Don't allow gift-giving expectations to put you deeper in debt and rob you of the true joy of the season 

I know what you’re thinking: Here they come. Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s; gifts to buy, meals to prepare, decorating, houseguests, parties to attend, church activities, neighborhood events, school productions—and a partridge in a pear tree.

It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Add the fact that the last few years have been financially disappointing for most of us, and it’s no wonder we get a heavy feeling in the pit of our stomachs when the calendar page flips over to November.

Killed in a church shooting, Sydney Browning never had a chance to meet the 62 second-graders of Granada Primary School. But today she’s changed their lives, thanks to a university’s 11-year promise fulfilled.

Some things are hard to make sense of, like the evening of Sept. 15, 1999, when Larry Gene Ashbrook walked into Wedgwood Baptist Church in Fort Worth, Texas, and opened fire, killing seven people before turning the gun on himself. 

The first to die was a woman named Sydney Browning, the children’s choir director and a teacher at an alternative school for at-risk youth. The 36-year-old had been sitting on a sofa in the foyer, chatting with friends as she waited for choir rehearsal to start. Somehow she came into Ashbrook’s line of sight, so he shot her in the head and kept walking, ultimately firing more than 60 rounds.

NBA superstar Dwyane Wade’s mother has been to hell and back—and now she’s making hell tremble with a deliverance ministry that sets the captives free

When Jolinda Wade steps behind the pulpit, devils tremble. That’s because Wade, the mother of NBA superstar Dwyane Wade, has built a kingdom reputation for casting them out. 

But it wasn’t always that way—she once invited them in. 

The 55-year-old deliverance minister used to run to the devil’s devices to escape the pain of life. In fact, she spent most of Dwyane’s childhood and college years high—and many of them homeless. 

She was addicted to heroin, cocaine and alcohol. She sold crack on the streets of Chicago. She slept in abandoned buildings. She served several terms behind bars. And she was a fugitive for more than four years after failing to report back to prison from work release.

A third-generation Pentecostal’s take on staying Spirit-filled without the hype

My roots in the charismatic-Pentecostal movement go very deep. My grandpa and grandma both became ordained ministers in the Assemblies of God (AG) following radical encounters with God. They dedicated themselves to preaching the gospel and planting churches across rural Oklahoma and Southern California.

My father, Hubert, became a traveling evangelist with the AG while still in high school. He and my mother pastored churches together in Colorado, Missouri and Texas. Dad served as a missionary in India after my mom’s death in 1991.

Why the church must understand its eternal identity as a House of Prayer

The eternal destiny of all God’s people is to function as a house of prayer now and in the age to come. Our greatest place of authority, honor, dignity and security is found in this reality. This wasn’t man’s idea but God’s. His concern is not about us having more prayer meetings (as good as that might be) but about establishing a prayer culture in the body of Christ. 

In one short statement, Jesus revealed the eternal identity and destiny of His people. Matthew 21:13 records His prophetic declaration: “It is written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer.’” Isaiah also spoke this decree when he prophesied to Israel: “My house shall be called a house of prayer for all nations” (Is. 56:7). 

Kansas City’s IHOP is seeing miraculous growth, yet the Mike Bickle-led 24/7 prayer hub continues to  keep one thing—and one Person—at the center

Mike Bickle is a wanted man.

Not for a misdemeanor or felony. Not for a political endorsement. On the day I arrive at the International House of Prayer Missions Base of Kansas City, he’s being sought after by New York Yankees relief pitcher Mariano Rivera, who’s in town for a series and is checking out what’s become known worldwide simply as “IHOP.” Though Bickle doesn’t recognize the greatest closer in baseball history, he swaps stories with Rivera to the point that I can tell he’s been here before, many times, and is unmoved by celebrities seeking out him or his ministry. 

One look at the IHOP director’s closet-size office or modest duplex house (shared with his mother-in-law) and it’s obvious he isn’t too concerned about prestige, money or fame. Instead, Bickle’s priority—dare I say obsession—is about being wanted by another.