“Are you sad?” Without hesitation he said no, and he then paused and asked me, “Why, are you?”
I listened to the retelling of the final chapters of the Gospel of John thinking about how special it is to hear a story told out loud, even when I’ve heard it many times before.
What do we do when we, as a congregation, as a community, as a world, are truly exhausted and need the rest Jesus promises? Is that space still in the sanctuary? Or are we meant to seek peace away from our community as we heal?
In an Episcopal Mission Church in the mountains, Father Joe staunchly said: not one bit of Christmas until the Christ Child is placed in the manger.
Summer is the time for Vacation Bible School! My church Saint Michael and All Angels hosts VBS on July Friday nights from 5:30 PM-7:45 PM with the date night model for parents in mind.
Every other pew was roped off, complete with red ribbon. My daughters looked back at me, a little confused. Were we allowed to be close to our friends and neighbors?
The other day, my son John Paul and I were looking through some of his work from last school year (perhaps to take our minds off the realities of virtual 2nd grade). He pulled out a paper and showed it to me.
I recently had a conversation with someone about their autistic son. It wasn’t a comfortable chat, being marked with regret and sadness and questions about faith. I
I had it fully mapped out in my head what an excellent Sunday morning we were going to have, which was the first sign that it was definitely going to go in another direction.
A recent, widely shared tweet says, “Honestly, I hadn’t planned on giving up quite this much for Lent.”