Cemeteries are sacred space, hallowed by graves and memorials. But even more, cemeteries are made holy by the presence of God who seems particularly palpable among tombs. Some find cemeteries overly somber, even depressing. Not I. They are a comfort to me. The mood is calm, the residents quiet. Graveyards are ideal sanctuaries for meeting … More Theological Cemetery
On the porch this morning I am overwhelmed by rapid-fire love letters from God, assaulting my sleepy mind. A cardinal flits near the bird feeder, until she spots Skye the Schnauzer too close.Then to a branch near the top of the Red Oak.Momentary red flashes against a palate of green. Bougainvillea sing fuchsia. Zinnias antique … More Love Letters
I want to live in a land where children are lovedThe born as well as the unborn A place where children are treasuresProtected at all costsFree to play, learn, grow, become I want to live in a land where guns are safeFor target practice For hunters who love outdoorsThe thrill of the power of the … More A Land Where Children Are Loved
The stories, morning after morning, of the horrific war in Ukraine overwhelm us. For self defense I look away at something else in the news. Yet in the back of my mind the images still play, pictures of destruction, death. We thought it couldn’t happen again in Europe after WWII, but here it is, happening … More Subterranean Hope
These days my mind is trying again to wrap itself around the idea of Divine love — surely the hardest of all theological concepts to comprehend and live within, deep down in our souls. I know the truth of unfailing Divine love in my head, but the notion keeps unraveling, slipping away in the warp … More Imagining Love
Sitting on the couch this morning, Skye the Schnauzer snoozing in my lap, I’m reading James Finley’s Christian Meditation and understanding some of it. His fine book carefully explores the practice of contemplative prayer. After a couple of pages, I think it’s time to try my hand at the practice again: Sitting up straight. Eyes closed. Hands resting … More Wrestling with Wounds
Skye the miniature Schnauzer was snuggly on this damp November day. Not usual for her, being only one year old, for such calmness in the morning. But she woke earlier than usual with me, so she needed to rest after a romp in the yard before dawn. She wanted in my lap — a rare … More A Four-Legged Thin Place
We built grand cathedrals. The arches and vaults reached toward heaven. Cathedrals of theology, art, literature, history, music. Cathedrals for the growing of souls. But the barbarians came with their budget officers, reducing souls to earning power. They took machetes to theological questions, because they mistook faith for blandly arrogant certainty. They mistook music for … More Cathedrals of Learning: A Lament for the Liberal Arts
This morning I noticed that the lawn keeps changing colors. It’s green, but not just one green. It’s a bunch of greens and it keeps color-shifting. Not quite the same as shape-shifting, but still pretty impressive. Some of the lawn is light green in the bright morning sun. Some is darker green in the shadow … More The Lawn Is Changing Colors
I have been retired now for several weeks. It was not my choice, but the decision of other people who did not value what I did as a seminary professor and dean. I take slight consolation in the fact that some were afraid of what I did and had to make sure it stopped. I … More The Weight of Wastefulness
An Ever-Flowing Stream 