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Mark Crawford's Posts

The Blue Cookie

For Christmas my daughter got a set of wooden cookies from her aunt and uncle. They have cookie bases with frosting tops that connect with Velcro. The cookies came with a cookie sheet, an oven mitt, a knife, and a spatula. All together it was a wonderful gift for a two-year-old girl who loves to help her mama bake. I’m not sure when I first heard about the Blue Cookie, but I know I fully became aw...

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Way Down By The Water

Here is a song I wrote around Easter. It’s been in the back of my mind since then so I recorded it. Here’s the lyrics: Way down by the water Stood a man I did not know Stood a man who called my name He said, “Come. Come to the water and I’ll give you life.” Way up in the hills Is where I went to hide away Is where I went in fear and shame Way out in the desert I dug a well to find my o...

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God said “Wait”

When I was fired from my job in March, Layne and I found ourselves in an uncomfortable position. How were we going to replace that income in a way that would still allow Layne to spend time with our daughter, Saoirse, and allow me to continue doing the work that God has called me to at the Village? That first day we both felt God saying, “Wait.” We weren’t clear what that meant but we waited. Wait...

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Reflections on “In The Fire”

So much of my walk with God and His Word the last few years has been discovering the ways that the people I grew up thinking of as heroes of the Bible were actually broken, sinful people. They often did amazing things with God by their side, but they were nonetheless broken, sometimes following up those amazing acts with incredible acts of fear and sin. Another theme has been reading about how God...

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Psalm 63

In a dry and weary land, Where there are no running streams, We have dug one thousand wells And parched our tongues with broken dreams.   You, oh Lord, have said, “Return To me, the spring that quenches thirst. Stop, remember I have called You to me, who loved you first.   “You have wandered far from me. Yet I am ever close behind. Leave the empty cracked cisterns, For at my ...

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Filled with Joy

I was listening to a podcast recently, when the host talked about having “outrage fatigue.” He said he felt like every morning he woke up and checked Twitter, almost as if he was trying to figure out what he was supposed to be angry about that day. There was a weariness to the persistent anger and despair of the world. That idea of “outrage fatigue” resonated with me. In our culture of a constant ...

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