Throughout history, humanity has searched for meaning beyond itself. We have anchored our purpose in God, nature, destiny, and the great chain of being. Our impulse to survive and flourish feels innate because our Creator wove it into us. Remove the Creator from the equation, and the scaffolding of human purpose begins to wobble. Our…
It was my last day in Cambodia, and the air carried that familiar mix of warmth and dust that had become part of my daily rhythm. We spent the morning visiting some of the SAHAKA children, faces I had known through hardship, resilience, and the slow, stubborn work of healing. By afternoon, we found ourselves…
We live inside a pod. It shelters us, shapes us, and gives us form. Yet the pod is not life itself; it is only a vessel. One day it must break open, and what is within will continue on. For much of my life, I searched for certainty in mysteries. I wanted proof of a…
I’ve often wondered why injustice thrives while truth and honesty remain dammed behind corruption, lies, and misdeeds — a barrier controlled by criminals guilty of horrific crimes against humanity. We long for justice; we crave the truth. Yet none dare throw the first stone, for beneath our polished exteriors lies the same shadowed humanity, the…
My first awareness of different levels of humanity came while serving in the military at Bethesda Naval Hospital in Maryland. After being wounded and rescued by a renegade medivac team from what was supposed to be a suicide mission during the first days of Operation Allen Brook, I was sent there to recover. In need…
A few years ago, my RCA television remote stopped working. I went to the local market in Phnom Penh, where I knew that if I found one replacement, I’d find a hundred more piled high in baskets. Because of my poor eyesight, I prefer remotes with large buttons and clear letters. After some searching, I…
Finding joy in the collisions of worlds My years as a “missionary” were fascinating, filled with sorrow, challenge, and, at times, unexpected laughter. If you’ve read my writings, you know they often involve sad stories and moral dilemmas. Yet there were also moments when I couldn’t help but laugh at myself… or at the way…
This is a piece I first wrote years ago, but its meaning has only deepened with time. It is not easy to revisit, nor is it easy to share. Yet silence—my silence—has shaped too much of the world around me. I am reposting this confession not to seek sympathy, but to remind myself and others…
There were times when my life felt suspended, as if the world itself had pressed “Pause,” just moments before disaster loomed and I could do nothing to stop it. One such moment came on May 17, 1968, as a Navy Corpsman with the Marines in South Vietnam during Operation Allen Brook. We walked into an…
As writers, we breathe life into characters who begin as little more than names on a page. With each sentence, they grow, acquiring quirks, desires, and destinies until they feel as real to us as the people we meet in daily life. By the time the story ends, they are no longer inventions but companions,…