NIKI FLORICA

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

"No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one and despise the other." Matthew 7:24. I always thought this verse was a bit redundant—a case of saying the exact same thing twice. The message seems clear enough: only serve God. But why frame it this way? Why the repetition? One of my favourite things about the Word of God is how very alive it is. I've read this verse countless times in my life and never dug an

I can't imagine a bleaker point in history than the days between Christ's death and resurrection. If I were with Cleopas and his fellow traveler on the road to Emmaus that first Easter Sunday, they'd probably agree. I've never been to Emmaus. I couldn't tell you where to find it. It could have been a main road, a bustling place with lots of traffic where people could always be found, but I tend to imagine it on a more quiet scale. A less-traveled road to a backwater village,

I talked last week about the human will. Well, I'm still talking about it. In Luke 18, Jesus arrived in Jerusalem. It was near the end of his ministry and he knew what that meant as well as we do now. On his way, a blind man heard him coming and called out to him for mercy. Now, I'm sure that you and I could figure out what the blind man wanted from Jesus, let alone Jesus himself. Did he need to be told that the poor man wanted sight? Probably not. I don't think that's a stre

Good ol' I Corinthians 13. Short and sweet and sharp as a dagger. Love is patient, love is kind, love doesn't envy, think highly of itself, think badly of others, seek its own welfare, misbehave, and here's the best part: every good work or spiritual skill is pretty much worthless without it. Let's be honest. It's a nice chapter and everything, but it's also a bit . . . overwhelming? I mean, who does all that? Who is patient and kind all the time, never envies or thinks highl

I had a rough day last week. A Thursday, but if we're being honest, I wasn't feeling very Thankful. Some new-ish responsibilities at work were killing me: I wanted to nail it and instead felt as if I'd spent the entire shift in anxiety overdrive and still managed to be less than flawless in my execution. I was so rattled and discouraged, tears were flowing by the time the car pulled into my driveway. Now, with the same shift looming on the other side of tonight, I'm tempted t

"This was done for you." Season 2, Episode 2, The Chosen. Nathaniel sits under a fig tree with a stack of failed dreams in his hands—plans for a synagogue he'll never get to build (to know why, watch the show. Seriously). He turns his gaze to the radiant sky and directs a broken-hearted prayer to heaven. But even as he recites words of faith, the tears streaking his face as he burns the designs say what he's truly thinking, what he's feeling. "This was done for you. . . . Do

It's remarkably easy to give someone the impression that we care about them. We all know the proper protocol: paint our faces in the right shade of empathy with just a stroke of melancholy, give hugs when the moment demands it, promise prayers, leave our friend with that oh-so-vague offer of, "If you ever need anything . . ." before going about our lives and promptly forgetting. I know, it sounds callous when worded that way. Maybe it is. Or maybe it's true. This phenomenon h

I had a beautiful weekend. My brother gave his life to Christ, my other brother from a couple of provinces away was here to witness it, and God is always and ever good. One line from the sermon clung like a burr, though, a blog post waiting to happen. "God is glorifying Himself today." If I step out of my upbringing and personal relationship with Christ, I can see how words like these might send a confusing message to those who don't know God. I mean, among human beings, glor

I do not have a spontaneous bone in my body. I mean that in the most literal sense. I am not impulsive. I hate making decisions and usually go out of my way to leave the big ones up to other people, and most of my life happens within a comfortable status quo that I have no problem with 90% of the time. When the idea of a bob haircut first struck me, it was almost laughable. Inspired by one of my favourite characters from Marissa Meyer's The Lunar Chronicles, and later by anot

It's National Novel Writing Month, and I'm a roiling blend of nerves and excitement and dreams of a finished product by the end of one month. And "dreams" is probably the right word—the chances of me actually writing a 50 000-word manuscript in 30 days are slim, but all the same, it's an exciting time of year, and my first time doing a November NaNoWriMo project. Over the past few months, writing has been difficult for me. My WIP series has hit some roadblocks I didn't antici

In our effort to have a relationship with God, to know Him and His Son on an intimate, personal level, I think there is a pitfall we often fall into—the trap of squeezing God into a little, buddy-shaped box. I'm no expert, but from where I'm standing, contemporary Christianity places a ton of emphasis on Jesus the Savior and Friend, but less on God the Righteous and Just Judge of the Universe. We have no problem going to Jesus with all our daily problems, or claiming him as o

One of my favourite verses in the New Testament is: "The one who endures to the end will be saved." (Matthew 24:14) Not because it's poetic or flowery in its language, not because of its spiritual complexity, but because of its clarity, the simplicity of its promise. Endure to the end. Keep the faith to the end. Cross the finish line and don't stop or turn around or give up on the race before it's over. Endurance. I don't consider myself to be an insanely strong person, physi

Sometimes we prefer our messages minced—into soft little bite-sized pieces that go down without much thought or pain or conviction. Painless. Isn't that just the human way? To crave the sense of virtue that comes from hearing the Word preached, but shy from any obligation to be changed by it? To be convicted? This world and Satan have a grip on us, even if we're free of their condemning chains. This world and Satan nurture a love of the wrong things in us, an aversion to the

I feel like I've spent way too much of my life watching the clock. Despite my early enthusiasm for it, I realized quickly as a six-year-old that school was not my favourite place to be, and as soon as I learned to tell time, I imagine I spent a lot of classes doing just that. Watching that minute hand tick slowly, slowly toward the next period, the next bell, the next end of the day. It's a nasty habit that's followed me through all of elementary and high school, and now with

There are some stories we fancy we know so well that we don't bother to pick up the book—and for a long time, for me, that was The Pilgrim's Progress. It wasn't until a recent book thrifting excursion, when I found a stunning cloth-bound edition, that I finally set out to follow Christian on his pilgrimage to the Celestial City from beginning to end, once and for all! I'd been putting it off for years, and having experienced different versions of it (from storybook renditions

The past couple years have been hard for me. I'm sure they've been hard for you, too. We're all going through something, hiding it behind "o

I don't know where it came from—ask my family, and they won't know either—but growing up has always been a terrifying concept to me. Trading in childhood's imagination and freedom and wonder for responsibility, stress, and decision-making seems like a lousy deal. Peter Pan would agree. But that's what makes visiting with my little nieces and nephew so incredible: all of that wonder and freedom and imagination is right there in front of me, sparkly-new and beautiful as ever. I

Peace comes from Christ. It's not something we can manufacture for ourselves, though we still must be proactive and cooperative with God's w

I've been reading through the book of Acts, and while it's impossible not to be inspired by the passion of the first Christians, I've also found myself struggling. Not with the message or the dedication of the apostles, but with the discrepancy between their time and ours. With the fiery presence of the Holy Spirit in their lives—the filling of the Holy Ghost that takes place so often in Acts and brings forth incredible fruits of repentance and salvation. I had to look at mys