Sunday morning I got up early and drove about an hour down I-95 to hear Rachel Held Evans preach at Christ Church in Greenwich, Connecticut, where she was speaking as a part of their very cool Courage and Faith series. Her sermon came from the story of Jesus healing the blind man in John 9….
light matters I stopped at the sink to rinse out my coffee cup at the very instant that the rising sun shot anticipatory flames of color from below the horizon, igniting the clouds with incendiary hope for just a minute . . . . Before I could call you to the window the fire had…
I didn’t write over the weekend because I made a trip back to Durham, North Carolina to take care of some business and see some friends. I am grateful that the necessity of the former offered the gift of the latter. Since I had some things that needed to get from Guilford to Durham, I…
Uncle Howard and I met for breakfast again this morning, as has been my lenten custom thus far, and he woke me with these words: Again and again, we are impressed with the fact that little things can make big differences. A little act of kindness at a moment of great need makes all the…
I read some more of Howard Thurman’s Deep is the Hunger on the train to New York this morning, and found myself trying to imagine what he sounded like by the tone of his writing, which has a centering nature about it. I called my friend Kenny tonight, who studied with Thurman in the late…
Bryan is one of the folks who was a part of the youth group at University Baptist Church in Fort Worth back when I was Youth Minster. He mentioned in a post that today marked the thirtieth anniversary of the release of U2’s The Joshua Tree. In a comment, one of his friends told how…
palm reader I’ve been staring at my palm: the little litany of lines that runs from wrist to thumb, the deep-rutted roads like poorly-planned highways across a desert of aging skin— dry riverbeds: canyons carved by age and action, crossed and connected by the lesser lines, faded reminders of days when dreams roamed these valleys…
Today has been grey and damp here along the Shoreline, as they call this part of Connecticut. As I lave been reading and writing, I have also been listening to songs that have been a part of my soundtrack this winter–some old, some new; each one providing a necessary note in the melody of my…
Howard Thurman was my traveling companion on the train to work this morning, and he greeted me with these words: It is small wonder that all religions that are ethically sensitive place a great emphasis upon the corrosive effects of pride upon the human spirit. . . . The most obvious basis for pride is…
While the tale of how we suffer, and how we are delighted, and how we may triumph is never new, it must always be shared. There isn’t any other tale to tell; its the only light we’ve got in this darkness. (James Baldwin, “Sonny’s Blues” quoted in The Art of Time in Fiction: As Long…