If I don't own the first hour of the day, then the rest of the day owns me.

We're kids playing at being grown-up.

Yesterday, I watched both the sunset and the sunrise. Which begged the question, why do we still speak as if the sun moves around us?

Before I started writing this I took a few spins of my notification cycle. It goes like this.

I love the process of discipline. I love setting goals, pursuing them for a week or two, then failing to fully ingrain the habit and having to start all over. Seriously.

What values does your culture assume? When I look at the city I live in and the people who surround me, these are a few things our lives (and sometimes our words) say are important:

There's something unnatural about humans' ability to fly. Which may explain why we call it "taking flight." It's like we've snatched something that doesn't belong to us.

There is a pair of bald eagles nesting at White Rock Lake right now. Nick and Nora. I've altered my commute to drive by their nest every morning.

The other day, I took a sip of ginger ale immediately after wondering aloud if 21g of added sugar was a lot. Every week my iPhone tells me how much time I spent on it. We are not unaware, just indifferent.

In exploring who we are, why we do what we do, and what makes us feel the way we feel, we can better understand the God in whose image we were created.