There are moments when I can see the walls melting away, short seasons of shalom when I catch glimpses of blessed unity. Then, even in places where unity should be most possible, the walls go up again, the circles draw in tighter.
The depth of our dividedness baffles me. How can I love my enemy when that enemy deflects every overture of interest, denies any possible middle ground, demands agreement on an endless list of positions (political, theological, economic) before discussion can begin?
You probably won’t hear Greg Laswell's songs in church. You’re more likely to catch them on the radio or in the background of a particularly intense moment of shows such as Grey’s Anatomy, Glee, or The Carrie Diaries. Yet his songs animate the highs and lows of my spiritual journeys. I’ve also started using them in my U.S. religious history courses.
The “Kill the Gays” bill in Uganda has become law. I had the chance to see God Loves Uganda, a documentary that gives part of the background of the bill, including the involvement of American evangelicals in advocating for its passage. But there’s a larger story that would provide important context—the history of colonialism in East Africa and of Anglicanism in Uganda.
After a childhood spent envying the boys on the football team, I joined my college’s rugby team. My first night I learned how to throw a tackle. More importantly, I learned how to be tackled. The idea was this: you’re going to fall. You’d might as well learn how to fall safely, so that you can stand back up.
When I first became a veterinarian, image mattered a lot. I was young and female in a profession that valued experience and was overwhelmingly male. I quickly learned to use everything I could to look like “the doctor” was supposed to look: business professional clothing, white coat, stethoscope, name tag labeled “Doctor Janisch.”