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Your belief that you’re supposed to accomplish it all—end racism, fix the environment, overcome all your issues, whatever—before you die? It’s not going to work out.
In intercessory prayer, we are placing those we care about in God’s hands—and relaxing our own grip.
Where is our citizenship? To whom do we pledge our first allegiance? What is the color, the face of liberty? Who gets to taste the sweetness of country?
Arrogance converts our fears to venomous hate. Confidence transforms our fears into audacious courage.
How funny of God to create an ostrich with the ability to run like hell and the tendency to bury its head in the sand. Probably we have all tried these two solutions to problems.
The cosmos is not separate from you or outside of you. You are it. You are God’s love. That’s what Jesus came to reveal, then and now.
It’d be a good thing to adopt contrition as a way of life, not just an occasional response to a particular sin. The best heart to have would be an always contrite heart.
Not all anger is poison. Anger can be holy fuel to right the world’s wrongs. But I can’t fool myself: not all my anger is holy. A lot of my anger is poison.
Perfectionism may leave us paralyzed, afraid to do anything for fear of getting it wrong. My tangle with this word, perfected, distracts me from the truth: God is love.
There is no valid appreciation of what God has given us, without the inclusion of foreigners: those who are in our neighborhoods and those who are at our borders.