Bunny's Burrow: Hopping into Life

  Not Answers, but Better Questions: What an Unknown Molecule Taught Me Tea & Telescope — A current story that made me stop, smile, and wonder. Put the kettle on, my lovely lot. Every so often, science does something wonderfully humbling. It discovers something it can't explain. This week, astronomers using the James Webb Space Telescope detected the same mysterious chemical fingerprint on both Pluto and Titan . Not a photograph of some strange glowing object. A tiny missing sliver of infrared light. An absorption line at about 5.11 micrometers . Think of it as a fingerprint in light that doesn't match anything scientists currently recognize. That's what fascinated me. Not that they found something mysterious. But that they were willing to say: "We don't know what it is yet." Oddly enough, that's my favorite kind of science. Not because unanswered questions are comfortable. ...

Following the Records — Case 005: The Quiet Evidence Why good investigations are built from ordinary records, not extraordinary claims. Put the kettle on, my lovely lot.  Last time, in Case 004 , we talked about following the records instead of following the headlines. That idea has been rattling around in my head ever since. Not because it's flashy. Quite the opposite. It's wonderfully... boring. And I mean that as one of the highest compliments I can give an investigation. Television has convinced us that mysteries are solved by dramatic confessions, surprise witnesses, or one miraculous fingerprint found at exactly the right moment. Real investigations usually look far less exciting. They're built from deeds. Receipts. Permits. Emails. Maps. Meeting minutes. Tax filings. Thousands of ordinary little records that were never created to solve a mystery... ...yet quietly end up telling one. There's a phrase I've started scrib...

Not Distant, but Near: When God Moved Into the Neighborhood From Babel to Bethel, from the Temple to the Cross, the Bible keeps telling the same story: God moves first. My lovely lot... I honestly didn't expect four posts about ancient bricks, temple curtains, and sleepy shepherds to turn into a little series. 😂 But here we are. Kettle on. Tea in hand. Following a thread that keeps leading somewhere beautiful. If you're just joining us, here's the path we've wandered together: Not Towers, but Contracts: What Ziggurats Were Really For Not Towers, but Covenants: Why the New Jerusalem Comes Down Not Ladders, but Gates: What Jacob Saw at Bethel Not Veils, but Welcome: What Changed When the Curtain Tore It began with ancient ziggurats. Then a city that came down instead of us climbing up. Then a gate already standing open while Jacob slept on a stone. Then a curtain that tore from top to bottom. Every stop seemed to whisper the...

Not Veils, but Welcome: What Changed When the Curtain Tore From Babel to Bethel, from the Temple to the Cross, the Bible keeps telling the same story: God moves first. My lovely lot, over the last few weeks we've been following a thread that I honestly didn't expect to become a series. It started with ancient ziggurats. Not simply as impressive towers... But as visible covenants. If you missed that rabbit trail, you can catch up here: Not Towers, but Contracts: What Ziggurats Were Really For . Then we wandered into the Book of Revelation , where something unexpected happened. The New Jerusalem didn't rise toward heaven. Heaven came down to us. That conversation is here if you'd like to read it: Not Towers, but Covenants: Why the New Jerusalem Comes Down . Then we traveled even further back. To a frightened man named Jacob , asleep on a stone, discovering that the gate of heaven had been open long before he ever arrived. You can read that o...

Not Ladders, but gates: What Jacob Saw at Bethel Reading Genesis 28 through the same covenant-mountain lens that changed how I see Revelation. Over the last couple of posts, we've been following an interesting thread. It started with ancient ziggurats. Not as towers... But as visible reminders of covenant. If you missed that one, you can read it here: Not Towers, but Contracts: What Ziggurats Were Really For . From there we wandered into the Book of Revelation , where the New Jerusalem doesn't rise toward heaven—it comes down from it. If you'd like to catch up, you can read that here: Not Towers, but Covenants: Why the New Jerusalem Comes Down . That left me with another question. Because somewhere between Babel and the New Jerusalem sits a man asleep in the wilderness... ...using a rock as his pillow. I've always pictured Jacob's dream as a glowing ladder stretching into heaven. Angels going up. Angels coming down. Almost like a hea...

Not Towers, but Covenants: Why the New Jerusalem Comes Down Reading the Book of Revelation through the lens of ancient covenant mountains changes everything. Last time , I argued that ancient ziggurats weren't really towers. They were covenants made visible. That's a strange sentence the first time you hear it. But it's a little like saying a wedding ring is just a piece of metal. Technically... Sure. But everyone knows that's not what the ring means . 🤔 The same thing happened with the ancient ziggurats of Mesopotamia . We often describe them as stepped temple towers. That's accurate. It's also incomplete. They were places where heaven and earth were understood to meet, where the relationship between the divine, the king, the city, and the land was renewed through worship and stewardship. They weren't simply buildings. They were visible reminders that a relationship still existed. That thought stayed with me. Because...

Not Towers, but Contracts: What Ziggurats Were Really For Ask someone what a ziggurat is and they'll probably tell you it's an ancient temple tower. That's true. It's also a little like saying a wedding ring is just a piece of metal. Technically correct. But it completely misses the point. 🤔 The more I've been reading Mesopotamian archaeology, royal inscriptions, temple records, and mythology, the more I've started wondering if we're asking the wrong question. We tend to describe ziggurats by what they looked like. Massive. Stepped. Built from millions of mud bricks. Impressive feats of Bronze Age engineering. All of that is true. But ancient people rarely built something this expensive simply because it looked impressive. Every civilization pours enormous amounts of time, labor, and resources into the things it believes keep the world together. So maybe the better question isn't, "What...