Aretaics and arts were never meant to exist separately from one another. They were meant to overlap (not just on paper but in our own lives) and be an example or an apologetic for others to witness.

As sensitive (artistic) souls, those of us who have the capacity to hold in the most light, light that shines brightest from fragile jars that are living miracles of the conversion of the sweetest wine from the sludge of the darkest and deepest bayous, we were designed as living metaphors of empathy and dependency. We…

Enjoy this video (INDIGNANT) about spiritual warfare. The character I play is a representation of anyone who has been touched by evil and has had his/her innocence and identity stolen from him/her. If you enjoy it, please leave a message on YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OuuPTxVGTiU&t=31s Thanx!

This is a unique conference that marries rational apologetics to imaginative apologetics, the art of defending truth claims and the art of creatively expressing truth claims.

Yes, My Friends, This multi-faceted, multi-challenging, multi-year project is finally complete. With 120 poems, 70 prose, and 10 short stories–that will simultaneously stretch and encourage you–From the Ashes We Rise is a literary force to be read and reckoned with. This book seamlessly weaves Arts and Apologetics all throughout its 556 pages. See why From…

“Burn it?” questions the fat man whose fascination with the “naughty and nice” book has inadvertently eclipsed the genesis of Christmas—the true story of God making a way where there was no way, to save the lost when the lost could never be found.

As far back as the classic Greek period, philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle believed that whether truth is represented by universals or particulars, all truth emanates from God. Christian theologians and philosophers from early to late Medieval periods, such as St. Augustine and St. Aquinas, believed that even pagan truths have their source in the Lord. And from the late medieval period through the scientific revolution, philosophers and scientists agreed that God was the author of two books—“the book of nature” and “the book of scripture.”

Sean happens to be thinking the same thing. “If I were to revive his brain, will he end up in the first body or the second body?” A sudden pang of doubt deflates his hope of winning the Nobel Prize for the first successful brain-transplant. “What if his brain doesn’t make it? Then the two people, who’ve put their trust in me and donated their bodies in the name of ‘brain research’ when they died, died in vain. No, I can’t believe that! I know what I believe: logical possibilities ground metaphysical possibilities. Option one is logical and thus ontologically possible.” He swallows a gulp of air. “I have to keep working.”

Blood in my saliva is my tribute 

to the expired letters never sent

of soldiers in the ground—

Loyalists’ battles almost won

and Patriots’ battles almost lost. 

Call me “Driftwood.”

I’ve been all around the world,

offering my flesh as a sacrifice

to the highest bidder—

a loved-starved sinner—

stretching my skin

and my limbs and my sins

till their breaking point 

to fashion a sunburned sail—

a jib unlike any other headsail—

pulled up high-and-tight

by my lustful entrails.