Sometimes ideas need space to grow. That’s where I’ve found myself this week—thinking, building, and adapting.

I’ve quietly launched a separate GitHub Pages site for The Glorious Gospel project. At the moment, it’s just a simple shell: a default (and admittedly older) theme with some custom tweaks—components rearranged, header image swapped, and a new favicon added.

Didn’t I say I was going to fall behind on writing these posts?

I suppose part of me forgets, and another part just doesn’t care all that much in the moment. But eventually, I circle back around to the idea that it’s probably best to get some of this out on paper, or at least on the digital paper of the web.

I’m aware that not every thought or update I share here is particularly profound. Honestly, most of it probably isn’t. These entries are more like scattered trail markers across the landscape of my mind: uneven, personal, and not always scenic. But they’re mine. And hey, no one’s forcing you to read them. Hah.

The heat… it’s been unrelenting this week. Temperatures hovering in the low 30s, and with the humidity it feels even higher. My upstairs room in this old house holds onto the warmth, despite the fan doing its best, 29 to 30 degrees seems to be the best I can get.

Saturday evening I pushed myself harder than usual, a 30km bike ride out to O’Leary. I stopped at the hall for a water refill, then took a short break with friends before heading home. It nearly doubled my typical distance, and while I pedaled, I kept the Practicology Podcast playing. It’s become a reliable companion for the longer rides, encouraging, sound, and filled with Scriptural insight.

It’s been a long evening, the kind where sleep stays just out of reach and your mind won’t quiet down. So instead of forcing it, I sat with the thoughts and let them come out the only way they know how to sometimes: as poetry.

Three different threads found their way to the page tonight. One rooted in grief, another in grace, and the last in the strange frustration and beauty of writing itself.

If you’re curious, you can read them here:

• 🪨 Anchor Stone - A reflection of loss and remembrance.
• ✝️ After the Change - A quiet testimony of transformation.
• 🖋️ Writer’s Lament - A familiar struggle with expression.

It’s not always tidy or profound, but it’s honest. And that’s a start.

With this blog being public facing, I know that anyone could potentially read it. It’s an odd concept to be sure. I’m trying not to let that affect what I write or don’t write here. My goal is to be open and transparent with my thought process, both the good and the bad.

Still, it crosses my mind now and then that it might feel strange knowing others could read about my insecurities and personal moments. But it is what it is. If I’m going to be open, then I want to be open all the way.

Sunday afternoon’s Gospel message at The Willows went reasonably well. I did get a bit flustered partway through, but I managed to recover without too much issue. I veered off my self-written script a little, which I actually see as progress, I’d rather move toward speaking from notes than relying entirely on a word-for-word draft. It ran a little shorter than usual, around 10 minutes, but those in attendance seemed to be listening attentively.

Monday brought a mix of frustration and satisfaction. I set out on a 13 km bike ride in the afternoon, but it turned out to be too hot for comfort, and not having a water bottle holder didn’t help. I barely made it home. On a more positive note, I installed a handlebar extender, which has made things slightly more comfortable.

This past weekend was the Halifax Bible Conference, and I came away both refreshed and challenged. The focus of the Bible study and ministry was 2 Corinthians chapters 1 through 6. These chapters are rich with instruction and comfort, and the ministry was both clear and deeply rooted in Scripture. As usual, the conference delivered on all fronts; spiritually uplifting messages, good food, far too many sweets, and wonderful fellowship with believers from across the region.

For me it was also a new experience. I traveled with several from my local assembly that I haven’t spent much time with before. A mix of adults and teens, a little convoy in five vehicles. Our group stayed in the home of one of their friends, a beautiful place tucked just off the water and only twenty minutes from the Gospel Hall.

Saturday morning I had the opportunity to share the Gospel during a Zoom meeting for the Philippines. The whole session ran about 30 minutes, with my portion taking around 15. I tried something new this time: instead of just a single camera feed, I used a dual-window setup. My video was in the lower-left corner, and the main screen displayed Bible verses in both English and Tagalog. I used FreeShow for the Scripture display and OBS to tie everything together.

I think it went well, but I’m never the best judge of my own speaking. I tend to second guess how it landed. Sometimes I wonder if people say the message was good just to keep from discouraging me.

Lately I’ve been working on my Gospel message for the upcoming Zoom meeting with the Philippines, scheduled for May 31st. It’s been on my mind more than usual. I tend to second-guess my messages, not because I don’t believe them, but because I often lack a bit of confidence in my delivery.

My friend Timmy, who passed away earlier this year, used to review all of my messages before I shared them. He was a trusted sounding board, and I leaned on his input more than I realized. Knowing someone else had read through what I had prepared always gave me some peace of mind, that I was on the right track. I miss that encouragement.

So, it’s been a bit since the last post.

The Island Gospel Conference just wrapped up this past weekend. It was held at Bluefield School, and as always, it was a blessing. Solid ministry, a clear and faithful gospel message, more good food than any of us needed, sugary desserts that tested everyone’s resolve, and most of all, amazing fellowship with other believers.

I had some deep, meaningful conversations with a few preachers whose words and lives have been a great inspiration to me. Moments like that stick with you.