Author: Duane Scott

what i dream of telling parents of a rebellious child

The boy has a home, yet he’s homeless. He sits at my parent’s dining room table with long, gangly legs resting on another chair in front of him. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him. When he glances my way, his eyes bleed wariness, like he doesn’t trust me and surprisingly I see myself; my 17-year-old self. Time seems stuck and I crack peanuts on the counter, wishing I knew what to say to him, but I don’t, so we chit-chat instead about his plans for the day, about when he’s going to the gym, about his sister...

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what living the story really means

You might say it’s not worth the paper, what I’m going to write today. I used to think so too. But somewhere in the process of becoming a writer and an adult, I changed my mind.  Maybe by the end of these few words, you will too.  Maybe you’ll also fling wide your heart to living the life that you are called to live? That’s my simple wish today. You see, today started out so simple. Coffee, blurred vision, just me stumbling into the kitchen trying to convince myself that this day is a “Good-morning, Lord” day and not...

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God walks in dark places

I’ve found God in a lot of places. I’ve heard sermons while sitting beneath large mango trees, sung hymns in dimly-lit hospital chapels, and listened to shouted testimonies of God’s love while riding in the back of a pickup. I’ve chased goats and chickens from behind the pulpit and sat with feet poised toward the ceiling, avoiding the snake slithering beneath the hard bench I precariously perched upon. And in spite of the distractions, God was there. But the most unlikely place I’ve found God was in a church. While touring the Cape Coast of Ghana, W. Africa, I...

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why you should meditate

The streetlamp outside the bedroom window casts a gentle glow about the room and I look at the way the light recedes; a bright halo, then soft light, then near darkness. I focus on the light, the way it moves into the darkness and is swallowed and I try, too, to move into the darkness; into sleep. But sleep doesn’t come. Turning away from the window, I try something I’ve never tried before: “Waterfall, river, stream.” I recall the article in Men’s Journal where I had read about the power of meditation; about this man who entered into a...

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when God shows up

When the rain sweeps in, nothing really matters and isn’t this how it should be when God shows up? I peer excitedly out the window, because we have been needing this so badly; farmers everywhere in Iowa just praying for a little rain because God is the One, they know, Who holds each drop of Living water. “The corn is starting to curl,” the neighbor told me yesterday, shaking his head in worry as I stared at the dusty crops out the window of my office and prayed. So now, as I press my face against the glass at...

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why God created marriage [and where to turn when you aren’t happy]

I don’t know what is wrong, but I can see it, feel it, yet I don’t truly ask. She smiles fake and I ask if work was difficult, ask if she’s tired. Typical questions.  Easy questions, yet I stop asking before I hear the real answer; the answer of what’s causing the tension in the air.  I reach for her hand, hold it in mine but it feels stiff, like she’s not really there anymore and I worry a little more. I tell myself again, like I do everyday all day long that my Jesus has broad shoulders. So...

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when evil almost wins

One would assume the older one gets, the easier it is to be good. At least that’s what I used to think. But after the last month, I’m convinced it only gets more difficult and I’m embarrassed to sit here writing this to you because the words I write are suppose to encourage, to be uplifting, inspiring everyone that it really isn’t so hard… this being good thing. But as I pick up my pen, I glance at the mantle clock and watch the pendulum swing, back and forth, and I am called to be real… to push past...

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