Adam’s good scar?
You have probably wrestled at some stage with the old question about whether Adam and Eve had belly buttons, but I have a different query about…
Letting space speak
Sometimes I feel like I go through much of life with my internal volume settings on low, when everything is muted. Then something nudges one of…
In praise of Billy Graham’s feet
I’m not a contributor to the new book that celebrates the life and legacy of Billy Graham, but if I had been I would have wanted…
The hidden streets around the corner
I was twenty-four hours too late to meet Chico. The faint stains of his blood were the only mark that he had left behind on the…
Guts and glory
One of my favorite parts of Easter Sunday at my church over the past few years has been the scratch Hallelujah Chorus. Anyone who wants to…
The Nikene Creed
As a journalist I have long professionally employed the half-a-dozen “honest working men” Rudyard Kipling praised in his famous poem: who, what, why, where, when, and…
A dime to spare
I usually toss any dimes I have in my pockets at the end of the day into a jar, where they stay until an annual count-and-bank.…
Footnotes and foot soldiers
Humility would be a much more appealing virtue if, having developed it, you were allowed to enjoy people praising you for the achievement. Unless you were…
Lost on a Greyhound bus
Sometimes my blog is wonderings, sometimes it’s wanderings. This is one of the latter, more of a meander than a meditation, prompted by a soulful version…
The misery of the modern-day Oliver (and Olivia) Twists
They are among the six most famous words of childhood. “Please sir, I want some more.” Angel-faced, tousle-haired, the young boy holds out his bowl in…
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