News From the Frontlines: October 3rd, 2026
And just like that, it’s October. In my opinion, Autumn is the best time of year—the fall colors, the cool days, family gathered around for Thanksgiving, the long walks, and, of course, lots of coffee (though that isn’t particular to this time of year for me). If only it all lasted longer—but alas, a thing isn’t beautiful because it lasts. Though, one day soon, the very best things will last, forever and ever. Perhaps that’s what the fleeting joys of each season mean to point to?
News From the Frontlines:
Recommended Reading, Listening, & Watching
This seemed a fitting post as we enter October. “As the season progresses, make sure to continue to spend intentional time with the Lord and rely on Him. Remember His faithfulness, and wait on His timing. He strengthens those who put their trust in Him and is currently working in your life even if you cannot see it at the moment.”
This is a great little reminder for writers, painters, composers, gardeners, and humans everywhere. “There is a craft to almost any task that requires true skill, whether it be organizing a closet, giving a PowerPoint presentation, or pouring concrete. It seems to be tied up with our common human vocation.” Indeed. In fact, I wrote an article in a similar vein just this past week on the joys of writing in an increasingly artificial age—“Not All Those Who Wander—or Wonder!—Are Lost.”
This is a longer article, but one that is well worth your time, particularly if you are a writer in any shape or form. In many ways, it runs downstream from the article above. “I’ve written a few hundred articles since that summer, but these early reflections retain a vividness few other writing projects do. In the tinkering with words that summer, words tinkered with me—who I was, who I was becoming, who I would be.”
Is this a question you’ve ever wrestled with? Growing up, I knew a good deal of people who were convinced that we would not know one another in Heaven solely upon this basis: If we remembered one another, that would then mean we’d also remember this world and all the sin and suffering that characterized it, which would in turn severely dampen our eternal joy. In this article, Randy Alcorn offers an encouraging—and more importantly, a Biblical—response.
I appreciated this charitable response to the recent news that Steve Lawson has written a new book chronicling his fall and subsequent repentance.
“I remember being in the middle of Numbers and feeling like I needed a break from all the… well, numbers! I hit another genealogy and thought, ‘You know what. Maybe I’ll just go to the New Testament for a break from all these genealogies.’ So I flipped to Matthew chapter 1, and read, ‘The book of the genealogy of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham.’ I just stopped right there and started laughing. I flipped right back to Numbers and kept going.”
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a piece about the stars, the size of the universe, and how the beauty of the cosmos points to its Creator (“And He Made the Stars Also”). When we consider the sheer breadth of the universe, we are suddenly exposed to astronomical distances we have no hope of truly understanding. This little video, however, puts our solar system to a scale we can somewhat understand by assembling models of the Sun, Moon, and planets across a dry lakebed in Nevada so we can better grasp their true distances from one another (or perhaps, in this case, not grasp them).
Photo by Simone Dalmeri, Unsplash
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