NIKI FLORICA

I think it would alarm me if I actually knew how much time I spend with my head down, watching the road ahead of me. On walks, I barely see the sky. The trees are shadows in my periphery. If birds are singing, I don't hear them through the whirlwind of thoughts in my head. The benefit of keeping your head down is focus. Your eyes are on the road ahead—on the prize, if you would, on where you want to go. You're watching your feet—choosing the best steps forward, avoiding any p

Maybe this goes without saying, but isn't negativity the worst? I mean, you're just rolling along, enjoying God's grace and goodness, and someone just can't help trying to bring you down. Grumbling. Complaining. Poking holes in everything good. Sometimes we can resist that gravity, buoyed by thankfulness and love for the Lord. But sometimes, thankfulness isn't enough to keep us floating. Negativity is contagious, and the grumbling of others, more often than not, can drag us d

There is always a degree of discomfort in coming up against opinions that differ from our own. It's natural—and perfectly human—to bristle just a little when our perspectives are challenged by someone with a different point of view. It can also be extremely healthy. Especially in the context of spiritual discussion, where God may use us to sharpen each other's understanding or push us in certain directions. I'm very thankful for the biblical fellowship I've been blessed enoug

For the past few weeks, sitting down to blog has felt like staring at a solid wall and trying to see through it. And no, I'm not referring to writer's block, though I've certainly experienced enough of that. The wall I have in mind is worse—taller, thicker, uglier, and stationed squarely between me and God. We often think of Satan as a master destroyer, but in many ways, he's a master craftsman as well. He carves beautiful idols for us to worship, forges weapons to use agains

I don't normally let more than a week slide by between posts, but I don't normally let myself off the hook in general, so this could be a good thing, couldn't it? It's been a busy few weeks and, aside from a pile of assignments, the pressures of AuthorTube, work, my attempts at a social life (go, introverts!), and National Novel Writing Month, I've also reached a fork in the road. In many ways, I feel that God may be calling me to course-correct my post-secondary education, w

There's a quote in the film, God's Not Dead: "It's not easy, but it's simple." The "it," if I remember correctly, refers to doing the right thing, to walking the Christian walk even when it becomes difficult. And though it may seem like a case of semantic gymnastics, this line always stayed with me. How often do we make the decisions in our lives so complicated—tangled with rationalizations and hidden motives and justifications and catastrophizing—until we really believe that

"I pull you close to me when this life cuts deep But when everything gets easy it's easy not to keep you first." (Riley Clemmons, "When Nothing Hurts") I wish I could take credit for these incredible lyrics, but I can own the fact that they are as true for me as if I wrote them myself. Last night, after a particularly stupid mistake by yours truly, I lay in bed desperately trying to stop obsessing about how I could have acted differently. I had made a poor judgment call and c

Sometimes I feel like a Lost Girl. Like I took a wrong turn at the second star on the right and ended up a thousand miles from Neverland, in the middle of nowhere, trying to figure out if I'm where I'm supposed to be or if I'm supposed to course-correct and if so, where to? I've never heard God's voice giving me GPS directions. Some people have, and I think that's an incredible blessing, but it just hasn't been my experience. Looking back on the past few years, an outsider lo

Yesterday marked my first trip to campus in a few weeks, and I was reluctant to go. Having mostly online classes allows me to stay within the precious comfort zone (population: 1) but it also means that when I do need to venture into the unknown, every time feels like the first time. Maybe I should move to the moon. As I parked my car and prepared for the trek across campus, I kept one train of thought in a loop on my head, a rolling tape of a conversation I'd had the night b

It's a bad time to have a cold. Not that there's ever a great time, but, well . . . y'all know what I mean. I don't get sick often, but when I do, apparently my body doesn't mess around. I spent the night with a kleenex nose-ring (bull-style) and got up at four to do some early morning reading when my bed made it clear that we were mortal enemies. We've all been there, right? It's not fun, but there are worse things. It gives me pause to consider the people in the world, in t

trodden: walked on . . . crush[ed] or flatten[ed] with the feet . . . pressed down into the ground. (Google) Who's feeling pressed down today? How about crushed? Flattened? Walked all over? Is your hand up? Hey, no shame. Mine is, too. Satan has been hard at work in me this week, stirring up struggles I just want to be done with but can't seem to shake, especially when I'm too tired to fight back. Relating? Jesus talks about the downtrodden in the parable of the sower, Luke 8

The moment I saw this Hebrew phrase on the page of Mark 7, I knew I had to blog about it. I knew because I felt called out by it. Challenged. Convicted. Commanded. Compelled. Eph'pha-tha. That is, Be opened. (Mark 7:34). The past year and a half has been a time of closed stores and closed doors, and many people have struggled with feeling closed-off because of it. I must confess, I can't relate. Lockdown has been, to me, permission to stay in my comfort zone without interrupt

Want to hear a secret? Just kidding—it's not really a secret. I'm a smidge of a pessimist. Just kidding—it's more than a smidge. I think it stems from my fear of being caught unprepared for an emotional blow; I hate having hopes dashed or high expectations crushed. I hate being let down, so my subconscious coping mechanism is to lower my expectations on all fronts so I can't be disappointed. The problem? It also makes it much, much harder to get excited. School starts tomorro

When you stop to count them, a TON of spiritual traits boil down to good ol' fashioned acts of will. Prayerfulness. Forgiveness. Thankfulness. Selflessness. Love. Even faith. We love to think of being inherently forgiving or prayerful or full of faith as if it just happens when we've been believers long enough. We look at those around us who excel in certain areas and say, "Well, So-and-So is just naturally forgiving. It's easy for her, much harder for me." We might even let

I'm usually pretty good at laughing at myself. You know, when the stakes are low. When things get stressful, though, and nobody else is laughing? Yeah, that kills my good humour. The past couple of months have marked a struggle to build competence in what I do. New tasks are always daunting, but new tasks along with the weight of dozens of people's expectations are crippling for someone like me. I wish I could say I'm a cauldron of confidence, but that would be a bald-faced l

Perspective is a gift. God knew we couldn't handle the full, grandiose scope of everything He's doing in our lives, so he gave us limited sight. A piece of the puzzle—our small, incomplete, but seemingly all-consuming perspectives of life. They're a gift in that we are not crushed by the overwhelming weight of the big picture, but Satan can use that gift and twist it to his advantage as well. C.S. Lewis' Screwtape talks about time as a spiritual thing. The present is where ti

Lost, chained, a fool, or at wit's end. Which one are you? Try finding yourself in the spectrum of Psalm 107's desperate people. Are you the lost soul wandering the wilderness, nowhere to go, hungry but not sure what for, craving a feeling of belonging? Are you the one who sits in deepest gloom, in chains of your own making? Are you the fool who turned your back on God, marched to the beat of your own drum, and now stand at death's door, crying out for help? Are you the sailo

I shy away from blogging on Easter weekends—probably because the greatest point in history needs no commentary from a first-year geek at her Macbook. It speaks powerfully enough without my help. It's Monday. Easter has come and gone, and it's amazing how neatly we tuck the climax of history—Jesus' death and resurrection, HALLELUJAH!—into one weekend. We've spent a few days appreciating it; now it's back to work. Life goes on, doesn't it? It does, but that doesn't mean that th

Funny thing about toast—when you smell it, you want it. Ever notice that? I mean, there was a time when I would sooner eat dirt than toast, and I still can't deny its magical property of being appetizing in any and every context. It's just one of those things. Innately appealing, we need only to experience a whiff of it to crave it. Something in us just wants toast. What if I told you that Jesus and toast have a lot in common? See, the Word of God calls us to follow Jesus, bu

I can happily say that my new favourite show is officially The Chosen—not only marked by quality acting, sweet costumes, killer screenwriting, and loveable characters, but also featuring Jesus. Yeah, that's right. Jesus. Need I say more? As far as cinematic Jesus depictions go, The Chosen paints my favourite picture. Unlike in the original Ben-Hur film, he is not a faceless figure who floats through scenes on strings of otherworldly music. And, unlike in the film version of T