Beyond Prophetic Rhetoric

Jesus and Justice in Practice

It’s not news to say that this has been a crazy, rancorous election season—perhaps the most ugly in modern history, many pundits claim. Maybe. But when I reflect back on earlier election cycles, there seems to have been plenty of media-infused hostility that we tend to mute in our nostalgic remembrance. The 2008 election of “hope and change,” for instance, was... Read more

Loving in Public

Why I Won't Stop Talking About Racial Justice

Originally published in Bearings January 2016 | On December 29, 2015, my 14th wedding anniversary, I spent most of the day researching and thinking about the death of Tamir Rice, the 12-year-old African-American boy gunned down by the police in Cleveland, Ohio. His murder had happened a little over a year earlier. Yet my shock, outrage, and grief over his death... Read more

Going Through the Holiday Motions

For the past few weeks, I have been going through the motions. I wrestle with Advent texts, write “to do” lists, and mail packages to faraway beloveds. This marks the first Christmas that two of our three “olders” are so far away from home that they won’t be with us, one on the opposite coast and the other studying abroad in Japan. This shift in the family system... Read more

Bridging the Sacred and the Profane

Ministries of Compassion in the World We Walk Together

Originally published in Bearings April 2015 | Not long ago, heading home from a distant airport because of a cancelled flight, my husband and I found ourselves in a rest stop at 2:30 in the morning. Just over the Maine border from New Hampshire, we stopped to switch drivers and he took the opportunity to pop into the men’s room. Wearily I crossed to the passenger... Read more

Advent’s Invitation to Incarnational Imagination

“The poet knows that the human experience of the sacred is awash in the particularity of things, the sensuous surface and ambient array of details that make possible any sense of dwelling in the presence of mystery.” – Belden Lane It’s Christmas morning, 1981, and I’m seven years old. I wake up early and fly down the two flights of stairs from my bedroom on the... Read more