Ash Wednesday

During the pandemic, I went six months without touching another human being. I felt starved.

Praying in community is often more powerful than praying “in secret.”

Will my daffodil bulbs overcome their trauma and rise up despite the odds? Will we?

How did my friend feel making a cross on my forehead, not knowing how long I’d be alive?

I don’t go to church anymore, but the faith I was pickled in still shapes me.

For Jesus, the inverse of scarcity isn’t abundance—it’s accumulation.

I am thankful that this Ash Wednesday comes with the reminder of grace along with death.

Mardi Gras sounds more fun.

Ritual and justice don’t exist in a push-pull relationship.

It’s easy to read this passage and assume it has nothing to do with us.

Some years the message of Ash Wednesday feels more tender than others.

On giving Eugene Peterson's The Message another chance

Mainline Christians have often distorted this passage from Matthew.

The distinctions between how we love God, neighbor, and self are not terribly thick.

What would Jesus say about it?

Putting flesh on the bones of justice

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