energy to keep working.

I’m thankful for a wife who walks beside me through all of it.

Most of all…

I’m thankful that none of these circumstances change who God is.

A homeowner stands beside an unfinished drainage project as sunlight breaks through storm clouds, symbolizing God's goodness during life's challenges.
Life isn’t always good. But God is still good. Always.

This Too Shall Pass

One thought has encouraged me repeatedly during these challenging times.

This season will not last forever.

Eventually the projects will be finished.

The repairs will be complete.

The frustrations will fade into stories we’ll laugh about someday.

We’ll finally have time simply to enjoy our home and all that this town has to offer.

But even that isn’t my greatest hope.

Later in his second letter to the Corinthians, Paul reminds us:

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.

—2 Corinthians 4:17 (NIV)

Paul isn’t minimizing suffering.

He experienced more hardship than most of us ever will.

Instead, he’s comparing our temporary struggles with the eternity that awaits those who belong to Christ.

When viewed against forever…

Even our hardest seasons become temporary. Light. Momentary.

The Best News of All

Ultimately, my greatest reason for gratitude has nothing to do with my house.

Or my retirement.

Or my health.

Or my circumstances.

My greatest reason for gratitude is that Jesus Christ gave His life so that I could spend eternity with Him.

Because of His death and resurrection, my future is secure.

Nothing happening today can change that.

Nothing happening tomorrow can take it away.

That doesn’t erase today’s problems.

But it does put them into their proper perspective.

A Final Encouragement

Life isn’t always good.
Sometimes it’s exhausting.
Sometimes it’s heartbreaking.
Sometimes it feels like one challenge after another.
But God is still good.
Always.

His goodness is not measured by the absence of difficulty.

It is revealed most clearly in the cross.

And because of that…

I can choose gratitude.

Not because every circumstance deserves it.

But because He does.

A Question to Sit With

What circumstance has been competing for my attention lately…

and how might my perspective change if I chose to focus instead on the unchanging goodness of God?

Posted in Faith & Spiritual Growth, Faith in Difficult Times, Walking with God | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Freedom Is Never Free

Posted on July 5, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

Introduction: Freedom Worth Celebrating

This weekend, Americans across the country have celebrated Independence Day.

There were fireworks.

Parades.

Cookouts.

Flags waving in the summer breeze.

It’s a joyful tradition, and one I’m grateful to be part of.

As I reflect on the Fourth of July this year, however, I find myself thinking about freedom itself.

Freedom is one of those words we use so often that we can forget how extraordinary it really is.

And more importantly…

how costly it is.

Freedom Always Has a Price

The freedoms we enjoy as Americans did not simply appear.

They were purchased.

Over the past 250 years, countless men and women have willingly laid down their lives so that future generations could live in freedom.

Many left home never to return.

Many families paid a price that words cannot adequately express.

Whether we know their names or not, we are beneficiaries of their sacrifice.

I realize that America has never been perfect.

No nation this side of heaven ever will be.

But I also believe we have much to be thankful for.

The freedoms we enjoy are remarkable.

And gratitude is an appropriate response.

An Even Greater Freedom

As thankful as I am for political freedom, Scripture points us toward an even greater freedom.

Jesus said:

“If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

—John 8:31–32 (NIV)

At first glance, those words seem almost too simple.

Truth sets us free.

But what truth?

A few verses later, Jesus makes His meaning unmistakable:

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.”

—John 8:36 (NIV)

The Truth is not merely an idea.
It is a person.
Jesus Himself.

In his letter to the church at Corinth, Paul reminds us:

Borrowed from YouVersion

Love Paid the Price

Just as our earthly freedoms came at a cost, so did our spiritual freedom.

Jesus didn’t simply tell us we were forgiven.

He purchased our freedom.

On the cross.

The apostle Paul reminds us:

Borrowed from YouVersion

And Jesus said:

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”

—John 15:13 (NIV)

Every time I read those words, I’m struck by how perfectly they describe what Jesus did for us.

He didn’t merely teach about love.

He demonstrated it.

Our freedom from sin, shame, guilt, and death was purchased by the greatest act of love the world has ever known.

Freedom Is Meant to Be Lived

One thing I’ve noticed is that freedom isn’t merely something we possess.

It’s something we practice.

Paul warns us:

“You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love.”

—Galatians 5:13 (NIV)

That’s an interesting way to think about freedom.

Freedom isn’t simply the ability to do whatever we want.

It is the opportunity to become who God created us to be.

Real freedom enables us to love.

To forgive.

To serve.

To live without being enslaved by sin, bitterness, fear, or selfishness.

Don’t Take Freedom for Granted

If I’m honest, I sometimes wonder whether one of the greatest dangers we face is not losing freedom…

but forgetting its value, and then giving it away voluntarily..

Anything we enjoy every day can slowly become ordinary.

We begin to assume it has always been there.

That it always will be.

Freedom—whether political or spiritual—is too precious to take for granted.

It deserves our gratitude.

Our stewardship.

And our remembrance.

A Final Encouragement

As the smoke from the fireworks dissipates and the excitement from such a momentous anniversary celebration wanes, I hope we’ll hang on to the memories we made.

Cherish the time we spent with family and friends.

Celebrate the remarkable blessings we have received.

But as we return to the routine of our daily lives, I also hope we’ll pause for a quieter moment.

To remember those who gave their lives so that we could enjoy the extraordinary freedom we experience.

And to remember the One who gave His life so that we could live forever.

A weathered wooden cross and an American flag at sunrise symbolize the sacrifices that secured both spiritual and earthly freedom.

One secured our earthly freedom.

The other secured our eternal freedom.

May we never take either for granted.
Both remind us that freedom is never free.
It is always purchased through sacrifice.

A Question to Sit With

This Independence Day, what freedoms have I begun to take for granted…

and how can gratitude shape the way I live in response?

Posted in Faith and Culture, Gratitude and Thankfulness, Holidays and Reflections, Walking with God | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Made for This

Posted on June 28, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

Introduction: Unexpected Assignments

I retired a little less than a month ago.

Like many people approaching retirement, I had dreams and plans for this new season of life. More time with my wife. Travel. New adventures. Writing. Serving. Learning. Exploring what God might have next.

And thankfully, many of those things are happening or are on their way.

But retirement has also brought something I didn’t fully anticipate.

House projects.

Lots of house projects.

Last spring, my wife and I purchased a home in Wyoming. We love it—or are ready to. It is beautiful, sits in a wonderful neighborhood, and has already become a place filled with memories.

But as anyone who has ever purchased an existing home knows, houses have a way of revealing surprises.

Some of those surprises are delightful.

Others… not so much.

Since moving in, we have encountered one unexpected project after another. Drainage problems. Water issues. Repairs. Improvements. Things that seemed simple but somehow turned into much larger undertakings.

If I’m honest, there have been moments when I’ve found myself asking:

“Lord, why this?”

“Why now?”

“Why another project?”

Perhaps you’ve asked similar questions. I’m pretty sure my wife has.

But maybe your questions weren’t about a house.

Maybe about your health.

Your family.

Your work.

A difficult relationship.

A season of caregiving.

An unexpected loss.

A responsibility you never asked for.

We all encounter assignments in life that we would not have chosen for ourselves.

And often, we don’t understand why God has allowed them.

God’s Workmanship

One of my favorite passages in Scripture says this:

For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

—Ephesians 2:10 (NIV)

Think about that for a moment.

God prepared good works for us to do.

Prepared in advance.

Long before we were born.

Long before we retired.

Long before we purchased that house, accepted that job, faced that challenge, or entered that difficult season.

God already knew.

And somehow, in ways that often remain mysterious to us, He has woven these assignments into our lives.

That doesn’t mean every circumstance is easy.

Or enjoyable.

Or immediately understandable.

But it does mean that none of it is wasted.

If God has placed this assignment in front of me, then by His grace, I was made for it.

It Isn’t Always Ours to Understand

I have come to realize that much of the Christian life involves faithfully doing the next thing God places in front of us, even when we don’t understand why.

Frankly, I would prefer a detailed explanation.

A roadmap.

A spreadsheet.

Maybe even a PowerPoint presentation.

But God rarely works that way.

Instead, He usually gives us enough light for the next step.

Not the next hundred.

Isaiah reminds us:

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.

—Isaiah 55:8 (NIV)

Sometimes our calling is simply obedience.

To trust.

To serve.

To repair what needs repairing.

To love the people God has placed in our lives.

To keep showing up.

To keep moving forward.

And to do all of it leaning into His strength rather than our own.

Faithfulness Doesn’t Have to Be Visible

Another challenge is that many of the things God calls us to do seem invisible.

Our culture celebrates visible accomplishments.

Promotions.

Awards.

Recognition.

Followers.

Achievements.

But the Kingdom of God often operates differently.

Some of the most important work done for God’s Kingdom happens quietly.

Unseen.

Uncelebrated.

I have a dear friend who prays fiercely for others every day.

Sometimes I think he struggles to feel as though he’s contributing to the lives of those around him in meaningful ways.

Most of the people he prays for daily have no idea that he’s stepping onto the spiritual battlefield on their behalf regularly.

No crowds applaud.

No headlines are written.

No one may ever fully understand the eternal impact of those prayers.

And yet Scripture tells us:

The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

—James 5:16 (NIV)

Powerful.

Effective.

Not because others see it.

Because God does.

Jesus Himself said:

“Your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

—Matthew 6:4 (NIV)

The audience that matters most has perfect attendance.

Working for an Audience of One

Perhaps this is why Paul wrote:

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.

—Colossians 3:23 (NIV)

Whatever you do.

Whether you’re leading a company.

Changing diapers.

Caring for an aging parent.

Fixing drainage problems.

Praying quietly for a friend.

Writing encouraging notes.

Serving behind the scenes.

Or simply doing the next thing God has placed before you.

Do it wholeheartedly.

Do it joyfully.

Do it for Him.

Because you were made for this.

Not necessarily this exact task.

But this life of faithful obedience.

This life of partnering with God in the good works He prepared for you long ago.

A Final Encouragement

There are still days when I stand in my yard, looking at yet another unexpected project, and wonder what exactly God is up to.

I still don’t know.

But I’m learning that understanding isn’t always required.
Faithfulness is.
Joy is.
Trust is.

And so, one project at a time, one day at a time, I will continue leaning into God’s wisdom, strength, and the joy of the Lord.

Because if He has placed this assignment in front of me, then by His grace, I was made for it.

And so were you.

A Question to Sit With

What assignment has God placed in front of you right now…

and how might your perspective change if you saw it not as an interruption, but as part of the good work He prepared in advance for you to do?

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Don’t Forget to Attach the Rudder

Posted on June 20, 2026 by Writing & Photography by David K. Carpenter

Earlier this week, I spent a couple of days with one of my oldest and closest friends.

As always, we had a wonderful time together. Some friendships are like that. No matter how much time passes between visits, you simply pick up where you left off. We laughed, shared stories, reminisced about old times, and enjoyed being together.

Yet when I drove away, I found myself carrying a low-grade sense of sadness for him.

My friend has never shown much interest in God. Late last year, he lost his job. After an unsuccessful search for another one, he decided to retire. More recently, he made the difficult decision to divorce his wife.

Today, he is free to do almost anything he wants. He can travel wherever he chooses. He can spend his days however he wishes. His calendar is largely unconstrained by obligations.

On the surface, that sounds appealing.

But as I reflected on our conversations, I couldn’t shake a nagging question: What gives his life meaning now?

Please don’t misunderstand me. I am not judging him. In fact, I genuinely enjoy spending time with him and value our friendship deeply. Rather, our time together caused me to reflect on a broader question that applies to all of us.

Where does our sense of purpose come from?

For many people, purpose comes from a career. We spend decades building a profession, solving problems, achieving goals, earning promotions, and providing for our families. Work becomes such a significant part of our identity that it can be difficult to imagine life without it.

Others find purpose in accumulating wealth, pursuing experiences, collecting accomplishments, or chasing the next adventure.

The problem is that all of those things eventually come to an end.

Jobs end.

Careers end.

Health declines.

Relationships change.

Even the most exciting adventures eventually become memories.

If our sense of meaning is built entirely upon temporary things, what happens when those things are gone?

As I pondered this question, I was reminded of one of the first kayaking adventures my wife and I took together.

Kayak on a calm river illustrating how God's guidance provides direction, purpose, and meaning in life


Our first kayak was inflatable. It was wonderfully convenient because we could pack it into the back of our vehicle and take it almost anywhere. The downside was that it required a fair amount of set-up before each trip.

On one particular outing, I carefully inflated the kayak, assembled the paddles, loaded our gear, and carried everything down to the water.

Then we climbed in and started paddling.

Something didn’t feel right.

We were moving, but not very effectively. We seemed to drift aimlessly. At times, we found ourselves turning in circles. We paddled harder, but we weren’t accomplishing much.

Then I realized what I had done.

In all my preparations, I had forgotten to install the rudder.

Back on shore, I attached it, and suddenly everything changed. The same paddling that had previously produced confusion and frustration now produced forward progress. We had direction. We had purpose. We knew where we were headed.

The kayak could move without a rudder.
It just couldn’t go anywhere meaningful.

The older I get, the more I realize that many people live their lives that way.

They are busy.

They are active.

They are productive.

They may even be successful.

But they are missing the rudder.

They have motion without direction.

Activity without purpose.

Achievement without meaning.

Scripture teaches that God created us for far more than simply filling our days until our time on earth is over.

Paul writes:



For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

—Ephesians 2:10 (NIV)

Think about that for a moment.

God has a purpose for your life.

Not just when you are young.

Not just when you are employed.

Not just when you are raising children.

Not just when everything is going well.

Always.

If you belong to Christ, your purpose did not end when your career ended. It did not disappear when your children moved out. It does not depend on your title, your income, your achievements, or your stage of life.

God still has good works prepared for you.

God still has people for you to encourage.

God still has opportunities for you to serve.

God still has lessons for you to learn and ways for you to grow.

The writer of Proverbs puts it this way:

Borrowed from YouVersion

God doesn’t promise an easy path.
He promises a straight one.
He provides direction.
He gives meaning to our efforts.

He supplies purpose that transcends our circumstances.

Looking back on my own retirement, I realize how grateful I am for this truth.

My job was meaningful, and I enjoyed much of the work I did over the years. But my purpose was never found in my job.

Today, I still have a wonderful wife to love.

Children and grandchildren to invest in.

Friends to encourage.

Lessons to learn.

People to serve.

A God to know more deeply.

The same God who guided me through my working years continues to guide me today.

That is what gives my life meaning.

Without Him, retirement could easily become an endless search for ways to fill the calendar.

With Him, retirement becomes another chapter in an ongoing adventure.

As I think back to that day on the water, I am reminded that the kayak’s problem was not a lack of effort. We were paddling plenty hard.

The problem was a lack of direction.

Perhaps that is a question worth asking ourselves.

Are we simply paddling?

Or have we remembered to attach the rudder?

May we seek the One who not only gives us strength for the journey, but also provides the direction, purpose, meaning, and hope that make the journey worthwhile.

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