Amid debates about Christian nationalism, the role of religion in politics, and other religiously charged issues, there is a path forward. A way for faith leaders of all beliefs and doctrines to productively engage in community life beyond their church walls.
As faith leaders today, consider a bold venture in the murkiness of political neutrality. Hide away political beliefs in holistic deference to Jesus Christ. Why? Faith leaders know the truth: ballots are temporary, but Jesus is eternal.
God’s grace is yet moving in our midst, reaching out to us, even though our lives be entangled in the brokenness and injustice of the times in which we live.
Jesus understood the value of a good parable to make a point understandable. In reading the Discworld books, I am certain Terry Pratchett did, too.
Good church leaders tend to have high standards for themselves. Paradoxically, that can get in the way of getting started.
This Ramadan has brought with it vivid coverage of those suffering from famine and starvation due to the critical situation in Gaza. As we witness these circumstances, our hearts sting as we see full platters in front of us, especially when we see uneaten food going to waste.
In the myriad streams of music that seem to think God and Country are one word, in the choruses of gospel music that claim God fixes everything for the faithful, in the hymnody of the church that sometimes overpromises the victory and understates the trials, we still need Prine’s commitment to tell the truth about a life of faith.
As houses of worship close across America, pairing this surplus of faith properties with the national deficit of affordable housing appears to be a match made in heaven. What are the challenges and the opportunities?
All my life, I’ve seen my mom set time aside from being a mother, a wife, a teacher, a daughter, a sister, a friend, to spend time with God.
Female clergy in Poland are subversive by the mere fact of their existence.
I have so many examples, so many names, of women who have shown me by their presence God can call anyone into the role of pastor. Recently, I’ve added two more to a constantly growing list: Pastor Sarah and Pastor Anna, a pair of priests who coordinate a dinner church in Northampton, Massachusetts.
It is an actual cloud of unknowing and an actual cloud of forgetting, and the chord it strikes for the day feels fitting for a contemplative, Lenten March mood.
In Galatians 3, Paul clearly asserts that the three most impenetrable social boundaries of the Ancient Near East, race, class, and gender, are forever breached when people enter into the fellowship of the church. I am certain that those who resist women serving in the ministry would fight to the death to end discrimination based upon race or class which might touch upon their own lives.
Whether we turn to the gospel of Mark, where Jesus asked two ordinary fishermen to “follow me” or turn to the gospel of Luke where Jesus instructed Simon to “let down the nets for a catch,” we come to anticipate an evolution of call, trust, teaching, and journey of faith to happen through these divine directives.
The voices and experiences of women matter. We are half of the human race. God chose to partner with a woman to bring Jesus into the world. If God entrusted that major role to a woman, I doubt that there’s anything this world can come up with to justifiably question our capabilities!
As faithful followers of Jesus, we need to stand up to those who use the Bible to do injustice in the world.
Inasmuch as Christians are a “people of the book,” we need to ask ourselves how being “people of the Internet” can still be an intellectual and spiritual practice that forms us in productive ways.
Inspired by the late poet Mary Oliver’s question “What is it you plan to do with your wild and precious life?” Dr. Mike Graves observes that we frequently focus on the birth, death, and Resurrection of Jesus, while ignoring or downplaying the fullness of the lived life of Jesus.
Hall’s freedom faith — the belief that God wants everyone to be free and equips and sustains those who work for freedom — was the central idea of her womanist vision.
The challenges I faced in my own life as a woman in ministry faded to nothing as I learned about the life story of Florence Li Tim-Oi for the first time.
Speaking up for the oppressed, like Shirley Chisholm did, is following in the footsteps of Jesus: “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” (Matt 25:40)
Evil takes a keen interest in each of us—and so does good.
If our bones are alive, if they carry in them strength of our ancestors, trauma of humanity’s transgressions, even predispositions for nutrition… if they—like the Scriptures say—have the capacity to be troubled, to ask questions, to experience restoration, to be reanimated as recipients of God’s ruah (breath), then we have to wonder, what is in our bones?
If we abstain from involvement in the development of AI and future technology, we relinquish our voice, allowing corporations and politicians to dictate the trajectory of technological evolution without the balance of our missions’ moral compass.
Sojourner Truth was a beacon of justice that lights our way to a world in which all God’s children flourish. Her legacy continues to inspire us to move towards a vision of an equitable, just society.
We may have lost a potential friend forever, because we, for all our talk of love and grace and justice, made a mistake in ignorance that we accuse our enemies of making in malice.
Even if I do feel that paralysis, or when my natural tendency is uncomfortable making waves by speaking out or taking action, occasions arise when the opportunity needs to be created or demands my attention.
The Just Kitchen isn’t really a cookbook, nor is it a call-to-action collection of essays urging the reader to join the Slow Food Movement or tackle broken food systems head-on (although all these are good ideas to come away with). Instead, the authors ask the reader to plant themselves in a kitchen, suggesting one’s time there is transformative.
The Lenten season prior to Easter calls for us to practice spiritual disciplines for 40 days to prepare ourselves for hearing the sacrifice Jesus made that granted us eternal life. Whether it’s daily Bible reading or fasting or even “giving up something for Lent,” these are all ways to affirm the significance of having a more disciplined life.
What are you doing for Lent this year? What might you take a break from, just for 40 days? What might you take on, just for 40 days? It could do more to renew your year than any of your resolutions.
If we are to seriously examine the wars raging inside of us, what would the headlines be? What’s the carnage like? What’s being destroyed, day by day?
Since 2017, “The Chosen” has quietly emerged from streaming services and DVDs to national recognition. What is so unique about this still evolving series on the life of Jesus?
Historian Gary Dorrien’s work is equally astonishing in scope and dedication as he works to bring theological voices and movements to fuller appreciation for their contributions to what he terms the overall “Black social gospel.”
There was, and still is, an urgency to publicly proclaim and celebrate the achievements, challenges and triumphs of Black folk. This month, and beyond, I encourage enthusiastic participation in activities, studies, and ceremonies that will increase awareness of our treasured African American history.
I think it’s up to all of us to work together so that all of God’s gifts are being used. When all of God’s gifts are being celebrated and used, there is a joy that is abundant. There’s a generosity of spirit, I think that’s what we want in our denomination.
Jesus embraced the Samaritans—who were despised by his people—and lifted them up as heroes in many of his stories. His message: Let us, people of faith, embrace those who are despised. Let us live like Jesus and the Samaritans 2.0.
Ringing in the New Year offers an opportunity for new perspectives. There is the look back and the look forward, a combination of life review and life planning. How can or should we make use of this inflection point in light of Christian faith?
Walter B. Shurden gets a fair amount of credit for naming the four Baptist freedoms. Still, if I could make a small addendum to his famous book, I’d tack on the freedom of attire and self-expression. This is why you might find a Baptist minister in a robe on Sunday morning or a pair of overalls, perhaps even an apron.
What if we set spiritual goals this year to be in a more emotionally intelligent and attuned conversation with the earth? Might we hear the ice melting as tears—the weeping of creation?
We too may jump in the pink convertible with a goal to find ourselves and be free, but one lesson from the movie is to watch carefully what new commitments we make. Like the prodigal’s journey, venturing into the world can end up lonely, chaotic, and, ultimately, a dead end.
In 2024 let’s commit to fostering deep community, strong spirituality, and rigorous discipleship. Baptists of all people should be communal people. Our theological and praxis foundations are built upon the need for us to read Scripture together, engage in social dialogue together, worship together, and share in mission and ministry together. We are not alone together; we are united together in Christ.
When we listen to our dreams we are invited to be like Joseph, and the Magi, and walk a different way. We are invited to be like Mahalia and Martin and share our dreams with others. Our dreams have the potential to erode the evils of Empire. We must only find the courage to take them seriously.
Three years following the horrific events of January 6, 2021, we are still grappling with the uncertainty of our survivability and sustainability as a democracy. We are also asking: what is the prescription going forward for curing our inflamed divisions and unresolved conflicts?
In January, Christians all over the globe celebrate the season of Epiphany. We commonly use the word “epiphany” to describe a revelation or an “aha” moment. The scriptures and the season of Epiphany explore the ways God surprises us when we open ourselves to new experiences, adventures, and opportunities God places before us. When we, like the magi, decide to follow God into unknown territory, we discover grace, forgiveness, love, compassion, spiritual insight, and even learn new things about ourselves and God.
Like its biblical inspiration, Next of Kin features strong female protagonists, breaking past obstacles of economic ruin and great hardship to find a way forward. The novel is its own story, not meant to present a story simply parroting the narrative beats of the Book of Ruth. Yet in its new setting, the story that the Book of Ruth tells gets a refreshed lease on life.
What are you planning for 2024? Wait! Before you jump in, take a few moments to take stock of this year. Then think about next year.
In a season of life where I need reminding that God can move in profound ways, I’m thankful for the highs that a card in the mail can spark. I’m grateful for the people I’ve met who are out there questioning. And I’m thankful for time, a constructed fabrication or not, as it forces me to pause and take stock of the life I get to lead.
At some point, if we are to become disciples of Jesus Christ, we have to make a holy decision to follow him. The precise details of how a disciple accepts the call of Christ and begins the journey of discipleship vary from person to person. But in every case the starting point involves an exchange of agendas between the disciple and Christ.
Whenever we move from one place to another, whatever the reason, we end up letting go of some traditions and adding new ones from the new place we call home. What are some Christmas traditions you used to practice and what are new ones that have gained new meaning?
The spiritual invitation of Advent and Christmas strikes me as precisely the opposite of “AI” or “hallucinate,” two words of the year for 2023. This season is all about paying attention, waiting, watching, listening. It is about bringing our fully embodied, fully incarnate sensory selves to be as present and intimate and awake as possible with the ever-astounding mystery and glory of being itself.
In the gospel narrative, Joseph is the backup quarterback. Mary is the star. And that is as it should be. Yet Joseph was faithful, devoted, and played his part well before he faded from the scene not long after the birth of Jesus.
From the word Advent also springs the word adventure. Imagine considering that there are adventures of faith for you. What would an adventure of faith look like? How would life be different if you actively chose to pursue an encounter with the Divine? To help prepare for those adventures of faith, consider four ways to prepare spiritually for Christmas.
May we remember something that is as true of God during Advent as it is at Christmas, just as it is true on Good Friday and in the Easter narratives of Thomas and the resurrection. That truth is this: we serve a tender God.
In his new book “Jesus the Refugee: Ancient Injustice and Modern Solidarity,” D. Glenn Butner Jr. appeals to Christians to see the ignoble reality of the Holy Family’s flight to Egypt as a story that keeps repeating in human history and in this morning’s news headlines.
This year, I am adding an extra candle to my Advent wreath: Hope, Peace, Joy, Love, and Grief. Advent is most commonly known as a season of waiting, but it is also a season of grief.
I’ve lamented my way through my time at Yale Divinity School, crying out in both pain and gratitude because I am surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses and because my grandparents were not there to see me receive my Master of Divinity. I am becoming more fluent in the language of lament, learning its hollow vowels, complex conjugations, and myriad metaphors. And I thank God that God’s still patiently listening for my voice, even when I don’t really want to talk.
Just like meeting a cat when they make you break out in hives, meeting people where they live, where they grow, where they love—in the sacred interiority of their homes—is not an endeavor without risk. But it is in these spaces where we move from encountering the world and expanding the reach of Christian community, into what it means to make and build and sustain and nurture the relationships on which a truly redeemed world relies.
The voice of Palestinian Christians frequently speaks clearly in response to violence and injustice. The present war is no exception. Whether the church around the world listens or not is another question.
During Advent, many churches will sing the hymn, “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” with its lyric “The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.” We sing these words, but do we wonder why there is a relationship between hope and fear?
This Advent, I find myself again wondering where we can find hope in the midst of the tremendous suffering in our world. Amid public and private suffering, hope feels like a four-letter word.
In the winter of 2013, I started an experiment of walking, taking public transit, and bicycling for my job as a pastor. This fall I added a new form of transit, an e-bike. E-bikes are not for everyone, but they can be an alternative to cars for many, especially pastors.
This year, my sun lamp is my Advent wreath. I can’t explain how this works exactly. It only has the one light; there’s no way to turn on more and more of it as the Sundays of Advent pass. But I want to mark this beacon of light with some sort of reverence this December, to bless it in this season of darkness.
Advent reminds us that the best things in life are not the trinkets, toys, thrills, and temptations of this world that come from the outside in an attempt to give us a temporary thrill or some short-term pleasure. Life is about the gifts that God provides that work from the inside out and sustain us even when everything is not going our way. The themes of Advent point us to those gifts of hope, love, peace, and joy.
My congregation will begin reading from the NRSVue at the beginning of the new church year, the first Sunday of Advent. I am looking forward to continuing the journey with them with this “update.”
What would an exercise in developing a liturgy that is “of the people” mean? Forget about the divide between those who like liturgy that is rote vs. those who like liturgy that is spontaneous. I’m interested in the actual “heart” of liturgy, why we do what we do or why we even do it in the first place.
Do you want to know if your work as a pastor is having an impact on the community? Do you want to know if your church is transforming the lives of those outside its walls? If so, stop counting how many people attend worship or walk through your doors during the week. Rather, adopt this new metric: how many dogs did you meet this week?
On November 10, the Patriarchs and Heads of the Churches in Jerusalem published a Statement on the Celebration of Advent and Christmas in the Midst of the War. I realized I needed to put the letter in front of our church council to see how, as a congregation, we might want to respond in solidarity. I’d like to invite you to do the same.
The hymn “We Gather Together,” often associated with Thanksgiving, is a song for any who are oppressed and look to God for help and for justice.
I wouldn’t say I’m thankful for my husband’s cancer. However, it has brought blessings into our life, including a greater appreciation for our life day to day.
Amidst the waterfall of news, we need to build moments of peace into our lives. But I think there is another question. How much do we really need to know? Do we really need to know everything, all the time, everywhere, about everyone?
We know we are not where we want to be as a country—or as a people. Our work is not done. But the answer is not to give up or retreat.
What does it mean to be a pastor during these extraordinary times? And how do we remain not only spiritually healthy, but also physically, emotionally, and psychologically balanced in our vocation?
If not for my time in the valley of the shadow of death, I would not fully appreciate how sweet life is amid green pastures and still waters.
I did not complete the hike because I am “hardcore.” I completed it because I knew when to ask for help.
Baptists and other religious minorities turned one world upside down and gifted us the world we live in today where I am free to practice my faith and others are free to do the same.
Watching the wild geese overhead in the “stick season” of November in northern Wisconsin, I’ve come to wonder if we might be able to say something like “Deep calls to deep in the honking of your geese?”
A baby serves as a metaphor for today’s church: fragile yet beautiful, crying yet worthy of every effort toward consolation, messy yet adorable.
This is a Jann Wenner moment for the church. It is time to search our hearts and examine our practices, asking how the church continues the sexism and racism reflected in society.
Roman Catholics and Protestants alike benefit from being in dialogue, from sharing our stories with one another. For we enrich our understanding of what God is doing in the world and that the Spirit of God never ceases in empowering the faithful, especially in times of crisis and challenge. Yet stories of saints need to be read with care, lest in our telling, we are reinforcing uncritical readings of those stories that valorize issues of gender, power, and beliefs or practices best left in the distant past.
As we sat in a Shabbat service in solidarity with our Jewish neighbors over the past week, we saw unbelievable pain and grief. We also witnessed the mourning of our Palestinian siblings at a vigil. As Christians, we must bear witness to such grief, but we must not make the mistake of only seeing one side’s pain.
Just as Christ commands us to believe as a child, Fred Rogers, and now Daniel Tiger, keeps reminding us that we won’t always be the best, but we all deserve the chance to try to be the better version of ourselves. The Imago Dei. The one that God sees when God declares us beloved.
Pastoral care is an essential part of ministry. Individuals and families in the congregation are under our care. However, it’s easy for pastors to get sucked in doing more for people than is good for them—or for us.
When loss occurs, grief inevitably follows. Yet in public life, grief from our collective losses seems to routinely get short-circuited. We seem incapable of allowing it into our lives. But that stymies our shared project of creating communities that thrive, because it causes so many of us to pretend or wish our losses never happened. For others, it means a retreat from public life entirely.
I join with millions of people around the world pleading with America’s government to cease financial and military support for the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza. Further, I join with a global community in calling for an immediate ceasefire and an end to this war. All lives matter!
Too often a legacy church survives, or not, because of choices made about the church building. Fortunately, my 150-year-old congregation transformed the overwhelming burden of supporting our legacy church building before it was too late, but not without significant conflict and risk. Here’s what we’ve learned.
Lately I’ve been thinking that I wish I had a big picture view of church life in North America in the fall of 2023. Then I realized having a big picture view is probably a pipe dream. Part of life in the church in 2023 is just who’s here and who isn’t.
When I see an apron, I think of service. I think of hospitality. I want my apron to remind me that to follow the lowly Galilean, I’m called to a life of service and hospitality, which embraces the personal and works to strip away anything disingenuous.
When Martin Luther King, Jr. wrote “Why We Can’t Wait,” he was correct. Day after day, our voices and actions are called upon to labor for justice. Yet burnout is counterproductive to our advocacy for the least of God’s children, which may be why Jesus told his followers, and us, not to worry about tomorrow.
What happened in Israel last Saturday and continues to this moment is an inhumane, unjustifiable, and atrocious terrorist attack that must be condemned by all people of good will.
“The American Way: A True Story of Nazi Escape, Superman, and Marilyn Monroe” traces seemingly disparate loose threads that come together – largely connected by the complicated figure of comic book publisher Harry Donenfeld.
Many male clergy routinely disrespect women, including fellow clergy, through words, actions, and thoughts. None of this is by coincidence or happenstance, nor does it happen in isolation—it is both by design and a perpetual product of society’s, including the church’s, refusal not just to explicitly acknowledge sexism and misogyny but far more critically, to do the dire work of repenting and addressing these ills in ways that do not require women to “to do the work.”
Across the U.S. political spectrum, contempt is on the rise. So too is acceptance of violence as a political tool.
Change has to start with us,” Shriver believes. “We all have some responsibility for our division. It didn’t just happen to us. We’re doing this to ourselves, and we can undo it.”
The unsettled nature of voluntary participation is by no means limited to religious professionals. Religious professionals have a special role, however, and a special vulnerability in the face of squishy participation in faith communities.
We must disabuse ourselves of the false notion that the church is apolitical. We must overcome the concept, so commonly taught among us, that we might somehow, in separating church from an influence over the state or the state having influence to keep us from being church in certain ways, arrive at some spiritual state of political innocence in which spirituality or religious life is not political.
Bluey brings to life characters who appeal to parents and children alike, and even to folks who don’t have kids but watch the show for its meaningful message. A message, I believe, possessing pieces of gospely good news.
As I walked around a Confederate cemetery, I wondered what other choice the young soldiers buried there could have made. The values they were raised to believe to be true were affirmed by their schools, their textbooks, their newspapers, their families, friends, their whole culture, and worst of all, their churches.
Amid today’s political polarities and culture wars, American Baptists have significant contributions to make to American society, particularly in the recognition of women in ordained ministry and the rightful place for all religions to provide spiritual life and practice to all Americans and residents from all corners of the world.
A colleague of mine once presented a theological paper where he made an excellent case that the image of God was creativity. I’ve never forgotten this idea.
The things that cause kids to die in this country – hate crimes, suicide, racism, neglect, abuse, hunger, war, gun violence – were no different in Langston Hughes’ day than they are now, and they ought to spur us not just to act but to move. What movements ought we to be crafting to love and protect children?