When we — Baptists and Methodists — were all evangelical

I’m surprised to be at the Comedy Cellar because — and I know how this sounds — I’m a minister. Saying that you’re a minister shuts down conversations with barbers, waitresses and the person sitting next to you on the plane. That last one is helpful.  

If Christianity is to be a force for good in the world by helping to heal our deep psychic, personal brokenness, to restore estranged relationships often marked by betrayal and contempt, to transform us into more loving, compassionate persons who care for others, then Western Christianity, and American Christianity in particular, must undergo a new reformation.

For those who have ears to hear, God is speaking — not in the wind, with an earthquake, or by fire, not in the halls of power, either, but through the voices of school children, the survivors, whose mourning has turned to marching.

I’ve been pondering the cost of being a leader who has the courage and tenacity to tell the truth. We can all agree that we need leaders who do, but how exactly do we sell the vocation of truth-telling when our own human story makes it pretty likely that if you tell a hard truth long enough you will lose your life?