The Miracle of Dialogue: Reuel L. Howe’s Vision for Human and Spiritual Connection

September 26, 2025.Reading time 10 minutes.

A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI

Introduction

I don’t actually remember where I found this book many years ago. I recall using it in year-long workshops I once conducted for new and emerging city managers, as well as another workshop for finance directors. I’m sure it was likely an attractive title to me since Linda & I were once involved in and led a marriage communication weekend. Nevertheless, I knew this book addressed a workplace need. I gave my 2,000+ library away to a high school librarian a few years back, so I can’t retrieve it to see any notes I might have written in the book. Still, this essay is an attempt to convey a critical message to anyone who might read my blog. LFM

When Reuel L. Howe, Episcopal priest and professor of pastoral theology, published The Miracle of Dialogue in 1963, he was addressing one of the deepest crises of his time: the loss of authentic communication. For Howe, dialogue was not simply conversation, but a sacred process through which persons discover themselves, one another, and God. His book outlined principles that remain as necessary today as they were in the turbulent 1960s.

Dialogue as Life-Blood

Perhaps the most vivid line in Howe’s book is this: “Dialogue is to love, what blood is to the body. When the flow of blood stops, the body dies. When dialogue stops, love dies and resentment and hate are born. But dialogue can restore a dead relationship. Indeed, this is the miracle of dialogue.”

Here, Howe underscores that dialogue is not optional. Just as circulation sustains physical life, communication sustains relational and spiritual life. When dialogue dries up—whether between spouses, friends, or nations—resentment, suspicion, and hostility emerge. Yet the miracle is that dialogue can revive what seems dead.

Barriers and Breakdowns

Howe was realistic about how hard this is. He wrote, “A barrier to communication is something that keeps meanings from meeting.” He understood that people may speak the same words but miss each other’s meaning because of fear, assumptions, or prejudice.

Such barriers are not merely semantic—they are deeply personal. He observed, “The breakdown of community and, therefore, of dialogue occurs when there is an obliteration of persons. This obliteration takes place when one person or the other exploits the relationship for any purpose other than its true one.”

In other words, dialogue collapses when we treat others as objects to be managed instead of persons to be honored.

The Ontological Depth of Dialogue

Howe believed dialogue reaches beyond words to touch the very core of being. “Every genuine conversation, therefore, can be an ontological event, and every exchange between husband and wife, parent and child, teacher and pupil, person and person, has more meaning than the thing talked about.”

In practice, even ordinary conversations about chores or daily frustrations carry transformative weight if both parties enter them with openness.

Knowing and Being Known

Howe taught that self-knowledge is relational: “Only as we know another and are known by him, can we know ourselves.” To be human is to be relational, created in the image of a God who exists in eternal relationship. Thus, dialogue is not just human skill but divine calling.

Why Howe Wrote the Book

Howe wrote The Miracle of Dialogue because he saw his culture losing this art. In politics, debate was replacing dialogue. In families, silence or command took the place of listening. In the church, sermons and programs often substituted for genuine pastoral presence. He believed the consequences were devastating: alienation, loneliness, and the collapse of community.

Yet he also believed that the miracle of dialogue could reverse the trend. By practicing vulnerability, respect, and attentiveness, people could rediscover each other and reweave the fabric of society.

What Now? A Practical Guide to Living Dialogue

Howe’s work begs the question: what should the reader actually do with this? The miracle of dialogue is not realized in theory but in practice. Here are five starting steps:

Create Space for Listening
- Set aside time each day to listen without agenda. In a family, this may mean turning off devices at dinner and allowing everyone to share. In the workplace, it may mean pausing before giving answers and hearing out the full story.
Practice Vulnerable Speech
- Risk saying what is truly on your heart, even if it feels small or unpolished. Howe reminds us that dialogue is born in honesty, not performance.
Check for Barriers
- When a conversation feels stuck, ask: “What barrier is keeping our meanings from meeting?” Misunderstanding, assumption, or defensiveness may be blocking true exchange. Naming the barrier can begin to remove it.
Value Persons over Outcomes
- Resist the temptation to enter conversation simply to win, persuade, or manage. Howe warns that exploitation obliterates persons. Instead, see the person as more important than the argument or decision.
Invite God into Dialogue
- Whether through prayer before a difficult conversation or openness to the Spirit’s prompting while listening, recognize dialogue as a sacred act. Dialogue, for Howe, is not just about communication between humans but communion with God.

Practicing the Miracle of Dialogue: A 7-Day Plan

Reuel L. Howe believed dialogue was not merely theory but a way of life. To begin living it, here is a week-long practice plan drawn from the principles of The Miracle of Dialogue. Each day focuses on one theme, with a concrete exercise.

Day 1: Create Space for Listening

Choose one person in your life. Set aside 15–20 minutes today to listen to them without interruption. Repeat back what you heard to confirm understanding.

Day 2: Practice Vulnerable Speech

In a conversation, share something real from your heart—a worry, a hope, or a memory. Notice how honesty changes the dynamic.

Day 3: Check for Barriers

Reflect on a recent strained conversation. Identify at least one barrier—assumption, fear, or distraction. Plan a follow-up where you acknowledge the barrier and try again.

Day 4: Value Persons over Outcomes

In a conversation today, consciously put the relationship ahead of the result. Say to yourself: “This person is more important than my agenda.”

Day 5: Invite God into Dialogue

Before a key conversation, pause and pray: “Lord, help me to listen as You listen, and to speak as You would speak.” Reflect afterward on how the exchange felt.

Day 6: Engage Across Difference

Seek out a conversation with someone whose perspective differs from yours. Ask questions with genuine curiosity, aiming to understand rather than persuade.

Day 7: Reflect and Renew

At week’s end, journal about moments when dialogue felt alive. Identify one practice to carry forward—listening, praying, or honoring the person over the outcome.

Conclusion

Reuel L. Howe’s The Miracle of Dialogue is both timeless and timely. His insistence that dialogue is like blood to the body, that barriers keep “meanings from meeting,” that every genuine conversation is more than its subject, and that we only know ourselves by being known by others—all these insights point to dialogue as the lifeblood of human existence.

Howe wrote the book to warn against the dangers of monologue and manipulation and to point toward the sacred possibility of real conversation. For readers today, the “What Now” is clear: create space, practice vulnerability, check for barriers, value persons, and invite God into the exchange. In doing so, we participate in the miracle that can heal broken relationships, revive community, and draw us closer to God Himself.

The Burden of Being Misunderstood

September 24, 2025.Reading time 10 minutes.

A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI

Introduction: The Human Longing to Be Known

Few human experiences cut as deeply as being misunderstood. To speak with sincerity only to be misheard, to act with good intention only to be judged wrongly, is a wound that echoes in the soul. From Socrates on trial in Athens to artists whose work was only appreciated after death, history is filled with men and women whose essence was obscured by misunderstanding. Yet the experience is not reserved for the famous; it is part of the everyday fabric of marriages, friendships, and workplaces. Understanding why it happens, the pain it causes, and how it can be prevented is essential for any life that seeks peace, intimacy, and effective collaboration.

Why Misunderstanding Happens

1. The Imperfection of Language

Language is a fragile bridge between minds. Words carry multiple meanings, shaped by culture, upbringing, and emotion. The simple phrase “I’m fine” may mean relief, indifference, exhaustion, or deep pain depending on tone and context. Misunderstanding is built into the very tools we use to connect.

2. Psychological Filters

Every listener filters communication through personal experiences. If someone grew up in a critical household, even neutral feedback may feel like an attack. If a spouse feels insecure, a simple absence of words can be heard as rejection. These filters distort reality.

3. Assumptions and Cognitive Shortcuts

Our brains save time by assuming. When a colleague misses a deadline, we may assume laziness rather than hidden struggles. When a partner forgets an anniversary, we may assume indifference rather than stress. These shortcuts help us survive but often betray truth.

4. Cultural and Generational Differences

In multicultural workplaces and families, communication styles clash. A blunt statement meant as efficiency may feel like rudeness. Silence meant as respect may feel like distance. What one generation calls “honesty,” another calls “harshness.”

5. The Speed of Modern Life

Emails skimmed, texts dashed off, meetings rushed—modern communication often sacrifices clarity for speed. Misunderstanding thrives in the gaps where careful explanation once lived.

The Horrible Feelings of Being Misunderstood

To be misunderstood is not merely inconvenient; it is existentially painful.

Alienation: It creates a gulf between self and others. One feels exiled even in the midst of family or colleagues.
Helplessness: Attempts to clarify can deepen suspicion: “The more I explain, the less they believe me.”
Humiliation: Being misjudged damages reputation, sometimes irreparably. In the workplace, it can derail careers. In marriage, it can fracture intimacy.
Loneliness: Misunderstood individuals may retreat inward, carrying the unshakable sense that no one truly sees them.
Anger and Bitterness: Repeated misinterpretation corrodes patience, leaving resentment to fester.

The philosopher Søren Kierkegaard captured the torment when he wrote: “People understand me so little that they do not even understand when I complain of being misunderstood.”

Misunderstanding in Marriage

Marriage is both the most fertile ground for misunderstanding and the most urgent place to heal it.

Common Triggers

Unspoken Expectations: One partner assumes the other “should know” what they need without saying it. Disappointment follows.
Different Communication Styles: Some are verbal processors, others internal. Silence may feel like avoidance to one, thoughtfulness to another.
Stress and Fatigue: A weary tone may be mistaken for anger; distraction may be mistaken for indifference.
Conflict Escalation: During arguments, words are rushed, tone is sharp, and intentions are distorted.

Real-World Example

Consider a couple where the husband works long hours to provide financial security, while the wife longs for quality time. He believes he is expressing love through sacrifice; she believes he is expressing disinterest. Both are misunderstood because they equate love with different actions. Without clarity, affection curdles into resentment.

Preventive Practices

Radical Clarity: Instead of assuming, ask. “When you’re quiet, should I understand it as thoughtfulness or withdrawal?”
Regular Check-ins: Create safe spaces to ask: “Do you feel understood by me right now?”
Active Listening: Repeating back what was heard (“So you’re saying you felt hurt when I forgot…”) validates the partner’s inner world.
Love Languages: Recognize that affection is communicated differently—through words, gifts, service, time, or touch. Misunderstanding often arises when partners speak different “languages.”

Misunderstanding in the Workplace

Workplaces magnify misunderstanding because of layered hierarchies, pressures, and competing goals.

Common Sources

Ambiguous Instructions: Leaders say, “Get this done soon,” but each employee defines “soon” differently.
Lack of Context: When decisions are made without explanation, workers fill the gap with suspicion.
Email Tone: A curt response written in haste may be read as hostility.
Generational and Cultural Gaps: A younger worker may interpret silence from a manager as disapproval, while the manager thinks, “No news is good news.”

Case Study: The Boeing 737 MAX Crisis

Misunderstanding played a role in the Boeing 737 MAX tragedies. Engineers flagged risks, but managers misunderstood—or dismissed—their concerns, assuming compliance meant safety. The gap between intention and perception led to catastrophic consequences.

Preventive Practices

Explicit Communication: Replace vagueness with specifics. Deadlines, deliverables, and success measures must be clear.
Feedback Culture: Encourage employees to restate instructions in their own words to confirm understanding.
Transparent Leadership: Share the reasoning behind decisions. Context prevents negative assumptions.
Cross-Cultural Training: Equip teams to recognize differences in communication styles.

Strategies for Prevention Across Life

Practice Humility: Accept that you may not have been clear. Re-explain without defensiveness.
Develop Empathy: Seek first to understand before seeking to be understood.
Slow Down: In moments of tension, resist the urge for quick reactions.
Use Multiple Channels: Important messages deserve both spoken and written forms.
Acknowledge Emotions: Sometimes, people need validation of their feelings more than explanation of your intent.

The Paradoxical Gift of Being Misunderstood

Though painful, being misunderstood can also sharpen self-awareness. Many great innovators, prophets, and artists were misunderstood in their time—Jesus of Nazareth, Vincent van Gogh, Emily Dickinson, Martin Luther King Jr. Their experience forced them to deepen conviction, clarify expression, and find identity not in approval but in truth. For ordinary people, the same paradox can hold: misunderstanding, though a wound, can also be a teacher.

Conclusion: Toward a Culture of Understanding

To be understood is to be seen; to be misunderstood is to be invisible. The difference can determine the health of a marriage, the morale of a workplace, or the direction of a life. Misunderstanding will never vanish, but intentional listening, clarity, and empathy can reduce its grip. When people slow down enough to ask, “What did you mean?” and to say, “Here’s how I felt,” they build bridges across the abyss. And in those bridges lies the possibility of love, trust, and shared humanity.

Reflection and Application Questions

For Personal Reflection

When was the last time I felt misunderstood? What emotions rose up in me?
Do I tend to withdraw, defend, or over-explain when misunderstood? Why?
How often do I assume I know what others mean without asking?
What patterns from my upbringing shape how I interpret others’ words?

For Couples

What’s one time in our relationship when you felt I truly misunderstood you? How did it affect you?
What signals (tone, silence, habits) do I often misinterpret in you?
What communication style differences exist between us, and how can we honor them?
How can we build a regular rhythm of checking in about whether we feel seen and heard?

For Workplace Teams

When has miscommunication in our team caused tension or lost productivity?
What instructions or messages are usually the most misunderstood here?
How can we improve feedback loops so people feel safe asking for clarification?
Do we share enough context for decisions, or do we leave colleagues filling in the gaps with assumptions?
How can we better acknowledge the emotions—stress, fatigue, pride—that affect how messages are received?

The Quiet Romance of Park Benches

September 11, 2025.Reading time 4 minutes.

A collaboration between Lewis McLain and AI

A park bench is never only wood and iron. It is a place where time itself seems to pause, a still point in the turning world. Simple, unadorned, and often overlooked, the bench waits with a patience that borders on eternity. Where lighthouses rise bold against the storm, park benches rest unnoticed in the shelter of trees and along meandering paths, offering not guidance to ships at sea but solace to souls at rest.

They are thrones without ceremony, open to all who approach. The hurried commuter catching a breath, the young lovers carving initials into its grain, the old man feeding sparrows, the child swinging feet too short to reach the ground—all sit with equal claim. In these ordinary moments, the bench becomes extraordinary, for it gathers the fragments of many lives and quietly binds them into a shared story.

At dawn, when the mist lingers low and dew glistens on the grass, benches hold the world in soft silence. They cradle the solitude of readers with coffee cups in hand, or the jogger pausing to stretch as the day stirs awake. By noon, benches come alive with voices—laughter, arguments, whispered secrets, and the chatter of children in play. At dusk, they return to meditation, their weathered slats bearing the weight of reflections too heavy to speak aloud.

But beyond the hours, beyond the seasons, there is something inherently romantic about a bench. It is a place where one may sit not only to rest but to wait. Lovers wait for each other on benches. Friends meet after years apart. A traveler, alone in a foreign city, may find on a bench both loneliness and comfort, the ache of absence and the hope of presence. A park bench is always waiting for someone—and in that waiting lies its poetry.

Benches, too, are shrines of memory. Some carry plaques with names: “In loving memory of…,” reminding us that a particular spot once belonged to someone’s favorite view, someone’s cherished hour. Even without engraving, the wood itself remembers. It remembers the kiss stolen under lamplight, the quarrel that ended in silence, the notebook filled with sketches, the tears that fell unnoticed while the world hurried past. A bench, in its stillness, absorbs more of human life than we imagine.

And yet, there is no pretense to its service. A bench does not ask to be admired. It does not strive to inspire awe. Its beauty is in its humility—steadfast, available, enduring. It offers nothing more than rest, and in that offering it becomes everything: a sanctuary, a stage, a confessional, a throne, a pew.

If lighthouses are monuments to survival, benches are monuments to presence. They remind us not how to endure storms, but how to pause in calm weather, how to savor the fleeting moments between motion. They are the poetry of ordinary time, the architecture of waiting, the geometry of intimacy.

So the next time you walk past a park bench, let it invite you. Sit. Rest. Allow the world to slow down. You may discover that the quietest structures—the ones we pass without notice—are the ones that most tenderly hold our lives.

Let the bench bear life’s storms so you can find peace.

The Porch Conversation

September 5, 2025.Reading time 7 minutes.

Scene: Two old friends, Harold and Frank, sit on a creaky porch, rocking chairs in rhythm. The cicadas are buzzing. Both are hard of hearing, but neither will admit it.

Harold: (leaning in) Frank, you remember the summer of ’62 when we went fishing down at Lake Benton?

Frank: (cupping his ear) What’s that? Went wishing for a baked ham?

Harold: (rolling his eyes) No, fishing at Lake Benton. We caught that big catfish.

Frank: (snapping his fingers) Ah, right! The cat. Scratched your leg something awful.

Harold: (sputtering) Not a cat! A catfish! In the lake!

Frank: (nodding, satisfied) Sure, sure. Mean old tabby. Always hung around the bakery.

Harold: (sighing) Anyway, that was the day you fell out of the boat.

Frank: (outraged) What? I never fell out of a coat! Fit me just fine!

Harold: The boat, Frank. You tipped the boat over!

Frank: (grinning proudly) Oh, yes, yes. That wool coat tipped me right over. Heavy as an ox in July.

Harold: (muttering) If you say so.

Frank: You still got those suspenders from that trip?

Harold: (perks up) Defenders? Oh, sure, I still believe in strong defense.

Frank: (shakes his head) Not defenders—suspenders! You hauled me out by ‘em. Nearly stretched to Kansas.

Harold: (snorts) And nearly pulled my back out too. You were kicking like a mule.

Frank: (offended) Mule? I never kissed a mule in my life!

Harold: (chuckling) Not kissing, kicking! You looked like you were swimming for the Olympics.

Frank: (relieved) Ah. Well. Good. Rumors get around in a small town.

Harold: Speaking of the town, you remember the county fair that year?

Frank: (nodding) Oh, yes, the one where you lost your hair.

Harold: (touching his bald head) My hair? I lost my hare—the rabbit race. Mine ran the wrong way.

Frank: (squints) Thought it looked fast. Shame it was made of fur.

Harold: (snorts) That’s not how races work, Frank.

Frank: What about the dance afterward? You asked Millie Thompson to waltz.

Harold: (confused) Waltz? I asked her to wash! Why would she wash me?

Frank: (grinning) She turned you down flat. Said you had two left feet.

Harold: No, no. She said I had two left boots! Mismatched shoes. Brand new, both for the left foot. Couldn’t hardly walk straight.

Frank: (laughing so hard he wheezes) And you tried to dance in ‘em! Looked like a turkey on stilts.

Harold: At least I tried. You were too scared to ask anyone.

Frank: (puffs his chest) Nonsense! I danced with Betty Lou.

Harold: (snorts) You danced with a barbecue?

Frank: Betty Lou, Harold! The preacher’s niece.

Harold: Ohhh. I thought you said brisket. Would’ve made more sense.

Frank: You remember our army days?

Harold: (smiling) Sure do. You were in the kitchen, peeling potatoes.

Frank: (confused) I was in the mission, stealing tomatoes?

Harold: (laughing) Well, that too probably.

Frank: (indignant) Hey now, I only borrowed them. They put ‘em back in the stew later.

Harold: (grinning) Yeah, after you ate half of ‘em raw.

Frank: You still go to church every Sunday?

Harold: (earnest) Oh yes, never missed a sermon. Pastor’s words keep me steady.

Frank: (nods) Same here. Those donuts in the foyer keep me ready.

Harold: (squints) Donuts? I said sermons!

Frank: (shrugs) Six of one, half dozen of the other.

Harold: You know, Frank, we remember things awfully different.

Frank: (smiling) Yep. That’s what keeps it interesting.

Harold: You ever wonder which of us has the story right?

Frank: (chuckles) Nope. I just assume it was better my way.

Harold: (laughing) Figures.

Frank: (leans back, sipping coffee) Harold, you and I may not hear so well anymore, but we still talk better than most folks do these days.

Harold: (nodding slowly) That’s the truth. Even if half of it’s wrong.

Epilogue: The Wives

(Inside the house, two women sit at the kitchen table drinking iced tea. They are listening to Harold and Frank through the open window as the old men keep rocking and swapping their muddled memories.)

Martha (Harold’s wife): (shaking her head) You hear those two out there? Harold’s got Frank falling out of boats again.

Evelyn (Frank’s wife): (rolling her eyes) Oh, I heard. If you ask Frank, he never even owned a boat. Said it was a heavy wool coat!

Martha: And the fair! Harold’s talking about losing rabbits. You and I both know he lost his paycheck at the ring toss.

Evelyn: (chuckling) And don’t get me started on Millie Thompson. Neither of them ever danced with her. She was too busy chasing the dentist’s boy.

Martha: (smiling wryly) Truth is, between the two of them, they couldn’t remember their own names without us.

Evelyn: (laughing) And yet, somehow, they think they’re the wise ones.

(The women clink their iced tea glasses, listening as Harold and Frank burst into laughter outside for no apparent reason.)

Martha: Let ‘em talk. Half of it’s wrong, but it keeps ‘em happy.

Evelyn: (nodding) And after fifty years, that’s what matters.

Dorm Faith Dialogue

August 31, 2025.Reading time 15 minutes.

A Collaboration Between AI and Lewis McLain

Josh closed the devotional in his lap, letting the pages fall together with a soft thump. The hum of campus life outside their dorm room faded into the background. He looked across the room, watching Marcus tap away at his video game controller. There was something on his heart, a stirring he couldn’t quite ignore any longer.

“Hey man,” Josh said, voice easy and calm, “Can I ask you something without it being weird?”

Marcus didn’t look away from the screen, but his tone was open. “Yeah, sure. What’s on your mind?”

Josh leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees. “Do you ever miss it? Church, I mean. Not the rituals or the formality—just the whole experience. The community, the purpose, the peace of it all?”

Marcus paused his game, the screen freezing on some digital battlefield. He set the controller down and leaned back in his chair. “Sometimes, yeah. But not in the way people probably think. I don’t miss being told how to live. I miss the feeling of being part of something bigger. The laughter after youth group. The quiet during prayer. It felt… safe.”

Josh nodded slowly. “Yeah, I get that. For me, it wasn’t always the sermons. Half the time I was zoning out or drawing in the bulletin. I say that, but I know I was picking up on the stories and the lessons shared. But those moments when the worship hit just right, or the late-night campfire talks—that stuff stayed with me. Like wooing echoes.”

Marcus gave a small smile. “Funny you mention campfires. I actually got re-baptized at camp. Twice, actually. First when I was twelve, then again at sixteen. Thought maybe if I started fresh again, something would finally stick.”

Josh’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “I didn’t know that. That takes guts, man. What was it like for you the second time?”

Marcus stared up at the ceiling for a beat. “Hopeful, I think. Like I really wanted God to notice me. I was ready to mean it this time. But then I got back home, school picked up, friends changed… and I fell back into the same old routine. After a while it just felt like I was pretending.”

Josh’s voice was gentle, free of any judgment. “I think a lot of people feel that. I know I did. I used to think being a Christian meant being ‘on fire’ all the time. But now I see it more like an anchor. Even when I drift, I’m still tied to something unshakable.”

Marcus looked at him, curiosity softening his features. “But how do you stay with it? Like, really? College is wild. Nobody here seems to care about faith anymore. I know I don’t take advantage of church and Christian groups around campus, so I shouldn’t be complaining.”

Josh gave a wry smile. “Honestly? Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m doing a great job at it. But I keep coming back to Jesus. Not the idea of Him, but the person. I’ve seen what I become without Him. I get lost in distractions, numb to everything. But when I give Him space—even just a sliver—He shows up. In quiet ways.”

He paused for a moment, then added with a small laugh, “You know, one of the times I felt closest to God was actually at camp. There was this one night where we were all under the stars, no lights, just hundreds of us sitting on blankets and logs. And then out of nowhere, the speaker says, ‘We have a surprise guest tonight.’ And it was Michael W. Smith. I’m not even kidding. The real deal.”

Marcus blinked. “Wait, the Michael W. Smith? The worship guy?”

“Yep,” Josh said, eyes bright with memory. “He didn’t make it a big concert or anything. Just came out with a guitar and started playing Awesome God. And then the whole camp just stood up, arms raised, voices loud and cracking from emotion. It was raw. And holy. I think I cried without even realizing it. I felt so… known. Like God was right there.”

Josh softly recited the lyrics, almost like a prayer:

Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God

He repeated them, his voice steadier:

Our God is an awesome God
He reigns from heaven above
With wisdom, power, and love
Our God is an awesome God

“Even now,” Josh continued, “when I feel distant, I go back to that night in my mind. It reminds me He hasn’t changed, even when I have.”

Marcus was quiet, visibly moved. “Man, I haven’t thought about that song in years. That brings back something.”

Josh nodded. “Music has a way of slipping past all the defenses. Sometimes all it takes is one lyric, one memory, and the door opens again.”

Marcus tilted his head. “But how do you know it’s actually Him? Like, not just your own thoughts or wishful thinking?”

Josh nodded slowly, recognizing the sincerity. “I used to ask that too. But over time, I started to notice patterns. Like peace showing up in chaos. Random moments of clarity that hit when I read a Scripture verse. Friends texting me exactly what I needed to hear without knowing it. It adds up. And the Bible—I used to think it was outdated. Now I read it and it’s like it knows me better than I know myself.”

Marcus looked down at his hands. “I wish I could believe like that again. But I feel fake. Like God’s moved on and I missed the last bus.”

Josh leaned in. “You’re not fake, and you’re definitely not too far gone. Jesus is drawn to the ones who feel furthest. He always went to the doubters, the outcasts, the ones who didn’t fit. You’re exactly who He came for.”

A half-smile crept onto Marcus’s face. “So you’re saying I’m a project case?”

Josh laughed. “I’m saying we all are. But God doesn’t see us as projects. He sees us as sons worth rescuing. We all come messy. That’s the point.”

Marcus grew quiet. The hum of his paused game filled the silence. “What do you do when you pray and it feels like no one’s listening? When it’s just silence or static in your heart?”

Josh sighed, then smiled gently. “I tell Him that. I don’t pretend. I’ll say, ‘God, I don’t even know if You’re there, but I’m showing up.’ And you know what? He honors that. I think He respects honesty of the heart more than performance.”

Marcus nodded slowly. “I used to talk to Him that way as a kid. It felt simple then. Now everything feels tangled, like I’m supposed to have all the answers before I even speak.”

Josh leaned back, his voice softer now. “What if He doesn’t need you to have answers? What if He just wants you? The real you. Doubts, questions, baggage and all.”

Marcus’s voice dropped, almost a whisper. “But where do I even start again? I can’t fake it.”

Josh’s eyes were kind. “You don’t have to fake anything. Just take one honest step. Even if it’s just saying, ‘God, I don’t know.’ That’s a beginning. That’s faith too.”

Marcus looked away for a long moment, then back. “Do you ever feel like you’re missing out by following Christ too closely? Like… other people get to live freer?”

Josh considered that. “Yeah, I’ve felt that. But then I look at what they’re chasing. I’ve seen people try everything to feel alive—parties, hookups, success—but they still end up empty. I’d rather miss out on the noise and have something that lasts. Real peace is better than cheap highs. In fact, my highest highs are when I’m totally surrendered by Christ.”

Marcus took a deep breath, voice fragile. “I want to try. Not to impress anyone. Just to see if I can open the door again. Maybe it’s not too late.”

Josh smiled deeply. “It’s never too late. And if you want to know what it takes to begin again—to really follow Christ—the Bible makes it pretty clear. Romans 10:9 says, ‘If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.’ That’s it. It starts with belief and a simple confession.”

Marcus leaned forward slightly. “So it really is that simple?”

“Yeah,” Josh said. “And over time, your understanding grows. Your faith deepens. But the doorway is wide open to anyone who will walk through.”

He reached over to grab a wrinkled paper from his Bible. “This is something I memorized in confirmation class. It still centers me. It’s called the Apostles’ Creed. Want to hear it?”

Marcus nodded.

Josh recited it, quietly but clearly:

I believe in God, the Father Almighty,
Maker of heaven and earth.
And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord;
who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,
born of the Virgin Mary,
suffered under Pontius Pilate,
was crucified, dead, and buried;
He descended into death.
The third day He rose again from the dead;
He ascended into heaven,
and sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty;
from there He shall come to judge the living and the dead.
I believe in the Holy Spirit,
the holy catholic (with a little c) Church,
the communion of saints,
the forgiveness of sins,
the resurrection of the body,
and the life everlasting. Amen.

“That’s beautiful,” Marcus said. “I forgot how solid and grounding that sounds. Like, this is what we believe. Not just feelings, but truth.”

Josh smiled. “Exactly. Truth that holds even when we feel lost.”

Marcus whispered, “Then maybe it’s time I came home.”

Josh nodded. “Let’s do it together. Doesn’t have to be a ceremony. Just a conversation. Want me to start?”

Marcus nodded, tears welling. “Yeah. Please. ”

Josh bowed his head, reverence settling in.
“God… it’s Josh here. And Marcus too. We’re not perfect. We’re not here with polished words. But we’re here. Thank You for never giving up on us. For chasing after us even when we wandered. Be near to Marcus. Make Yourself real to him again. Remind him he’s loved. Draw him home. And allow me to be part of the journey. Amen.”

Marcus swallowed hard, voice trembling.
“God… I don’t know what to say. I feel far. But if You’re still there and accepting of me… I want to come back. I want to feel You again. I want to start over, but this time for real. Help me. Please. I believe in You. And I believe in Jesus. I want to follow Him.”

Josh opened his eyes, heart full. “That was the most honest, beautiful prayer I’ve heard in a long time.”

Marcus wiped at his cheek, smiling through wet eyes. “Thanks for seeing me. For not preaching. Just listening. Just being here.”

Josh nodded. “This isn’t about converting you. It’s about walking with you. Because I believe Jesus is already closer than you think. And He’s not going anywhere.”

I’m Back!

August 24, 2025.Reading time 2 minutes.

I see that my last post was in 2019. So, why start posting again? There are several reasons.

I’ve actually been writing quite a bit – just not posting since most of my writings have been about personal matters.
I now write in collaboration with AI, mostly ChatGPT. By the time I have had AI add, rewrite, and let me be the content guide and editor, is it Lewis or AI? Like I said, it is a collaboration in the truest since of the word.
I’m heavily influenced by a Bible Study I am in as well as the ages and stages of life. Our oldest granddaughter, Lindsey, has now graduated from college, is teaching 4-year-old autistic children and living in her own apartment in downtown McKinney. Lily is a junior architectural student at Texas Tech. Anderson just left last Friday for Texas Tech as a freshman. He is planning to study business and computers. Kenneth & DeAnne are downsizing their home and plan to live in the historic district in Downtown McKinney. Linda & I are both 78, in so-so health, and are celebrating our 57th anniversary today. God is good, and all is well. Just happy to be alive!
After years of being politically neutral as much as possible, with conservative leanings, I am full bore conservative/anti-woke and a Trump supporter now. My disdain for liberalism is greater than my support of conservativism.
I still write about governmental finance topics even though my preferred subject stream is wherever my mind and heart are at any given moment. I still work close to 40 hours a week with my expertise being narrowed to Sales Tax Analyses as well as Multi-Year Financial Planning (MYFP). I love every minute of my consulting and will probably continue as long as I can use the keyboard.

What this means is that if you are not interested in the type of topics I mostly write about these days, then I think there is a way you can unsubscribe on your own.

If you think I have anything interesting to say, please forward to any of your friends, colleagues and family.

Thank you!
Lewis