Give to the one who asks of you
I’m on this man’s side, even though I didn’t give him any money. Right?
Nonviolent crisis response in my city
I wish Durham’s HEART program had existed when my friend Joe was killed.
The altar in my attic
My boxes of old sermons are a monument to my church’s ongoing conversation with God.
The testimony of water
We are as reliant on grace as our bodies are on water.
A shower in the desert
At a migrant shelter in Tijuana, I met a woman who was about to give birth.
A liturgy in the borderlands
Alvaro Enciso plants crosses where migrants have died, to keep them from disappearing into oblivion.
After my friend’s suicide, my theology was in shock
I’ve been offering my tangled knots of questions and memories as prayers.
On the holiness of casseroles and spreadsheets
When our church offered Rosa sanctuary, our ordinary habits became a politics of hospitality.
Communion tears
In my 15 years as a pastor, I’ve seen a lot of watery eyes at the table.
At Tijuana shelter Casa del Migrante, every meal is holy
I take the morning shift to give the longer-term volunteers a few hours of rest.
When Mennonites were settlers
John Eicher’s history exposes European Mennonite complicity in Native dispossession.
The labor that pays my salary
Survival under capitalism makes demands on our flesh—and some of us have to pay more than others.
Emptying the tombs of the city jail
“There’s a group of people outside,” I said through the intercom, “and they’ve raised money for your bail.”