“The whole outlook of mankind might be changed if we could all believe that we dwell under a friendly sky and that the God of heaven, though exalted in power and majesty, is eager to be friends with us.”
— A.W. Tozer
Welcome to our blog page. The content here, up through the year 2022, was originally posted on my personal blog/website (chrisdeman.com). As God continues to lead us into different ways of being spiritually formed, our creative outlets have also transitioned. So, we’re simplifying into one web presence. We hope that you find encouragement, challenge, a bit of humor, and honest reflection on our experience with God in the commonplace.
The Man
My father died February 13, 2012. To remember is to heal. To celebrate. To anticipate.
Delightfully Difficult
Number twenty-two. The copper anniversary. Whoever designated anniversary themes must have figured if you made it to 22 you could risk giving a copper-themed gift to your spouse.
Act Two
A poem…
Hot Pursuit
Nearly twenty-two years of the same stealthy preparations. A pre-dawn routine executed with precision. On this particular morning, I sought extra discretion. My mission was to slip away unnoticed…
Perfectly Scripted
For one hour each week, everyone in the room had to acknowledge my amazingness. For sixty minutes I lived in celebrity. Elevated and set apart from every other classmate. I was a fourth-grade prodigy. Not of math or music or English, but penmanship.
Food Fight
I was so brave. So confident. So altruistic.
So naive.
Bumblebee Pilots
Side-by side we sat in a Chevy Chevette…
The Lunch Lake Challenge
This year my July 4th celebrations were light on fireworks, grilled meat, and sunburn. Instead, at 7am on the day of our nation’s birth, I willingly embarked upon a 26-hour ride to Jackson, Wyoming.
June
A poem…
Pinch Me
Reality can be a Vulcan nerve pinch. A painful, paralyzing squeeze.
A Passion for Paint
Something I’m passionate about is a smooth, clean, well-painted wall. Crisp lines. Deep color. Vibrant contrast. In such rooms I long to linger. However, my passion is not shared by all in my home.
Free to not be Free?
As a child, I thought my parents had limitless freedoms. No curfew, plenty of money (at least from my no income other than birthdays perspective) and the ability to have ice cream whenever they wanted.
Sweet Mary
In the dark of my desk drawer is a birthday card…
Fretting for Faith
The sky glowed muted orange with the rising sun. The August air was seasonally cool. Nestled among hardwoods and sparse growing conifers, our group woke with rejuvenated excitement…
Our Child
His was an epic submission to a radical promise. A cosmic exchange: the pleasures of paradise for life as a humble earth dweller. Glory for Golgotha. Life for lives.