Ash Wednesday (Year 1, NL)

Jesus is not handing the church a timeless conflict resolution manual, however much we might long for one.

We each have to face mortality alone—but also together.

Who can sort out the ironies and challenges in these four texts? Where is the joy in this kind of salvation?

I once asked a child to give a Sunday sermon—on the book of Job.

I love René Girard. I don’t love that J. D. Vance loves him, too.

In the last year of his life, Martin Luther King Jr.’s confidence in the politics of progressivism dimmed. Judgment became his refrain.

For many, repent is a hurt-filled word. That’s a shame, because we need it more than ever.

Embracing the random can open us up to the agitations of the Holy Spirit.

There is no one who does not need God’s mercy and no one who may not have it.

Child advocate R. L. Stollar seeks to help people read the Bible in ways that protect and honor children.

On giving Eugene Peterson's The Message another chance

I preached a word of judgment. The stranger in the back row heard grace.

This time of year, our inner landscapes can seem as bleak as the outer ones.

In his response to John, Jesus speaks of hope in the present tense.

The lectionary readings for Ash Wednesday are the same each year. So it almost doesn’t feel like Ash Wednesday if I go through the day without hearing Psalm 51: “Have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions.”

I believe God can make us completely over, but I also believe that this is not always necessary.