We remember the Magi as three figures frozen in a story we think we already know. But long before gold, frankincense, and myrrh, before a child, before a house, before a name, there was a sky that unsettled them. Something appeared that did not belong. And rather than dismiss it, they moved.
The final Cain chapter uncovers the silent war between sacrifice and surrender, showing how an ancient field still mirrors the modern heart’s search for grace.
Cains mark; our mirror
Cain is remembered as the world’s first murderer, forever defined by blood in a field and the mark that followed him. But what if that mark wasn’t
In the span of a single verse, Moses pauses over a name that splits the earth open—Peleg. His story whispers that division isn’t always destruction; sometimes it’s design. Even the fractures that humble us may be the ones that make space for creation.