In Matthew 5:8, Jesus gives what I suspect is the loftiest, most mysterious, and least attainable of all his beatitudes: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.” And yet, in its very simplicity is the key to everything. It’s the key that allows us to transcend a religion of rules and…
The young woman stands, white-faced, before a shouting crowd. She is naked but for a bedsheet clutched around herself. Some of the men’s eyes travel hungrily up and down her body, leering and smirking slyly. . .
Have you ever experienced real hunger? I don’t mean our everyday tummy cravings, which we usually manage to satisfy within hours, if not minutes. I mean hungry to the point that finding food becomes an obsession, and you can’t think of anything else? . . .
When I was a young teenager, my single mom didn’t have a car, so we would walk to church. It was a long walk in our Sunday clothes, through neighborhoods without sidewalks, where we had to be prepared to throw pinecones at dogs that ran towards us, barking and snarling and trying to bite our…
Now, here’s a Beatitude that can come out sounding pretty convoluted, We’re used to thinking of “blessed” as meaning holy, as in Blessed Mary, or rewarded, as in “God bless you for your help” . . .
Jesus had a big, fat soft spot in his heart for the poor. He himself was raised in a poor family . . .
I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Thinking and reading. Listening and talking. And thinking some more. I’ve been an evangelical for 50 years . . .
Sometimes it splashes you in the face brazen and breathtaking as ice cold water But how many more moments slip by unnoticed (for she rarely raises her voice) . . .
My heart’s wound is an old old story / It chatters in the background day and night . . .
Quit trying to corral the river to slow it down or to touch every drop or to steer it away from the danger of the waterfall . . .
I am from cotton hand-me-downs, hemmed to fit, / From Carnation powdered milk / And big biscuit Nabisco Shredded Wheat. / From racing and yelling, “I’LL GET IT!” / Whenever the black rotary phone rang…
Born on the fourth day of God’s great goodness Your Creator crowned you to govern the night . . .
In Praise of the Sun Rays of sunlight beaming down like a gentle fan set translucent spring leaves ablaze midges become fairy lights, swirling sparks . . .
You made this earth in Your image, O God Ground under our feet, solid and still In the sacred garden, we rose up out of the soil, dust children, and we spend our lives never leaving it . . .
You, God of Life are the God of Water Without you we shrivel and die You built into our design the craving for you . . .
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Luminous Heart 