lenten journal
“Where Are We Going” Luke 4:1-13 A Sermon for Pilgrim United Church of Christ, Durham NC February 17, 2013 In these weeks since Epiphany, we have journeyed through Jesus’ baptism, his first miracle, and his sermon in his hometown of Nazareth. This morning we come to the story of
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Last Saturday night, we went to dinner with friends. The dinner was good and the decor was cool enough, but it felt like the owners were working on a concept they hoped would become the next Cheesecake Factory. I don’t want sound as though all I’m doing is
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I love winter. I love the cold and the snow and the bundling up. And I miss it. Durham does not know much of winter, other than the passing glances -- wintry mixes -- that leave us reeling from time to time because they are less than familiar. This weekend,
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I know. It’s been days since I’ve written. Both my mind and my Moleskin are filled with fragments waiting to become poems and posts. Instead, my days and nights have been filled with food and friends, with laughter and tears, with new faces and familiar smiles. Yesterday, I
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I’ve loved the Magi since I was a kid. I don’t know if it was their exotic nature, or that they were chasing stars across the desert, or that they were a sort of odd addition to the whole manger scene, but they have continued to keep my
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One of the books I read and reread as a youth minister was David Elkind’s The Hurried Child , which was his take on adolescence in the 1980s. My guess is it still holds up pretty well. One of the things I took away from that book (or at least
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The story below is one I wrote several years ago. I read it this morning at church. I offer it to you tonight. A Faraway Christmas by Milton Brasher-Cunningham As we gather together on this Silent Night, To sing ‘round the tree in the soft candlelight, From a Faraway Christmas,
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on the cusp of a new year back edge of the old one may I see life as frontier ‘stead of something that’s done may I age with more grace and far fewer demands stare out into space and work with my hands make love the last word and
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Looking through Facebook posts this evening, I noticed my friend Christopher Williams is playing at Club Passim in Harvard Square, one of my favorite places to listen to music. When we lived in Charlestown, I volunteered there and help run the sound from time to time. Thanks t the luck
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I have posted this poem before. It remains one of the most powerful statements of gratitude I know, so I'm sharing it once again. Thanks Listen with the night falling we are saying thank you we are stopping on the bridges to bow for the railings we are
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what we saved in daylight by falling back appears to be nothing more than the stealing of afternoon light to shore up the dawn the babies and chickens aren’t fooled even though the days roll by like an old tire out of round we think we have fixed something
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“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” (Hebrews 11:1) As definitions go, the opening verse of Hebrews 11 -- the “faith chapter” -- is about as good as it gets. Faith is at the heart of what we can’t make