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I’d love to be perfect, God, but we both know that’s not going to happen. Help me pass with a B+ is all I ask.
I remember a lot of things at night: the emails not answered, the deadlines missed, the cookies I shouldn’t have eaten. I am practicing remembering God’s name above all.
Before death and after death, O God, let us figure out who we and others really are—each unique to ourselves, not only seen through the lens of others.
Even when we are discouraged about the state of the world—especially when we are discouraged by the state of the world—we live by our best hopes and by God’s promise of love.
Hurting people need to know that lament is not the absence of faith. Folx need to know that it is okay to cry out in pain when God’s promised protection is not evident.
Christianity isn’t about our doing or achievements. It’s about a love that loves us first—a persistent, intrusive, relentless, reckless love, like a flaming arrow.
I like to imagine us all as sparrows and swallows, finding little corners of this sacred space to make our homes—a divine ecosystem, all happy to dwell under the same roof.
The real call to sacrificial giving rests on those who have much: not just pennies on the floor of the minivan or change from a cappuccino. What’s your giving temperament?
The debate remains if inhospitality to immigrants is 'who we are' as a nation. But it is not who our God is. Our God prioritizes the needy and 'the safety for which they long.'
I think rationality is overrated. I doubt we can motor through a single day unless, as Lewis Carroll wrote, we are willing to believe six impossible things before breakfast.