First Person
A story about finding a new story
I had the classic Texas Baptist starter package. I went to Carl’s shop to trade it in.
The housed, the homeless, and the right to be somewhere
Faced with someone trying to deny me shelter from the rain, I thought, are you kidding?
My church and its two different Lents
Our lives are overstuffed, and we desperately need to fast.
At the deathbed of a man who cared for others
Every week, Cameron visited the lonely and afflicted. Now I’m visiting him.
A preacher and an ironworker
During seminary, I spent my summer breaks building bridges.
A story of two leaky bodies
In Mark 5, a hemorrhaging woman meets a permeable savior.
My time at a refugee camp in Malakasa
It was easy for me to get to Greece. But Europe's system of borderless travel only applies to some.
How do you hold together your trans identity and your life of faith?
Nine trans Christians tell their stories.
Holy crumbs for a holy world
As the children make their way out the door, trails of leftover communion bread go with them.
Why I stay: A prayer
Because my yearning comes from somewhere, and that somewhere must be you.
Planting garlic at the cusp of the seasons
All hands join in to get 40,000 pungent cloves into the ground.
Bearing God in Advent
As I lifted the chalice, the baby began to play soccer under my ribs.
How I learned to love Thérèse of Lisieux
At first I found the "little flower" insufferable. Then I read her unedited writing.
Recipes for a revolution
The More-with-Less cookbook called for responsible eating long before it was cool.
A freelance wedding that didn't fit my script
The gig seemed fairly routine. Then I saw the parrots.
Showing up for racial reconciliation
As a young white pastor, I learned the value of working with black organizations—and not trying to be in charge.
Exchanging letters with people in hell
My state has the same number of churches as prisoners. This fact haunts me.
A church for the kids: Why I still care about denominational politics
Denominational meetings can be difficult. My Sunday school class reminds me what's at stake.
Sister Everard's silence
We thought her only stern and rigorous and dry—until one afternoon in October.
What is the Amazon bookstore for?
Amazon sells books at their brick-and-mortar stores, but that's not why they want me to come.