Our building will be closed Monday, May 29 for Memorial Day.
In recent weeks at IBC, we’ve been discussing the importance of wrestling with our own personal past—our life story—to better understand our present and God’s intentions for our future. This is a vitally important part of our ongoing spiritual growth and development. God has made us who we are through the formative experiences and relationships of our lives: though our heritage, our heroes, our high points, and our hard times.
Read MoreMy throat felt closed off, my shoulders were tight, and my stomach was churning. My thoughts alternately whirled by too fast to catch and so slow that I felt stupid. What was happening to me? Normally I’m an even-keeled, calm and sensible person, but for several weeks I felt like my mind and my body were conspiring against me.
To be a mother is to know a suffering kind of love. And no one knows that better than Mary, the mother of Jesus.
For Nathan Thompson, Easter morning looked a little different this year. After visiting his in-laws a few hours away, Nathan hopped in his car and raced back to IBC—a last-minute addition to his holiday plans.
Dear IBC Family,
I’m writing this to you all on what is my last day in the office before I begin my sabbatical. Years ago, our elders established a generous policy that provides a three-month time away for pastors every seven years. I have one more Sunday to preach, and then I’ll be out May, June, and July.
Years ago, when I lived in East Dallas, I and some other young men helped mentor a group of boys as part of a weekly neighborhood event. During the event, called King's Club, elementary-aged kids were invited to a small local church to hear something from the Bible and eat lunch. Then the men and I would play sports with the older boys. We would also occasionally go on camping trips.
This morning was a complete disaster in our home. The home we share with two little people who find deep delight in messing up our very well-planned schedules. Packing lunches, changing diapers, finding monster trucks, and brushing hair. Phew. Let’s just say that we were 13 minutes late for drop off at school today. When my son’s teacher said, “I hope you have a good day today,” I’m pretty sure I grunted.