Being faithful doesn’t mean endless work. It also means attention to the movement of spirit that can appear as an hour of sleep, the truth of a toddler, or a donut in the middle of the day.

Our communities of memory and promise are founded upon covenants because we all need a defense against the impulse of immediate feelings that challenge our best intentions. It is necessary to be reminded from time to time of what you said you were going to do, and what you really want, over and...

I wanted so much to believe that God was watching over this boy, that God was tender and protective and fiercely on the side of life and that this boy would not slip away.

I spent time feeling embarrassed—that somehow I had failed—because I had filed for divorce. It’s been over nine years now, and I wake up every single day happy with my decision.

“We are all broken by something. We have all hurt someone and have been hurt. We all share the condition of brokenness even if our brokenness is not equivalent. The ways in which I have been hurt—and have hurt others—are different from the ways [others have] suffered and caused suffering. But...

“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.

Spirit of Compassion, remind us that our task as humans is not perfection, but faithfulness.

"When it comes to our children, we do not have the luxury of despair. If we rise, they will rise with us every time, no matter how many times we've fallen before. I hope you will remember that the next time you fail. I hope I will too. Remembering that is the most important work as parents we can...

I had dreams about anywhere-else-but-here But our faith kept me close. I believed I had done something to deserve it. Our faith shouted, “No!” I tried to imagine it never happened But our faith reminded, “Yes, grief is real.” I thought I might die But our faith nurtured my life. I wondered...

I’m not the same person who stood in that tattoo parlor eleven years ago. Still, I don’t for a minute regret being permanently marked with this snapshot in time, of my wounds and my hope.

I wanted so badly to break free and let loose—but I just couldn't. I was stuck in my own false ideas of the congregation's expectations of me. Luckily, there’s still time.

Liking somebody, even loving somebody, is not enough to protect them from shade that you cannot even see, much less understand.

I put my faith in you. I put my faith in every one of you who woke up this morning with the weight of loss—manifesting as numbness, anger, fear, or an alienating, aching pain. I put my faith in you, and I pray you will put your faith in me. We need one another now, because we will not make it...

My oldest child was confused: why would no one stop and help us? Even though people weren’t stopping to help us, my son said, he wanted to be more like me and stop to help someone anyway.

We have narratives that guide the way we experience and know one another—but the Rev. Dr. William Barber often reminds me that “you must always believe the redemption of your enemy is possible.”

Hold fast to summer. Enjoy with heightened appreciation these still-warm September days. Create more memories, take more pictures. Enjoy a bit of denial. Suck all the summer sweetness out of your sun-warmed garden tomatoes. Smile at someone. Squeeze a hand. Put up some jam or pickles....

It’s been said that it’s easier to untangle a string of lights if you plug them in; it’s no different for people. Humans, just like strings of lights, are wired for connection.

As the news cycle brings us images of terror and heartbreak once again, We grieve together As each of us faces into this new level of horror, We grieve together As we remember other moments of pain, fear, and loss, We grieve together Yearning for an end to violence and suffering, We grieve togeth...

Spirit of Compassion, help us draw strength from all that we are. Give us new language with which to claim our wholeness, a new litany of joy built out of words that wounded.

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.