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About John Blase

John preached for more than a decade but then decided to start writing and selling his poetry. By day he works as a developmental editor for WaterBrook & Multnomah Publishers in Colorado Springs, Colorado. And while he lives out West, he’ll always be from the South. His books include The Jubilee: Poems; Know When to Hold ’Em: The High Stakes Game of Fatherhood; Touching Wonder: Recapturing the Awe of Christmas; and All Is Grace: A Ragamuffin Memoir. He says he’s a fortunate man with a beautiful wife and three kids who look like their mother.

Just a Spark

By |2020-07-02T12:03:09-04:00July 3rd, 2020|

“We’re in the library, and we can see the flames right outside!” She was scared. We could hear it in her voice. We know her voice—the voice of our daughter. At the same time we knew her college campus was the safest place for her and her almost 3,000 fellow students. The 2018 Woolsey Fire spread more quickly than anyone anticipated—most of all fire personnel...

Straight Ahead

By |2020-06-16T09:02:32-04:00June 18th, 2020|

It used to take the steady eye and the firm hand of a farmer to drive a tractor or combine down straight rows. But even the best eyes would overlap rows, and by end of day even the strongest hands would be fatigued. But now there’s autosteer—a GPS-based technology that allows for accuracy to within one inch when planting, cultivating, and spraying. It’s incredibly efficient and hands-free...

My Father’s Child

By |2020-06-01T11:54:56-04:00June 4th, 2020|

They looked down at the faded photograph, then up at me, then over at my father, then back at me, then back at my father. Their eyes were as wide as the proverbial saucers. “Dad, you look just like Papa when he was young!” My father and I grinned because this was something we’d known for a long time, but it wasn’t until recently that my children came to the same realization...

Tell Me a Story

By |2020-05-11T11:52:36-04:00May 16th, 2020|

Once upon a time. Those four words just might be among the most powerful in the entire world. Some of my earliest memories as a boy contain a variation on that potent phrase. My mother came home one day with a large, hardcover illustrated edition of biblical stories—My Good Shepherd Bible Story Book...

Cheerful Givers

By |2020-04-01T16:42:19-04:00April 2nd, 2020|

Years ago, my wife received a small rebate from something she’d purchased. It wasn’t something she’d expected, it just showed up in the mail. About the same time, a good friend shared with her the immense needs of women in another country, entrepreneurial-minded women trying to better themselves by way of education and business. As is often the case, however, their first barrier was financial...

More than Meets the Eye

By |2020-03-04T12:12:09-05:00March 7th, 2020|

Attend any rodeo with riding and roping competition and you’ll see them—competitors with four fingers on one hand and a nub where their thumb should be. It’s a common injury in the sport—a thumb gets caught between a rope on one end and a decent-sized steer pulling on the other, and the thumb is usually the loser. It’s not a career-ending injury, but the absence of a thumb changes things...

We Are Dust

By |2020-02-06T12:36:13-05:00February 9th, 2020|

The young father was at the end of his rope. “Ice cream! Ice cream!” his toddler screamed. The meltdown in the middle of the crowded mall began drawing the attention of shoppers nearby. “Fine, but we just need to do something for mommy first, okay?” the father said. “Nooooo! Ice cream!” And then she approached them: a small, well-dressed woman with shoes that matched her handbag. “He’s having a big fit,” the father said...

Life to the Full

By |2020-01-29T16:19:04-05:00January 29th, 2020|

The year was 1918, near the end of World War I, and photographer Eric Enstrom was putting together a portfolio of his work. He wanted to include one that communicated a sense of fullness in a time that felt quite empty to so many people. In his now much-loved photo, a bearded old man sits at a table with his head bowed and his hands clasped in prayer...

A Lifestyle of Praise

By |2020-01-10T13:37:18-05:00January 12th, 2020|

Wallace Stegner’s mother died at the age of fifty. When Wallace was eighty, he finally wrote her a note—“Letter, Much Too Late”—in which he praised the virtues of a woman who grew up, married, and raised two sons in the harshness of the early Western United States. She was the kind of wife and mother who was an encourager, even to those that were less than desirable...