Yesterday I declined to be the one to put ashes on my own kids' foreheads. Today I sent them back into the violent world we all have made.
Kesha’s latest album could have been written by Hagar, Tamar, or Ruth.
I read The Nature of Doctrine in college—and finally understood why God had seemed so vague to me.
What I remember is the office they held and the power they assumed.
Who tests Abraham, or Jacob, or Jesus—and why?
It's Advent, and accusations against prominent men are shaking things up like a highway construction project in the wilderness.
What if we did the work of God in the world?
Luther's reforms weren't based solely on the early church.
Not every soul is a saint. Remember them anyway.
Heirs to John Howard Yoder's legacy have to grapple with his theology in light of his sexual abuse. Hauerwas’s recent response isn’t enough.
I used to be cautious about partnerships with people who don’t share my faith-based commitment to nonviolence. Now I’m not so sure.
In 34 years in this country, I've experienced racism. But I've never felt like I feel this week.
Years ago in Virginia, I heard a sermon about “the plagues sweeping our beloved America.”
On the way to the soup kitchen, I met a man with a loaf of bread.
“No, Charlie. Who will sing for us?”