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Looking at Stars The God of curved space, the dry God, is not going to help us, but the son whose blood splattered the hem of his mother’s robe. – Jane Kenyon “You know you have blood on your shirt, right?” I was getting ready to meet a friend at a...
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We’re still doling out Valentine’s candy at our house and I’m sure there’s some Halloween candy lurking in the darker corners of the pantry, so the idea of filling four (yikes!) baskets with sweets for Easter morning isn’t...
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Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. Luke 13:34 Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but the Son of...
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The Fallow Field I wonder whether the field that lies fallow for a season, envies a neighboring field’s productivity? Or whether it simply lies there resting, drinking in the warm sunshine as it is restored, grateful. I’m coming into yet another week tired and...
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I wrote an essay recently in which I described laughter as a form of prayer and this got me thinking about Sarah’s laughter at the news that she was going to bear a son. The following story is based, loosely on the story of God visiting Abraham and...
