Matthew

We are instructed to love our enemies—not necessarily to forgive them.

As I read the headline yesterday, my heart began to pound and my throat closed up: “School Clerk In Georgia Persuaded Gunman To Lay Down Weapons.” This was a good story—ultimately a hopeful one—but all I could see was “school” and “gunman."

James Cowan's book follows the Holy Family's path through Egypt. It is anchored in numerous conversations with monks, nuns, guides and fellow pilgrims.

Isaiah gives voice to God. God is amazed at our epistemic closure.

Sometimes we grow weary of the same texts as they come up year after year. We may even suggest that maybe this year we should not do the Christmas pageant, but a different story instead.

Bad idea.

“I’m a Christian,” said my oldest daughter, seven-year-old Miriam. 

“Really?” I replied. “So what makes you believe that you are a Christian?”

“Because I love God, God loves me, and I know Jesus came back to life after dying on the cross.”

How do we move from Jesus' core ethical mandate to the complex issues we face in the modern world?

The Old Testament and gospel readings for Epiphany function as point and counterpoint. Isaiah offers a word of great comfort to those who have been so long in darkness. Impoverished as the hearers have been, honor and fortune are on their way. It's a message of rejoicing: the light that has dawned will make all who see it radiant.

The Old Testament and gospel readings for Epiphany function as point and counterpoint. Isaiah offers a word of great comfort to those who have been so long in darkness. Impoverished as the hearers have been, honor and fortune are on their way. It's a message of rejoicing: the light that has dawned will make all who see it radiant.

Each week my church includes a prayer for the families of American soldiers who have died. As the names are read, I try to hold them in prayer. But I have wrestled with these prayers.

I decided our family's Christmas would be simple and spirit-centered. Green to parenting, I defined spiritual as anything that allowed me a minute to reflect on what, beyond the laundry, mattered.

On Sundays, my mother stayed home and read the paper. Yet she insisted that we kids go to church.

It’s scary. Sometimes, we Scrappers have to swallow our pride in order to start working with the institution that turned us away. Often, Scrappers develop autonomy and a certain voice that we fear we'll lose if we move into partnership with an established organization. We worry that the structure will steal our ideas and they'll have the money and power to pull them off—without us. 

I shared today in church a few of parables from Matthew 13: mustard seed, yeast, treasure, pearl. I tried to just tell them as stories: very little editorial commentary or explanation, just the stories.