In 2012, I was at the end of myself. My marriage in Atlanta had collapsed under the weight of my own poor decisions. The consequences were swift and humbling. I was, for a season, without a home—sleeping on couches, in my truck, wherever night overtook me. I was spiritually dry, physically exhausted, and emotionally broken. And yet—even in that valley—God had placed something in my heart. In the aftermath of the 2011 tornadoes, the Lord had given me a vision called Lettermen of the USA. I...

The more I read about Saint Augustine, the more I see my own reflection staring back from the pages of history. Born in 354 AD in Roman North Africa, Augustine was a man torn between worlds—pagan upbringing, Christian mother, intellectual glory, Manichaeism, and a long, anguished entanglement with the female flesh. His Confessions open with a boyhood theft: pears stolen not from hunger, but from the sheer thrill of sin. “I loved the evil in the deed,” he admits, “and the pleasure was in the

Hey there, folks—pull up a chair and let me spin you a tale that’s as much about heart as it is about helmets. As I sit here reflecting on it, it’s on Monday, September 1, 2025, with the college football season just kicking off, and I’ve got these two old black-and-white photos—and a couple of newer ones—that