Let All You Do Be Done in Love
“The world sells romance,” Jeremiah said, “but Scripture trains us in agápē—love that chooses the good of another, even when it costs.”
“The world sells romance,” Jeremiah said, “but Scripture trains us in agápē—love that chooses the good of another, even when it costs.”
Barbara’s eyes narrowed. “People will turn this into entertainment—argue online, pick sides, forget there’s a real child with a real soul.”
On the muted TV behind the counter, the father was the punchline again. Jeremiah looked away and whispered, “Lord, help me not get numb to what’s being done to the idea of fatherhood.”
Kyle exhaled. “Church people can be… a lot.”
Jeremiah didn’t argue. “That’s a real experience. But the problem wasn’t being around God’s people—it was being around a version of God’s people who forgot what they were supposed to be.”
Marcus walked into The Shepherds Cafe expecting coffee. What he got was clarity. “I think I’m losing my wife,” he admitted—then Elijah asked the question that cut through every excuse: “When is the last time you pursued her?”
Late afternoon settled softly over The Shepherds Cafe, and the stained-glass windows did what they always did when the sun hit them just right: they threw calm, colorful shapes across the hardwood floor like God was quietly reminding the room that light can be gentle and still be strong.