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Mrs. Harrison is the first teacher I remember in Sunday School. She had a gentle smile, a modest bouffant, and she made sure I learned the most important thing: “Jesus loves me.”
Your home, O God, is in the mess and the mistakes as well as the grace and the gratitude. Your home is in all that makes me who I am.
When we are not feeling our defense and strength, we do well to adjust our crowns, knowing ourselves to be residents of God’s households, anointed for immense possibility.
Strengthen your heart as you wait for God’s early and late rain. Be patient. Show endurance. Dig and hope.
Don’t fall for the divine, dual-personality theory about God and the Bible. God is both gracious and wrathful, and we need God’s wrath as much as we need God’s grace.
Please…please…please…please? Please? PLEASE? PLEASE? Pleeeeeeeaaaase? Amen.
The right time for sabbath is not when our work is finished, but when it has piled up until we cannot see over it into a hopeful future.
In a world of lies and rumors, contractual loopholes and selective memory, we need more mizpah in our lives—symbols of mutual respect and standards of justice
When we are weak, needing kindness, we rarely gravitate towards the perfect and the pure. When what we need is mercy, we look for someone reeking of sardines.
Land is not mine or yours or theirs or ours. Land belongs to God, who gifts it to us, who lets us dwell in places. No one wins when we steal God’s land from one another.