During college, I taped a
religious poster on my dorm room wall. Under a photo of a white country church
against a green, timbered hill were the words, "I lift up my eyes to the hills
from whence cometh my help."
I liked the Bible verse, the scene was pretty, and I enjoyed the peaceful
reminder of rural home places. But a friend who was knowledgeable in scripture
said the poster was theologically incorrect.
enemy curses me. No enemy raises fists at me. No enemy persecutes me.
No enemy hates me. I doubt anyone in the enemies of my state - Taliban
or Al-Qaeda - care much about a stay-at-home dad living in a suburb of
nothing in Texas. Frankly, I'm not important enough to have enemies in
this world, and I'm not doing anything important enough that might make
me any, either.
If Barbara Kingsolver's masterpiece The Poisonwood Bible has formed your image of Christian missionaries in the 20th century, you need an equal and opposite set of characters to round out (not replace) your historical, theological and literary imagination.
I'm beginning to think that Luke suffered from Macular Degeneration or
some other disease that slowly took away his ability to see. I have no
historical evidence to support this except for the importance of seeing
in his gospel.
Jesus asks Simon the Pharisee, "do you see this woman." The priest and the levite see the man laying broken and battered in the ditch.
I have returned again and again to Letters and Papers in search of insight into what it means to do
theology today, especially in my own South African context. Whether my
interest and inquiry has focused on theological issues, on the renewal
of the church and its public responsibility or on history, literature,
art and aesthetics, this remarkable collection has always provided much practical wisdom for people living in tough and
Josephine Finda Sellu, a nurse supervisor, is on the front line of the fight against Ebola in Sierra Leone. She lost 15 of her nurses in rapid succession. As other workers left the hospital, her family begged her to quit her job. Some of her colleagues have been abandoned by their families due to fear of the disease. Usually a tower of strength, Sellu cries when she talks about the nurses she’s lost to the disease. She sometimes wishes she had become a secretary instead, but she sees her job as a healer as a calling from God (New York Times, August 23).