We all carry invisible backpacks or baggage. Just make sure the contents are appropriate and the straps are secured. And be aware of others. They’re carrying a load, too.
Churches must be courageous and open to change. But sometimes, amid all the pulse-taking, evaluations, strategy planning and critiquing, we forget to love the church we have.
Instead of worshipping a Cosmic Christ, many have settled for a tribal deity who suits our tribal behavior. The result? A nationalism which places country above God and uses religion to justify any means.
Lincoln seemed to be at peace disappointing his supporters and infuriating his enemies. He not only had a compass; he also had a plan for specific steps on the journey.
John the Baptist spoke truth to power, refused to pander to politicians and insisted that no earthly kingdom is coterminous with the Kingdom of God. In other words, John got right what many evangelical preachers get wrong.
An AF-3 tornado ripped through our city. Among the lessons in its aftermath: Life’s storms always leave us changed; our faith response will determine whether or not they leave us better.
What has happened to us, that conversations about our cosmic home have become so divisive? What would happen if we were all curious enough to learn from science, scripture and one another?
Congregations have a right to expect their pastor to be real while also respecting appropriate boundaries. In turn, pastors have a right to embrace their humanity and for their churches to remember that the Word became flesh, not marble.
Lent is the season for paying attention. Compassion is the work of seeing, of making invisible people visible.