Does Evil Exist? 

(And What Do We Do About It?)

By Dennis Rirchie


The question came up recently: Does evil exist? Short answer: yes. Slightly longer answer: absolutely, and it’s been lurking since Genesis 3 when that snake convinced Adam and Eve that a bite of fruit was worth it (spoiler alert: it wasn’t). Evil entered the world when humanity chose rebellion over trust, and we’ve been dealing with the fallout ever since. Paul puts it plainly in Ephesians 6:12: “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” So yes—evil is real, but it’s not the final word.


Dante once wrote in The Inferno, “The darkest places in hell are reserved for those who maintain their neutrality in times of moral crisis.” Now, I’m not suggesting we all become sword-wielding crusaders (though that sounds kind of cool in a medieval movie sort of way). What I am saying is that we don’t get to sit on the sidelines. We are called to confront evil—not with fear, but with faith. Why? Because Jesus already defeated it. Colossians 2:15 says, “And having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.” Evil is real, but it’s also defeated.


The problem is, evil is sneaky. It shows up in temptation, injustice, bitterness, and sometimes even in our own thoughts. But God hasn’t left us defenseless. He’s handed us tools: prayer, Scripture, worship, community, and the power of the Holy Spirit. These aren’t “maybe-they’ll-work” tools; they’re battle-tested. When you pray, heaven moves. When you quote Scripture, lies lose their grip. When you worship, darkness trembles. And when we do it together? Evil doesn’t stand a chance.


So, does evil exist? Yes. But here’s the good news: so does resurrection. So does hope. So does Jesus. And He’s already handed us the victory. So let’s stop living in fear and start living in faith, fully equipped and fully confident in the One who’s already won the war. Now, excuse me while I go sharpen my sword of the Spirit (Ephesians 6:17)—figuratively speaking, of course.


Dreams, Detours, and the God Who Delivers

By Dennis Ritchie


Let’s talk about dreams. Not the ones where you show up to work in your pajamas or get chased by a talking raccoon (although, let’s be honest, those might be saying something too). I’m talking about life dreams. The ones that begin when we’re young—when we imagine ourselves curing cancer, becoming billionaires, or gifting mom and dad a mansion with a bowling alley and indoor petting zoo. But then something happens… something called adulthood. Suddenly, the dream shrinks. Now we just want to be happy. Pay our bills on time. Maybe keep a succulent alive. It’s like we traded in the rocket ship for a used lawn mower.


But what do we do when the dream doesn’t come true? When life smacks us with detours, delays, or flat-out dead ends? Do we bury it? Change it? Blame it on bad timing or really bad coffee? Here’s the thing—dreams that can be accomplished without God aren’t dreams. They’re tasks. They’re goals with a to-do list. Real dreams stretch beyond our reach. They require faith, resilience, and sometimes a whole lot of waiting in uncomfortable places—like Joseph in the Old Testament. You know, the guy with the coat and the dreams who ended up in a pit, then a prison, before finally landing in the palace. Joseph had every reason to tap out—but he didn’t. Why? Because his hope wasn’t in the dream. His hope was in the God who gave the dream.


Joseph believed in the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—the same God who gave the promise, and was faithful to keep it. Every setback was part of the setup. Every delay was a part of the design. He didn’t just chase the dream—he pursued God through the dream. And when everything around him fell apart, his faith held strong. Spoiler alert: the dream came true. But it didn’t just benefit Joseph—it saved a nation. That’s the kind of dream God gives. Big, bold, redemptive ones.


So next time you’re standing at the crossroads—should I give up, play it safe, settle down?—ask yourself a better question: Am I pursuing the dream more than I’m pursuing God? Because He’s the Dream-Giver, and trust me, He’s not in the business of wasting your passion. Lay your desires at the foot of the cross, and chase after God like He’s your last and only hope—because in the best possible way, He is. And when He starts directing your dream, buckle up. He will finish what He started. After all, He’s a man of His word.

What I Hope Is True?

By Dennis Ritchie


We all hope for things to be true. I hope coffee really does have health benefits. I hope traffic will be light when I’m running late (which is often). I hope my dogs understand English when I tell them to stop barking at the Amazon guy. We hope for peace in the world, fairness in our systems, and that Costco samples never go away. Some of those hopes are rooted in reality. Others… not so much. But beneath all those little daily hopes is a bigger question: What do I really hope is true? The kind of hope that anchors me when life throws me a sucker punch.


Here’s the thing: the world throws around “truth” like it’s on clearance. What’s “true for you” may not be “true for me,” and while that sounds nice at brunch, it falls apart pretty fast when life gets real. If truth is up for grabs, how do we build anything solid? That’s why I don’t hang my hope on the shifting sands of opinion or trends. I hang it on the rock-solid, time-tested, eternity-backed promises of God’s Word. Jesus said in John 17:17, “Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth.” Not a truth. Not your truth. The truth.


My hope isn’t some fingers-crossed, knock-on-wood, maybe-it’ll-work-out kind of thing. It’s not wishful thinking in a spiritual hoodie. It’s assurance. Hebrews 6:19 says, “We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” That’s the kind of hope I want—and need. A hope that doesn’t flinch when life throws punches. A hope rooted in the unchanging nature of God and His promises. Jesus is the embodiment of that hope. He doesn’t shift with the culture. He doesn’t adjust His message to win popularity contests. He’s the same yesterday, today, and forever—and that’s good news when everything else seems to be up for negotiation.


So, what do I hope is true? I hope grace is real, that broken things can be made whole, that love wins—not in a syrupy way, but in the cross-and-empty-tomb kind of way. And I don’t just hope these things are true—I believe them, because they’re grounded in the absolute, unfailing, sometimes-convicting-but-always-life-giving truth of God’s Word. And if that’s true (and I believe with everything in me that it is), then no matter what comes, I’ve got a hope that holds. Even on days when my dogs still bark at the Amazon guy.