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A Family Like Mine: Biblical Stories of Love, Loss, and Longinghttps://bookstore.upperroom.org/Products/1921/a-family-like-mine.aspx
Whom Shall I Fear: Urgent Questions for Christians in an Age of Violencehttps://www.amazon.com/Whom-Shall-Fear-Questions-Christians/dp/0835819671
Tag Archives: adoption
It seems as though the depth and strength and sheer closeness of God’s love for us defies any single image of relationship that we can dredge up and dress in poetic language. God is our father and our mother and our lover.
And then, and then, God became flesh, and dwelt among us. Continue reading
I am not a maths person, per se. I am basically numerate: when I worked in the deli, I could make change without hesitation or error or the use of fancy modern electronics. But higher mathematics were not my area … Continue reading
have you ever done one of these? I was introduced to the “I am from” form at a conference this week. Honestly, as an adoptee, an immigrant, an exile from my own history I don’t do well with the perennial … Continue reading
I will not be preaching about John the Baptist tomorrow, but I have been thinking about his wild honey habit and the sweetness of such mercies found along the way. Each of my mothers, who were both called Ann(e), had … Continue reading
The question about taxes, and rendering unto Caesar, led into a sermon with time for pew-talk. The outline / framework went something like this: Jesus does a really nice politician’s job of handing the question back to the Pharisees and … Continue reading
Whoever welcomes you welcomes me; whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me (Matthew 10:40). When my parents took me home, they invited into their family a whole other set of DNA, a whole other history, a whole other … Continue reading
It was Pentecost. The disciples were gathered all together in one place. And the Holy Spirit came among them like a rush of wind, like the breath of god, the sound of a mighty exhalation, god whispering in what might … Continue reading
There is a chasm between birth and being where stuff falls, collects and, hidden by the distance and the dark, smoulders, sending up smoke, ciphers breathed in the language of the unborn and forgotten, known only to their God.
I’ll make a deal with you. It is this: that for every single rose you give to a mother walking through your Sunday morning doorway, you say a prayer for the child whose parent left him alone and hungry in … Continue reading