Perhaps this Thursday, we can all sit, mourn, and honor the peoples who cultivated the earth under our feet, who cared for the animals, and one another. Perhaps as illness rampages across the country we will finally begin to comprehend in the tiniest way how a virus can change the way we work, live, eat, and gather. Perhaps we begin to repent. Perhaps we begin to know gratitude in our repentance.
Read MoreRead MoreWild hope dares me to keep believing, lean in. It is the “John the Baptist” kind of wild. I throw prayers, dreams, visions back to God, asking for answers, peace, and justice. I imagine John the Baptist, bearded, eyes alert, bearing witness to culture, anticipating a new way of living. He paces, dreaming – speaking – driven by calling. Yeah, that’s the same category of wild, I think.