I was blessed with getting stuck in the great blackout of 2003; the most profound of all blackouts in American history. We were in the process of a very messy move from Locust Valley on Long Island to Hillsborough where I had accepted a call to the Millstone church. The movers had done a poor job, leaving much behind, forcing me to make repeated trips back from New Jersey to Long Island. The week of the great blackout found me…
Loss of memory can sometimes be a gift. I know it isn’t always, and I can imagine that there are plenty of counter examples, but as I sit with my mom and experience (for the ten-millionth time in my life) her love for me, I realize that there can be a kind of grace in not remembering a few things. It’s not denial; it’s choosing to remember her life as good. My mom wants to leave this world a grateful person.
When I awaken night after night and stare into the darkness, I experience something more than the absence of light, something more akin to a power. This power exposes the brokenness of my life but also affords me the chance of greater wholeness and deeper intimacy with God. In the dark of night, I realize a comfort and an adumbration—a foreshadowing of my entering the deep darkness of death that draws ever closer.
While I struggled with my dad’s lack of physical touch and his emotional distance, he touched me in ways that I had not fully appreciated and that have shaped me profoundly. When I consider his call, commitment, and generosity, my ambivalence gives way to acceptance and my burden of sadness lifts.
Part of the beauty of the Reformed tradition is its emphasis on discernment that may often walk a fine line between extremes. Therein lies a tricky part of our witness and walk as faithful disciples of Jesus: we are not called to win or to necessarily be in power, but to be faithful. Alberta’s book is one useful tool to that end.
Our democracy is the beloved wooden boat. It only persists through love and maintenance and attention to see and replace the rot it before it sinks the whole enterprise. And it takes work.
In the waiting room of my car dealership’s service department, I was hoping to hear that the needed repairs would be covered by the warranty. I didn’t want to hear that the transmission of my car had been damaged by something I had done or failed to do. I didn’t want to admit that I had allowed some ill-equipped fast-lube mechanic to tinker with my transmission, thus making it my responsibility to pay for the repairs. I wanted the dealer…
We need a reset; a reframing, reordering, reorienting, redefining. A remembering. In his latest book, Steven Bouma-Bouma Prediger presents us with a clear and concise argument that such a reset is no more and no less than embracing a holistic vision of discipleship.
