I’ve spent the past several months living inside a building that doesn’t exist.
At least not the way I’m writing it.
It’s an apartment building in Cincinnati, populated by bricklayers, widows, schoolteachers, bakers, artists, maintenance workers, immigrants, flood survivors, and countless ordinary people whose names never appeared in history books.
And yet, the more time I spend with them, the more convinced I become that their stories matter.
Perhaps even more than the famous ones.
The novel I’m currently working on is called TheCollector.
At its heart, it asks a simple question:
What survives after we’re gone?
A photograph?
A letter?
A favorite recipe?
A journal?
A building that remembers the people who once lived inside it?
As I’ve written, I’ve been surprised by how often the story returns to the same idea:
Most people believe their lives are ordinary.
But ordinary does not mean unimportant.
In fact, the people history forgets may be the very people worth remembering most.
I’m not ready to share many details yet.
The mysteries are still unfolding.
But I can tell you this:
The story begins with a young immigrant bricklayer in the 1850s and stretches across generations of lives connected by a single Cincinnati apartment building.
And somewhere within those walls lives a question that refuses to go away:
Lately, I’ve been thinking about what it really means to follow Jesus Christ.
We often talk about faith as if it’s a destination, something we arrive at once we’ve learned enough or become good enough. But the more I reflect on my own walk with God, the more I realize it’s a lifelong journey. God isn’t looking for perfection overnight. He’s patiently shaping us, teaching us, and changing us one step at a time.
One phrase that has stayed with me is the idea that God is preparing a people who know His voice, feel His Spirit, and are willing to follow Him wherever He leads.
That kind of discipleship is both beautiful and challenging.
A few years ago, I found myself facing a decision that felt overwhelming. I had prayed for direction, but no clear answer seemed to come. I wanted certainty. I wanted a detailed roadmap. Instead, what I felt was a quiet assurance to simply take the next faithful step.
Looking back, I realize God wasn’t asking me to see the entire path. He was asking me to trust Him with the next step.
That experience taught me something important: faith isn’t always knowing where God is leading. Sometimes faith is choosing to follow even when you can’t see very far ahead.
I believe Jesus Christ lives. I believe He knows us personally, loves us completely, and is actively involved in our lives. Even when I don’t understand everything that’s happening around me, I find peace in knowing that He does.
More than anything, I want my life to reflect a simple but profound choice:
I choose Christ.
Not just on Sundays.
Not just when life is going well.
Not just when it’s convenient.
I want to choose Him when prayers seem unanswered. I want to choose Him when life feels uncertain. I want to choose Him in the ordinary moments that rarely make it into anyone’s testimony but often shape who we’re becoming.
One of the most moving thoughts from this message was the desire to be able to say to the Lord:
“I am Yours, totally and completely, without reservation or condition.”
If I’m honest, that’s easier to say than it is to live.
There are still dreams I cling to, plans I want to control, and questions I wish God would answer more quickly. Yet every time I try to hold too tightly to my own expectations, I’m reminded that God’s perspective is so much greater than mine.
The invitation Christ extends isn’t merely to believe in Him. It’s to trust Him. To know Him. To follow Him. To place our lives in His hands and believe that wherever He leads is better than anywhere we could go on our own.
Today, my prayer is simple:
“Lord, help me hear Your voice. Help me recognize Your Spirit. And wherever You lead, help me have the courage to follow.”
Because at the end of the day, above every other choice life offers, I want my life to say:
I choose Christ.
Reflection: Can you think of a time when God asked you to trust Him without showing you the entire plan? Looking back, how did that experience strengthen your faith?
Sometimes the greatest testimonies are built not in dramatic miracles, but in the quiet moments when we choose, again and again, to follow Him. ❤️
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