“Beloved.” “Forgiven.” “Perfect.” Those aren't easy words to swallow, given the pig stalls I’ve slopped. Those aren't expressions I would expect to hear from the inside of a whale's belly. Those aren't terms I would describe myself considering the wildernesses I marched into, rebellious head held high until beaten down by the sun of shame. But the story – my story – is His story. And that’s the only one that needs to be to told. Read more