Yes, my soul belongs to my faithful Lord and Savior. But what does it mean that my body belongs to Christ?

One of our young sons eagerly bounded ahead toward the longstanding neighborhood gathering point—a beloved community garden—and then sputtered to a hard stop.

I hope April 8, 2024, is a sunny day here in East Palmyra, N.Y. If it is, I’ll have the opportunity to view a solar eclipse from within the “path of totality.”

I believe inclusion is one of the foremost things Jesus taught during his ministry on earth.

Preparing to say goodbye, Papa said, “Let’s sing our song before we leave.” Our song? Tilting my head and squinting his way, I wondered, “What song?”

The two criminals crucified with Jesus (Luke 23:39-43) are a microcosm of humanity under suffering.

During adolescence my view of my mother’s occupation as a stay-at-home mom turned to the judgmental conclusion that she was not living up to her potential.

To be honest, I’ve always thought it was a bit of an odd tradition.

Our Lord and Savior was an ordinary guy who did ordinary work for most of his life.

One of the things I’m (re)learning is that fasting is one of the most helpful disciplines for listening to God and discerning his will during difficult or divided times.

I learned a lesson recently: the art of asking, in the face of seemingly impossible obstacles, “What can I do?” This takes my focus from the barriers to what is possible.

The story of the Gävle in Sweden helps us see that since the very beginning, Christmas has been under siege. In large and small ways, we’re all guilty of shooting flaming arrows.

Sometimes a single word can make a difference and give us things to think about.

We often view receiving gifts—especially of assistance, necessities or financial help—as signs of weakness.

It’s difficult, when we want to create an atmosphere of trust and good will, to recognize that we also need to be aware of the ways that sin can lurk unseen among us.

“I shouldn’t be here…” For the last three-plus years, this phrase has reverberated in my head more than once.

Honoring Native American heritage feels differently for me as a new immigrant at this particular time in history.

We are to be God’s ambassadors of reconciliation, showing how a world so bent on murdering each other can be shown how to love each other and even to do the impossible in loving our enemies.

A good pastor is hard to find—in art, at least, if not life.

Would it be better to toss denominations into the ash heap of history? I don’t think so.

It’s a fairly common experience for a waitress to ignore me and only talk to the non-disabled person I’m dining with.

An Indigenous Cree and follower of Creator Sets Free (Jesus) reflects on the two lenses needed to consider the news of “no human remains found” at a Canadian residential school.

If we use our imagination, it’s possible to see loon calls as symbols of our calls to and from God. The more I explore them, the more similarities I see.