Stories of a previous generation help the next to see the flesh and blood of humanity.
As I Was Saying
How do we curb the ability of individuals to take the Bible and seem to use it to advance any and every idea and agenda?
What if, in the dance that is our life, God performs an aerial? In that moment, all we have is his hands holding us up while we go flying and the room spins around us.
As we grab hold of old toys, games, and photos, we reminisce about stories that have shaped us over the past decade. We’ve found ourselves echoing Marie Kondo’s phrase about only keeping that which “sparks joy.”
Praying for the president has gotten an unusual amount of press lately.
Rachel articulated with grace and beauty so many things I had felt and experienced in my faith journey and continuous struggles with doubt. Her words empowered me and other women in ministry.
There is a reason that the most beautiful thing, the visual aesthetic referenced so often in Scripture to evoke loveliness beyond the ordinary or even the physical, is the bride arrayed. For what could be more glorious than someone beloved?
Within our churches, there is a general pushback against charging Christians with dismantling racism. The fear of white supremacy is considered to be overblown, and talking about racism is equated with progressive theology outside of the bounds of Christian orthodoxy.
Sometimes serving Jesus invites us into a holy madness that makes little sense to the world.
I’m learning to discern the difference between healthy accountability in using my gifts and vainglorious martyrdom.
Although I cannot yet see the fruition, beneath the surface seeds are already germinating, preparing to poke their heads out of the soil when the time is right, bursting forth into new plants. Within weeks, buds and leaves will appear on the same trees that now look so dim. Rain will fall, the puddles becoming homes for small frogs. By the middle of June, flowers will abound.
Was Jesus’ death on the cross a form of divine child abuse?
Should we celebrate that parks are cleaner, that creativity is blossoming, that local business is thriving? Or should we mourn that the most vulnerable members of our city are quietly being forced out of their homes as rents shoot up and homes become less and less affordable? Can we do both?
Are we using a season designed for contemplation of the holy to alleviate our own insecurities about our bodies, our work ethic, our personal health? And if so, is it time, as we’ve done with Christmas, to take stock of what the “true meaning” of Lent really is?
Congregations may look like organizations in which market-based strategies apply, but these strategies are never going to capture the full range of what they do or how they can best be supported.
As I see it, morality is at the center of God’s heart; it always has been and always will be. If so, we need to rediscover its beauty and power.
This question haunts me: Will we surrender our third third to Jesus? If we won’t, our broken world will lose; sadly, so will we.
Against the backdrop of glittering white twinkle lights strung along the living room walls and quiet piano music played by a pianist I’d hired the day before, the painful story spilled forth.
When we reject God and follow our own purposes, ugliness results. These ugly stories hold up a mirror to show us how sin looks
What do we do when our culture provides us with a counter-narrative to the one in Scripture, one that, on the surface, appears far more alluring, satisfying, and fulfilling than the one that Scripture offers?
The annual practice of setting New Year’s resolutions has taught me that my sins and failings, even those that come before January 12, will not be the end of me. In Jesus Christ and through the Spirit, God is more faithful than I have yet to imagine.
Every Christ follower has the potential to be a multiplying agent for the kingdom.
What may look like a simple move in the search of a good outcome—when the moral stakes are so high—will almost certainly have profound unintended consequences.
We don’t often think of Advent as looming. But here is a time of darkness, preceding the Redeemer’s birth into a dark and cold night.