I was watching our seven-year-old son who had been playing a long time, rolling Matchbox cars across “roads” in the den rug’s intricate patterns and blowing car noises through his lips. When I said . .
Yesterday, I was tired. God, I was so tired and fed up with work. Squabbles, self-centered shirking, decisions made by cronies instead of qualified people, endless stacks of papers to grade, entitled students . . .
Summer wanes, and the start of the academic year is around the corner at my university. As a child, I wished the summer months away, eager to return to school. Buying notebooks and new tennis shoes . . .
As an old millenial or a young Gen Xer and as someone who ministers among graduate students who are mostly millenials, I have read with interest Rachel Held Evans’ “Why millenials are leaving the church,” and the widespread discussion . . .
Under the alias “Squire George,” a bearded knight rode from Wartburg Castle and its safety, heading northeast to Wittenberg to check on the Reformation’s progress . . .
Months ago, we began packing boxes to move from Tennessee to Texas. Our move date was delayed and then delayed again. When it seemed everything was in place for us to move and, at last, we had loaded . . .
In 2009 my long-standing interest in spiritual disciplines, inspired by my reading of Willard’s Divine Conspiracy, finally developed into some actual practices. Moving into my new home, I used a beautiful carved wooden screen . . .
This post is not a Pollyanna-esque rambling about spreading smiles all over the world. It's not an abstract inspirational piece with little practical application. This post is a description . . .
I was born with a hole in my heart. It tired me out more quickly than my friends on playgrounds and regularly sent me to Egleston Hospital on Atlanta’s Emory University campus . . .
Many of my dreams are an odd jumble of scenes. Someone with an interest in dream interpretation would likely have a field day sorting through the images . . .
