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John 7:38 It was the time of the Feast of the Tabernacles. Jesus has chosen to go alone, quietly, not wishing to be observed as the Jews were seeking to kill Him. Drawn to the temple, He broke His silence and began to teach from the scriptures, revealing things about Himself, disturbing some. “Now on the final and most important day of the Feast, Jesus stood, and He cried out in a loud voice, If any man is thirsty, let him come to Me and drink. He who believes in Me as the scripture has said, from his innermost being shall flow springs and rivers of living water. But He was speaking here of the Spirit, Whom those who believed in Him were afterward to receive”. Jesus was in the temple, only Jews would be present, He taught from the scripture, He told them Who He was and revealed what they would receive if they believed in Him. They all heard Him say the same thing, but some believed, others did not. Scripture has it, out of the multitude, some heard and believed Him to be a Prophet, others believed He was the Christ. Is this where the Old Covenant meets the New Covenant? Where Jesus begins to teach them about what comes next, from the Law to Grace? Not that righteousness is no longer necessary, but that belief in Him would bring abundant life to them, living inside them. Perhaps this is where the parable of the old wine skins, and the new wine skins fits. The old wine skins are stiff and would burst if new wine were put in them. This new teaching of the ‘living water’ would need new ‘wine skins’, growing their faith. If… Since we believe, we have this ‘living water’ flowing in and through us. The Holy Spirit doesn’t live in us as though He’s powerless… and without purpose. It’s the power of God that lives in us and through us, strengthening us to overcome temptation, encouraging us not to give up and filling us with the wisdom of the ages because we have none, if we let Him. ‘Seek Ye first, the kingdom of heaven…’. What are we doing with this living water? Are we an

I know that box. Most of us do. The box of expectations. The box of "this is what a Christian looks like." The box of fitting in, keeping quiet, performing the part so no one asks questions. The box where you learn to shrink so others can feel comfortable. And it's exhausting. Because you're not living—you're containing. You're not growing—you're compressing. You're not being who God made you—you're being who they told you to be. But here's the thing about boxes: they're made to be left. Not broken out of in anger, but stepped out of in freedom. Not rejected out of rebellion, but released out of surrender to something bigger. You've spent most of your life in it. That means stepping out might feel strange. Unsteady. Too open. Too vulnerable. But the air out here? It's different. It's real. It's yours. You don't have to earn your way out. You just have to realize: He didn't put you in there. And He's not asking you to stay. Take a step. The room is bigger than you think. 🙏

I hear you. And I'm not here to argue you out of where you are. That wouldn't be honest—or loving. Twelve years of Catholic school and a career in the sciences—that's a lot of weight. A lot of questions. A lot of frameworks that don't always sit comfortably together. I can see how walking on water feels impossible when your mind is trained to measure, to test, to require evidence that fits inside observable laws. But here's something I've learned: faith and science don't have to be enemies. Science asks how. Faith asks who. One explores the mechanics. The other asks if there's a Mechanic. I don't believe because I ignore science. I believe because I've seen things science can't explain. Not parlor tricks. Not magic. Just... moments. Peace that didn't make sense. Healing that had no medical explanation. A presence in silence that I couldn't have conjured on my own. I'm not asking you to check your brain at the door. I'm just saying—maybe the door isn't as narrow as you think. Maybe there's room for both wondering and believing. For asking hard questions and leaving room for mystery. You said maybe someday. I'll hold that with you. Not as pressure. Just as hope. Because I believe the One who made the water—and the physics that hold it together—isn't threatened by your questions. He's probably less religious about it than the people who taught you. If someday comes, I'll be glad. If it doesn't—you're still a person I respect for wrestling honestly. Either way, thank you for being real about it. That takes courage. 🙏

🚨 BREAKING: Scientists have uncovered something extraordinary in space… Material brought back from the asteroid Ryugu has revealed a complete set of the five nucleobases that form the foundation of life — the same molecules that make up DNA and RNA. 🧬 Using samples collected by Hayabusa2, researchers analyzed just a few grams of asteroid material and found adenine, guanine, cytosine, thymine, and uracil — all together in one place. This is the first time scientists have identified a full, balanced set of these essential components on a single celestial body. This discovery strengthens the idea that the ingredients for life may not have originated only on Earth. Instead, they could have been delivered here billions of years ago by asteroids and meteorites, carrying complex organic chemistry across space. 📚 Reference: Oba, Y., et al. (2026). A complete set of canonical nucleobases in the carbonaceous asteroid (162173) Ryugu. Nature Astronomy.

My faith has been shaken. I was raised Catholic, but never agreed with a lot of church doctrine. However…I get & feel lost some days. Please pray for my faith to be restored.

You tried to burn the roots, but we grew anyway. You built walls, and we learned to sing through them. You stole our names, but somehow our spirits still answered. You changed the rules, changed the locks, changed the story… but every rewrite only sharpened our truth. From Greenwood’s ashes to Katrina’s floodwaters, we built again. From red lines to front lines, we marched again. From pain to poetry, we spoke again. You keep trying new ways to silence what you didn’t create, but you can’t touch what God breathed into our bones. You can chain a body, but not a purpose. You can starve a people, but not their faith. You can lie about history, but not erase it. And still, we rise, soft-spoken, unbothered, peaceful, but unbreakable. We don’t have to lash out to prove we’re strong. Our calm is the thunder. Our love is the rebellion. Haven’t you learned by now? You can hurt us, but you can’t stop us. You can test us, but you can’t take us. We always stand up. Always.

This hits home with a bang. I’m going through the toughest challenge of my life and I’m working so hard not to become bitter or judgemental. I’m determined to keep a soft, open heart and mind. #Hebrews_12_1

In 1945, General Eisenhower made a decision that would preserve truth for generations. While tourina the liberation of Nazi concentration camps, he witnessed horrors so unimaginable that he immediately understood something chilling about human nature. He knew that one day, people would claim none of it ever happened. What he did next became one of the most important acts of historica preservation in modern history. #facebookrepost #HumanHistory #HistoricPreservation

"Absolutely terrifying." In her first interview, Savannah Guthrie shares her reaction to seeing door camera footage of the suspect in her mother's disappearance.

November 20, 1969. Three in the morning. A young Shoshone-Bannock woman slipped past a Coast Guard blockade in a small boat, her two-year-old son on her hip, and set foot on Alcatraz Island — the most infamous abandoned prison in America. Her name was LaNada War Jack. And she wasn't running from the law. She was reclaiming the land. LaNada was born in 1947 on the Fort Hall Indian Reservation in Idaho — a place that itself had been born from treaty-making and broken federal promises. Her family was no stranger to resistance. Her paternal grandfather had been among the last war chiefs defending his people during the American Indian Wars. Her maternal grandfather helped establish the very reservation she was born on. Resistance wasn't something she learned — it was something she inherited. When she arrived at the University of California, Berkeley in 1968, she made history simply by showing up. She was the first Native American student ever admitted to UC Berkeley — and she immediately got to work making sure she wasn't the last. She recruited a cohort of Native students, helped found the Native American Student Organization, and then joined the Third World Strike — a coalition of students of color demanding the university teach the truth about their histories. She was arrested for it. She was suspended for it. She kept going. Within three months, the strikes succeeded. Berkeley created the first Ethnic Studies department in United States history. Then came Alcatraz. The federal prison had been shuttered since 1963, and Native activists invoked the Treaty of Fort Laramie — which promised that abandoned federal lands be returned to Indigenous peoples — to claim the island. LaNada was one of the primary organizers. She drafted the grant proposal for a Native American cultural center on the island. She traveled across the country fundraising and rallying support. She managed food, security, and the education of the children who lived on the island alongside their parents.