There is so much I hoped to do during this Advent, for my own kids, for the children and families in my ministry, and yes, for myself. And as always, come Christmas morning, some of it will have to be put away with vague hopes and promises of next year
My left wrist currently sports a grand assortment of colorful friendship bracelets; a sure sign that I spent the summer
In the Gospel for this Pentecost Sunday, one line jumps out at me in particular as a parent. Jesus says
I should’ve been prepared for my own child to tell me he was experiencing doubt. But I wasn’t.
I encourage my boys to pray, but I’m not sure I’ve done a good job of showing them how. That’s something I will change this Lent.
In Saul I recognize the passionate energy of my own boys and many other children I’ve worked with over the years.
As the detritus of Christmas surrounds us, where do we see Jesus?
“Do you really believe Jesus is the Son of God?” the teen asked. “I do,” I said, “and I don’t need anyone else to agree with me.”
Angels are messengers of God, sent to help us when we’re not hearing the still small voice.
St James’ example leads me to understand my place as a pilgrim at all times and in all places.