Dreams and Discernment

There’s something both beautiful and unsettling about dreams. In the Book of Jeremiah 23, we’re reminded that not every voice that claims God’s authority truly carries it. “Let these false prophets tell their dreams,” the Lord says, “but let my true messengers faithfully proclaim my every word… There is a difference between chaff and wheat.”

A story is told of a young man whose vivid dream led him to a distant beach, where he met someone searching for truth, and that encounter became the beginning of faith. It’s a gentle reminder that God can still speak in unexpected ways, even through dreams, stirring hearts and guiding steps.

Yet Jeremiah’s warning lingers, steady and necessary. Not every dream is divine, not every impression is truth. Some words, though confidently spoken, grow from human imagination rather than God’s Spirit. When we mistake chaff for wheat, confusion follows, and trust can be shaken.

So how do we discern? We return, again and again, to Scripture. The more we sit with God’s word, the more familiar his voice becomes. It shapes our instincts, steadies our judgement, and anchors us when other voices compete for attention. What seems less dramatic, reading, reflecting, quietly obeying, is in fact deeply nourishing.

God’s word is our daily bread, sustaining, reliable, and true. And if, on occasion, he chooses to speak through a dream, we receive it with humility and test it with care. Wheat first, always; and if a dream comes, then perhaps, by grace, dessert.

When Justice Meets Impunity

The killing of Renee Nicole Good has forced the USA into a defining moment, one that exposes in painful clarity two competing visions of what the country is and what it ought to be.

On one side are those who believe that accountability must apply to everyone, without exception, that the rule of law only has meaning if it restrains power rather than protects it. They argue that when an American citizen is killed in the street by a federal agent, the response must be humility, transparency, and an independent search for truth. They insist that no uniform, no badge, and no political convenience should shield anyone from scrutiny. This vision is rooted in the belief that justice is fragile and must be actively defended, especially for those whose voices are most easily ignored.

On the other side is a far darker impulse, one that rushes to judgement, excuses violence, and treats state power as something to be obeyed rather than questioned. An administration that has already declared the agent innocent and the woman he killed guilty, before any meaningful investigation has begun, sends a chilling message about whose lives are valued and whose are expendable. That instinct embraces impunity over process, loyalty over truth, and force over fairness.

This moment is no longer only about one death, tragic as that is. It’s become a test of whether America still believes in equal justice under the law, or whether it is prepared to surrender that ideal in the name of power, fear, and political expediency.