Private Hugh White stamped his feet and rubbed his hands together to warm them in the blistering cold of a March evening in Boston. Snow

In Four Quartets, T.S. Eliot observes that “midwinter spring is its own season.” What a perfect encapsulation of Michigan weather! I think about that line

“I wish you would tell my pastor that ‘the love of money is the root of all evil.’ Money is not the problem!” This woman

The last time I got into a fight fight, a physical fight with hitting and punching, was almost fifty years ago. I was in junior

Genesis 1:1-2:4 All of us have memories of home. When asked about home, we often talk about the house (or houses) we grew up in.

Lent started this week, a new liturgical season, and once again I’m reminded of my love of the church calendar. It provides a rhythm to

Lately, I’ve been reading the mystics. You know, Christians from a different time and place who speak of love as the highest knowledge, calling us

Years ago, I heard Henri Nouwen on an old recording tell the story of his path from teaching in the Ivy League to living in

I said, “Yes!” without really thinking about it. This group of young people had become my friends. We had worked together in the expansive greenhouses