On July 4th this year our nation turned 250 years old. How should the church in America think about this milestone?
Join me in a time-traveling journey to visit similar anniversaries. [ . . . ]
On this day in 1978, I was born. I did not have any say in the matter. There was a time I did not exist, a time I did, then a time when I entered the breathing world. Everything provided for me in the months that followed–feeding, changing, medical care, shelter–was provided by others. I was entirely at their mercy, and mercifully they met my needs.
I know all of this, of course, because I am still here, not because I remember any of it. The story I am told is that, while Dad was getting his career with Delta off the ground, Mama and I lived with Mimi and Papa during my first 5 weeks. Yet I have no recollection of this period, though my care was the central concern of the household. [ . . . ]
The proliferation of ICE raids in American cities is as polarizing as the administration behind it, hailed by one side as the necessary corrective to President Biden’s immigration policies and by the other as the beginnings of Gestapo-level fascism.
I lived in Minneapolis, where tensions are now highest, from 2002 to 2005 and was friends with many Somali immigrants. The news coming out of The Cities, both from journalists and friends, has been excruciating to follow. There is a helplessness many of us feel on the other side of our smartphones, distant from the crossroads of East 34th Street and Portland Avenue yet near to the bewilderment and grief that Renee Nicole Good was shot there by an ICE agent and immediately labeled a domestic terrorist by the Trump administration. [ . . . ]
Wormholes may or may not exist between the galaxies but one definitely exists on my drive to work. Every fall, the oranges, purples, and yellows of the Virginia maples and oaks form a Kubrickian star gate that transports me to November 7th, 1999 on the Cumberland Plateau of the Appalachian Mountains.
My cousin had tied the knot the day before at The University of the South, where he and his new bride met in Sewanee, Tennessee. I had driven there from Birmingham where I was still in college and was set to drive back on Sunday. Someone told me that I had to go see the Memorial Cross before I left. Dedicated in 1923 and perched on the overlook of the plateau, this 60-foot cross memorialized those from the school and county who died in World War I. [ . . . ]
Lessons about culture and connection from my first NFL game
When I was 10 years old, my dad took me on a trip that I have never forgotten. So when my best friend of 35 years—the one with the infectious enthusiasm for the Kansas City Chiefs—invited my brother and me to travel his way for the once-every-four-years matchup between the Commanders and the Chiefs, I was all in. I wanted to take my son Samuel on a trip that might be as meaningful for him at 10 as mine was with my dad. The fact that he told me on Monday afternoon, “This has been so much fun already and we haven’t even made it to the game yet!” was a good sign of a mission accomplished. [ . . . ]
When will churches step up to help carry the weight too many survivors bear alone?
Christianity Today ran this article on May 30, 2025 [ . . . ]
“If one more person quotes Romans 8:28 to me, I’m going to punch them in the face!”
I almost choked on the cookie this elderly sister had brought to Bible study. These were strong words from such a sweet lady. She was recounting the gutting experience of losing her son in his 30s many years earlier. Well-wishers assured her God is in control and her son’s death was part of his plan. [ . . . ]
I’m two weeks in to a month of sabbatical, which means that I finally started feeling the itch to get my hands dirty and work in the yard. To my delight, there was small garden area by the driveway overgrown with Bermuda grass ready to oblige me. [ . . . ]
Revelations of a scandalous amicus brief raise the question: Who’s driving the SBC?
Christianity Today ran this article on October 31, 2023
There’s a story my family has told since before I was born about my great-uncle Johnny. When his four daughters were teenagers, the family took a long trip in which they had to stop in a familiar town for dinner. [ . . . ]
Twenty years ago today, Rachael and I were married in Conyers, GA. Surrounded by family and friends, we made our vows on the same platform where Rachael’s parents made theirs 28 years earlier. The picture below gives a fairy tale feel to the event. It is not inaccurate. While plenty of things in our lives have been difficult, we have lived happily ever after.
Speaking for myself, I sensed in that room a relief among those who knew me best that I had found such a tremendous person of character, integrity, depth, wisdom, and devotion to Jesus with whom I could become a more whole person. It’s not that I needed to be tamed—I was always the compliant firstborn who followed the rules and didn’t give my parents any trouble. It’s not that I needed to be motivated—I was driven in my seminary studies and my pursuit of pastoral ministry. It’s that, like everyone, I have blind spots. And I needed someone near enough to me to point them out. [ . . . ]
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