I don’t know how long I will remain in West Virginia. But I am beginning to understand why staying matters. Not because this place is perfect, but because I am not. And it is here—among these hills, these people, and these limits—that God is asking me to become someone new. Not somewhere else. Not someday... here.

There are seasons in life when faith cannot survive on borrowed language. What once felt familiar may begin to feel thin. Easy answers no longer satisfy. Religious habits that once gave comfort may begin to feel too small for the ache, beauty, grief, and wonder of actual life. And in that place, many people fear they are losing faith, when in truth they may be standing at the threshold of a deeper one. Not a smaller faith. Not a looser faith. Not a faith emptied of substance.