Read MoreWild fierce announcing
Not the light witness of light
Anxiety gone
Read MoreNot unusually, I am sitting in the living room, writing. It’s 5:30 a.m. My 10 year old girl plops down by my side, reading her novel, and listening to the morning news with me. The day isn’t off and running, yet. We enjoy quiet morning moments, interrupted most often by two Labrador retrievers wrestling.
Read MoreAdvent’s exiles rarely sit in chairs at churches, or enter meaningful conversations with people wearing “What Would Jesus Do” bracelets. Advent’s exiles gather in homes to watch football, laugh at themselves, make cookies for neighbors, often speak English and another language, watch political news because it’s personal. Mostly, Advent’s exiles work hard, put their noses to the grind to make ends meet, and find time for family.
Read 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.
It Still Hurts: a theology of hopelessness
Churchy Sermon Sundays are focused on James the “Just”, with the latest monologue on the subject of generosity. None of it is relevant. Or, maybe it all should be relevant. I don’t know. Despair surges past our hope.
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