Repentance

After 23 years as an NFL sideline reporter, Laura Okmin made an unusual career change. Instead of asking coaches questions on game day, she now helps them confront something far more difficult: their blind spots.

The work began after Dan Quinn was fired as head coach of the Atlanta Falcons. Quinn wanted to understand what went wrong, so he planned to call former players and staff himself. Okmin stopped him and suggested something different. What if she interviewed dozens of people who had worked with him — anonymously — and asked not about strategy, but about what he missed as a person?

Quinn agreed. “All of us have blind spots,” he said.

Okmin spent months interviewing players, assistants, and even family members. She compiled the feedback into a long report that revealed patterns Quinn could not see on his own. He took on too much. He overlooked his staff. He worked harder but with diminishing results. The feedback was painful — and transformative. Quinn memorized the document and later recommended the process to other coaches.

Since then, Okmin has done this work with more than ten NFL coaches. Many struggle at first. The anonymity is uncomfortable. The criticism can sting. Okmin herself admits she would not want one done on her. But the coaches who endure it often respond the same way. After reading hard feedback, one coach simply said, “That’s fair.”

Preaching Angle:

We all have blind spots, and we need the Word of God and good Christian friends to help us confess and see what we’ve been missing.

When Pablo Picasso was thirteen years old, his seven-year-old sister Conchita lay dying of diphtheria. Picasso watched her waste away. In anguish, he made a bargain with God: If you save her, I will give up painting forever.

But even as he prayed, a darker struggle unfolded. Picasso later admitted he was torn—wanting his sister to live, yet fearing that if she did, his gift would be taken from him. When Conchita died, he concluded that God was cruel, destiny was an enemy, and that power belonged only to those who seized it. From that moment on, he resolved never to surrender again.

Instead, he chose control. Picasso became one of the most brilliant artists in history—but his life was marked by devastation. He used people as instruments of his desires. He manipulated lovers, abandoned friends when loyalty was costly, and left a trail of wounded women and broken relationships behind him. “When I die,” Picasso had prophesied, "It will be a shipwreck, and as when a huge ship sinks, many people all around will be sucked down with it."

He also said that he would never experience love—only possession, desire, and domination. Love, in the self-giving sense, required surrender. And surrender was the one thing he would not risk again.

His art explored suffering, but his life multiplied it. He had genius without gentleness, freedom without peace, power without rest.

When Ken Johnson of Altadena, California, noticed bricks scattered under his house and the crawl-space frame torn apart, he suspected a raccoon or maybe a stray dog. But when he installed a camera, he woke up one morning to a shocking discovery: a 550-pound black bear had moved in. Not for a visit. Not for a night. It had settled in.

For more than a week, Johnson heard the bear’s heavy breathing and dragon-like hissing through a vent beneath his kitchen floor. He watched it stroll down the sidewalk like it owned the place. It rummaged through his garbage, dragged bricks around, and made itself increasingly at home. He tried everything to send it packing—leaf blowers, air horns, blasting music, even running the washing machine on spin cycle.

Nothing worked. The bear grew more comfortable, not less. Experts told him the real danger wasn’t the bear’s presence—it was allowing it to remain long enough to believe the crawl space was its den. Once that happened, getting it out would be far harder and far riskier.

It’s a striking picture of how certain things enter our lives. Not all at once, and not always with obvious danger. A small compromise here, a quiet resentment there, a habit that begins with a shrug. At first it seems manageable, even harmless. But left unchallenged, it begins to rearrange the interior of our lives the way that bear rearranged the bricks under Johnson’s house—slowly, persistently, until it settles in.

And once it settles, it does not leave easily.

Author and journalist Kelsey McKinney is co-creator of the podcast "Normal Gossip" and has written for The New York Times, Vogue, GQ, Cosmopolitan and Vanity Fair. In her 2025 book “You Didn't Hear This from Me: (Mostly) True Notes on Gossip", McKinney explores the world of gossip in pop culture, celebrities and in everyday life. In one chapter entitled "Thou Shalt Not Gossip", she details her evangelical upbringing and her struggles between trying not to sin and her innate need and desire to gossip.

"I was taught growing up that everyone had a thorn shoved deep into their side, impossible to dig out on their own. The thorn couldn't be ripped out with pliers or cut out with a scalpel because it was inside of you from birth, a kind of predetermined bodily failure created just for you. The thorn was a metaphor, of course, but it was a metaphor that would ruin your life if you let it, because the thorn was the thing that kept you from holiness, from goodness, from the shiny pearly gates of Heaven. For some, the thorn was greed or pride or wrath or lust or gluttony. But I learned quickly that my thorn was made of whispers and cupped hands and wide eyes. The thorn I thought I needed God to rid me was the one thing I loved most in the world: gossip."

Even during a sermon McKinney often couldn't get her thoughts away from gossip:

"No matter how hard I tried to tell myself that gossiping was wicked, and that God hated it, the stories just stuck to my brain. Nothing else stuck there: not multiplication tables or vocabulary words or what I had done over the weekend. But the gossip stayed. I could not remember the citation for important verses in the Bible, but I could remember that at Bible study last week, a girl had asked for everyone to pray for her ability to have patience with her parents as they fought. While the pastor guided the focus of the congregation into a close reading of verses about humility and Jonah, I watched her parents, seated far away from me, and noticed how they leaned apart. Would they get divorced? It was so much easier to focus on the drama than on anything the Bible said."

McKinney offers a good metaphor for her experience of gossip:

"And every single time I gossiped, it felt like my body was a two-liter soda bottle all shaken up. The drama and the intrigue and the secrets fizzed inside of me. Sometimes the story was too good, a Mento swallowed before I could convince myself not to, and it would all come bubbling out to the surface in a geyser of gossip."

McKinney gives a stark and flagrant portrayal of the inner workings of choosing sin over holiness:

"In high school I wrote in dry-erase marker on the mirror in my room Ephesians 4:29, in my curly, looping handwriting, 'Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building up others according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen.' I read the verse a half-dozen times every day, branded the words and their cadence into the soft tissue of my brain so that later, those grooves would burn when I ignored them and chose sin instead."

As a young woman she soon chose to walk away from the Gospel:

"I stopped praying for God to take away my desire to gossip and eventually I stopped praying altogether. Without the fear of sin, I was able to stop policing my engagement with gossip, which in turn let me gossip more ...... Maybe being a gossip is simply part of my identity and personality, unremovable and consistent."

As the clock strikes midnight on December 31, many people may share a kiss with their significant other, cheer, and use noisemakers to celebrate a new year. And sure, a kiss at midnight and making noise are some of the common new year traditions that are said to bring you luck, they certainly not the only ones.

Here are some of the most unique, and maybe even lesser known, New Year’s superstitions from various countries around the world that are thought to help bring good luck and ward off the bad for the new year.

Walk Around with an Empty Suitcase - In Spain and Latin American the custom is supposed to welcome new experiences and a year filled with traveling.

Throw Furniture from a Window - In some European cultures, you can find people throwing couches, fridges and more from their window when the clock strikes midnight. This symbolizes doing away with the old and welcoming in the new.

Leave Windows and Doors Open - Leaving your doors and windows open on New Year's Eve is said to let out the old year.

Break Dishes - In Denmark it is considered good luck and a sign of friendship to break dishes and plates on the homes of those closest to you.

Clean the House - Many people around the world believe in starting New Year's Day with a clean house in order to avoid carrying the old or dirt of last year into the new year.

Burn Photos - An Ecuadorian superstition calls for burning photos of old memories before midnight in order to make way for the new things to come.

Possible Preaching Angle:
While we don’t participate in worldly superstitions, these traditions can be an interesting way to remind believers that the Bible promises them a fresh start every morning with God (“new every morning” Lam. 3:22-23) and not just on New Year’s Day.

Every year, Christians of various denominations observe Lent, a six-week period ahead of Easter, where participants "give something up" while pursuing a closer relationship with God. Usually, when someone decides what they will be giving up, they will pick a habit, food, or hobby that they enjoy enough that it will be significantly missed throughout the period of Lent. That way, its absence is extremely noticeable (and even a little uncomfortable) as they make such a substantial shift in their typical day-to-day. Then, the yearning for what has been given up works as a reminder to turn to God and recognize how He truly meets all needs.

For those who observe Lent annually, it can be challenging to think of new ideas of what they will give up each winter. Trying to figure out what you'll be giving up for Lent this year? Here are 10 meaningful things to give up for Lent:

1. Complaining – Take the opportunity to choose gratitude over grumbling.

2. Sweet treats – It will help your health and be a reminder that only God truly sustains us.

3, Television – Stop the small screen binge and grow in your spiritual life instead.

4. Screen Time – Spend less time checking friends’ updates and check in with Christ.

5. Gossiping – It’s easy to insult or judge others. Instead, tame your tongue biblically.

6. Video games – Instead of fantasy worlds of adventure, read the real-life stories of the Bible.

7. Shopping – Decide not to store up treasures in your closet, but store them up in heaven.

8. Coffee – Instead of facing the world with caffeine, learn to rely on God.

9. Soda – Every time you think about grabbing that fizzy drink, use it as a reminder to pray.

10. Worrying – You can’t stop worry completely, but choose to go to God with it instead.

Possible Preaching Angles:

This a good way to set up a sermon on Lent or spiritual disciplines.

In the 1980s, a research facility called Biosphere 2 built a closed ecosystem to test what it would take to eventually colonize space. Everything was carefully curated and provided for and trees planted inside sprung up and appeared to thrive. Then they began to fall.

The botanists must have looked on in dismay, finding no evidence of disease or mite or weevil. There was nothing to cause the trees to topple; the conditions were perfect. And then they realized what was missing—something so simple, yet absent within the confines of the structure: wind.

The air was too still, too serene—an ease that guaranteed the trees were doomed. It’s the pressure and variation of natural wind that causes the trees to strengthen and their roots to grow. Though the trees of Biosphere 2 had all the sun, soil, and water they needed, in the absence of changing winds they built no resilience, and eventually fell under the weight of their own abundance.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Lent helps us see the trials of life in a new way. Could it be that our difficulties, more than our delights, are what drive us closer to God? Though we may still have a strong aversion to pain, we can see the hand of God when the winds of trial come to buffet, and we can take solace in the fact that our roots are growing deeper. Romans 5:3–5 encourages us: “We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope….”

U.S. District Judge Michael H. Simon asked an unusual question to attorney Janet Hoffman during the sentencing phase of a recent case. “Do you want me to refer to your client as Mr. Pearce, Mr. Doe or Mr. Casper?”

Normally a defendant’s name is one of the first established facts in a criminal proceeding, but in this case, it was a mystery behind the whole thing. Hoffman’s client was a well-known attorney who went professionally by the name Roger A. Pearce Jr. He had spent more than three decades practicing law in Oregon and Washington. Now, at age 77, he was living a comfortable life, having retired with his wife to a million-dollar condo on Lake Washington in Seattle. But recently authorities discovered that he’d been living a lie. Roger A. Pearce Jr. was not his legal name.

The ruse was discovered in 2022 when the State Department flagged his passport application because he applied for a new social security number as an adult. So, prosecutors indicted him as “John Doe,” after he was arrested on a warrant. After pleading guilty to misdemeanor identity fraud, the judge asked his courtroom deputy to have the defendant state his name for the record.

He said, “My birth name was Willie Ragan Casper Jr.” Casper, a.k.a. Pearce, explained that he went to college at Rice University in Texas, but made a series of poor choices, dropping out of school, then quickly marrying and splitting apart. In desperation, he engaged in petty theft and check-kiting schemes.

He said, “I was a young person, confused, depressed. I felt the failure. I was ashamed that I had wasted a lot of my parents’ money supporting me in a distant city they couldn’t really afford. My marriage had fallen apart. I had no real career prospects.”

So, he illegally changed his name as a way of finding a fresh start. He purchased the birth certificate of a baby who’d died, then used that certificate to apply for a social security number.

Assistant U.S. attorney Ethan Knight said, “Every person is responsible for and owns their own history and really the shadow that that casts and the consequences that ultimately may bear out. The defendant’s choice in this case really is an abdication of that basic principle.”

The defendant intends to legally change his name to Roger A. Pearce Jr. and resume the remainder of his years under that name. He also has a chance to mend old fences with the family he left behind so many years ago. He said, “Perhaps paradoxically, this prosecution may give me the chance to recover some of what I’ve lost.”

Possible Preaching Angles:

1) Identity in Christ - While the defendant sought to create a new identity for himself through deception, the Bible teaches that true identity and renewal come through faith in Christ (2 Cor. 5:17); 2) Forgiveness; Second Chance - The story suggests the possibility of forgiveness and a second chance (Lam. 3:23;1 John 1:9); 3) Accountability - The prosecutor's statement about owning one's history and facing consequences illustrates personal accountability (Rom.14:12).

In January 2024 a wave of violence and looting broke out in Port Moresby, the capital of the country of Papua New Guinea (north of Australia). An unconfirmed number of people were killed and dozens injured, as emergency services struggled to respond to the scale of the disturbance.

Video footage showed looters in the capital dashing into stores through smashed glass windows, stuffing stolen goods into cardboard boxes, plastic buckets, and shopping carts. One man was seen lugging an entire chest freezer away on his shoulders.

But then about five days after the looting started, a local pastor in Papua New Guinea gave the following report:

These days a curious phenomenon is taking place: the people who participated in the looting of recent days in Port Moresby are returning the looted goods. The appeals from the police and also from some [church leaders] are having a certain effect. Some parishes of Christian churches of different denominations got involved and declared: “Our doors are open for those who want to return stolen goods.” It is a kind of collective repentance, appealing to the Christian conscience of each citizen. I must say that something is moving, it is a sign of hope, a sign that the individual conscience is, in some way, illuminated by faith.

Editor’s Note: As you use this illustration keep in mind that although this story is true, there was not a massive movement to return looted items. The same is true in relationship with God, all have a conscience which at some point convicts them of sin, but only a few repent and turn to God.

Diamonds are the hardest substance on Earth, they rate a perfect 10 on the Mohs scale of mineral hardness. But on other carbon-rich planets, the jury is still out. That’s because for some 40 years, scientists have theorized that diamond can squeeze into an even harder mineral known as an eight-atom body-centered cubic, or BC8. If true, this ultra-dense form of carbon would likely be found on carbon-rich exoplanets and would have both a higher compressive strength and thermal conductivity than diamond.

As a result of their exceptional toughness and resistance to wear, diamonds have found a wide range of services in various fields and daily life. Saw blades and drill bits with diamond tips may easily slice through stone, concrete, and metal. Diamonds are also essential in the electrical industry because of their resilience and resistance to heat and chemicals. Another use for diamonds is their high electrical insulation which makes it a promising material for improving the reliability of semiconductors. And let’s not forget the romantic side of diamonds. Because of their extreme hardness and brilliance diamonds are prized as jewelry which can last forever.

Simply put, the discovery of a way to make this “super-hard diamond” could be a game changer for a variety of industries. And scientists from Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory and the University of South Florida using the Frontier supercomputer are researching just such a possible pathway toward creating BC8.

Possible Preaching Angle:

While a diamond is remarkable for its incredible hardness, there is something on earth that is even harder – the human heart. The Bible warns that a hardened heart is a serious spiritual condition that can develop through unrepentant sin, pride, ingratitude, or disappointment. Only God can truly soften a hardened heart, which requires recognizing the problem, repenting of sin, and submitting to God's work in one's life.

By the year 2000, Judge John Phillips had long since lost count of the number of minors he had sent through the California penitentiary system for crimes committed during a violent and hopeless adolescence. He said on one occasion, “You send these young people to prison, and they learn to become harder criminals.”

In 2003, he set out to find a better way—to get kids in an environment of support where they could pass through these difficult years with a hand on their shoulder. Phillips started Rancho Cielo in the town of Salinas, ironically using an old juvenile detention center.

Rancho Cielo has a wide variety of programs, much of which is hands-on and kinetic, from the carpentry and construction program and vintage car repair, to beekeeping and equestrian care. Experts and industry professionals frequent Rancho Cielo to share their knowledge; like Tom Forgette who teaches the auto and diesel repair shop, and Laura Nicola, co-manager of the ranch restaurant, whose other job is at the James Beard Award-winning La Bicyclette.

“Upstairs,” traditional high school level classes are held for academic topics like writing and mathematics, usually to prepare students for a GED or community college admission. This is paired with additional preparatory courses like resume and cover letter writing and interview skills.

17-year-old Omar Amezola said, “In my other school, it was all reading and writing. Here the teachers are more chill, you don’t have to stay in your seat all day, you can do things that are hands-on—it’s cool.”

Each year, 220 students attend Rancho Cielo. While some don’t make it, 84.8% of first-time offenders who enroll at Rancho Cielo never re-offend, compared to the 40% recidivism rate in the county. Even with all the tutoring, diversity, and infrastructure, it costs just $25,000 to put a kid through Rancho Cielo, compared to the $110,000 it costs to house them in prison.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Grace; Judgement; Justice; Mercy – There is only endless punishment when God judges the guilty for their sins. But through his redemptive grace, he offers hope, a new life, and a new beginning to those who come to him in faith in Christ.

Tom Hallman, Jr., a reporter for The Oregonian, recently chronicled a young man’s turnaround in the daily newspaper, highlighting the pivotal nature of a judge’s leniency.

For De'Onn Wooden, a series of unpaid traffic infractions led to a warrant for his arrest as a young man in the early 90s. According to Wooden, the judge was ready to sentence him to prison, but his pastor advocated for his behalf. He testified before the judge that Wooden had turned his life around since the initial infractions. Because of the pastor’s passionate advocacy, the judge relented, suspending the warrant, reducing his fine, and putting him on a payment plan.

Growing up in the violence-plagued streets of Compton, California, Wooden's prospects were grim. Gang shootings were a nightly threat, and survival was a daily struggle. However, a move to Perris, California, provided a glimmer of hope, leading to an education in drafting. Venturing to the Pacific Northwest at 20, he faced racial discrimination but persevered, eventually settling in Northeast Portland.

Now, 30 years later, Wooden is on the verge of realizing his dream: launching an electrical-services company, with a vision to extend opportunities to women and minorities who have faced life's challenges and seek a fresh start. As he prepares to start his own business, he plans to pay it forward by offering apprenticeships to underrepresented individuals, showing that hard work and determination can conquer life's obstacles.

Possible Preaching Angle:

When God’s people show mercy to those who don't deserve it, we reflect God's heart for all people.

A man driving a car suspected to be stolen was injured in a head-on collision on a local freeway. Authorities say that 30-year-old Kyle Voltz was driving an SUV when he crashed into a police cruiser and then sped out of a North Portland parking lot. Eventually the suspect was spotted driving south in the northbound lanes of Interstate 405, eventually crashing into another vehicle near an overpass.

Both the driver and a passenger in the suspected stolen vehicle suffered serious injuries; the occupants of the other vehicles were not injured as seriously. The sheriff’s deputies in the vehicle that was rammed were not injured.

Voltz faces several charges, including first degree assault, felony hit-and-run, and reckless driving. He has previous convictions for identity theft and possession of heroin and methamphetamines.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Those who sin are heading in the direction of consequences and punishment. The gospel calls all lawbreakers to repentance (literally “to change their minds”) about the direction of their lives.

In an issue of CT magazine, Gene McGuire tells the story of how God found him serving a life sentence in prison and gave him new life in Christ.

I’d always looked up to my out-of-town cousin, Bobby. I was thrilled when he invited me to come along that night to a bar. After a few games of pool and several drinks, Bobby told us he was going to rob the place. While surprised at his sudden intentions, the alcohol seemed to dull any impulse for protest. Sid and I would leave—as locals, we’d be recognized—and Bobby would commit the robbery alone.

We waited outside. After several minutes, we poked our heads in the door—Bobby had brutally murdered the bar owner. He shouted, “Don’t just stand there! Help me find the money!”

On the run, McGuire followed Bobby to New York City, but he couldn’t escape the reality of what they had done and went to the police. Bobby told him, “Gene, tell the truth. It was all me.” McGuire told the detectives everything but because he was present when the crime was committed, he was charged with murder. A day before his 18th birthday the judge sentenced him: “For the rest of your natural life,” without the possibility of parole.

In prison McGuire met Larry when he visited as part of a nationwide outreach event organized by Prison Fellowship. A preacher shared a gospel message and ended with an invitation saying, “Real men make commitments.” But McGuire held still.

McGuire returned the next day. Again, the preacher ended with those words, “Real men make commitments.” He watched as others made the commitment. He really wanted to—but he couldn’t. Then a volunteer approached him. “Hi, my name is Larry.” McGuire asked, “How long have you been a Christian?” “Since I was 4-years-old,” Larry replied. McGuire thought, “Was he putting me on? If a 4-year-old could sort out this Jesus stu­ff, why couldn’t I? What was I doing at 26 without a clue?”

The next day—the final service—I went back, and again it ended with the familiar “Real men make commitments.” A war raged within me—Go! No, don’t go! Get up! No, don’t move! I held on to the chapel pew with a white-knuckled death grip.

Suddenly, it just happened. I was on my feet, putting one in front of the other until I was at the altar. I remember praying, “Jesus, I believe you died and rose again for me. Please forgive all my sins. I want to be saved. Jesus, come into my heart today. Amen.” It sounds cliché, but I felt as if a ton of weight rolled right o­ff my back, as if chains fell away and I was free. Life in prison remained life in prison, but from the moment I believed in Jesus, the newness of life was extraordinary.

The Lord continued to use Larry in my life; for the next 25 years he mentored and discipled me, never letting me lose sight of opportunities to love God and serve others.

Meanwhile, I was actively petitioning the governor to commute my life sentence. Yet another attempt—after 32 years in prison—ended in rejection. Then, in June 2010, I received a notice from an attorney out of the blue. It informed me of a new Supreme Court ruling that could o­ffer juveniles given life sentences the opportunity to return to court and possibly receive a lighter sentence.

On April 3, 2012, I finally got my release. As a 17-year-old looking squarely at a lifetime behind bars, I never would have imagined this outcome. But God’s love is so great that nothing can separate us from it; his mercy and grace so powerful that no shackles can confine us. I’m living proof. I received a life sentence and, along the way, I found life—and freedom.

Editor’s Note: Gene McGuire is the author of Unshackled: From Ruin to Redemption . He lives in the Dallas–Fort Worth area, where he serves as pastor for a Christian family-owned restaurant company.

A series of political, cultural, and social events in the early 1980s led to many Germans to deal honestly with the Nazi horrors of the past. Before 1980 most Germans regarded themselves as victims of the Second World War. Vast numbers had lost family members, friends, colleagues. As the post-war generation was coming of age, "more and more Germans came to grasp the enormity of Nazi crimes against others, especially Jews." The actions of the nationally repentant were numerous and mostly local.

In schools and communities, research soared, as ordinary people … got to work. Teachers, housewives, retirees, and students researched what happened in their neighborhoods. They affixed plaques to destroyed and desecrated synagogues, and restored local cemeteries (often with the help of Jews who could read the Hebrew inscriptions). They figured out the places where Jewish people were deported from and where the barracks of nearby concentration subcamps were located. They also established an enormous network of contacts.

In many communities, Germans wrote letters to Jews who were forced to emigrate or had lost kin in the Holocaust. They wrote to get their stories. They wrote to help identify other Jews from the city, town, or neighborhood. And they wrote to invite them back. In large and small cities communities invited Jewish people to return for a “visitor week,” with the communities typically paying for travel and lodging. People gave speeches, wrote articles, and even books. Some local historians wrote about nefarious hometown Nazis. Other historians worked out the fate that befell local Jews, “members of our community,” as many Germans began to call them.

This German-version of the civil rights movement, if it may be called that, dramatically changed how people in the Federal Republic thought about their history and who belonged to it.

Almost five years to the day after he returned home the first time, the prodigal son emptied his bank account, packed a few changes of clothes, and snuck off for the faraway country. Again.

The first year back he was just glad to be home.

The second year was toughest; he still couldn’t get (rid of) … the shame that chewed away at his soul.

The third year, things leveled out a little. He started feeling more at home, back in synch with his former life.

The fourth year, certain things began to irk him. His old itches longed to be scratched.

And the fifth year, it happened. All the former allurements came knocking, rapping their knuckles on his heart’s front door.

And so the prodigal relapsed. Re-sinned. Re-destroyed his life.

You know him—or her. Maybe it’s your best friend. Maybe it's your child. Or maybe it’s you. That thing you swore you’d never do again, you did it last night. You left the straight and narrow. Prodigals have a way of finding themselves right back in the pigsty.

In that moment … heaven and hell contend within you. Hell shouts, “Now you’ve gone and done it. You stupid piece of garbage. You’re a lost, lonely, hopeless cause. You’re a pig. And that’s all you’ll ever be.”

But there is another voice. It’s the voice of heaven, the familiar lilt of a Dad’s voice, echoing down the long hallways of hope … down to the deepest, darkest caverns of your pain. He doesn’t accuse. He doesn’t berate. He only mouths two simple words … of heaven’s redemptive love: “Come Home.”

The second time, the third time, the thousandth time, he will sprint … to meet you down the street, throw his arms around you, kiss you, and command that the fattened calf be barbecued. The Father is standing on the porch, his hand shading the sun from his eyes, scanning the horizon for the familiar image of the one who will ever remain, his precious, beloved child. “Come home.”

The 61-year-old grandmother was sliding her groceries across the self-checkout at the Woodbury Walmart. Scanner beeping, her total climbing, Sarah Lindgren pulled from her cart a package of steaks. She had counted the money in her wallet. “I just didn't have enough.”

Holding the steaks she’d promised her family for dinner, Sarah made a split-second decision, “I didn’t have enough for them and I just bagged them anyway.” She was walking out of the store when a Walmart employee stopped her. The phone call from Walmart to the Woodbury Police Department was routine.

Sarah had been taken to a room away from other Walmart customers. Her 18-year-old daughter, Danielle, who’d accompanied her to the store, was sobbing when Officer Wagner entered. “Sarah told me her daughter was autistic.” The head of the Lindgren household has a lot on her plate. In addition to Danielle, eight other children and grandchildren live with Sarah. Sarah’s husband had been the family’s provider until his death 15 years ago. She said, “You get to a point where you're drained, you can't even think.”

Wagner wrote Sarah a citation, then returned to his car and ran a background check. Wagner said, “There was nothing. She has fewer speeding tickets than I do. That’s when I decided that she needed help.”

Sarah left the Walmart and drove home with her daughter. Roughly an hour later her phone rang. It was Wagner. Lindgren pictured herself being led away in handcuffs. She thought, “He's coming back to get me.”

He wasn't. Officer Wagner had made a stop at Christian Cupboard Emergency Food Shelf. The volunteers started packing. By the time they were done, boxes, cans, fresh fruits, and vegetables filled the backseat, passenger seat, and trunk of Officer Wagner’s squad car.

Then, Wagner drove to Lindgren's home and knocked on her door. Lindgren said, “I couldn't believe it. I was just overwhelmed, in disbelief.” She also experienced a rush of guilt. Wagner said, “She told me to bring it back. She said, ‘I don't deserve this, I committed a crime.’” Wagner wouldn’t hear of it. The food was delivered to Lindgren’s kitchen.

Wagner had more news for Lindgren. He’d talked to Walmart and voided the citation he had written her. “Throw it in the garbage. God gives us second chances and you've got to take advantage of them.”

In the days of the Russian revolution, the Soviet state tried to stamp out Christianity and convert everyone to atheism. A popular Russian comedian developed a stage act in which he played a drunken Orthodox priest. Dressed in wine-stained robes, he did a comic imitation of the ancient but beautiful liturgy.

Part of his performance was to chant the Beatitudes. But he used distorted words—such as “blessed are they who hunger and thirst for vodka” and “blessed are the cheese makers”—while struggling to remain more or less upright. He had done his act time and again and been rewarded by the authorities for his work in promoting atheism and in making worship seem ridiculous.

But on one occasion things didn’t go as planned. Instead of saying his garbled version of the Beatitudes in his well-rehearsed comic manner, he chanted the sentences as they are actually sung in a real Liturgy. His attention was focused not on the audience but on the life-giving words that were coming from the Bible, words he had learned and sung as a child. He listened to the memorized words and something happened in the depths of his soul.

After singing the final Beatitude, he fell to his knees weeping. He had to be led from the stage and never again parodied worship. Probably he was sent to a labor camp, but even so it’s a story of a happy moment in his life. He had begun a new life in a condition of spiritual freedom that no prison can take away. Whatever his fate, he brought the Beatitudes and his recovered faith with him. Truly, the Bible can change one’s life.