One day, I’ll have to care for my mother as she once cared for me. I’m not ready to handle the truth that our relationship must change.

What once seemed certain is now unpredictable, even dangerous.

Over the years, I’ve built up an impressive array of tools for meetings: I-statements, being assertive, and all of that stuff. What I could improve on, though, is knowing when to switch tools.

The most life-giving coping strategy—for me—is to attune to a voice calmer and wiser than mine, and allow that seeking to be its own expression of faith.

The assumption that all people remember the same set of events, or enjoy the same set of things, puts enormous burdens of assimilation onto members of marginalized communities.

It often feels like we’re shouting into the void. It was a gift to be reminded that sometimes someone is listening.

The drag show was heaven broken open, given to us for the evening. Everything for a little while was perfect—and I saw the face of my God.

I miss the way things were, and I know they’ll never really be the same.

Our conversations about the history of our country—the actions of our ancestors—can be made new and relevant and understandable. We can and must have these conversations.

May we all remember how inextricably we are linked in this fight for justice and freedom.

My mother and father armed us with this truth: The world is awful, magnificent, and belongs to you as much as it belongs to anyone else.

I hope that this Great Silence, which has come alongside the suffering, holds the beginnings of our healing.

“Specialists without spirit, sensualists without heart; this nullity imagines that it has attained a level of civilization never before achieved.” ―Max Weber, The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism Raise your hand if you believe you’re not doing enough right now. Do you feel like...

Sometimes, I know I'm hanging onto a part of my life that I'll eventually need to let go of...but not just yet.

A new disease, without any cure, is pushing us apart. And, yet, we cannot escape one another. We need one another. Whether I acknowledge it or not, the guarantee of safety does not exist.

Jesus had no political power. He lived his whole life in the shadow of the Roman empire, and that empire killed him. Yet Jesus healed the sick, he listened, he moved among the ordinary people, in the lowly places.

I’m confident in our human ability to together muscle our way into renewing our world.

“Game” is no longer the proper metaphor to guide my thoughts and actions. We are—all of us—in liminal space, at a threshold confronting immediacy, shrouded in fog.

Years ago, I did one of those mud run obstacle races. There were eight physical obstacles on the course, but my biggest learning was that we all had a ninth obstacle.

In this community, we hold hope close. We don’t always know what comes next, but that cannot dissuade us. We don’t always know just what to do, but that will not mean that we are lost in the wilderness. We rely on the certainty beneath, the foundation of our values and ethics. —Rev. Theresa I.