The mission of IdaHope Christian Writers (ICW) is to provide support, hope, and guidance for people who desire to pursue the writing craft. We strive to foster a community for creatives who will contribute to a faith-filled, nurturing environment.

  • General IdaHope

    2025 Rooted Contest Poetry Winner

    Rooted, I Rise Again by Kimba Christian I’ve walked through fire before, and I did not burn. Praise God! I faced the eye of the storm and was not consumed. Hallelujah! I’ve been pressed by weight I thought would crush me—but it didn’t. Thank You, Jesus! And today, rooted in Him, I rise again. I will walk with purpose.I will speak with grace.I will tend to what matters, and let go of what does not.I will honor this life God gave me, not by hustling to earn it, but by receiving it with reverence and joy. I will breathe deeply, confident in who my Father is. I will not shrink back. The…

  • General IdaHope

    2025 Rooted Nonfiction Winner

    Rooted by the River by Lana Usilton From Eden’s garden to eternity, the river of God flows—winding its way through history and carrying the story of God’s love. A love that relentlessly pursues relationship with those He made in His likeness. God in His majesty spoke the sun, moon, stars, and our world into existence. But He showed careful tenderness when He made our first parents. God shaped man from the dust of the ground “and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.” (Genesis 2:7). God named the man Adam and placed him into a garden.  God’s garden is a masterpiece, planted in…

  • General IdaHope

    2025 Rooted Contest Fiction Winner

    Postcard Promises by Allison Cook A solitary star shines in the pre-dawn sky as I cinch my backpack until it’s almost too tight. Gear inspection: bear spray, sleeping bag, Dad’s ashes. Check, check, check.  There’s only one other person at the trailhead: a tiny twenty-something brunette, who beckons as I try to sneak past. “You’re from Kansas?” She points to my old Silverado. Her eyebrow hitches when she notices the plates: L0NW0LF.  I nod and avoid eye contact.  “Be careful up there,” she warns. “The weather can change on a dime.” “Thanks,” I grunt with a dismissive wave. When I pass the mud brown trail sign, I tap it twice…