I Know the Type

I thought I knew her type.  It was the second time I had seen her come to church but the first time we ever interacted. She was a bit older, sort of mousy, and she walked up to me with a red baseball hat tucked under one arm and a John MacArthur Study Bible under…

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Called to Belonging

The ache to belong rests in such a young part of our hearts. It is a tender thing, holding so many other questions like “Can I come?” “Am I welcome?” “Am I ok?” “Am I wanted?” “Do you love me?”.

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