If we believe in the promise of our faith, we must continue pushing forward.

White supremacy culture tells me that I’m only "good" if I’m perfect, treating all falls as hard stops.

Grief is welcome, a sacred part of the mourning.

Every time someone showed up for me, I learned that love is greater than skin deep.

At the core of American racism is the belief that the things we the Blacks desire, the fact that we the Blacks desire, are perversions.

What once seemed certain is now unpredictable, even dangerous.

As a hospital chaplain, I often listen to painful stories. We call it compassionate presence, but I may be crying inside. When words fail, I pray and sing.

This recipe has been tweaked over time, so adjust as necessary. Sometimes it yields more servings than anticipated. Sometimes it needs a bit more of this ingredient or that. It comes from generations who have gone before me, and I've added my own flavor along the way. A Recipe for Resilience One...

I choose to believe in community. I choose to believe in the difficult, slow work of building a common life.

“Now,” the yoga instructor said, “begin to chant GOD GOD GOD as you vigorously circle your arms.” Oh boy, I thought, Here we go. Of course it couldn’t just be arm circles.

An adequate Christmas would have you calm and open, taking it in, accepting whatever is. Slow it all down like you might be, in some way, attuned to the pace of the Eternal. If you need, you can fake it at first.

The freedom to doubt, to question, to be content to live in Mystery is central to the liberal religious tradition. Like the process of evolution itself, the path that we follow—our practice—is not easy or simple. It isn’t without its dead ends or its disappointments. It doesn't guarantee that...

How many times do I need to make mistakes before I’m ready to admit that I’m not any better at this than the bigoted and willfully ignorant?

"I went back to church thinking that it would be like an epidural, like it would take the pain away… that church would make the pain go away. Faith and church was not an epidural for me at all; it was like a midwife who just stood next to me saying, 'Push. It’s supposed to hurt a little bit.'"...

.I want liberty and justice for all in my country. That will ask of me—and of many of you—the discipline of discomfort.

I am so tired and weary, So tired of the endless fight, So weary of waiting the dawn And finding endless night. That I ask but rest and quiet— Rest for the days that are gone, And quiet for the little space That I must journey on.

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them....

“The beauty of the world is the mouth of a labyrinth,” writes Simone Weil. We would be foolish not to follow its call. And so we enter the labyrinth, lured by the whiff of a dream still in the making: the possibility of a new relationship, the promise of a new career, the potential for a new...

In order to get out I must go through. There is no other way. No other way? But there must be another way, an easier path, a well-lit road. I cast about, scan the horizon— No other way. The way out is the way through. The way through is the way hard....

“So...what do you want to do with your life???” There was a time when this question haunted me like an existential crisis. Some might call it being in my twenties, but I certainly didn’t feel that such pain was just “to be expected.” I remember pouring over inspirational books. I found few...