While traveling in Central America, I had the opportunity to worship at an international, interdenominational, English-speaking church. The congregation contained Africans, Italians, Spaniards, Latinos, Americans, and Asians. We sang old Irish hymns and modern, Australian worship choruses.
The service was a mixture of Lutheran, Reformed, and Pentecostal elements. The welcome was given by a Canadian, a German read the Scripture lesson, and an American did the preaching. It was a wonderful, diverse experience, and for a little while I thought the kingdom of God had come.
This, I thought, is what worship …

It is golden. It is a virtue. It is more musical than any melody, rest for the mind, and sometimes it has the loudest voice. It is often the best possible answer, a friend that never betrays, and it is the subject of a classic Simon and Garfunkel song. And, frankly, I’m not very good at it: Silence.
I make a living using words – putting them on paper and screen and ejecting them into the air – so being quiet is, by default, not my specialty (though a few enthusiastic …

Months ago a friend handed me a little book entitled “Have A Little Faith,” written by Mitch Albom. Honestly, it sat on my shelf for a long time gathering dust. It’s not that I was uninterested; I was plowing through some dense reading material and figured that Albom’s book was a little too light for what I had my teeth sunk in at the time.
I thought I would turn to it when I needed something lighter, like cleansing your palate after a heavy meal. But what a fantastic surprise! This …

I met Candice on a Florida sidewalk while walking to the beach. She was a young, blonde, attractive woman, and she was hovering close behind me as if she had something to say. She had something to say alright – I haven’t been the same since hearing her story.
My Florida congregation, where I once lived, was having a beach baptismal service, something fairly common along the coastline on Sunday mornings. A dozen people were stepping into the water that morning, and at the last minute, Candice wanted to be one …

I am sometimes suspicious of how we employ our faith. Don’t get me wrong, faith is important to me, and I have given my life to it. But sometimes I treat my faith like it is a medicine cabinet or a pharmaceutical, going to it only when something is wrong, or if I am looking for a quick remedy.
My head hurts,” so I go to the medicine cabinet looking for a pain reliever. “I have a stomach ache,” so I reach in for a spiritual antacid. “I feel so uncertain,” …

I was fifteen-years old when the Martin Luther King, Jr. Holiday first became the law of the land. Having lived my entire childhood in Georgia, also Dr. King’s birthplace, I knew his story and heroics well. I also knew that he was often maligned – sometimes viciously so.
When the first official King Day rolled around on the calendar, it produced some brisk conversations within my extended family, community, and yes, my church. Never can I forget standing outside the church building on a cold Sunday night, a nosey and curious …

Janet Hagberg was the first person who defined the experience for me. I had lived through it, but I didn’t know what to call it. In a book entitled, “The Critical Journey,” Janet called the experience, simply, “The Wall.” My summary goes like this.
Many people begin their walk of faith, and everything goes as they expected. Out of genuine conviction, they attend church, learn from the Scriptures, volunteer, serve, give, and become “productive, committed, faithful, Christians” (whatever that exactly means, who knows?). But somewhere along the way things go wrong. …

“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.” These are the words of Simon Peter, one of Jesus’ first disciples, written to some of the first and earliest Christians. And like most words put down on paper, these instructions have not always honored the intent of the author.
Peter wrote this during a time when Christianity was new, unheard of in most places, and very often viewed with suspicion. Thus, a graceful and thoughtful explanation “for the …

Was there ever a time when the holidays were not busy? Probably not. I suppose if we went back to the very first Christmas we would find a great deal of hurried busyness: Joseph was out sitting in the garage on the donkey, honking the saddle horn, doing his best to hurry Mary along just a bit.
She was inside packing one more bag for the holiday trip to visit Joseph’s neurotic family in Bethlehem. Of course she was moving as fast as she could. A woman better than eight months …

C.S. Lewis observed that something of genuine beauty produces in us joy, joy born from two reactions. First, Lewis said, we stop. If it is a work of art, a symphony, a striking human being, or a sunset on the beach; a thing of beauty arrests us, stops us in our tracks to look and observe, the rest of the world falling away.
And second, we must then share what we have experienced with others. We simply cannot contain ourselves. “Listen to what I am hearing! Come see what I see! …