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Last weekend I said something to Ginger about Thursday Night Dinner and she said, “We aren’t having dinner this week.” Knowing it was my birthday eve and knowing her penchant for birthday surprises, I took her statement at face value. i spent the day writing and came home to
advent journal
As I was driving to and from work today I heard interviews on NPR related to what is being called “The Torture Report,” or the “Senate Select Committee on Intelligence Study of the Central Intelligence Agency’s Detention and Interrogation Program,” which looked at the secret prisons the CIA ran
advent journal
It was the summer of 1984, as I remember it. I was twenty-seven, living in Dallas, Texas and working as a chaplain at Baylor Medical Center. My father was pastoring at Westbury Baptist Church in Houston. The ties between us were strained a bit, in large part because I
advent journal
I was driving to work early this morning, as is my custom more days than not, and took my usual exit off of I-40 at Fayetteville Road. The ramp bends up and over the freeway to get to the mall and there’s a traffic signal just before the
advent journal
On this second Sunday of the Advent season, I read the Hebrew scripture passage as if I were the prophet, which I have done for over twenty years in various congregations, and which has been preceded almost all of those years by my singing the chorus of “Prepare Ye the
advent journal
The protests have been in my mind all day. Here are a few of the songs that have been the soundtrack in my mind. As we walk this Advent road, these are good tunes for the journey. The first is a John Fogerty song covered by Mavis Staples and Jeff
advent journal
As soon as work was over this evening, I raced across Durham to meet Ginger at the Armory for the Durham Symphony Holiday Concert. Downtown was full of activity: something at the Durham Performing Arts Center (DPAC), a crowd around the downtown Christmas tree, and the usual folks finding their
advent journal
Somewhere in the night I woke to remember I had not written. The day was full. Ginger and Rachel were driving back from the funerals in Birmingham, I cooked lunch for our UCC clergy group (as I do the first Thursday of every month), other food to deliver, and we
advent journal
I don’t know who said it, or where I first heard it, but for years I have remembered the First Rule of Theology: there is a God and it’s not me. I find comfort in that sentence. Being God looks like an incredibly difficult job. There’s something
advent journal
Mark Strand died this week. He was a poet, even a former U. S. Poet Laureate. In the middle of the violence that makes up our world, it feels worthwhile to say thanks for the life and words of a poet who held a sense of appropriate insignificance with grace;
advent journal
I have been ruminating much of the day on a contrast presented to me by The Writer’s Almanac this morning. Along with the daily poem, they marked two anniversaries. In 1955, Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat in the front of the bus to a white passenger.
advent journal
As Advent begins, I am breaking my blog silence — which was not intentional. I have been writing, but my energy has been aimed at a new book called This Must Be the Place: Reflections on Home that will come out next fall thanks to the good folks at Morehouse Press.