The person who probably would have been least concerned with how many books he sold was Thomas à Kempis.
Growing up, my older brother and I occasionally found ourselves in hot water.
A high school friend tells the story of the first time his father, an East Texas boy, visited his mother’s family in the Bronx.
Since Lawrence was the chief financial officer in Rome, he was given the option by the Roman prefect to surrender the “treasures of the church” and receive his freedom or resist and be put to death.
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?
As Christians, Saint Andrew reminds us that following Christ requires us to surrender our need for notoriety and acclaim.
I like many have begun, far later than I have an excuse for, to reckon with the history of what I once called home.
When I was growing up, my mother always purchased Revere Ware, which she said it was the best. The pots were made with sturdy stainless steel and finished with a copper bottom—a look that was always distinguishable on the stove top.
From time to time the Forma Facebook Group has a post from someone (clergy, youth minister, Christian educator) who is asking if anyone has a “rubric” for what children should learn in each year of “Sunday School” (or whatever you call it).
During my time serving as the communications director for a particular diocese in the Episcopal Church, I was often overwhelmed at the stories of grand ministry taking place all over the globe.