whitney dziurawiec

The sun shines and my coffee grows cold and of all the thoughts swirling around my head on this Good Friday morning, the thought of barrenness is what comes to mind. This theme throughout the Pentateuch of God intervening in women's wombs, His insertion of new life where before there had only been barrenness, is at the head of Jesus' genealogy. The wives of the patriarchs Abraham, Isaac, Jacob:  Sarah. Rebecca. Rachel. Barren, barren, barren. All three of these could not in and of themselves produce the new life they so longed for. These women cried out with anguish for life to grow inside them, life that they could not themselves create. For these women, new life was only possible through spiritual intervention. This is not coincidence. This curse extends beyond infertility, it bores into our hearts. With death as humanity's curse, barrenness is the sign of our inadequacy: we cannot produce new life on our own. We are dead, we are barren, we a...

My arms feel flimsy and floppy from a makeshift workout because I'm boycotting outside until I don't need three layers to go running (even though I am well aware of the reality that people who go outside more enjoy the weather more, and I do not care). The semester is half over, so I'm 3/4 done with my first year of full-time ministry. More than anything, more than skills or relationality or hard work or charm, I have realized my need to be full of Him, absolutely bursting. To seek and thirst and drink up all of the Living Water from the Word before I walk on campus. I've realized the war that is waged on the souls who have given their lives to full-time ministry. The wars of doubt and fear, the anxiety that is living on support, the gifts and talents that we lean on more heavily than Christ. There is a tension we walk in each day as we trust Him for our manna in more literal ways than we ever have before. He has given me a heart for the world. Because let's be ...