A student I taught with recalls licking honey from Hebrew letters as a child. My own memories of religious education are less auspicious.
Jesus went slowly, purposefully into the eye of the storm. Only through the storm would he find what he was looking for.
Critics view genealogy as a kind of ersatz historiography, an individualistic reconstruction of the past. But there is more to family tree building.
I can still smell the wet canvas and sawdust of my father's revivals. He believed that any self-respecting revival was held in a tent.
Anthony C. Yu died this spring. I am still discovering the profound influence this teacher had on me.
When the church stops talking about Jesus, it has nothing to say.
All I remember from The Magic Stones is the image of a young man, some stones and blocks, and an experiment revealing the most perfect shape.
The mainline has long congratulated itself for being prophetic because it's good at voting for progressive agendas. But change happens at the local level.
In To the Lighthouse, two people who don't get along find themselves looking at a bowl of fruit. "Looking together," writes Woolf, "united them."
Be humble. Think of the imagination of God that brought creation into being; there could have been nothing.