Margins: Where God Begins

Table of Contents

Introduction

Part 1: The Eternal Margin     Chapter 1: The Margin Before Genesis     Interlude: God’s Plan     Chapter 2: The God Who Knows     Interlude: Not a Remodel     Chapter 3: The Tapestry of Time     Interlude: It’s About You

Part 2: The Unfolding Margin     Chapter 4: The Word Before the Word     Interlude: A Holy Moment     Chapter 5: The Power of the Pause     Interlude: Mustard Seed Faith     Chapter 6: The Big Picture     Interlude: Righteousness: A Gift from First to Last

Part 3: Living In the Margin     Chapter 7: The Word of God     Interlude: A Starter Plan for Daily Bible Reading     Chapter 8: Living in the Margin     Interlude: It Is Finished     Chapter 9: The Final Margin     Interlude: A Prayer     Chapter 10: Invitation to Wonder Postlude: If God Is Everywhere… Appendix About the Author

What’s your favorite place in the Bible?

Is it a verse? A passage? A chapter? Maybe a book? For some, it’s John 3:16. For others, the nativity. Still others are drawn to the resurrection, the Psalms, the prophets, or the letters of Paul.

I love them all.

In fact, there are many verses that I find challenging and encouraging; and different sections and books that I return to often. I could make a case for each one being my favorite.

But none of them are.

My favorite place in the Bible isn’t a verse at all. It’s a space. A margin. That tiny sliver of white just to the left of Genesis 1:1.

That’s where this journey began.

During a season of stillness, I found myself reading the Bible like never before—cover to cover, again and again. Fourteen times in twenty-two months. And in that saturation, I began to see things I’d never seen before: the thread, the design, the divine tapestry.

I saw how every story, every life, every moment was part of something much bigger.

I saw that God was never reacting—He was revealing. That He wasn’t figuring things out—He already knew. Before the first word was spoken, the entire story was already written within the mind of God.

This book is an invitation to step into that margin. To pause. To wonder. To see your life not as a series of disconnected events, but as a thread in the eternal tapestry of God’s plan.

Before the first word was spoken, before the first light pierced the darkness, before time itself began—there was a margin.

Not a void.
Not a blank.
But a space filled with the fullness of God.

It’s the space just to the left of Genesis 1:1 in your Bible. Go ahead—open it. Look at it. That tiny space before the words “In the beginning...” That’s where my favorite part of the Bible lives. Not in a verse or a chapter, not even in a book—but in that silence before the story begins.

Because in that margin, God already knows. And creation is already complete.

He knows the entire story—every thought, every intention, every word, every life, every act of redemption. He knew the laughter of Sarah and the tears of Jeremiah. He knew the betrayal of Judas and the restoration of Peter. He knows the cross. He knows the empty tomb. He knows you. He knows me.

And He has a plan.

For most of 2023 and 2024, I found myself in a season of stillness. I had more time on my hands than I’d ever had before. What began as isolation turned into a divine opportunity.

I started reading—10 to 14 hours a day. Along the way I also immersed myself in dozens of Christian classics, books on theology, apologetics, worship, suffering, creation, marriage, and spiritual formation. Many of them I read repeatedly — The Great Divorce six times, Mere Christianity and Crazy Love at least four times each, The Book of God and Beyond the Cosmos three times each. Jail became an unexpected seminary, where the Word of God and the writings of faithful believers reshaped the way I thought about God, sin, grace, suffering, and hope.

But one book drew me in like no other: the Bible.

I read it cover to cover. Not once, but fourteen times in twenty-two months. Genesis to Revelation, again and again. I read it silently. I read it aloud. I read it to a friend who was legally blind and had never owned a Bible. We read together for hours each day, and somewhere between Genesis and Ruth, he met Jesus.

What a privilege that the Father allowed me to play a small part in that.

That season changed me. God used His Word to teach me, stretch me, correct me, and comfort me. But more than anything, He used it to reveal Himself. And the more I read, the more I saw how it all fits together—how the threads of history, prophecy, poetry, and promise are woven into one seamless story.

The deeper I went, the more I realized something profound: none of this was accidental. Every moment in Scripture is the result of countless moments before it. Every encounter is the culmination of a thousand unseen choices, circumstances, and divine nudges.

For the first time, I realized that the history books are just that—history. They are the story of lives that were actually lived.

And we can find ourselves in many aspects of their stories.

Think about Joseph, the son of Jacob. He was favored by his father and despised by his brothers. Sold into slavery. Favored by his master. Unjustly thrown into prison. Favored by his jailer. Then forgotten by the cupbearer.

From his vantage point, things looked grim. Nothing made sense. Every step forward seemed to be followed by two steps back.

But God was doing something.

Every moment of Joseph’s life—every betrayal, every injustice, every delay—was preparation. God was shaping him, humbling him, positioning him. All of it was leading to a moment Joseph couldn’t yet see.

It was all so he could save his family from famine and bring them to Egypt, where they could become a nation, so the promise to Abraham could be fulfilled, and so the Messiah could come.

Joseph couldn't see the big picture.
But God did.

Joseph lived in the margins.
But God was writing the masterpiece.

That’s why I keep coming back to the margin before Genesis 1:1. Because in that space, God already knows. He saw the whole story before the first word was written. He still sees it all.

Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. —Psalm 139:16 (NIV)

He chose us in Him before the creation of the world. —Ephesians 1:4

Before the beginning, He was already there.
Already loving.
Already planning.
Already redeeming.

That margin is not empty.
It is filled with the mind of God.

The Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world. —Revelation 13:8

Before the first word of creation was spoken, God already knew–or better, God already knows.

He knew the shape of the universe, the passage of time, the rise and fall of nations. He knew the names of every star and the number of hairs on every head. He knew the sound of your voice before you took your first breath. He knew the choices you would make, the prayers you would whisper, the tears you would shed. He knew all the times you would excel, and all the times you would fail.

He knew.

And He still chose to create.

There’s a deep comfort in being known. Not just seen, not just tolerated—but truly, intimately known. We spend so much of our lives trying to be understood, trying to explain ourselves, trying to make sense of our own hearts. But God already knows.

“O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.”
—Psalm 139:1–2 (ESV)

That truth offered much needed comfort as I sat alone with it. It was one of the many places where I sensed God wrapping His arms around me, telling me I was still His.

God doesn’t need to investigate you. He doesn’t need to wait and see how your story unfolds. He already knows every detail of your life from beginning to end—and He loves you anyway. And it’s not because He can see into or predict the future. It’s because He’s there, right now, watching it happen. Your entire future. Even while He is beside you in this moment.

One of the most powerful revelations I’ve come to embrace is that God has never had a "Plan B."

The cross wasn’t a reaction. Jesus wasn’t sent because humanity surprised God with its brokenness. He was the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world. —Revelation 13:8 Before Adam ever fell, Jesus had already risen.

For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world. —Ephesians 1:4 (NIV)

That means your life is a masterpiece unfolding in time, already complete in the mind of God.

We live in a linear world. Past, present, future. One moment after another. But God exists beyond time. He sees the whole timeline at once—like an artist viewing the entire canvas, not just the brushstroke in progress. God already knows precisely how you fit into the completed picture—and why your position is critical to the finished work.

That means He sees you not only as you are, but as you will be. He sees the healed version of you. The whole version. The glorified version. And He relates to you from that perspective.

So when He calls you righteous, even when you feel broken—He’s not lying. He’s speaking from the end of the story.

There’s a holy weight to being known by God. It’s not just that He knows your name—it’s that He knows your purpose. He knows what He placed inside you. He knows what He’s building through you. And He knows how every trial, every delay, every detour is shaping you into the image of His Son.

That's not accidental language. Being conformed to His Son was never an afterthought — it was the destination God had in mind before the journey began.

For those God foreknew He also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of His Son. —Romans 8:29 (NIV)

You are not a mystery to God. You are not a disappointment. You are not behind schedule.

You are known. You are right on time. You are right where you are supposed to be.

One of the most powerful realizations I’ve had in my time immersed in Scripture is that no one in the Bible lived in isolation. No story stands alone. Every person, every event, every encounter is connected to something before it—and something after it. I believe God shows us this on purpose. No life—Biblical or not—is lived in isolation. It may sound trite, but it's true: We are all connected.

Take Levi, the tax collector.

“After this, Jesus went out and saw a tax collector by the name of Levi sitting at his tax booth. ‘Follow me,’ Jesus said to him, and Levi got up, left everything and followed him.” —Luke 5:27–28 (NIV)

Levi wasn't just a piece of scenery with no personality, no family, no past. He had lived a life. Things had happened to him. Some good, some bad. People had said things to him. Some good, some bad. He had been born to specific parents, at a specific time, in a specific place. He had friends, he had enemies. He had been taught, disciplined, encouraged, and put down. All of these things—and many others—conspired together to lead him to specific choices—which led him to a specific place at a specific time—when Jesus would be walking past his tax office. And at the perfect time, Jesus looked at him and said, “Follow me.” When Levi looked into the eyes of the One calling him, he saw the purpose that he didn't even know he had been looking for. And in an instant, he knew he had to follow.

Think about Zacchaeus.

“So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.” —Luke 19:4 (NIV)

But that tree didn’t just happen to be there. It had to be planted. It had to grow. It had to be protected from storms and drought and disease. It had to be protected from grazing livestock and marching armies. Long before Zacchaeus ever climbed it, God was preparing it.

That’s how God works. He plants trees decades before we need them. He sets different lives on specific paths so that they will intersect at the perfect time. He sets things in motion long before we realize we’re part of the plan.

Zacchaeus had a divine appointment with Jesus. And he needed a Sycamore tree to keep it. So God appointed a tree.

God's plan is like an intricate spider web that we will never untangle. Only He knows the purpose of every intersection. Every detour. Every encounter.

While it seemed terribly inconvenient to me, my time of isolation was exactly what I needed to experience the changes God accomplished during that time. He showed me that the most meaningful distance between two points is rarely a straight line.

Your life is not a series of disconnected moments. Every joy, every sorrow, every delay, every detour—it’s all being woven into something greater than you can imagine.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose. —Romans 8:28

That verse doesn’t mean everything is good. It means everything is used. Nothing is wasted. Not the pain. Not the waiting. Not the questions.

Because for Your sake I have borne reproach;
dishonor has covered my face.
—Psalm 69:7

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
He was with God in the beginning. Through Him all things were made;
without Him nothing was made that has been made.”
—John 1:1–3 (NIV)

John doesn’t start his gospel with a manger. He starts with eternity. He takes us back—not just to Genesis 1:1, but to the margin before it. And there, in that eternal space, we find Jesus.

Jesus didn’t begin in Bethlehem. He didn’t begin in Mary’s womb. He didn’t begin at all. He always was.

He is the Word before the Word.

The One who spoke creation into existence. The One who walked with Adam, wrestled with Jacob, and appeared in the fire with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. The pre-incarnate Christ was always present—always active—always central to the story.

And then, He stepped into the story He authored.

The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. —John 1:14 (NIV)

The Author became a character in His own story.

This is the mystery of the incarnation: that the One who existed before time entered time. That the One who created the world allowed Himself to be born into it. That the Word who spoke stars into being would one day cry out on a cross.

And He did it for love.

The Word didn’t stop speaking after creation. He still speaks.

He speaks through Scripture. Through the Spirit. Through family, friends, and sometimes, strangers. Through the moments when your heart is still enough to hear Him. He speaks in the margins of your life—the spaces between the noise, the pauses between the plans.

He spoke to me in isolation. When I was struggling with who I was and what I was worth. He spoke in a voice that was clearer than any human voice I've heard. He spoke words that moved beyond my thoughts and memory—straight into my heart. Into the part of me that makes me me. And He still speaks.

And when He speaks, things happen.

“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword…” —Hebrews 4:12 (NIV)

The same Word that created the universe is now at work in you—as a living presence.

If Christ is the Word, and the Word lives in you, then you carry eternity within you. You carry the voice that calmed storms, cast out demons, and called Lazarus from the grave. You carry the very power of creation.

You carry the Word that was before the beginning. Within you. Everywhere you go.

And that Word is still creating. Still restoring. Still calling things into being that are not as though they were.

There are 400 years between the final words of Malachi and the opening lines of Matthew. Four centuries of prophetic silence. No new revelations. No angelic visitations. Just silence.

But God wasn’t absent. He was preparing.

In that pause, empires and institutions rose and fell. Roads were built. Languages spread. The world was being aligned for the arrival of the Messiah. The silence wasn’t a void—it was a setup.

God was preparing the perfect conditions for the Word to become flesh.

After the six days of creation, God rested. He paused.

The pause is part of the pattern. It’s not a disruption—it’s part of the divine design.

We know what happened on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Resurrection Sunday (or Easter). But what about Saturday?

That in-between day. That silent, uncertain pause.

The disciples didn’t know Sunday was coming. All they had was silence. Confusion. Fear. Waiting.

But even in the tomb, God was working. Even in the pause, the plan was unfolding.

I'm in that pause now. Waiting for my legal case to be resolved. Waiting for employment to materialize. Waiting for more permanent housing.

We all have seasons that feel like pauses.

The job that hasn’t come. The healing that hasn’t happened. The prayer that hasn’t been answered. The dream that hasn’t been fulfilled.

It’s easy to believe that God is only present in the action—in the breakthroughs, the miracles. But He is just as present in the waiting. In fact, it’s in those times of waiting that God is closest to us. Healing us. Preparing us. Restoring us. Carrying us.

It's in this waiting that God is inspiring me to write. To tell my story. To help me unravel what transpired in my life over the last three years.

Sometimes, the pause is the point.

In the pause, God builds trust and strengthens roots.
In the pause, He prepares us for what’s next.

Be still, and know that I am God. —Psalm 46:10 (NIV)

It's in the stillness that we surrender. It’s in the stillness that we choose to believe that God is working even when we can’t see it.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens… —Ecclesiastes 3:1 (NIV)

Even Jesus paused. He withdrew to lonely places. He never rushed. He moved in step with the Father’s timing.

If the Son of God embraced the pause, so can we.

I started reading Job one day.

It was not the first time I'd read Job; though I'll confess that I had never much enjoyed the read. I had always found the long speeches confusing and hard to follow. However, something struck me this time that I'd never thought of before while reading Job.

It turns out that neither Job nor his friends knew what was happening while it was happening.

The first two chapters give us insight that the “stars” of the story didn't have. We see that while Job was losing EVERYTHING, God was painting on a canvas that was bigger than Job or his friends (or his wife) could see. In fact, Job never did learn about the events that took place in the first two chapters.

While it seemed to Job and his friends that his ordeal was due to some sin or omission, the truth was God was allowing Satan’s attack on Job because of his righteousness before God!

As I pondered this reality throughout the morning, a bigger picture began to emerge.

When God slaughtered an innocent animal in the Garden to make clothes for Adam and Eve (Genesis 3:21), He was painting on a canvas that was bigger than what they could see.

When God told Abraham to offer Isaac as a sacrifice (Genesis 22:2), He was painting on a canvas that was bigger than either of them could see.

When Moses fled to Midian (Exodus 2:15), God was painting on a canvas that was bigger than Moses could see.

When Samson told Delilah the secret to his strength (Judges 16:17), God was painting on a canvas that was bigger than either of them could see.

When Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery (Genesis 37:28); when David should have been “off to war” (2 Samuel 11:1); “In the year that King Uzziah died” (Isaiah 6:1); when Mary was engaged to be married to Joseph (Matthew 1:18); when Judas betrayed Jesus (Luke 22:4); God was painting on a canvas that was bigger than any of them could see.

When I was fired from two different churches, God was painting on a canvas that was bigger than what I could see.

While I stood on our National Lawn with nearly 1,000,000 other Promise Keepers—committing to be more faithful in my walk, my family, and my ministry—God was painting on a canvas that was bigger than what I could see.

There have been times when God has lifted the veil to allow a glimpse of a portion of His painting. When Isaiah got a glimpse, he fell down as a dead man. When John got a glimpse, he fell down as a dead man. Many prophets were murdered when they spoke of what they saw.

Apparently, the Big Picture is far bigger than anything we can see—at least if we hope to survive!

From time to time, God allows us a glimpse of the unfinished picture that is our lives—past, present, or future—when it suits His purposes to do so. But these glimpses are few and far between. And we will never see the full picture—this side of heaven, at least.

God has a plan. A perfect plan. And we—you and I—are part of that plan. We may never fully understand that plan before we die.

He moves us from one place to another—leading us, teaching us, breaking us, building us up... all the while loving us with an unconditional love. Working His perfect plan.

So we are left to live out our faith with nothing more than faith in His Word, and the assurance that whatever we are experiencing—whether laughter or tears, joy or pain, wealth or want, success or failure, God is painting on a canvas that is bigger than we can see.

He is in control. And He is never surprised by what happens in our lives.

People often ask, “What is God’s will for my life?”

Where should I work? Who should I marry? What is my ministry?

These are real questions. Honest questions. But the deeper question is:

Where are you looking for the answers?

In a song? In a sermon? In advice from a preacher or teacher or friend?

Those things may carry truth. They may even stir your spirit. But they are not truth.

Why not look to the source of truth?

How much time are we spending in God's Word—not just for answers—but to find truth?

Do you believe that the Word of God is the very breath of God? Living, active, sharper than a two-edged sword? Not just a suggestion book, but the blueprint of life?

Can you quote one verse from memory for each year you’ve been a believer?

That’s not a guilt trip. It’s a gut check.

The church is full of people who love the idea of the Word being a daily part of their lives—but who never really submit to it.

What if it became illegal to own your Bible?

Many of us would fight for the right to own one... just to put it back in the closet.

We are spiritually malnourished because we have neglected His Word.

Let me be clear, you are as righteous and holy as you’ll ever need to be—by the completed work of Jesus, not by how many hours you spend in your Bible.

But still, there is something wrong if there is nothing wrong with this picture.

The truth is, we do study.

TV shows, sports, music, stocks, politics, news.

We are all students.

The question is: What are you a student of?

What is your study focused on? Where do you spend your time? What are you allowing to shape you?

Consider that there is a drawbridge between the world and your mind. Only you control when it raises and falls. Only you control the information that builds your worldview.

As I immersed myself in God's Word, my worldview changed in ways I never would have imagined. I now live with a peace that is truly beyond comprehension.

I am determined that God's Word will play a prominent role in shaping how I view and react to the world. I am seizing control of the bridge.

The wonderful thing about Bible study is that all you need is a Bible... and a willingness to study.

Not to impress God. Not to earn points.

But to know Him. To hear His voice. To align your life with His truth.

How can a young man keep his way pure?
By guarding it according to your word.
With my whole heart I seek you; let me not wander from your commandments!
I have stored up your word in my heart, that I might not sin against you.
Blessed are you, O Lord; teach me your statutes!
With my lips I declare all the rules of your mouth.
In the way of your testimonies I delight as much as in all riches.
I will meditate on your precepts and fix my eyes on your ways.
I will delight in your statutes; I will not forget your word.
Psalm 119:9–16 (ESV)

I can’t take credit for this reading plan. It came from the first student I ever mentored in ministry. I’ve used it ever since. And yes—God still speaks.

Set a daily time. Morning, evening, or whenever you’re most focused. The number of minutes is not that important. Begin with silence. Still your thoughts. Invite God to speak. Pray for openness. Ask Him to write His Word on your heart. Don’t worry if you don’t “hear” anything right away. His Word is alive. It’s working in you—whether you feel it or not.

Don’t read to check a box. Don’t read to find something to post or preach.

Read slowly. Let the words settle. Let your spirit absorb them.

Try to do this Daily: Five Psalms + One Chapter of Proverbs. It's okay if you don't finish it all.

Use the calendar date to guide your reading:

On the 1st of the month, read Psalms 1, 31, 61, 91, 121 + Proverbs 1
On the 15th, read Psalms 15, 45, 75, 105, 135 + Proverbs 15
Just add 30 to the day’s date to get your five Psalms. (On the 29th, skip Psalm 119. Save it for months with 31 days.)

In one month, you’ll read all 150 Psalms and all 31 chapters of Proverbs. Then repeat.

You might think this would get old. I’ve been doing it—off and on—for over forty years. It’s still fresh. And God still speaks.

After You Read, ask God to establish His Word in your spirit. Ask Him to shape you according to His will. If you feel a hunger for more, follow it. Expand your reading. There’s no wrong place to start in Scripture.

God promises:

“So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth;
It will not return to Me empty,
Without accomplishing what I desire,
And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.”
—Isaiah 55:11 (NASB)

So read. Let His Word pour into your heart.

Then celebrate His work in and through you.

I have followed this plan for over forty years now. And I still discover something new nearly every day.

See Index for an easy to follow reading chart.

We live in a culture obsessed with the spotlight. We’re taught to chase the platform, the promotion, the next big thing. But God often does His best work offstage.

Moses met God in the wilderness.
David was anointed in obscurity.
Jesus spent thirty years in silence before three years of ministry.

The margin isn’t the absence of purpose. It’s the preparation for it.

When you live with margin-awareness, you begin to see your life differently. You stop rushing through the in-between moments. You stop resenting the waiting. You start looking for God in the quiet corners. You become aware that when life seems to have stopped moving forward, those are the times when God is most active—doing the work that could not be done in the midst of your activity.

Because He’s there.

He’s in the long commute.
He’s in the sleepless night.
He’s in the seemingly unanswered prayer.
He’s in Tuesday.

Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it. —Genesis 28:16 (NIV)

Jacob said those words after waking from a dream in the middle of nowhere. But God had been there all along.

When you live in the margin, you stop striving to become something and start resting in what already is.

God is not figuring you out.
He’s not waiting to see how your story ends.
He’s already there.

For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things He planned for us long ago. —Ephesians 2:10 (NLT)

You are not becoming His masterpiece.
You are His masterpiece. You are simply becoming aware of it.

It is as if God has given us a mirror in which we see what we look like through our own eyes; and a picture of Jesus that allows us to see what we look like to God.

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. —II Corinthians 5:21 (NIV)

Living in the margins means walking through life with the awareness that every moment is sacred, every encounter is divine, and every step is part of the plan.

It means listening more.
Trusting more.
Resting more.

It means living like you’re already in the presence of the One who wrote your story—because you are!

(Taken from, Hidden Agendas, by Steve Brown)

If there was a margin before the beginning,
then there is also a margin before the end.

We often think of eternity as something that begins after we die. But eternity doesn’t begin—it simply continues. It has no starting point and no finish line.

And just as there is a margin before Genesis 1:1, there is a margin before Revelation 22:21—the space before the new beginning.

The final words of Scripture are not a conclusion.

He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus. The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God’s people. Amen. —Revelation 22:20–21 (NIV)

That’s not the end of the story. It’s the doorway to forever.

The same God who stood in the margin before creation now stands in the margin before consummation. And He is calling us forward—not into an ending, but into fullness. When we arrive in heaven, we may realize that we have been there all along.

We live in the tension of the “already and not yet.”

Christ has already won the victory, but we have not yet seen its fullness.
We are already seated with Him in heavenly places, but we are not yet home.
We are already redeemed, but not yet glorified.

This is the final margin—the space between promise and fulfillment.

And just like the margin before Genesis, it is filled with purpose.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain… —Hebrews 6:19 (NIV)

Hope is not wishful thinking. It’s an anchor—tethered to the One who already stands at the end of the story, and in the center of God's will.

He is not waiting to see how it all turns out.
He already knows.
He is already victorious.

And He is drawing us toward that victory, moment by moment.

One day, we will step into that final margin.

We will see Him as He is.
We will know as we are fully known (1 Corinthians 13:12).
We will realize that we were never outside of eternity—we were always within it.

And all the margins of our lives—the waiting, the wondering, the wandering—will make sense.

Jesus said, ‘Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.’
—Matthew 5:8

You’ve walked with me through the margins—
before the beginning,
through the silence,
into the Word,
and across time.

You’ve seen that God is not just the Author of the story—
He is the space in which the story unfolds.

He is before all things,
and in Him, all things hold together.

But this isn’t just a theological truth.
It’s a personal one.

You are already in the margin.
Where God lives.

Daily Psalms / Proverbs Reading Schedule

I am a follower of Jesus, a lifelong student of Scripture, and a storyteller shaped by grace.

After decades of walking with Christ through ministry, failure, restoration, and renewal, I entered a profound season of stillness that would forever change how I read the Bible—and how I understood God. During that time, I read Scripture cover to cover fourteen times in twenty-two months, immersing myself in the Word—not for answers, but to find where God actually was. What emerged was a deep awareness of God’s eternal presence, His intentional design, and His unwavering faithfulness.

Along the way I also immersed myself in dozens of Christian classics, books on theology, apologetics, worship, suffering, creation, marriage, and spiritual formation. Many of them I read repeatedly — The Great Divorce six times, Mere Christianity and Crazy Love at least four times each, The Book of God and Beyond the Cosmos three times each. Jail became an unexpected seminary, where the Word of God and the writings of faithful believers reshaped the way I thought about God, sin, grace, suffering, and hope.

I am not a theologian looking down from the lectern, but a fellow traveler learning to rest in the spaces between certainty and mystery.

At the heart of my writing is a simple conviction: God is not reacting to our lives—He is revealing Himself through them. We are not striving toward completion; we are awakening to what has already been finished in Christ.

I harbor a deep love for Scripture, a reverence for honest questions, and a passion for helping others recognize God’s presence in the ordinary, overlooked margins of life.

I can be reached at
marginsdevotionals@gmail.com