His eyes were a haunted mix of fatigue and defiance, as well as a touch of joy, I think.
The young Black man came through my line.... and I wondered... how often does this person get to feel safe?
This is not new. And it shouldn't be a surprise. The only thing that should shock anyone is that rioting still seems to be a necessary last resort because things have changed so little.
I’m horrified that we locked my sweet, loveable, funny aunt into a prison of silence, where she dreaded the day she would die and go to the hell we had created.
I’m scared like everyone else right now. I have one of those essential jobs where I come out of isolation to sell groceries to people, some of whom could be contagious. The anxiety hangs on me like an extra weight that I carry wherever I go. Sometimes it gets me down but it’s my job … Continue reading Essential Work (101st Post)
Over my time as a minister, people whispered these questions to me, often ashamed to put them into words. I’m articulating them in hopes of engaging their thinking.
It has taken me a long time to see that our religion could be a tool to prey on the vulnerable. The baptismal waters come closer to drowning them rather than cleansing them.
I'm not going to be attending my 35th college reunion.
Even after all this time, I still have to remind myself that I never had mystical powers of healing, although people tried a little harder to pull themselves together and straighten up when they knew I was a minister.
I told the young teens, “Your parents baptized you when you were little and raised you to hear the teachings of the church. But confirmation is your chance to take ownership of your thoughts and beliefs. Nobody can make you. Not your parents. Not me. Even God won’t. "