All I knew was that somewhere inside my marriage—quietly, gradually, and without warning—I began losing the ability to recognize faces. Not strangers. Not distant acquaintances. People I knew.

My face was not pleasant; I crossed my arms and looked at the stupid big cross on the wall in front of me and thought, “How could You?”

The story of the woman at the well has been dissected ad nauseam which is why I’m baffled when I still hear her referred to as a divorced whore. I do not believe the Samaritan woman at the well is a divorced whore.

What make Jael flip from hospitality to homicide?

What would inspire a woman to drive a 2 foot tent peg into a sleeping man's brain?