Editor's Desk

In a recent public conversation, I was touched by Richard Mouw's kindness and civility. It gave me hope for my church.

I have great respect and gratitude for our democratic system. But my respect and gratitude are being tried.

I'm on the fence about military action in Syria. So I do what those of us on the fence ought to be doing: I pray.

World Communion Sunday is one of the best ideas Presbyterians ever had. But it doesn't seem to be considered as important as it once was.

I wanted to join a group of pastors going to the March on Washington. But I had young children—and no money for bus fare and meals—so I didn’t. I've rued it ever since.

I think and convey ideas more clearly at a desk with a pen in hand than I do on my feet in front of a group of listeners. That’s why books about writing and reading occupy much of my time.

I support my church's requirement that retired clergy stay away. But nobody warned me how much I would miss all this—or if they did, I wasn't listening.

In this world of constant change, one thing remains predictable: the WSJ will never miss an opportunity to bash mainline churches.

It has been a season of losses. I've been reminded of the importance of knowing how to respond, and how not to.

My hope is that those of us who rely on the Century today will create the financial strength to guarantee that there will be a Century in the future.

Wrigley Field and Fourth Presbyterian Church both opened in 1914. It's the perfect image of my lifelong connection to God and baseball.

Graduation season reminds me that you can do a whole lot worse than give your heart to a college.

I recently watched my granddaughter and other teens with Down syndrome perform Shakespeare—with emotion, wit and passion.

Each autumn, Fourth Presbyterian Church's sanctuary is full to overflowing with Jewish worshipers attending High Holy Days observances.

Both Thomas Jefferson and Lyndon Johnson were vastly talented and deeply flawed. And both understood power.

Most media representations of the biblical story are too literal. In the effort to get the story's details right, the storyteller misses the point.

Most pastors take a break after Holy Week and Easter Day. But I've always felt that the weeks after Easter are the most important of the year.

The years I spent preaching Easter brought me closer to the heart of resurrection news. They drove me deeper into the gospel.

The church of my childhood paid no attention to Lent. The season's words sounded too mystical to us, too strange and too Catholic.

It’s time for bold, creative experiments in preparing women and men for the unique challenges of 21st-century ministry.