Katherine Willis Pershey

With every cycle of our respiratory systems, we are sustained by the same intimate inspiration God exhaled into Adam’s muddy lungs. That breath permeates every cell of our being, nose to toes, invigorating our bodies and minds and souls until it is ready to be released, silently, from the same nostrils through which it came. This is as ordinary as oxygen and carbon dioxide, and as extraordinary as spirit and miracle.

I got the epidural. As the pain receded, I felt an ache of disappointment settle in.

I was drying dishes and absentmindedly singing the song that had been stuck in my head for days when my husband suddenly came barreling down the staircase and into the kitchen. Looking frantic, he asked me what had happened. We were both confused; he was convinced that I had cried out in pain, and he fully expected to walk in on a grisly cooking incident. We quickly realized the source of the miscommunication. The song I’d been singing was Lady Gaga’s “Judas,” and I sounded like a lady in distress as I belted out, “Judas, Juda-a-a.”

Casting lots to determine how to fill an apostolic vacancy? Really?

Anxiety has a way of turning otherwise faithful Christians into foxhole atheists. I'm too busy worrying to pray.

Impulsively, I e-mailed three other clergywomen and invited them to participate in a writing group. Their responses came quickly and enthusiastically: Yes. I'm in. I need this.

I was ordained to the Disciples denomination. But I'm serving in a congregation of the UCC, and the plan is to be here for a good long while. So what to do about baptizing our children?

When I saw the National Back to Church Sunday video, I immediately posted it on my Facebook wall with a one-word comment: "Lovely." Then the debate began.

There was a lot to celebrate at the recent Pride parades. But while I support gay rights, I'm oddly unenthusiastic about the prospect of my own denomination considering a resolution to become open and affirming.

When mission organizations send out promotional materials, they don't usually include missionary ruminations like Heather Hendrick's. She exposes her faith, doubt, frustration and hope with equal courage.

There's an interesting variation between the New International and New Revised Standard versions of Isaiah 63:9. The NIV expresses quite beautifully that "the angel of his presence saved them," while the NRSV contends that "it was no messenger or angel but his presence that saved them." Both convey Isaiah's revelation that God does not plan to redeem creation by force, by tinkering with free will, or from afar. God redeems creation by becoming one of us, by drawing near to us and being with us.

For the first five years of my ministry, I served a small church bereft of young children. Christmas presented the perfect opportunity to delve into the mystery of the incarnation; our Christmas Eve services dripped with candle wax and Christology. In my new call as an associate pastor at a large suburban congregation, I'm responsible for the Christmas Eve pageant.

In the Bible, God--or sometimes God's messenger--often implores freaked-out men and women not to be afraid. It's a standard divine greeting, a nicety to allay the pulse-quickening shock of receiving a message from heaven. Frequently the commandment stands alone: Fear not, period. Sometimes it's stitched to an object or person: Do not be afraid of _____.