Secret Gardens, Hollow Logs, and Thorny Roses

Most of us have felt it: that small, persistent tug of curiosity that whispers,
“Is there more just beyond what I already think I know?”

This space exists because I couldn’t ignore that tug.

SinglePurpose.Life is a kind of secret garden—not in the sense of being hidden from you, but in the sense that it’s grown out of the private places of my own walk with God: questions, corrections, convictions, and discoveries that didn’t fit neatly into a sermon outline or a social media caption.

This page is a longer companion to An Invitation to Wander.
That short piece is the front gate.
This one is the tour: what kind of garden you’re walking into, and why some of the plants have thorns.

Secret Gardens

Digital gardens are different from blogs or books. They don’t move in a straight line. You don’t start at page one and dutifully march toward The End. You wander.

This particular garden is:

• Scripture-heavy – many notes are built around specific passages or themes.
• Interlinked – ideas point to each other instead of living in isolation.
• In-progress on purpose – some entries are seedlings, some saplings, some more “evergreen.”

Over time, the garden has become a kind of externalized conscience and memory:

• verses that refused to leave me alone,
• doctrines I realized I had inherited without testing,
• warnings I had softened in my own mind until the text forced me to stop.

So as you explore, don’t look for a polished curriculum. Think instead of wandering through someone’s study, where the Bible is open on the desk, sticky notes are everywhere, and some things are still mid-wrestle.

Hollow Logs

When I was a kid, the woods behind my house were my real education in exploration.

Every fallen log was an invitation:
Do you want to see what’s under here?

Sometimes it was nothing.
Sometimes it was ants.
Sometimes it was something that made me jump back and rethink my life choices.

Was it risky? A little.
Messy? Always.
Worth it? Absolutely.

Those woods taught me at least three things that now shape how I study Scripture—and how I write here:

1. The best discoveries don’t sit on the sidewalk.
   You find them when you step off the obvious path and start asking,
   “What does this verse actually say, and what assumptions am I dragging into it?”

2. Surprises are part of the process.
   Not every hollow log holds treasure, but you don’t know which ones do until you look.
   Some rabbit trails here will lead to big “aha” moments; others will simply help you see your prior view more clearly.

3. Caution is not the same as fear.
   In the woods, you learn to lift logs with care.
   In Scripture, you learn to handle context, language, and doctrine with the same careful respect.

This garden is full of hollow logs: articles on timelines, word studies, doctrinal puzzles, and uncomfortable warning passages. You’re invited to pick them up and look underneath with me.

Thorny Roses

Not everything in this garden is soft and ornamental. Some things grow here with thorns—hard passages, sharp warnings, truths that still sting when I read them.

They are planted with the same intention as the most beautiful rose: love.

A rose that never grew thorns would be handled carelessly; in the same way, a gospel that never cuts would never save. If you brush against something here and it pierces you, don’t assume you’ve been attacked; it may be that you’ve just bumped into something beautiful with sharp edges.

A few examples of those “thorny roses” you’ll see repeated:

• Passages like 1 Corinthians 6, Galatians 5, 1 John, Hebrews 10, and Matthew 7 taken at face value, not filed down to fit our comfort.
• Honest examinations of “positional” language that has been used as a shield against practical obedience.
• Walkthroughs of places where our traditions (including mine) have quietly overridden the text.

These aren’t here to rob genuine believers of assurance. They’re here to:

• unsettle easy clichés about grace that leave people in ongoing rebellion,
• expose “dead works” that coexist comfortably with pornography, bitterness, or secret sin,
• and let Scripture speak in full, not just in carefully selected fragments.

If your faith is real, those thorns will make you cling more tightly to Christ.
If your faith is imaginary, I pray they tear the illusion before judgment does.

How to Use This Garden

A few practical suggestions:

• Don’t read linearly.
  Jump via links. Follow themes. Start with whatever bothers you or draws you.

• Don’t outsource your discernment.
  Compare everything here with Scripture. You should never agree with me “by default.”

• Notice your reactions.
  Comfort, conviction, resistance, curiosity—your internal response is part of how God may be dealing with you.

• Let tension sit for a while.
  Some notes raise questions without wrapping them in a bow. That’s intentional. Real growth often happens in the unresolved space.

If you want a more direct summary of my starting point and approach, read: What to Expect Here.

Why Bother?

Because wandering with intention is different from drifting without purpose.

“Not all who wander are lost” may be a cliché,
but it’s still true in one important sense:
the willingness to revisit what you think you know, under the light of God’s Word,
is often where real discipleship begins.

This garden is my record of that process—my secret paths, hollow logs, and thorny roses.

You’re welcome to walk through.
What you take with you is between you and the One who planted the first seed.