A lot of what you believe about the Bible is, well, wrong. — Jesus was born in a stable Only two biblical writers mention Jesus’s birth, and one of those — the writer of Matthew — tells us that Jesus was born in a house. This makes sense because, for Matthew, Jesus and his family lived in Bethlehem. …

A poem about the depersonalizing effect of office work — I sit here in my little cubicle world, and contemplate my existence. Surely there is more to me than three 6-foot walls and a computer. Surely I am deeper and more interesting than an in-box full of mail and a filing cabinet. Surely, somewhere inside me, there is a heart. …

How Well-Meaning Advice Created a Binge Eater — I was always encouraged to clean my plate when I was a kid. I remember being told that I needed to eat my lima beans so I could grow up to be big and strong like my Uncle Bill. More generally, my parents encouraged me to eat well and finish…

After a year of meditation, I’m in a better place mentally, emotionally, and spiritually than I have ever been in my adulthood. — In December of 2020, I was in a bad place. The country was deep within the first year of the pandemic. As a hospital-based radiographer, I was up to my neck in it. That would’ve been bad enough for anyone, but for a lifelong hypochondriac, I felt it even more…

A Poem —

Why this commandment doesn’t mean what you think it means. — Growing up as I did in the Southern Baptist tradition, I was introduced very early to the notion of taking the Lord’s name in vain. I understood from a young age that this commandment was important; that “taking the Lord’s name in vain” involved using any name of God as…

A teenager loses her head to satisfy the paranoia of a vengeful queen known as Bloody Mary. — Dawn broke in a London sky heavy with clouds on the morning of February 12th, 1554. The city lay cloaked beneath a light drizzle that dampened the cobblestones and kept the streets quiet and forlorn. …

It was a sunny afternoon on the first weekend of spring when I found myself face to face with death. — I didn’t wake up that morning thinking it might be my last. I’d worked until 11 the night before and had gone to bed like usual around 1 or 2 in the morning. …

A rising politician, a violent political controversy, a suicide pact, and a cold-blooded murder. — November 7, 1825. A Monday. Two hours past midnight. A dark, moonless night, lit only by a wash of stars overhead. A masked figure stands in the shadows on Madison Street, his eyes fixed on a nearby home. The house sits cloaked in the gloom of deepest night. The street…