​Lent in the Garden: The Birds, the Bees, and Jesus

No, no, not those birds and bees. The actual birds and the bees, friends. Before I even started writing this, I found myself longing to discuss spring and Lent. Both seasons arrive together, and both seem to stir up something beneath the surface. Spring brings everything bursting back to life—beautiful, blooming, hopeful—but also reminds us that renewal is not always comfortable. For many of us, spring means scratchy noses, watery eyes, and the irritation of allergies. In the same way, Lent can be a time that unsettles us but also invites us to reflect, change, and deepen our faith. Just as nature begins to wake up, Lent gives us an opportunity to seek genuine spiritual renewal, shaking us out of old patterns and calling us to experience God in a fresh way. So here’s the question I kept returning to: What does it mean to choose something deeper than distraction or surface-level rituals, and to seek real renewal in this season—when everything outside and inside us is being stirred up?

There’s no better comparison of nature’s spring than to the Lenten season (the old English translation of lencten is in fact “spring”). Lent is intended to be a time of reflection and renewal, a period to prepare our hearts, minds, and spirits for Easter, much like what happens in our gardens during spring. And by the way, the rebirth of my garden is a sight to see. In the winter, it’s all snappy twigs and bald patches that need a good mulching. Not beautiful by any means. The beauty is knowing that while the plants lie dormant, their root systems continue to deepen their connection to the earth by navigating the cold soil (well, clay). Just this week, I pressed my hands into the cold soil, the dirt packed tight under my fingernails, and pushed aside the tangle of last year’s leaves to reveal the first pale red peony shoot stubbornly breaking through. Spring is coming. And just like this long spring garden metaphor, the purpose of Lent isn’t what it seems on the outset. It’s not just about giving up coffee, chocolate, or Amazon shopping for six weeks. It’s the act of allowing ourselves to go a little dormant, to pull back and let the roots of our faith deepen and strengthen.

Perhaps the reason this particular Lenten season means so much to me is that it is actually my first time assigning myself a discipline, or something I must “give up.” That’s right. I was born into a Christian family and have been one my entire life, but we never participated in Lent. Choosing a discipline proved quite challenging for me. I had decision paralysis: where to begin? Drinking too much coffee, indulging in chocolate more often than I care to admit, scrolling social media—all excellent disciplines to choose for Lent. But giving something up is just one side of the story. This season can also be about adding something life-giving—daily scripture reading, writing a note of encouragement to a friend each week, or setting aside time for reflection. I really like referring to this devotion as a discipline, because that’s what it is: selecting a goal and adhering to behaviors and habits that help us succeed. The real discipline is not just taking something away; it’s putting God in its place.

Distraction is an everyday struggle for so many of us, and it can feel discouraging when our intentions and actions don’t always align. But even in these imperfect moments, God’s grace is present. The beauty of Lent and of our faith is not in flawless discipline, but in returning to God again and again, however messy the process. If you find yourself struggling, take heart: God welcomes our best efforts with compassion and meets us wherever we are.

Can we assign ourselves a discipline, let go of something we habitually repeat for that quick dose of dopamine, and instead fill that time with prayer, stillness, and preparing our hearts for the truth of Easter? Can we give something up in the name of pursuing a closer relationship with Jesus? Can we demand orderliness of ourselves to spend a little more time with God? 

I am looking forward to continued renewal through this Lenten season, both for my soul and my garden. I’m nurturing my faith and making space for attentive, thoughtful prayer. I’m going to show myself grace when I inevitably falter. There will be plenty of moments where old habits creep back in. When I slip up and lose track of my intentions, I plan to acknowledge it, forgive myself, and start again—reminding myself that renewal is a journey, not a pass-or-fail test. If you, too, stumble on your discipline, try to pause, breathe, and return to your practice the next day, even if it’s in a small, simple way. 

Praying that you find deeper meaning in your devotion this Lenten season.

​Yours in Christ!

Chelsea Spits
Director of Children's Music

Our Heavenly Father is all powerful, all knowing, and all loving. He has supreme power and authority over all creation. He has knowledge of all things--past, present and future. He is the source of all goodness. For centuries, God has used his attributes to work with men who didn't seem to qualify for the task. These men were used despite their mistakes and limitations, displaying the power and authority of our almighty Creator.
 
Moses was a stutterer with a violent past. He was a murderer and unwilling to follow God's instructions. Yet he led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. He guided them through the wilderness for 40 years and delivered the laws of God to Israel.
 
David was a young, overlooked shepherd boy unlikely to be selected king by men. Yet he was chosen by God to be one. He conquered Jerusalem and united the tribes of Israel and Judah. He also made preparations for the temple to be built by his son Solomon.
 
Peter was an impatient fisherman who denied Jesus three times yet became a fundamental leader of the early church. Empowered by the Holy Spirit, he performed miracles and brought the gospel to both Jews and Gentiles. Peter wrote two books in the New Testament and was a key witness to Jesus’ ministry, resurrection and ascension into heaven.
 
And then came Paul. God transformed Paul through a dramatic encounter with Jesus on the road to Damascus. Instantly he was turned from a persecutor of Christians into an apostle of faith. He was redirected from destroying the church to spreading the gospel. Paul went on to write much of the New Testament.
 
God uses imperfect people to accomplish His will. I am imperfect and so are you. We don't want to stay this way, so we strive for perfection through his mercy and grace. Even with the imperfections in and around us, we can feel his heart, know his touch and enjoy his grace. Just as God led Moses, David, Peter and Paul; He will overlook our imperfections and take us places beyond our reach. Blessings to all!
 
In Christ,
Jerome Young
Facilities Manager
 

 I am genuinely heartbroken at how divided our country has become!
 
And what makes this even more painful is that our country is desperate for leadership that will bring healing and unity, but instead, we have leadership that thrives on division. Rather than calming tensions, naming our shared humanity, or “calling us toward our better angels” as Abraham Lincoln said, our leaders continue to say and do things that inflame fear, deepen resentment, and pit us against one another. Division isn’t being challenged; it’s being rewarded.
 
That matters very much because when those at the top model contempt instead of compassion, outrage instead of responsibility, it gives permission for the rest of us to do the same. And far too often, Christians fall right in line, mistaking loyalty to power for faithfulness to God.
 
If we’re waiting on politicians to save us, we’ve already missed the point. Unity was never going to come from the White House. It was always supposed to come from the Church; from people shaped by love, humility, repentance, and courage. But that requires us to stop echoing division and start embodying the way of Jesus.
 
And yet…
 
People are losing their minds over Bad Bunny, a wildly successful Latino artist, a U.S. CITIZEN, performing on one of the biggest stages in the world. And let’s be honest about what’s really bothering some folks: it’s not the music. It’s not the performance. It’s who he is.
 
What’s almost funny, if it weren’t so sad, is how angry people are over a performance that was truly amazing. It was beautiful. It was joyful. It was full of culture, rhythm, pride, and artistry. Nothing about it was threatening… unless you already feel threatened by cultures that aren’t centered on you.
And honestly, none of this is new.
 
Every year, many Christians seem to find something to be outraged about when it comes to the Super Bowl. A few years ago, it was Black athletes kneeling during the national anthem in peaceful protest of police brutality. Those protests were dignified, nonviolent, and deeply Christian in their moral vision for justice; calling a nation to live up to its own stated values. And yet what I heard from many Christians, what I even heard from the pulpit, was some of the most vitriolic, angry, dehumanizing rhetoric imaginable. Not curiosity. Not compassion. Just outrage baptized as faith.
 
The hypocrisy is exhausting.
 
The same people who rage about a Latino artist being celebrated will gladly walk into a Mexican restaurant, order tacos and margaritas, enjoy Spanish music, and consume the culture without a second thought. Culture is acceptable when it’s convenient. When it entertains. When it stays “in its place.” But the moment that culture is honored, centered, and celebrated on a national stage, suddenly it’s a problem.
 
Then out comes the “All-American” language.
 
And let’s be clear about that rhetoric. “All-American” has been used before. Just like the Roman’s 13 that folks like to throw around. It was used to justify segregation. It was used to exclude Indigenous people from their own land. It was used to shame civil rights leaders for bringing “politics into faith.” It has always been a tool, not of unity, but of control.

Because when many people say they want something “All-American,” what they usually mean is white and Christian.
Not diverse.
Not multilingual.
Not inclusive.
 
That has nothing to do with Jesus.
 
This pattern isn’t about protecting faith. It’s about protecting comfort. Instead of engaging culture with humility, curiosity, and compassion, we demand that it bow to our preferences. We baptize our outrage, call it “righteous anger,” and convince ourselves we’re defending God, when in reality, we’re defending our idols: control, power, and the illusion of moral superiority.
 
Take and moment and imagine how powerful it would be if all the money, energy, and outrage poured into creating a self-congratulatory “Christian alternative” were redirected toward actually doing the things Jesus commanded: feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, caring for the poor, welcoming the stranger, and loving our neighbors in tangible ways. That would look far more like the Gospel than a protest disguised as worship.
 
As a Christian, I find this deeply unchristian.
 
Jesus never told us to fear other languages.
He never told us to reject other cultures.
He never told us to love our neighbor only if they look like us, worship like us, or make us comfortable.
 
If a joyful, culturally rich performance upsets you more than injustice, cruelty, or the way we treat our neighbors, then the problem isn’t the halftime show.
 
It’s our hearts.
 
This country is at its best when we celebrate the full humanity of its people… not when we disguise exclusion as holiness.
 
Love your neighbor.
ALL of them.

God of justice and mercy,
We come to You with broken voices and trembling hearts, because the world has forgotten who we all are to one another, and too many of us have learned how to look away.
 
What is happening around us is not okay.
Children are suffering.
Families are being torn apart.
Violence is excused.
Cruelty is explained away.
And silence has become more comfortable than truth.
 
Lord, this is not Your will.
We confess that we have allowed politics to matter more than people.
That we have chosen sides instead of choosing love.
That we have defended systems instead of defending the vulnerable.
Forgive us.
 
Break our hearts for what breaks Yours.
Shatter our indifference.
Disrupt our comfort.
Do not let us call injustice “necessary” or hatred “normal.”
 
Teach us a love that is fierce and costly.
A peace that refuses to coexist with oppression.
A compassion that crosses borders, beliefs, and lines we were told not to cross.
Where fear rules, pour out courage.
Where lies are preached, raise up truth.
Where power crushes the powerless, stand in their defense, and move us to do the same.
 
Remind us that every life bears Your image.
That no law, no leader, no ideology ever outranks human dignity.
 
Make us restless until love wins.
Make us uncomfortable until peace is real.
Make us bold enough to say with our lives: this is not okay, and we will not accept it.
Heal this wounded world, O God.
And begin with our hearts.
 
Amen.
 
Yours In Christ,
Saul Ibbara, Jr.
 
 
 

I stood towards the far end of the practice field and looked across the field at Coach McFarland and Coach Broadway. They were having an animated conversation that I was pretty sure was about me. A few moments later my suspicions were confirmed when Coach Mac yelled, “Allen, come here!” I tried to run through every what-did-I-do-now scenario as I jogged towards him. As soon as I approached, no small talk, “Are you going into ministry?”
I proceeded to fumble over my words like a running back wearing oven mitts. How did he find out? I had only told Coach Hansbrough. Mario?!?! Up until that point, I’d been having doubts, wrestling for weeks. Was God calling me to be a pastor or to keep teaching and coaching? I guess this was the moment I was going to decide. “Well sir… actually sir… yes… yes sir. I believe God’s calling me into ministry.” Coach Mac smiled and Coach Broadway began to speak, “Well, I’ll pay for your seminary.” I looked back and forth at the two in stunned silence.

So God let me get this straight. In 1987 my family moved from Washington D.C. to Alpharetta, GA where I would attend Milton High School and meet Nate Webster who would convince me to play college football. While playing college football, my dad became head coach at Riverwood where I would become an assistant coach after college. While coaching at Riverwood my dad would die unexpectedly leading me to pursue teaching and coaching. Following one of Riverwood’s most successful seasons, my close friend would resign as head coach causing me to look for new coaching opportunities. Nate Webster would call me to see if I’d be interested in coaching at Roswell where he’s on staff. While on staff at Roswell, I’d become a follower of Jesus and accept a call to ministry standing on a football field.
​
The story of my life is the story of a relentless God whose goodness has been running after me from my first breath to this present moment. In ways I cannot begin to fully grasp or understand, Jesus has been drawing me to himself not in spite of but through my life circumstances. Like Joseph, in Genesis 50 I have time and time again watched God use unlikely circumstances for my good and his glory. Today and in the week that follows I pray that you would glimpse the improbable story Jesus has and is writing through your life. I pray that you would be able to rest in God’s goodness and the assurance that he knows the plans he has for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 

Yours In Christ,
Allen Hoskyn, Associate Pastor
Missions & Discipleship

​

​Earlier this month, as many of you already know, I ran my 12th marathon. And this one was more of a unique marathon for me. Now I believe I’ve shared with some folks before my love/hate relationship with running long distances. The amount of time, training, and dedication to really any distance, but especially the longer distances, can be incredibly hard. It’s not like you can throw on a pair of running shoes and just go out and run. The longer distances require months of building up mileage so that your body and mind are ready for race day. From the different kinds of running shoes, socks, shorts, and tops to what kind of fuel to take while training, there are a lot of things that go into running for several hours.
 
And why I do this to myself…well my friends, the payoff of crossing the finish line is unlike any feeling I’ve ever felt in the world. Exhaustion (sure), relief (finally I can rest), but ultimately the best word to describe the feeling is JOY. Joy for accomplishing something that felt so impossible at the beginning. For those months of training in hot, cold, rainy, and even perfect mornings. It’s the conclusion of a journey that when you truly put in the work, it means so much that it has all come together. Joy!
 
So, what made this one so unique for me? Well, this race I was helping one of our closest friends (Katie) run her first marathon. So, my whole process was wrapped up in helping her accomplish this goal. Katie had run a few half marathons, so she was already halfway there. But helping her with the even higher mileages, working on her training plans, different types of fuel she can take, how to carry water for longer runs, and even running most of the longer runs together…it was indeed a different process to go from a runner to a coach. Helping her fix her eyes and mind on not only finishing the marathon but working through the process so that she was truly ready to tackle the marathon. And watching her cross the finish line was indeed just as rewarding as it was for my own finish!
 
Friends, in Hebrews 12 the Bible talks about running with perseverance the race set out before you. Just as Katie and I fixed our eyes on crossing the finish line…Hebrews talks about focusing your eyes on the prize, which is Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith. This life is a marathon. There are ups and downs. We need fuel along the way. We need to support each other. We need our brothers and sisters. I am thankful for the people who have poured into my life to help me along this journey of faith. And I’m thankful for this Northbrook community for always praying and encouraging me, even when I do crazy things like marathons. I am truly grateful for you all.
 
With gratitude,
Allen Whittaker
Executive Director
 

You can always find God’s goodness in your life, if you slow down and take time to observe!
I was reading the Parable of the Evil Farmers, in the Bible, during my devotional time. I don’t think I’ve ever read this passage of scriptures—or this is the first time the scripture reading really spoke to me.   Read Luke 20:9-19

Christianity THEN & TODAY
​
Jesus Christ tells a story about a vineyard carefully prepared and generously entrusted to others. Everything the farmers needed was already provided—the land, the protection, the opportunity to produce fruit. Their responsibility was simple: be faithful with what was given.

The tragedy of the farmers wasn’t ignorance—it was entitlement. They knew the vineyard was not theirs, yet they acted as if it was. And that is where this story speaks directly to us today.
 
The vineyard represents all that God has given—our lives, our gifts, our communities, our faith. The owner prepared it carefully, protected it, and made it fruitful. Then he entrusted it to the farmers, expecting faithfulness, gratitude, and obedience.
 
But instead of honoring the owner, the farmers claimed the vineyard as their own. When messengers were sent, they rejected them. When correction came, they resisted it. And when the son arrived—the ultimate act of grace—they chose violence over surrender.
 
God still sends messengers today—through Scripture, through conscience, through wise counsel, and through the quiet prompting of the Holy Spirit, when we slow down enough to receive His grace.
Jesus ends the story by reminding us of the cornerstone—the stone once rejected that becomes essential. What we dismiss as inconvenient truth is often what God intends as our foundation.

So today, let us respond differently than the tenants did.
Let us receive correction with humility.
Let us honor the Owner with faithfulness.
​
And let us remember: the vineyard flourishes when we serve God, when we receive His gentle guidance and not when we replace Him with things in this world.
May we be found as faithful stewards, not stubborn owners.

Today’s Prayer:
Lord, help me remember that all I have comes from You. Teach me to be a faithful steward, open to Your truth, and willing to honor You with my life. Amen.

With gratitude and grace,
Phyllis Baskin
Office Manager

​Well, it’s a new year, which always begs “What is your New Year’s resolution?’ What do you want to fix, or what promise do you make to yourself about your health, wealth, or personal growth? I like the comic where one friend asks another, “Have you made a New Year’s resolution?” and the other answers, Yes….don’t make one!”

What if, instead, we focus on a word or an attitude that we want to embrace, incorporate, embody? Not something you can track with hash marks or schedule on a calendar, but it requires a daily commitment to try. Do you have a favorite word? Some of my favorites are grace, joy and contentment. Joy is certainly associated with Advent, in the songs we sing, on decorations, and our special pink joy advent candle that we light on our Comfort and Joy concert day. Some may think that it has lost its meaning due to overuse. What does it mean to you? Is it an emotion, or an action item?  Can you lose your joy, or is it a part of who you are? Can you bring Joy? Spread joy? Kill joy?

The word joy can in fact be a noun; contentment, a verb; spreading joy to all we meet, or an adjective; filled with joyfulness or joyousness! It is used in the bible 63 times; roughly two times more in the Old Testament than the new. Mother Teresa advises that if we do our work with joy, we can bring many souls to God. She describes joy as a prayer, as a sign of our generosity; that joy is evident in our eyes, our faces, our actions.  Pastor Jenny once said in a sermon, “One cannot have joy without God.”

At the root of joy is gratefulness. Joy doesn’t make us joyful, gratitude does. It comes from the Holy Spirit, abiding in God’s presence and the hope he gives. May this be a resolution for us all.
 
I Thes 5:16-18 Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. Amen.

Yours In Christ!

Christy Merritt
​Director of Children's Ministry
 

My strength is dried up like a piece of broken pottery.
My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth;
You’ve set me down in the dirt of death. --Psalm 22:15
 
No one who knows me would be surprised to hear that I would NOT call 2025 “my year”.  That’s not to say everything was bad. The 4 people in my house have been mostly healthy and thriving and we love each other and laugh together so often. I have so many dear friends and have had so many joyful moments here at Northbrook and in other parts of my life. BUT… my dad was diagnosed with brain, kidney, and lung cancer in late May, and it became a cloud over the year. He wasn’t in any pain, but he was scared and there were very noticeable differences in his abilities. We knew that any treatment was buying a small amount of time and so all plans became tentative or were made with a “well if Daddy is really sick or has passed” addendum. And after feeling “on hold” for a while, he went downhill rapidly and died early fall. That felt like enough for one year to me. Then the week before Christmas, I broke my pinky finger requiring surgery and 6 months of pins and a huge bandage protecting the pins. It’s a tiny finger in the grand scheme of things for sure, but it has been a literal pain (man does it hurt) and made everything just a little bit slower and more complicated. By the time I sat down to rest post-Christmas, I definitely felt like “the dirt of death.” 
 
This past year’s clouds aside, there have been many times in my life when I’ve felt my strength was dried up spiritually and emotionally – 7th grade when all of the girls in my class learned how to “mean girl,” my first year of teaching when I felt like I failed more than I succeeded, just before I became a children’s minister when I was stuck in a job that I hated and was sinking me into depression daily. We all have times when we GET the laments of David and Job. (And sometimes I even have days when I want to sit and wallow in their laments.)
 
Anytime I begin approaching the “dirt of death,” I turn to the Psalms. I find some pain and read it. I find my own hurt, pain, exhaustion, and anger there. But once I’ve done that, I also find my comfort, peace, encouragement, strength, and love there. I let my heart embrace the songs of David’s heart. I let myself swell with the beauty of his words to God and about God. I worship as he worships. I am renewed in his renewal. I can let my broken, dried-up, exhausted self dwell in the place of God.
 
How lovely is your dwelling place,
Lord Almighty!
My soul yearns, even faints,
for the courts of the Lord;
my heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.
Even the sparrow has found a home,
and the swallow a nest for herself,
where she may have her young--
a place near your altar,
Lord Almighty, my King and my God.
Blessed are those who dwell in your house;
they are ever praising you. --Psalm 84:1-4
 
How awesome that we serve a God who has a home for the sparrow, a nest for the swallow, and a dwelling place for the weary!
 
I pray that each of us can find time to dwell with God when we feel broken. I pray that we can find God and let God fix our broken pieces, shore-up or weakness, heal our pain, and strengthen our souls. I pray that we will always find ourselves yearning, even fainting for God so that he can always renew us.
 
May we be ever praising,

Leslie Bowers
Director of Creative Services

As we arrive at Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I find myself thinking about how deeply music and family are woven into this holy season. There is something about Christmas music that slows us down. Familiar melodies invite us to breathe, to remember, and to gather close. Whether it is a carol hummed softly at home, sung boldly in worship, or played in the background as meals are prepared and gifts are wrapped, music has a way of holding our stories together. It carries memories of Christmases past and makes space for new ones to be formed.

This season has also reminded me how much family matters, not only the family we are born into, but the family we discover along the way. My family and I have found something truly special here at Northbrook UMC. From the very beginning, we have been welcomed with open hearts, kindness, and grace. You have made space for us to belong, to serve, and to be ourselves, and for that we are deeply grateful.

Christmas Eve, in particular, feels like a sacred meeting place, where candlelight, song, and the story of Christ’s birth draw us together as one family. In those moments, surrounded by familiar faces and new friends, it becomes clear that church is not just a place we attend, but a people we love.

As you move through this week, through gatherings large and small, through music and laughter, through quiet moments and full ones, my hope is that you feel the warmth of God’s love and the comfort of knowing you belong. May the songs you hear remind you that you are not alone, and may the presence of Christ fill your homes with peace and joy.

Thank you for being the kind of church that feels like family. We are so thankful to share this season, this music, and this life together with you.
​
With gratitude and Christmas joy,
Chance Passmore

My grandfather, after retiring from both the Navy and public education, started a Christmas tree farm in my hometown. (The man could NOT sit still.) I spent the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas for much of my childhood working on the tree farm. And because they remind me of those magical times and my grandad, I love REAL Christmas trees. And before I developed an allergy to pine, I would buy the biggest one Drew would accept. I named them. I’m weird. I know.

So a few years ago, I bought a tree from the lot at the church. We put it in the stand, and there it sat, a bare, beautiful tree for a few days. And I loved it. I smelled it and looked at it and loved it. Then one day, I spent a few hours wrapping strands of lights around the branches – round and round; back and forth in semi-circles – and as I sat in the mostly dark room looking at these tiny, white lights covering this beautiful tree, I was reminded once again just how magical a simple strand of tiny, white lights can make a big, beautiful tree.

Light is a powerful thing. Turn on a nightlight in the room of a scared child and the shadows and monsters disappear. Open the blinds of a dreary room and the room immediately fills with life and energy. Put a tiny, white bulb on a big, old tree, and it goes from a tree to something magical.  

Our world is filled with darkness – monsters both real and imaginary. There is political and social darkness to be found in every corner of our world. Our lives are too busy and filled with stress – darkness. Teens and children are constantly faced with self-doubt, stress, bullying, too much pressure – darkness. It’s everywhere. It’s pervasive. It’s oppressive. And sometimes it feels like the darkness has come right to your room. Sometimes you can feel the darkness sitting right beside you. 

But so many years ago, God sent us light. It wasn’t the light everyone expected. It wasn’t a huge spotlight that cleared away all of the dark corners in our world. Instead, it was a tiny, little light in the form of a baby. And he put a little of it in you and he put a little of it in me. And if we let the light inside us shine – in a smile, in holding a door, in a kind word, in an Angel Tree gift, in hugs and encouragement, in doing the right thing, in truly seeing the people we encounter, in praying for and with those around us – we can help dispel the darkness sitting beside our neighbors. We can dispel the darkness that has come to someone else’s room. We can chase away the fears and monsters and sadness that seem to fill our world. And on days when the darkness comes to your room and sits down beside you, you just have to remember the magic and power of our one light. Remember that it burns inside you. Remember that it never leaves. 

God is with you. He is in you, and he will dispel the darkness.  

In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:4-5

In His Light,
Leslie Bowers
Director of Creative Services