My granddaddy on my father’s side had klan ties. He wasn’t blood related, my dad never knew his real father, and somehow that makes me feel better, as if blood has anything to do with the way we’re blinded by hate and lies and all the separating we do when we make people less than or other. I’ve come to know that blood is the only thing that sets us free but that’s another story. Needless to say, I never really knew him. My dad was born into the dirty south in the 1950s. He was threadbare …
Suffering
Peace and Hope on this Beautiful Tragic Easter
I wrote this status update on my Facebook page this morning but I thought I'd share it here too for those of you who don't follow me there. I didn't plan to blog today and these are just some random thoughts for those living in the tension of today and everyday. I missed church this Easter morning because my back is still a mess and there's no way I could sit for that long. My family went on without me. Later, Josh will help me to the car and I'll see if I can tolerate the 5 minute …
Living in Exile and Finding My Way Home
I. I've asked a lot of God lately. There was a time, not so long ago when my god was poor and mean. I had a theology built on suffering. A god who was always a bit out of reach for frail hands and weak prayers. He was the Jesus who taught righteousness through selling it all and giving to the poor. I thought that’s what he meant. I could find holiness if I just sacrificed enough. He was a god who was always teaching lessons like a wizened schoolmaster rapping his stick across knuckles as I …
