The truth stings when it reveals your sin. So you attack. Out of instinct. Out of fear. Insecurity. Pleasure. You don’t care if I’m your daughter, your wife, your sister, your mother, your cousin, your niece, your co-worker, your friend. You care about power. Always grasping for power. Which we take away by merely existing—or…

Dear Ruth, Ila, and Jane, The year is 2020. Most adults you know from this period of time will refer to this year as a dumpster fire, but from what I can tell it seems like you’re having a good time. You’ve become budding artists who care deeply about God and people, which is what…