I was walking home from the store the other night with my son. It was one of those real Scottish storms—rain coming sideways, wind pushing against us every step. My boy doesn’t talk much with words; he’s autistic and non-verbal. But he talks with his hand. As soon as we stepped out into that weather, he reached up and grabbed mine and held on tight. I led the way, he held on, and together we made it through the rain and the wind all the way home.

There are some stories that just stop you when you hear them. The death of three little children at the hands of their own mother is one of those. You cannot explain it away. You cannot soften it. Three young lives—Cora, Dawson, and Callan—were taken, and a father’s world was shattered in a single afternoon. That is a wound that does not heal quickly, and any of us who love the Lord have to begin by simply grieving with those who grieve.

I have to admit I was a bit out of the loop with all that has been happening on the beaches of Britain these past few months. Now that I have subscribed to Calvary Chapel Magazine, I am catching up on the reports of believers being baptised in public. It started small. Back in June at Jennycliff near Plymouth there were about twenty-eight. Then on the fifth of September at Bigbury-on-Sea in Devon the number grew to one hundred and seventy. And just recently, on the tenth of October at Bridlington, somewhere around five hundred and fifty people were baptised in the North Sea.

Friends, one of the questons I hear most ofen is, “How can I know Gods will for my life?” It is a good queston. It shows a heart that wants to please the Lord. But sometimes the search itself becomes so complicated that people grow discouraged, even to the point of despair or drifting away.