By Amy Butler I wish I could say that deep theological reflection spurred my action, but I’ll go ahead and admit that Matt Damon probably had more to do with my inspiration to head to the movie theater to see…
Glass houses, privacy fences and tulips
By Amy Butler A church member picked me up at the airport when I returned from a last-minute trip to an unexpected family funeral. She was holding an armful of tulips for me. “Wow! I love tulips,” I told her,…
Adaptive change
By Amy Butler Reference my last column on desperation and you will recognize what it is that church leadership experts recommend for those of us crazy enough to take on the challenge of trying to help churches move into the…
Desperation a wonderful gift
By Amy Butler There are many important things we learn when we attend seminary, and there are many important things we never learn until long after we leave those hallowed halls. One important axiom of ministry I learned long after…
Lord, have mercy
By Amy Butler I’ve been thinking a lot this week about the morning of Sept. 11, 2001. That day I was working in the office at my previous church, in New Orleans, when the news first broke about the bombing…
DREAM dream dream
By Amy Butler This excellent book tells the story of Little Bee, a 16-year-old Nigerian girl who, fleeing the violence in her home village, has stowed away on a British freighter to make her way to the United Kingdom. The…
John the Baptist intrudes on Advent
By Amy Butler I’ve been sticking with the Gospel texts assigned by the lectionary for sermon-writing these first three weeks of Advent even though John the Baptist and I have a kind of rocky relationship history. I just have always…
Getting burned
By Amy Butler On Saturday evening after Thanksgiving, I stood at my stove. I’d decided to mix things up a bit — no leftovers that night — so the spicy dish I was cooking was, if I do say so…
Journeying from despair
By Amy Butler Desolation. Dry, unyielding, lifeless, dark. Wind whistles through what was abandoned, echoes of emptiness filling the silence. No water runs here, no urgent life pushing up through cracks in the pavement. Just dry, empty, dead landscape, scorched…