When we first got married, I wanted to know everything my husband was thinking, exactly when he was thinking it. Thirteen years later, I still want to know it all.

My husband and I couldn’t believe our luck: our new house had a deck. It was more than a couple of broke millennials had ever dared to dream about. We had arrived.

I want you to close your eyes. Are they closed? (I’m serious.) Okay. Now think of the greatest saint in history. Answer the question: Why is he or she a great saint?

In the Beatitudes, Jesus utilizes a literary device called anaphora. As a reader and a writer, I love anaphora. It’s a clean, unfussy way to communicate a point.

It doesn’t matter who we are. If we are human beings with a soul, we stand on the shore of a great and powerful sea, a net in our hands and a hunger in our soul.

John the Baptist recognizes Jesus when he sees him, though there is nothing extraordinary-looking about him. This is how Jesus comes to us: veiled in the ordinary.

Jesus didn’t give John an explanation as the two stood in the River Jordan. He merely said, “Allow it for now.”

It is human nature to seek. If we are rich, we want to be richer. If we are smart, we want to be smarter. If we are powerful, we want to be more powerful.