The substance of small things I’ve seen
Hope and change mean something different to me now than they did in 2009.
God of breath and gravity
“Who is God?” Today, God is the rising and falling of my chest.
Stretched between life’s verses
The future is scary: we simply don’t know, and it flies toward us anyway.
Being salt
When I got into cooking, it changed the way I understand Jesus’ statement, “You are the salt of the earth.”
Cycling my way to peace
Turning the pedals over again and again, I began to feel the fullness of who I am and how I was made.
What’s special about a church building?
How many buildings do we pass by in our daily lives where we could simply walk in, sit down, and participate?
Can inclusive churches grow and thrive?
When my spouse’s church became more affirming, the major givers left.
The patron saint of in-between things
Having grown up as a Black-mixed kid, I can relate to Moses’ upbringing as not quite Hebrew and not quite Egyptian.
No longer Black or White?
Perhaps the neither/nor of Galatians 3 isn’t really about moving beyond specific identities.
Can dead things live again?
When the widow in Luke 7 sees her son revived, she isn’t thinking about biology.
Living by kinship, not consumption
When I’m tempted to click “Add to cart,” I hear creation groaning.
Transformed by the dog I never wanted
She’s helping me answer the question, “Why this life instead of another?”
The novelist and the theologian
I’m trying to live as Haruki Murakami writes: with questions but not an end in mind.
Did God intend for Adam and Eve to live forever?
Maybe immortality is about more than not being dead.
