It got stolen, and I got scared.
Meeting personal money challenges can’t be the responsibility of ministers alone.
My church has Fort Knox-level safety protocols. Why?
We gave our readers a one-word writing prompt: “call.”
My hermeneutic of suspicion wasn’t enough. I needed a hermeneutic of the hip.
I love the church. It's harder to love specific congregations.
One person told me, “It’s the first time I’ve been in a church for 30 years, since that day.”
We gave our readers a one-word writing prompt: “bridge.”
He leaned back and sighed. “I think what you need is a spiritual experience.”
I wanted to give them better than what I had. It wasn't easy.
Facebook tells me I have 633 friends. Sirach tells me how few of those are faithful friends.
As we hiked the Abraham Path, I realized that every step was inescapably political.
My son’s death did not evoke in me an interest in the problem of suffering.
We turned an empty lot in L.A. into an edible sanctuary.
As Père Diegue surveyed the unfinished classroom, he remarked: “I’m beginning to understand why I am here.”