Drew Brown Writes

If you believe I’m perfect, will you believe in God?

It’s in your handwriting and your hand on my shoulder. I love you, Mom.

Sometimes I'm just floored by my friends (and by Bob Goff's new book...out soon!).

Today I realized God doesn't need us cleaned up and pretty before we can talk.

I've written about it before and will write about it again. Somedays I just don't think I'm enough.

Christmas is over, so why is it still winter?

My life's not sexy enough for Instagram. Is my life too boring for Jesus?

I'm just so confused and a little angsty. Can I worship a God who isn't simple?

How God is teaching me to live whole.

Is it even possible to be humble and have a website named after you?

"What is Love?"

Haddaway said it; we're just living it.

It's been a while since we last spoke. My life has changed quite a bit, and I'm ready for my sophomore album.

Joy is a funny thing. It sneaks up on you sometimes.

I'm moving and worried I lost most of my heart to California. What does it mean to love friends?

Sometimes it's just so much easier to hide in shame, under my heavy comforter. But God asks, "Where are you?"

Thoughts on Jesus and being black.

by Will Hawkins

All the words feel jumbled, but I'm discovering Truth. I'm discovering a relationship.

If Biblical men had access to Christian Mingle today, what would be their bio?

A lesson in reacquainting ourselves with Truth.

A girl's call for casual dating in the church.

If Danny Tanner gave a toast. Raise your glass.

A poem involving Jessica Simpson, Steve Carrell, Tina Fey, and thirty-eight more.

For when fear convinces us that a red symmetrical heart is more important than the real thing.

A freeing thought for an anxious guy with a depressed past.

Maturity looks like extreme steps.

Why being able to watch sex scenes isn't maturity.

Dear you,

From me.

This is a story about a ten-year-old, a twenty-three-year-old, and the emotions we share.

And sometimes we just need a good reminder of happiness.

Like raindrops on rocks, a need for false perfection only erodes away our voice. I feel it happening to mine.

1. Build an entire city with trampolines instead of roads and moon bounces instead of sidewalks.

...and so on and so forth...

Hebrews 11. Ocean's 11. Both a big group of guys. Get it? Corny title, hopefully better thoughts.

She told me she was ready for heaven. I told her not to say that. I needed a few more years.

Life isn't always about edits or perfection or any of that.

Hold tight: we're being put back together perfectly. A beautiful poem by Carly Bell.

"I wanna dance with somebody."