A close friend of many of my friends is missing since last week.

I only know her as an acquaintance. Yet news of her disappearance alarmed me as if I woke in the morning to find that my front door was standing open all night. As a brother, father, husband, and son, I have no difficulty using my imagination to enter the determination and hope, the tension and terror family members and friends feel as they wait for news.

On Sunday, our pastor recruited us to pray around the clock for the woman’s safe return. From the pulpit, he asked for a show of hands from volunteers who committed to pray every hour on the hour for 36 hours. He called out every hour starting at 1 p.m. on Sunday and ending at noon on Monday and waited until someone raised their hand to pray at that exact hour.

I’ve been in church all of my life and never saw anything like that.

Only once in my life do I recall the...

What can we make of the world, what can be made of us if our prayers are:

Conception rather than description?

Doing rather than telling?

Going out rather than ordering in?

Motion rather than inertia?

Energy rather than information?

Abiding rather than asking?

Communion rather than calculus?

Reception rather than transmission?

Navigating by the stars rather than by roadmap?

“I’m waiting for inspiration to strike.”

Why not strike inspiration first?

“I need something to motivate me.”

What are you waiting for? Motivate yourself.

“I just don’t have any good ideas.”

So, start with bad ones and let them lead to good ones. It’s more fun.

“I need to get into the right space before I can get creative.”

Make your creative space–starting inside your own mind.

“I can’t do my best work in these conditions.”

Your best work starts internal. You have a choice.

Your muse is you. Just choose.

At age 10, faith was something that happened in the ancient past. At 20, it was anticipation of the future. At 40, it’s what gets me through the present.

At age 10, faith was a word devout old men used at church. At 20, it was an idea to discuss with cute Christian girls at the coffee house near campus. At 40, “faith” hangs out with “balance due,” “test results,” “we need to talk,” and any question that begins with: “Dad, why…?”

At age 10, faith was how Dad and Mom made presents appear under the Christmas tree. At 20, it was my “Plan B” if “Plan A” didn’t work. At 40, faith is figuring out how presents appear for my son under the Christmas tree.

At age 10, I knew faith as well as I knew my parents’ financial planner. At 20, it was an acquaintance I saw once and awhile at campus Bible studies. At 40, faith is my best friend and constant companion.

At age 10, faith was nothing. At...