I zoomed in, and in, and in, until I could closely see the cuts and curves of a blade of wild grass. Everything behind it blurred and blended into the background. Chiggers gnawed at my ankles as I circled around the shot, trying to capture the desired hue of orange and magenta bursting through the empty spaces in the frame.
Read MoreIt’s the age old question.
It’s the question that keeps me up at night, begging me to think of anything, anything else. It turns my stomach into knots, tightening, twisting until I think I’ll be sick. I've studied it. I've dissected it. I’ve theologized it. I’ve shoved it under the rug and washed my hands of it a thousand times.
Read MoreThe day after the funeral is the hardest. The days following the death of a loved one are overflowing with friends and family, phone calls and text messages, meals and cards and hugs and stories. But the day after the funeral, it all stops.
Read MoreSometimes at night I wake up in horror, dreaming about the sound of a metronome clicking back and forth, back and forth. My mom was convinced that piano lessons would be the thing that made me an intelligent, cultured and well rounded human being. For that reason, I hated Tuesdays. Every week for five years, I dragged my feet behind me as I walked from the car to Mrs. Binder’s house.
Read MoreHave you ever used the expression “if these walls could talk”? Sometimes I think that the walls in a pastor’s office could tell the kinds of stories that make for great movies and best selling novels. They could tell beautiful stories of redemption and courage, where good people in bad situations overcome difficult odds. These are the kinds of stories where the Spirit’s presence is undeniable and God’s purposes revealed in new and significant ways. Still, there are thicker and darker moments that hold confessions of grief, envy and doubt. In those moments, people let go of secrets and dissonant emotions in wavering whispers.
Read MoreGloria’s hair reminded me of Goldilocks. She had tight, perfectly golden, set curls. She looked exactly how you might imagine someone named Gloria would look. She was 65-years-old, plump, with rosy red cheeks. She had on white fuzzy slippers, and a pink terrycloth robe.
Read MoreDo you have a category of Christians you think are wrong?
Maybe Wrong Christian belongs to the opposite political party. Maybe Wrong Christian won’t attend a church where there is female leadership. Maybe Wrong Christian dresses in revealing clothing. Maybe Wrong Christian cares about the environment. Maybe Wrong Christian doesn’t care about the environment. Maybe Wrong Christian doesn’t care about social justice. Maybe Wrong Christian cares about social justice.
Read MoreThe idea for this blog has been brewing in my head for about six years. That's when I purchased the domain. The concept, sustainable theology, was inspired by Chicago, cows, creation and preparing for childbirth. For the first time in my life, I was starting to see the story God was writing, and I realized I was a teeny, tiny, minor character in the greater narrative. I was beginning to see that my story mattered, and I was capable of living a great one!
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