I was intrigued. After the meeting, I started reading about dignity in elder care and the practices meant to protect residents’ privacy, autonomy, identity and choice. Caregivers are encouraged to speak directly to the person rather than around them, offer choices whenever possible, respect personal routines and preferences, and avoid infantilizing adults simply because they need help eating, bathing or getting dressed.

The question the bib presented wasn’t trivial. Would wearing it embarrass or demean this woman? Or would she prefer a bib to spilling food on a blouse she loves? The answer might be different for every person, which I believe is the point.

It requires us to see the whole person and resist reducing a person to their limitations.

Dignity vs. Respect

Years ago, I read Donna Hicks’ Dignity: Its Essential Role in Resolving Conflict, and the memory-care meeting sent me back to her work. Hicks makes an important distinction between dignity and respect. Dignity, she argues, is inherent to us as human beings. It is our birthright. All human life is valuable and worthy. Respect is different. Respect can be earned through our actions or accomplishments.

I may not respect what another person does, what they believe or how they behave, but their human dignity does not depend on my approval.

That distinction feels particularly important right now. I can lose respect for the guy who races up behind me on the highway, swerves around my car and flips me off because apparently driving five miles over the speed limit is an intolerable offense. I can lose respect for someone who leaves a cruel social-media comment. I can strongly oppose someone’s politics, theology or behavior. But none of that gives me permission to treat another human being as if they have no value.

Dignity is more demanding than a vague appeal to niceness, because it includes accountability.

Honoring someone’s dignity does not mean excusing their behavior, ignoring harm or avoiding conflict. In fact, treating people as full human beings includes holding them responsible for what they do. This matters, because calls for kindness and civility can become excuses for silence. “Be nice” can mean don’t challenge the bully, or don’t confront injustice, or don’t make anyone uncomfortable. Dignity asks more of us: to confront harmful behavior without degrading the person who caused the harm.

Accountability also asks us to protect our own dignity. When someone insults me, I do not honor my dignity by allowing myself to be mistreated. But neither do I honor it with cruelty in return. When someone makes me furious online, perhaps the question before I hit “reply” is not simply, How do I put this person in their place? A better question might be, What response honors both their dignity and mine?

I wish I could say I regularly ask myself that question.

Too often I react, assume, and reduce a complicated human being to the worst thing they have said, done or posted. Our culture trains us well for this. Social media rewards outrage. Political rhetoric turns people into categories and caricatures. Ordinary encounters become contests over who gets the last word, the sharpest comeback or the moral high ground. In this kind of environment, dignity can begin to feel almost countercultural.

Maybe we need a dignity code beyond the walls of assisted living.

The elders in my mother’s community, particularly those living with dementia, remind me why. As memories disappear and abilities diminish, the people caring for them must keep remembering what disease can obscure: this person is still an adult with a history, preferences, relationships, desires and worth. Nothing they lose makes them less human. Their dignity does not depend on their ability to remember a name, button a blouse, feed themselves or argue their own case.

Perhaps those of us who can still advocate loudly and forcefully for ourselves need the same reminder about one another.

Recent writing:

My April editorial, “Worlds we imagine, worlds we make”, explores imagination as a moral act—the futures we fail to envision carry consequences, and so do the ones we dare to claim. It also gave me an excuse to write about my recent sci-fi obsession.

This lectionary reflection may have been written as much for me as for you. Elijah’s encounter with God in the silence becomes an unexpected entry point into what exhausted leaders might learn about rest, perspective, and finding their way back to the work we are given to do.

My May editorial took a more creative approach, working through the phrases of Psalm 46’s “Be still and know that I am God.” This gave me the freedom to be honest about how prayer can feel like holding a conch shell to my ear, hoping for the ocean.

Books I’m loving:

I came across Daniel Kraus’s Angel Down, the 2026 Pulitzer winner, only recently. While I consume most novels through my headphones, this is one I needed to hold in my hands to see how Kraus wrote the entire narrative in a single, unspooling sentence that circles back to its own beginning. I keep imagining how rich a book club discussion would be. Kraus has crafted a novel that pulses with a terrible urgency, compelling the reader to face the pathology of human violence, which always, always returns.

Yesteryear, by Caro Claire Burke, is a wild ride. Trad wife influencer Natalie Mills is somehow transported back to 1855 where she’s expected to actually be a traditional wife—handwashing clothes, hauling firewood, missing the nannies and industrial grade appliances of her 21^st-century kitchen. The story presented a fascinating conversation about feminism and women’s roles today. But the ending…as Roxane Gay wrote in her review of Yesteryear, “When I tell you the ending is off the rails, I am telling you the ending is off the rails.”

Dan doesn’t recommend leadership books lightly, so when my husband pointed me to Leadership on the Line: Staying Alive Through the Dangers of Change by Ronald Heifetz and Marty Linsky, I paid attention. I’m still working through it, but its insights feel well-suited to this particular moment—one in which leaders are expected to drive meaningful change while the institutions they lead are met with mistrust and sometimes even contempt.

Upcoming speaking – Let’s connect!

August 23rd, 2026: Preaching at Southminster Presbyterian Church, North Chesterfield, Virginia.

October 17 – 18, 2026: Teaching at First Presbyterian Church, San Rafael, California.

Know a conference, or event that you think I’d be a good speaker for? Hit the message button and tell me!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

Some stories belong to my children, not to me. But when our children suffer, we suffer too. Their ache reverberates in our bodies. Their anxiety becomes a low hum in our nervous system. I’ve been walking around all week feeling as if a fist were squeezing my heart.

You know that feeling? When everything looks mostly normal from the outside, but inside you’re bracing. Waiting. Praying. Trying not to catastrophize. Trying to trust.

In the middle of this week, I stumbled across a poem by Robert Hass called “A Sunset.” It begins with a description so ordinary and yet so arresting I had to read it twice:

…The sky

At dusk was sordid and then brightened

And softened to a glowing peach

Of brief but astonishing beauty.

I saw that sunset in my mind. I remembered that sunset.

Later in the poem, Hass reflects that it is

…the experience of beauty,

Not rules, not fear of consequences

Or reverence for authority, that informs

Our moral sense.

I took that thought out for a walk, needing to spend more time with it. What if beauty is not just decorative? What if it serves a moral purpose? What if it is formative?

We had blessed relief from the bitter cold this week — sunshine, blue skies, a few days of rain that helped melt the remaining piles of snow. One afternoon, the air even smelled like spring. Not fully arrived but hinted. Budding. Possible. The faintest sweetness rising from the thawing earth.

Just that scent — that promise — calmed my nerves. When everything feels disordered, when the violence of our world and the private blows to my heart tangle together, I cannot muscle my way through grief on information alone. I cannot reason my way out of fear and white-knuckle my way into hope. I need to experience beauty.

I need the sky to soften to peach. I need the smell of thawing earth. I need poetry. I need music. I need to witness human acts of kindness and care. I need to experience beautiful feelings: grace, forgiveness, compassion, love.

Beauty is elusive. We miss it because we’re bent over in pain. Or distracted. Or simply trying to get through the day. But it’s here for us, whether we notice it or not. And it serves us in ways we often fail to imagine.

In his poem, Hass recalled how Monet, distressed by horrific descriptions of war,

…rose one morning, walked down to his studio

By the pond at Giverny, and began

To paint the water lilies and kept painting them

As long as his hand could hold a brush.

Beauty is not frivolous. It is fuel. It is formation—a quiet reminder that the world can still be ordered in a way that blooms with water lilies and casts the sky in brilliant hues of peach, pink, and purple.

So if you’ve had a week like mine, or anticipate a bad week on the horizon, I invite you to seek beauty with me. Even now, something tender and luminous is unfolding if we pause to lift our eyes, wait for the sunlight to soften, and take in the experience.

Recent writing:

In this lectionary reflection for the second Sunday of Lent, I write about the way salvation is so much more than a formulaic prayer or a ticket to paradise: “Salvation is what happens when God makes room to breathe inside all the tight places that are killing us.”

The murder of Renee Good by a Federal Immigration Officer horrified and shook me. I couldn’t get the image of the single bullet hole in her car’s windshield out of my mind. I wrote this prayer in response: Praying around a bullet hole.

It’s hard to fathom that empathy could be so controversial. We dedicated the Outlook’s February magazine to empathy, and I used Leslie Jamison’s brilliant essay “The Empathy Exams” to frame my editorial, “Our longing to be understood.”

Small churches often suffer from a crisis of confidence. I hope my January editorial “You’re light was made to shine” served as encouragement.

In my December editorial, Good news for all the people, I claim a communication strategy for the church, not one based on algorithms to stoke fear and division, but a story that saves. A promise that, no matter who you are or what you’ve done, you are loved by God, welcomed by Christ, and invited into beloved community.

Books I’m loving:

I’ve been moving slowly, one poem at a time, through The Best American Poetry 2025. I’ve come to love these collections for the way they open to unexpected beauty, and lines that stay long after I set the book down. This is where I discovered Robert Hass’ “The Sunset.” My goal for the year: more poetry, less doomscrolling. This book has been a balm.

Lily King is now one of my favorite writers. Since my last Substack (I know, it’s been a while) I’ve devoured three of her novels. Writers & Lovers captivated me most—its dialogue smart, witty, tender. The story centers on Casey Peabody who, at thirty-one, is still determined to carve out a life where there is room for her to write. She waits tables and walks dogs to pay the rent of a tiny, moldy room on the side of a garage, and her mailbox is full of final notices from debt collectors. After six years of work on a novel, she’s finally preparing to send it out into the world. The authenticity King captures—both the struggle and the beauty—has earned this novel a place in my heart.

My book club selected Ursula LeGuin’ s The Left Hand of Darkness, and thank goodness for that accountability— I might have abandoned ship when confronted with the alien terminology and intricate world-building. But as we unpacked LeGuin’s radical vision of gender, race, and cultural difference, I realized that this is the kind of book that makes you see the world differently. LeGuin’s protagonist Genly Ai navigates his diplomatic mission to ice-bound Gethen, where inhabitants spend most of their lives without gender, only briefly becoming male or female during their monthly “kemmer” cycle. That LeGuin crafted this meditation on gender fluidity in 1969 feels nothing short of revolutionary.

Upcoming speaking – Let’s connect!

March 1^st, 2026: Teaching and Preaching at Gayton Kirk Presbyterian Church, Henrico,VA.

March 15, 2026: Teaching at First Presbyterian Church, Fort Worth, Texas.

June 14, 2026: Preaching for the Presbyterian Women of the Synod of the Mid-Atlantic, Massanetta Springs Camp and Conference Center, Harrisonburg, VA.

Know a conference, or event that you think I’d be a good speaker for? Hit Reply and tell me!

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Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

I’m positively obsessed with Butler’s work. Within her science fiction I find futuristic scenarios and valuable thought-experiments that help us envision where we humans might be headed. She wrote to warn and to widen us. She wrote because she believed stories could tilt the future toward something better. Her novels weren’t just acts of imagination; they were creative acts of contribution.

Most of us have some kind of positive obsession — the idea, concern, conviction, or creative spark that keeps tugging at our sleeve. Something we want to bring into the world, to share. But how often do we take that desire seriously?

Share

These days, our public square is full of deconstruction — some of it necessary, some of it overdue — but when all our energy is spent on dismantling, or “canceling”, we don’t have much left to envision possibilities beyond the rubble.

But creativity is a moral ethic. Not everyone identifies as an “artist,” but everyone is capable of making a positive contribution. To create is to add something life-giving, perspective-shifting, conscience-stirring to the world. A good idea. A needed truth. A fresh possibility. An alternative to the tired, broken patterns we keep repeating.

In his book We Need to Build, Eboo Patel observes that we live in a society overflowing with critics and starving for creators. Patel’s book—and our conversation when I interviewed him—still resonate with me. “Defeat the things we don’t like by building the things we do,” he challenges. A just and beautiful world won’t be delivered by those who merely diagnose the problem. We need people brave enough to offer the beginnings of solutions.

This brings me back to you — to the tug you feel when an idea won’t leave you alone. When a vision for something better, something beautiful, something worthy of your time and attention flares up in your mind and heart.

That spark should not be ignored. It might be your positive obsession — your invitation to contribute something of worth. We have enough voices telling us what’s wrong. We need more people brave enough to build, to offer, to imagine, to create.

So let me ask you: What contribution is yours to make? What idea keeps tapping you on the shoulder, waiting for your courage? Tell me in the comments.

Leave a comment

Recent writing:

Most of my recent writing has been focused on the Presbyterian Outlook’s daily Advent and Lent devotions.

Along with my writing on the themes of hope, peace, joy and love, I love the children’s illustrations we recruited for this Advent devotional. The pictures these kids drew in response to the scripture stories are perfect for visio divina. Get the Outlook’s digital Advent Devotional for yourself, or your church here: Draw Near: Lighting the Advent Path with Hope, Peace, Joy and Love

“The seeds we scatter” Ministry is hard and church leaders are often left feeling as if what they offer is never enough. In my September Editorial, I wanted to offer a word of encouragement. Ministry may batter and bruise us. But by the grace of God, seeds get planted – sometimes without us even realizing it – until someone calls 32 years later just to say thank you.

“Why Theological Education Matters” Religious studies programs are being slashed from colleges and universities. Seminary enrollment is shrinking. Churches are in decline. And yet, religion is everywhere, shaping our politics, communities, cultural conflicts and hopes for the future. In my October Editorial –I write about why it is so important that we learn to think deeply about God.

Upcoming speaking – Let’s connect!

January 18, 2026: Preaching at Massanutten Presbyterian Church, Harrisonburg, VA.

Know a conference or event that you think I’d be a good speaker for? Hit Reply and tell me!

Leave a comment

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

We sense its arrival within us: a subtle tingle, an involuntary shiver, the hairs on the back of our neck stand as if to salute an unseen presence. Our breath catches, followed by a sharp, sudden inhale and a breathy whisper of "ah ha."

Creativity is often treated like an abstract concept, but its presence is anything but abstract. It’s visceral, embodied, alive. It doesn’t live in PowerPoints or productivity software. It lives in spine-tingling shivers and sudden (some might say sacred) knowing.

And yet—despite its presence—we are taught from an early age to suppress it.

We’re told to color inside the lines. To choose the “right” major (which, unfortunately, does not include the arts and humanities.) To be practical, logical, marketable. To save creativity for the weekends—or the retirement years—if there’s time.

But pushing away our creativity is a disservice. Not just to individuals, but to all of us. Because creativity isn’t optional. It’s essential. We need it in in classrooms and courtrooms; in conflict resolution and climate policy; in hospitals, city councils, pulpits, and neighborhood meetings.

Complex, tangled problems won’t be solved by rote memorization or standardized answers. Deep change requires curiosity, imagination, expansive thinking, courage. To create a better future, we must first imagine what doesn’t exist, and reach for what others might dismiss as impossible. Put simply, a just and beautiful world needs creators.

William Stafford likened writing poetry to following golden threads. He got this image from William Blake’s poetic lines:

I give you the end of a golden string,

Only wind it into a ball,

It will lead you in at Heaven’s gate

Built in Jerusalem’s wall.

Stafford believed every detail, every impulse, every thread can lead the poet through Jerusalem’s wall as long as the poet is “ready, susceptible to the now…Only the golden string knows where it is going, and the role for a writer or reader is one of following, not imposing.”

Creativity won’t show you the whole way—but it will guide your next step.

And that’s what makes creativity sacred. It is the divine impulse in all of us to make something new. To imagine a better way. To participate in healing what is broken.

In Genesis, when God breathed life into dust, it was an act of poieo—the Greek word for “to make,” which later gave us our word poet. The Creator’s first gift to us was not just existence, but the invitation to co-create. We were made to be makers.

But somewhere along the way, many of us forgot. We traded wonder for practicality, mystery for certainty, and imagination for efficiency.

And now, at a time when we most need bold ideas, sacred disruptions, and beautiful alternatives, too many of us doubt our ability to offer them. We’ve been told to leave the “real work” to the experts. We’ve internalized the lie that only artists are creative.

When creativity stirs within you—whether in a painting, a protest, a policy idea, or a new approach to an old conflict—recognize it as something sacred. Something ancient. Something that doesn’t just fix problems but remakes the world.

What’s stirring in you now? What idea won’t leave you alone? What thread is asking you to follow it?

Maybe, just maybe, that small spark inside you is the very thing we need next.

Recent writing:

May Editorial – “Making Neighbors”
As an introvert, I know how tempting it is to retreat into “me time,” but I’ve learned firsthand how much life is enriched—and communities are strengthened—when we reach out to our neighbors. If we want to resist isolation’s pull and confront the evils in our world, it starts with something as simple as saying hello—and maybe feeding someone’s fish.

Lectionary Reflection on Luke 10:25-37 -- “The Good Samaritan and Ordered Love”
When I heard JD Vance frame Christian ethics as a hierarchy of obligations—family first, then neighbor, then the wider world—Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan pushed back. When ‘ordered love’ becomes an excuse to ignore suffering, it stops being love at all—and Jesus calls me instead to guard my heart from hardening and let compassion lead.

July / August Editorial – “For Such a Time as This”
Lately, “What are you reading?” feels less like small talk and more like asking how we’re surviving in such a volatile and violent world. Reading can inform and inspire, but like Esther, I’m reminded it must lead to thoughtful, courageous action that protects the vulnerable.

Lectionary Reflection on Genesis 15:1-6 – “Count the Stars”
When I imagine God asking Abram to count the stars, I feel the tension between wanting certainty and being called to trust. Abram didn’t get all the answers, but he still chose to believe, and in my own seasons of uncertainty, I’m learning to remember the One who named the stars also knows my name—and to keep taking the next faithful step beneath a sky full of promises.

Books I’m loving:

When Women Were Dragons by Kelly Barnhill

"You absolutely have to read this," my book club friends insisted. They were right. Barnhill's novel drops us into 1950s America during the "Mass Dragoning"—a phenomenon where ordinary housewives suddenly transform into fire-breathing dragons, abandoning kitchens and carpools to soar away from their confined lives.

Through the eyes of young Alex Green, whose aunt sprouted wings while her mother remained painfully human, we witness a society desperately trying to erase what it fears. The government classifies dragoning as "mass hysteria," doctors call it "a peculiar form of menopause," and families pretend their missing mothers never existed. As Alex grows up in this conspiracy of silence, she discovers truths about power, rage, and the cost of conformity.

Barnhill weaves a novel that's both heartbreaking and exhilarating—and yes, watching women breathe fire is every bit as satisfying as you'd imagine.

Imaginable: How to See the Future Coming and Feel Ready for Anything—Even Things that Seem Impossible Today by Jane McGonigal

My interest in creative collaboration to tackle major societal challenges led me, with recommendations from two friends, to Jane McGonigal’s book, Imaginable.

McGonigal, a futurist and game designer, created simulation research that predicted how humans would respond to a global pandemic—years before COVID-19 emerged. In Imaginable, she guides readers through research-backed strategies and playful exercises that stretch our thinking beyond the limits of the present moment.

The book is shifting the way I think about the future—not as something that happens to us, but as something we can creatively anticipate. McGonigal makes a compelling case that by learning to imagine “unimaginable” scenarios, we build the resilience, creativity, and courage needed to navigate whatever comes next. Here’s a link to one of McGonigal’s Ted Talks to give you a taste of her work.

Upcoming speaking:

September 26, 2025: Teaching and Preaching at Ginter Park Presbyterian Church, Richmond, VA.

October 26, 2025: Teaching at Second Presbyterian Church, Indianapolis, IN.

November 8, 2025: Preaching for Heartland Presbytery Meeting at First Presbyterian Church, Lees Summit, MO.

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

Refresh…

Refresh…

…only to get the same news headlines, the same angry arguments, the same systemic failures to meet our needs and solve our problems.

Even our prayers feel caught in repetition.

“God, how long?”
“God, help us.”
“God, again?”

As our democracy frays and our planet warms, as cruelty gets platformed and compassion gets ridiculed, we are tired, stuck, disillusioned. In this moment of fear and despair, faith and hope feel naïve, like wishful thinking.

Rabbi and family therapist Edwin Friedman called this imaginative gridlock—the inability to generate fresh vision in the face of anxiety. When fear dominates, we regress into what’s familiar. We repeat old patterns. We apply yesterday’s solutions to today’s crises and wonder why nothing changes. In anxious systems, we try harder and care more, but end up either frozen in place or burning ourselves out on a treadmill of urgency.

Either way, we’re stuck.

Friedman worked with marriages, families, congregations, entire communities caught in these loops. Again and again, he found that the first step toward breaking free wasn’t more information or better arguments—it was emotional awareness and clarity. People had to name their fear and step back from the emotional intensity of the system before they could even begin to imagine a different path forward.

This emotional gridlock that Friedman observed in families and congregations isn’t just about personal relationships—it operates at every level of society. The same fear-based patterns that keep individuals stuck also shape our collective imagination about what's possible.

In her book Pleasure Activism, writer and movement leader adrienne maree brown puts it boldly:

We are in an imagination battle, and almost everything about how we orient ourselves is shaped by fearful imaginations. Imaginations that fear Blackness, brownness, fatness, queerness, disability and difference.

In a world shaped by fearful imaginations, we’ve inherited and absorbed scripts and stories that teach us who belongs, who matters, who deserves joy, rest, safety, abundance. These scripts become cycles—passed down, systematized, reinforced by scarcity, supremacy, and control.

If we want to break the loop, we’ll have to confront not only our fear of the future, but the deep biases embedded in the stories we've been told about what kind of future is even possible.

The scripts that:

· tell us nothing will ever change

· reduce our neighbor to a threat

· whisper, Comfort is more important than courage

· say, Don’t risk. Don’t speak. Don’t try.

This is where I find myself lately—trying not to let my imagination be held captive by those scripts. Trying not to give in to the fear-based hunger for familiarity, control, or comfort. Trying to recognize the limits and biases of my inherited scripts. Trying to listen to new voices.

It’s hard work.

But it’s also holy work.

Because I believe God is still at work seeking to free us from this “system glitch” for something new.

If you’re in this place too—tired, stuck, but still stubbornly hopeful—then come with me. Together, let’s practice imagining something new, something more: More justice. More joy. More room at the table. More healing than we thought possible. More life.

The loop may not break all at once. But maybe it starts with my one small act of courage, and yours.

Recent writing:

It’s been a while since I’ve been able to update this newsletter, but I’ve still been busy writing.

My editorial about my loved one’s PTSD recently won the Associated Church Press’s Award of Merit for editorial courage. “Bound by love to bear witness” was the most vulnerable editorial I’ve written for the Outlook, so it was particularly gratifying to read the judge’s comment: “This is a very moving personal account that had me wanting to go out on my own and learn more.”

After a long-desired trip to the Legacy Museum in Montgomery, Alabama, I wrote “We’re all invited to the freedom party” for our February magazine on civil rights. The Outlook staff encouraged me to read it for our podcast, and I love how they set the recording to music—listen to it here.

“The power we hold to make peace” introduced our May magazine on nonviolent resistance. I highlighted the scholarship of political scientists Erica Chenoweth and Maria J. Stephan, whose research reveals that nonviolent movements are more successful at establishing lasting peace than violent (hope for all of us working for change!). I also wrote an educational feature for this issue, giving an overview on the principles of Kingian nonviolence.

Also, if you were not among the 30,000 people who read about the Presbyterian Outlook getting banned by Instagram, here’s that editorial and my follow up explaining why we left the platform for good.

Books I’m loving:

I rarely reread books. There are too many new books I want to read! But Carolyn Forche’s extraordinary memoir What You Have Heard is True: A Memoir of Witness and Resistance was worth this time and attention. In light of the Trump administration’s disturbing deportations to El Salvador’s CECOT prison, and my growing question of What can I do? I returned to Forche’s book as a reminder of the power of words that bear witness to injustice. As a 27-year-old American poet, Forché was recruited by an El Salvadorian stranger, the relative of a friend, to visit his country, meet with campesinos and colonels, and witness human rights violations by the Salvadorian military (funded by the U.S.) The book, which includes depictions of sickening atrocities, reminds me that I, too, can be a witness, testifying to the truth that I see, observe, and feel when I don’t hide behind my privileged and protected life.

I plowed my way through Max Boot’s 800-page biography Reagan: His Life and Legend, intrigued to read an honest and nuanced portrayal of this influential political figure. I learned a lot about the president whom I remember my parents celebrating as the 1980 election results rolled in through our living room television. Understanding Reagan’s political rise and the first “Make America Great Again” campaign helped me better understand today’s political moment and Trump’s playbook.

Upcoming speaking:

June 13, 2025: Workshop Leader for Synod of the Mid-Atlantic Presbyterian Women Summer Gathering at Massanetta Springs Camp and Conference Center, VA.

August 10, 2025: Preaching at Wallingford Presbyterian Church, Seattle, WA.

September 26, 2025: Teaching and Preaching at Ginter Park Presbyterian Church, Richmond, VA.

October 26, 2025: Teaching at Second Presbyterian Church, Indianapolis, IN.

November 8, 2025: Preaching for Heartland Presbytery Meeting at First Presbyterian Church, Lees Summit, MO.

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

Flowers will never grow

in the Spring

I’ve penned the words of this poem at the beginning of my journal; the place where I keep word treasures I want to revisit. “The Place Where We Are Right” is a poem by Yehuda Amichai, widely known as Israel’s greatest modern poet. Born in Germany, his family fled to Palestine in 1936 to escape Hitler’s rise to power. Amichai fought in the 1948 Israel-Arab war, but later became an advocate for peace and reconciliation in the region. Knowing the poet’s shifting political context makes “The Place Where We are Right” even more poignant.

Too often I catch my heart hardening in the place where I am right. It happens in an instant. I get an email addressed to Ms. Ott, instead of the honorifics I earned, and instinctively bristle. My new neighbor puts out a campaign sign and I conclude I know everything I need to know about them and nothing more. I even reflexively harden against the people I love the most, my husband and children, if they ask me to pick up or fetch or handle something that they could clearly handle but would rather not, leading me to shout words I regret later.

I keep Amichai’s poem close, then, to remind me that “The place where we are right” is too hard for flowers to break through the soil. It is too hard for new ideas, fresh perspectives, or the plow of change. It is too hard for growth.

I’ve been reading and appreciating Christopher and Richard Hays’ new book, The Widening of God’s Mercy: Sexuality Within the Biblical Story. Richard, New Testament professor emeritus at Duke Divinity School, published Moral Vision in 1996. That book undergirded “compassionate conservativism’s” argument against homosexuality. Christopher, Richard’s son, teaches Old Testament at Fuller Seminary, an institution known for its conservative anti-LGBTQ stance. The Widening of God’s Mercy speaks to Richard and Christopher’s regret over the way they and their work supported the anti-LGBTQ stance, the way their minds have changed, and their shifting understanding of the overarching biblical narrative of God’s story of grace-filled inclusion. The Hays have written a book that is so refreshing in its honesty, so courageous in acknowledging regretted wrongs. I’m beholding this book as a rare gift.

The Hays argue their book’s thesis with biblical texts that speak to the ways God changes God’s mind, how exegetical debates on particular passages have distracted us from the larger narrative of God’s character, and how, in a changing world, it is faithful, not shameful, to change and evolve in the ways we discern God’s will. I was especially intrigued by Christopher Hays writing in the book’s introduction: “The church is not in decline because of its impurity; it is in decline because of its lack of curiosity and hardness of heart.”

“The place where we are right” kills the possibilities between us and the potential before us. To soften “the place where we are right” and grow more curious, vulnerable, open to being wrong, open to being changed, takes extraordinary courage. But, as the poet reminds us, this is the fertile soil from which Spring flowers bloom.

Recent writing:

When we chose the theme for the Outlook’s trauma-informed ministry issue, I never expected it to be so personally relevant. Then, a loved one was diagnosed with PTSD. In my editorial “Bound by love to bear witness” I wrote how it pains me to witness someone I love in pain. But that is the nature of love, and its responsibility.

The national election shaped my writing for November, with this prayer for peace and justice on election day and my lectionary reflection for Sunday, November 10 where I wrote (before I knew the results) that no matter who is elected the next president of the United States, no matter which party controls Congress, one thing is clear: we have work to do. And if we focus on Jesus, he will tell us how and where to prioritize our work.

Books I’m loving:

Jayne Anne Phillips’ Pulitzer Prize-winning Night Watch highlights the horrors of the American Civil War with all that we now know about trauma and moral injury. This is a haunting novel; the characters captivated me, particularly Eliza and ConaLee, a mother and daughter whose strength and survival skills didn’t protect them from violent horror but helped them find their way to healing and hope. Eliza and ConaLee find refuge in a lunatic asylum, which also offers a fascinating view on the way mental illness was treated in the 1800’s.

Upcoming speaking:

Wednesday, December 11 @ 12:00pm EST tune in to hear me speak on Soul Portals. Here’s the link to join this event.

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

Share Encouraging Courage

Preaching is challenging in the best of times. In these days of political divisiveness, preaching Jesus is downright treacherous. How can we find faithful words to say from pulpits week after week?

Tom Long, professor emeritus at Candler School of Theology, wrote a beautiful article for the Outlook on today’s “perilous and promising pulpit.” He aptly described today’s challenge:

When Russell Moore, the editor-in-chief of Christianity Today, was interviewed recently on NPR, he told a chilling story… A number of pastors, he said, had reported to him essentially the same experience. They would be preaching on a passage like the Sermon on the Mount, including sayings such as “turn the other cheek,” “blessed are the merciful” or “love your enemies,” only to find themselves sharply attacked at the church door.

“Where’d you get that nonsense?” some aggrieved parishioner inevitably would ask.

“From Jesus Christ,” the startled pastor would respond. “I was literally quoting Jesus Christ.”

The Outlook just published my lectionary reflection for Sunday, November 10. I write these reflections, published two weeks prior to the assigned Sunday, to aid preachers in their study and preparation. Rarely is the future (only two weeks hence!) this murky. This Sunday, American preachers will step into pulpits under enormous pressure. After such a momentous national election, what does one preach?

The Revised Common Lectionary has assigned Mark 12:38-44 — a text that doesn’t offer much of an “out” for those hoping to avoid the political.

It’s tempting to “spiritualize” or soften Mark 12: 38-44 on November 10, choosing to highlight the faith of a widow who gives generously of “all she has to live on” in comparison to those who give “from their abundance.” But this interpretation avoids the clear political implications of both this text and Jesus’ ministry.

The widow in Mark 12:41-44 is pressed to contribute to the Temple treasury by a religious system that convinces her it is faithful to give beyond her means, even to her and her family’s detriment. Jesus condemns this abusive manipulation and those who support it, saying it “devours widows’ houses.” He condemns a Temple system built to benefit the powerful and prey on the most vulnerable.

As I studied this text, I considered the link between the Temple’s treasury box and the ballot machine that accepts our votes. What kind of system do we support for ourselves and others? What kind of government? Who do we elect and empower to seats of power, where decisions are made on behalf of us all?

No matter the election news on Sunday, November 10, no matter who is waiting at the church door, preachers can preach with confidence that Christ prioritizes the needs of society’s most vulnerable; that God supports systems of political and economic justice. Too often the voice of fear is louder than the voice of faith, filling our heads with excuses to avoid the risky and uncomfortable. But Jesus’ words—his literal words—encourage courage. He was a no “nonsense” kind of guy when it came to challenging the political oppression of his day.   

In The Word before the Powers, Charles L. Campbell writes about the act of preaching as a critical practice of nonviolent resistance, one that not only links the biblical text to today’s moral and ethical challenges, but also shapes the life and practices of church communities. Campbell tells the story of André Trocmé, the pastor of the Reformed congregation in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, the small village in Southern France that effectively sheltered over five thousand Jews during World War II. To his small congregation, Trocmé preached, week after week, of Jesus’ care for the most vulnerable and his nonviolent resistance against oppressive political powers. Trocmé kept this vision and this Christian ethic before his church, shaping them into the kind of people who, when threatened Jews knocked on their doors, provided hospitality and help at the risk of their own lives.

Preaching that resists the powers of domination, preaching that opposes systems that oppress the vulnerable, preaching that shapes communities in Christ’s ethic of compassion and care, is “perilous” as Tom Long wrote, but also “promising.” The people of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon exemplify how God’s Word, rightly proclaimed, holds its own power.

Remember, dear preachers (and anyone seeking to follow Jesus’ lead) you are not alone. God’s Spirit is at work in the Word, shaping those who hear Christ’s radical gospel, urging and encouraging us to practices that support life, not domination and death. But we need preachers who are courageous because we need Jesus as we approach the ballot box on November 6, and thereafter, as we face the political challenges of this day.

Recent writing:

I took a different, poetic approach to my editorial for the Outlook’s September issue on reparations. There were a lot of great think-pieces in this magazine, and I wanted to write something that might help readers feel the unburdening, the freedom that can come when we repair relationships. Read “Turning toward the work of healing” here, and let me know what you think.

In my editorial for the Outlook’s October issue on sports and religion, I wrote about my life and dreams as a collegiate runner, giving thanks for the God who kept calling me to a meaningful life after I hit my athletic ceiling.

My lectionary reflection for Sunday, October 20^th highlights a Jesus who calls us to actively resist any human ordering that pits some over and above others. We are to resist greed, power grabs, and all forms of violence. We are to sit with Jesus at the table full of outcasts and loners, and work with him to build communities of belonging; a world where we don’t need to fight for seats of glory because everyone’s welcome at God’s table.

Books I’m loving:

I recently finished Octavia Butler’s Xenogenesis Series, also known as Lillith’s Brood. Butler’s science fiction continues to fascinate me. Her books, especially this series, present helpful thought experiments as we consider how we might solve our current problems. Dawn, the first of this three-book series, is set 250 years after humans have destroyed life on earth with a nuclear war. But an extraterrestrial species, the Oankali, rescued a small group of humans, placing them in a coma-like sleep for centuries. The first human the Oankali choose to awake is Lilleth, a Black woman, who is told to choose other humans to awaken and help her rebuild civilization on earth. A fascinating thought experiment: If you were Lilleth, who would you choose to help you rebuild humanity? What culture would you recreate? What wisdom would you rely on? What religion? What economy? What system of government? Butler’s stories lay out the problems and the possibilities in a fascinating futuristic trilogy.

Thinking about our need for a vision to help us build a better future led me to buy Ayan Elizabeth Johnson’s beautifully edited collection of art, poetry and interviews called, What If We Get It Right? Visions of Climate Future. Johnson describes the book as “an invitation to imagine.” Because “we need more imagination right now, to create clearer visions of desirable climate futures...a future we can see ourselves in, where there’s a place for us and the communities we hold dear.” Johnson’s work as a marine biologist, policy expert, writer, and teacher who grew up in Brooklyn as a child of biracial parents, doesn’t negate the perils of climate change, but she prioritizes the possible. I love her approach, and I’m loving this book!  

Because my mother suffers from dementia, I picked up Jill Bolte Taylor’s My Stroke of Insight: A Brain Scientist’s Personal Journey from my growing interest in maintaining my own brain’s health. Taylor’s book chronicles the massive stroke she suffered at age 37, and her journey to healing over the course of eight years. As a brain scientist, the insights she shares about our brain’s amazing ability to grow, learn and heal are both fascinating and full of hope. Her chapter entitled, “What I Needed the Most” is full of profound lessons on how to help anyone suffering from a debilitating health condition. “For a successful recovery, it was important that we focus on my ability, not my disability,” Taylor wrote. Also, “I needed people to celebrate the triumphs I made every day because my successes, no matter how small, inspired me…I needed visitors to bring me their positive energy.” Taylor’s story is incredibly inspiring, and you’ll learn a lot about your own brain. You can also watch her popular Ted Talk.

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

I watched the bodycam video.

I’d read multiple news articles about Sonya Massey’s death. But in order to write a prayer for the moment, a prayer that adequately honored the pain, chaos, horror of this latest police shooting, I needed more than the cold, third-person facts of news articles.

I watched the bodycam video. At first, a domestic scene—police responding to a young Black woman scared by a noise outside her home. The tension, knowing the deadly turn to come, felt like a growing knot in my chest.

It happened so fast. One second Sonya was moving a pot of water off the stove. The next second she was dead.

The horror of a scene I now cannot unsee, and cannot forget. I wanted to weep. I wanted to scream.

Lately, I’ve been taking breaks from the news cycle. I fear Donald Trump getting elected again as president. I despair Israel’s relentless attacks in Gaza and the massive loss of innocent lives. I am nauseated by Hamas’ acts of terrorism and hostage-taking. I am furious over Putin’s evil ambitions in Ukraine. My heart can’t take it all, all the time. So I turn the news off, turn on a rom-com or the latest episode of Bridgerton. I escape, while recognizing it is a privilege to be able to escape. For too many, horror is their constant, lived reality.

God, in your mercy, have mercy.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the future, studying apocalyptic texts, reading speculative fiction by authors like Octavia Butler, NK Jemison, and adrienne maree brown. I’m guided by my feelings of despair, and curiosity. How do we heal the wounds that keep us stuck in cycles of violence? How do we build a better future? How do we work toward Beloved Community?

This work begins not in our heads, but our hearts. We must tap the empathy, the compassion, the feelings with which God has gifted us for good reason.

In Healing Resistance Kazu Haga writes, “Violence is rooted in ignorance. We cannot undo something we cannot understand.”

To this, I’ll add, we cannot understand if we do not have the courage to feel.

Yes, we can and should take breaks. We cannot lose ourselves in despair. We need reminders that all is not ugly and awful, that love and joy exist—and help us resist.

But the work ahead requires more of our hearts than we have perhaps risked before. Our future depends on our ability—and our courage—to feel.

Recent writing:

My June editorial, “Read to leave home,” highlighted how books can take us places we need to go, and transform us in ways we need to grow.

My editorial “Being the church—together” from the Outlook’s July/August 2024 issue calls for the church to address the dangerous disconnection fueling our society’s epidemic of isolation, loneliness, and “us”-against-“them” divisiveness.

My lectionary reflection for Sunday, June 23^rd focused on the suffering of Job, and how showing up matters when we are suffering. Simply showing up.

It’s easy to feel powerless in the wake of the world’s overwhelming, and complicated problems. In my lectionary reflection for Sunday, July 14^th, I write about the nature of power, and the power that resides within us as people of faith.

Books I’m loving:

After I lapped up every word of Kazu Haga’s Healing Resistance: A Radically Different Response to Harm and wrote about the power of this book, Amazon’s algorithms suggested I might also enjoy Prentis Hemphill’s What It Takes To Heal: How Transforming Ourselves Can Change the World. Oh Amazon, you know me too well. I’ve fallen hard for this book, and Hemphill as a wise guide in the healing work we so desperately need. Hemphill is a political organizer, and a therapist trained in somatic bodywork. I’m increasingly convinced that our bodies hold the wisdom we need to heal ourselves and our world. But we need to sensitize ourselves to this embodied wisdom and reconnect to the transformative healing resources that reside within us.

I’m working on an Advent devotion series exploring the diversity of patterns in God’s creative world. In my research, I’ve gone through a stack of books by queer writers and theologians. From this stack, I’ve found Austen Hartke’s Transforming: The Bible & the Lives of Transgender Christians and Cassidy Hall’s Queering Contemplation to be the most helpful.

Hartke makes the biblical case that in Christ we are set free from the strict binary patterns of gender and gender identities, telling the story of how transformative it was for him, as a transgender Christian, to discover and study Galatians 3:28. “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Hartke helpfully unpacks the biblical and theological perspectives that have been used to harm LGBTQIA+, as well as those that support them.

Cassidy Hall’s Queering Contemplation: Finding Queerness in the Roots and Future of Contemplative Spirituality offered me a new way to think of and define “queer.” Hall writes, “Queerness, in my life, has been not only about sexuality but also about expanse, curiosity, openness, pleasure, weirdness, love, oddity, and liberation…Queerness lives in every human in the ways we find ourselves subverting the status quo, forgoing norms, and engaging one another with open hearts and hands. Queerness refuses categories.” Queering Contemplation details Hall’s quest to disentangle contemplation from Eurocentric, White, Western Christian expressions formed in heteronormativity and patriarchy, moving toward a more inclusive and authentic religious tradition

Upcoming speaking:              

Sunday, September 1: Preaching and teaching at Maplewood Presbyterian Church, Edmonds, WA.

Sunday, October 6: Teaching at St. Philip Presbyterian Church, Houston, TX.

Friday, April 18: Preaching Baccalaureate Service for Alma College’s Commencement, Alma, MI.

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

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As a 16-year-old, former U.S. Senator Carol Moseley-Braun defied her worried mother to march with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It was 1966 and King had been invited by the Chicago Freedom Movement to help them campaign to improve conditions in the city for impoverished Black Americans. Rallies, boycotts, and grassroots lobbying were used to pressure city leaders to address racial discrimination that kept Black residents locked in ghettos, overcrowded schools and low-paying jobs. But it was the marches through hostile White communities that ultimately got the city leaders’ attention and forced them to respond.  

During this march, through Gage Park, Mosely-Braun describes the angry White people who gathered to shout obscenities, and hurl rocks, bricks and bottles. At the time, many in the Black community were debating the appropriate response to such hate. “It’s natural,” Moseley-Braun said, “when someone throws something at you, you’re going to want to throw something back.”

During the march, King was struck by a rock and brought to his knees. Moseley-Braun saw him kneel for a few seconds to clear his head, then stand and continue to march.

Mosely-Braun described the look on King’s face as “beatific, saintly,” leading her to the epiphany that nonviolence was the more powerful, more effective means of resistance.

Spiritual leaders such as Martin Luther King, Jr and Mahatma Ghandi are often upheld as saintly figures, heroic in their ability to oppose violence with nonviolence. We credit the strength of their character or of their faith to resist the temptation to “fight fire with fire.” But to oppose violence with nonviolence also requires interior work, and the development of skill.

Kazu Haga, a student and trainer in the school of “Kingian Nonviolence” writes, “Desire and will alone cannot bring about the changes that we need. We need training and skill.” Haga’s book, Healing Resistance: A Radically Different Response to Harm, is an incredible primer for those interested in nonviolence as a form of resistance.

“Self-purification” is the language Ghandi used for nonviolent training. Haga describes this process as “a commitment to purify ourselves of the violence in our own hearts: the violence of hatred and resentment; the violence of apathy and hopelessness; the violence of unhealed traumas accumulated over our lives that have been passed down from multiple generations; and the violence of the ways in which we’ve internalized capitalism, colonialism, white supremacy, patriarchy, and any number of forces that keep us from being whole.”

Reading (I should say devouring, because I have underlined and flagged just about all of Haga’s book) Healing Resistance has returned me to the practice of meditation that I’d abandoned for many years, telling myself I was too busy to sit quietly and focus on my breath. Now, when I head to my meditation mat in the morning, I tell myself it’s my time of training. I sit with myself for a few minutes before the day begins and honestly acknowledge what I am holding in my heart and head. I see this as courageous care for myself, for the wounds I carry, and the healing I seek by not denying or avoiding my pain. I conclude each meditation with a prayer that I do not perpetuate spiritual violence against myself or any other.

The practice of nonviolence is also aided by a clear sense of what we are working toward. For King, the goal was Beloved Community. This goal, grounded in King’s Christian faith, cannot be reduced to a community of like-minded and likeable people. Beloved Community includes us all. King was able to face the angry White rock-throwers with love because the goal of Beloved Community included them as well. “Hurt people hurt people.” This is a common mantra for those who practice nonviolence. Beloved Community is a place of peace, love and reconciliation, a place where healed people heal people.

May we all have the courage to work toward this healing.

Recent writing:

I was recently honored to receive the James Solheim Award of Merit for Editorial Courage from the Associated Church Press for my editorial “Fostering love, not fear” from the Outlook’s June 2023 issue on gun violence.

My lectionary reflection for Sunday, May 19^th highlighted how the miracle of Pentecost is the cure for the curse of Babel. Acts 2:1-21 is a beautiful reminder of God’s desire for us to be a people connected, to strengthen our sense of community, to understand and empathize with one another.

My editorial for the May issue of the Outlook emphasized a theology of abundance and highlighted my reading of Creativity, Inc., by Ed Catmull, the co-founder of Pixar. Assembling a good team, Catmull writes, is more important than individual talent or brilliant ideas. Even the most talented people can form an ineffective team if they are mismatched, or if the culture doesn’t support creativity and candor in giving honest feedback. An effective team feels safe raising ideas, asking questions and following curiosities, even if they lead nowhere.

When it came time for the disciples to replace Judas, their nominating process involved asking the question, “Who do I know?” In this lectionary reflection, I write about the need for us to ask a different question when nominating or recruiting leaders: Who don’t I know?

Observing my local hospital’s emergency waiting room taught me a lot about hospitality. In this editorial I write about how the welcome we have received from God ought to transform us as Christians. To be welcomed ought to shape us into a welcoming people. 

Books I’m loving:

Oftentimes, I give myself reading assignments to help me with an upcoming editorial. I read Together: The Healing Power of Human Connection in a Sometimes Lonely World for an issue of the Outlook focused on the importance of gatherings and relationships. Together, written by Surgeon General Vivek H. Murthy, emphasizes the importance of building a more socially connected future to stem the rise of loneliness, division, anger and resentment. Social connection stands out to Murthy as a largely unrecognized and underappreciated force for facing the critical problems of our society, and our larger world.

For an upcoming Outlook issue on reparations, I read Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg’s book On Repentance and Repair: Making Amends in an Unapologetic World. Ruttenberg, grounded in the Jewish philosophy of Maimonides, provides a useful framework for acknowledging and repairing harm in personal, public and institutional relationships. I’ve grown increasingly uncomfortable with a “cancel culture” that feels quick to blame and shame but doesn’t offer a path to reconciliation and healing. The Jewish wisdom throughout Ruttenberg’s book provided helpful, step-by-step guidance for the work of repentance and repair.

As I returned to my meditation practice, I also returned to my favorite teacher, Pema Chödrön. Her book How to Meditate: A Practical Guide to Making Friends With Your Mind got me started. But I recently reread another favorite, The Places that Scare You: A Guide to Fearlessness in Difficult Times. Chödrön, an American Buddhist nun, writes with compassion and honesty. She begins The Places that Scare You with a story of receiving an essential teaching from an old woman when she was six years old. She writes, “I was walking by her house one day feeling lonely, unloved, and mad, kicking anything I could find. Laughing, [the old woman] said to me, ‘Little girl, don’t you go letting life harden your heart.’” Reading Chödrön’s practical wisdom when I am feeling lonely, unloved and mad, is balm for my tender heart.

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

I recently finished reading Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver and I can’t stop thinking about it. Although he was a minor character, the scenes with Mr. Dick really moved me. Born in impoverished Appalachia with a paralyzing spinal condition, Mr. Dick’s body was confined to a wheelchair. But his mind was free. He read books that took him to places he’d never travel, and contemplated the ideas of great teachers in whose classrooms he’d never sit. Demon Copperhead, the 14-year-old protagonist who bounced from one foster home to the next, lived with Mr. Dick’s family and described him as “gone” while reading. “He and that big book were not in this house, nor maybe this world.”

For individuals to grow in faith, James Fowler writes they must “encounter experiences or perspectives that lead to critical reflection on how their beliefs have formed or changed, and on how ‘relative’ they are to one’s particular group or background.” We need to “leave home” spiritually, psychologically, or physically to encounter people and perspectives different than those we’ve always known. Certainly, it takes courage. The world’s realities are painful, and we hoard comfort like a commodity. We don’t want to “leave home.”

For my doctoral thesis, I focused on James Fowler’s stages of faith development, based on  psychologists Jean Piaget, Lawrence Kohlberg and Erik Erikson’s stages of human development. Through his research, Fowler discovered that most adults in American churches and synagogues find themselves in a state of equilibrium or stasis within the third (of six stages) of faith development. At this stage, individuals mirror or conform to the values and beliefs of their community. Fowler wrote in late 1970’s and 80’s, but the encouragement to grow through “leaving home” experiences still resonates.

Demon Copperhead transported me to southern Appalachia and the challenges faced by people who live there. I finished the audiobook while driving through West Virginia, my GPS diverting me from highway traffic to roads that twisted past small, run-down, mountain homes as I listened to Demon Copperhead’s story of poverty, foster care, and opioid addiction set in those mountains. It was an uncomfortable reality; societal problems exacerbated by powerful drug companies profiting off the poor.

After Mr. Dick finished a book, he ritually thanked its author. He’d pen his favorite lines from the book on a handmade kite, then cast those words on the wind. The day Demon Copperhead left for yet another foster home, he took the time to help Mr. Dick fly one of his “thank you” kites.

The string was pulling hard in the wind, but I towed it back to Mr. Dick and put it in his hand. “Hang on tight,” I said, and flopped on the ground beside him, panting like a dog. He was quiet, holding that string and kite with everything he had. The way he looked. Eyes raised up, body tethered by one long thread to the big stormy sky, the whole of him up there with his words, talking to whoever was listening. I’ve not seen a sight to match it.

It gives me hope to know that we can transcend the circumstances within which we are born—whether it be the challenge of poverty or the protection of privilege—through a mind and heart willing to be challenged, willing to grow and learn, willing to leave home.

Share Encouraging Courage

Recent writing:

In my lectionary reflection for Easter Sunday, I write about the courage required of Christian disciples who must create the triumphant ending of Mark’s gospel.

After Super Bowl Sunday and the outcry in my progressive Christian circles over the “He Gets Us” ad campaign, I wrote this lectionary reflection wondering if faith was something we should publicly market.

I received a lot of positive feedback for my editorial in our February issue of the Outlook magazine on Purple Churches. This is a particularly challenging and divisive time for pastors and leaders, but progress cannot be made if leaders are conflict averse. Besides faith communities, where else in our society do people of diverse political perspectives voluntarily gather? Purple churches (with a mix of red Republicans and blue Democrats) present possibilities we shouldn’t avoid or forsake.

I learned a lot about Artificial Intelligence as we pulled together the March issue of the Outlook’s magazine. Artificial Intelligence reflects the ethics we teach it. In my editorial I wondered, what values do we want to pass on to AI? What religion? What theology? What image of humanity do we want reflected in the mirror of AI?

Books I’m loving:

I’m halfway through Christian Wiman’s Zero at the Bone: Fifty Entries Against Despair. I love Wiman’s books, but they can’t be read fast—there is simply too much in each sentence! Wiman is a poet, yet extremely well read in theology. One Saturday morning, while reading Zero at the Bone, I had to put the book down and email this quote to all my friends who love both words and the Word.

Do I think that sometimes life and language break each other open to change, that a rupture in one can be a rapture in the other, that sometimes there are, as it were, words underneath the words—even the very Word underneath the words? Yes, I do.

A friend gifted me a copy of Creativity, Inc: Overcoming the Unseen Forces that Stand in the Way of True Inspiration by the co-founder of Pixar, Ed Catmull. It’s a helpful read for any leader trying to build a work culture that is collaborative and creative, or a community that doesn’t fear failure, takes risks, and encourages growth through honest feedback. 

I also recently finished Lori Gottlieb’s Maybe You Should Talk to Someone: A Therapist, Her Therapist, and Our Lives Revealed. This book was tender, human, wise, funny, and therapeutic all at once. Here’s some ‘therapist wisdom’ from Gottlieb that I flagged in my book for future reference:

In movies, therapist silences have become cliché, but it’s only in silence that people can truly hear themselves. Talking can keep people in their heads and safely away from their emotions. Being silent is like emptying the trash. When you stop tossing junk into the void—words, words, and more words—something important rises to the surface. And when the silence is a shared experience, it can be a gold mine for thoughts and feelings that the patient didn’t even know existed.

Upcoming speaking:              

Wednesday, May 15: Preaching for opening worship of the Associated Church Press annual conference in Chicago, IL

Sunday, May 19: “The Injustice of White Silence” Fourth Presbyterian Church, Chicago, IL, adult education class; 11:00am in the Borwell Dining Room.

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

This past December, I rediscovered Maya Angelou’s “Continue,” from her collection, Celebrations: Rituals of Peace and Prayer. A couple of stanzas:

Continue

To be who and how you are

To astonish a mean world

With your acts of kindness

Continue

To dare to love deeply

And risk everything

For the good thing

Sometimes it’s difficult to continue. December brought crushing deadlines, travel exhaustion, and critics descending on the Presbyterian Outlook like a choreographed flock of honking geese. One accused me of being “timid” on climate change. Another complained about us reposting older, still relevant content on social media. (A digital strategy all publishers use to not get buried by Facebook algorithms.) “Do better,” he said.

I needed a break and was fortunate to get one over the Christmas holiday. I’m also planning a week of study leave in January where I’ll read and write a lot…and sleep.

It is a privilege to have a job that affords me time to step away from the daily grind and recharge. Many people—maybe you—must “continue” without breaks from the overwhelm and exhaustion of their lives.

Still, when the work to which I feel called gets hard, it’s tempting to opt out. I want to clap back at the critics, opting out of my call to treat others with love and respect. I want to throw the covers over my head, burrow in comfort and safety, and opt out of my call to take necessary risks. I want to find a job in a quiet cubicle, opting out of my call to the public and the pulpit.

When I became the editor of the Outlook, people told me I’d need a thick skin. But “thick skin” suggests unfeeling, insensitive, perhaps even numb. That’s not who I feel called to be. Sure, I can’t be fragile. But I want to lead with courage, which I understand as open-hearted, authentic, sensitive to the needs of others, willing to listen and admit mistakes.

Maya Angelou’s poem reads like a pastor’s charge and benediction at the end of a worship service. Her beautiful words remind me of all I would miss if I did opt out, or if I chose to not “continue.” I’d miss astonishing acts of kindness that make a real difference in the world. I’d miss chances to love deeply and be deeply loved. I’d miss the good things that come when we dare to take necessary risks: personal growth, surprise discoveries, meaningful work, new relationships, wonder, awe, hopeful possibilities.

I’m wrapping her words around my head and heart as I gather my courage to head into this new year with all its challenges and opportunities. And I offer them to you, too, as a New Year’s blessing.

May we all find the courage to continue.

Recent writing:

In this lectionary reflection, I write about what scientists have discovered about the unique emotion of awe and how I experience awe at Christmas. 

In my editorial for the December issue of the Outlook’s magazine, Christmas is a new hope and a new beginning, not an end.

When the war broke between Israel and Hamas, I was fortunate to interview Doug Dicks, our Presbyterian mission co-worker living in Bethlehem.

In this editorial, I highlight Cole Arthur Riley’s beautiful book This Here Flesh and how wonder protects us from despair and disillusionment.

Books I’m loving:

I continue to explore speculative fiction by marginalized writers. Speculative fiction is a sub-genre of science fiction that is futuristic, but based in reality (no dragons, no Martians.) What can we can learn from the worldbuilding of these writers? What does the future look like when we take seriously the voices of those who live and survive on the margins? I recently finished Grievers, a novella by adrienne maree brown, who has been celebrated as one of the most important voices of Afrofuturism. Grievers chronicles a mysterious plague, H-8, that is killing the people of Detroit. Dune, the protagonist, learns to survive in the city that slowly empties of its people and we, as readers, learn from Dune. Grievers is the first of a two-part series.

In my preparation to lead a virtual workshop on “How to Tell a Story” for NEXT Church, I pulled my all-time favorite book on writing off the shelf. I return to Stephen Dunn’s Walking Light: Memoirs and Essays on Poetry whenever I need writing inspiration or a beautiful reminder of the way words can stir contemplation, shape experience, evoke feeling, or enlighten us to our meaning and purpose. Dunn is a poet, but his words also resonate with me as a writer of sermons, editorials and essays. In the opening essay, “Bringing the Strange Home” Dunn writes that poetry isn’t popular in the United States because our culture privileges “acquisition over contemplation, the celebration of things more than matters of the soul.” Yet, he writes, we are also “hungry for meaning in [our] lives, in need of poetry, yet unaware of it.” Dunn believes in writing (and helping others write) poetry that offers us “something we can believe about ourselves and the world, or … something that will provoke or suggest contemplation about ourselves and the world.” Dunn names my longings as a reader and the experience I aspire to offer as a writer.

I’ve been studying adaptive leadership as a way to tackle complex problems. The Practice of Adaptive Leadership by Heifetz, Grashow and Linsky is the BIG book on this concept of leadership. But I also enjoyed When Everyone Leads: How the Toughest Challenges Get Seen and Solved as a more accessible primer. According to this model, leadership is a practice, not a position. Everyone can grow in their leadership skills. When more people exercise leadership, more progress becomes possible and more problems get solved.

Upcoming speaking:              

Saturday, January 28: Preaching and speaking about Necessary Risks at Finley Memorial Presbyterian Church,  Stuarts Draft, VA

Thursday, February 8: “How to Tell a Story” 90 minute virtual workshop for NEXT church at 1:00pm EST. Register here.

Sunday, March 17: Preaching and speaking about Necessary Risks at Burke Presbyterian Church, Burke, VA.

Sunday, May 19: “The Injustice of White Silence” Fourth Presbyterian Church, Chicago, IL, adult education class; 11:00am in the Borwell Dining Room.

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

In my early 20’s, having just decided to go to seminary, I visited a church and was pleased to discover a woman pastor leading the service. Not having known many women ministers made me doubt and feel insecure about my own call. I marveled at the woman in the pulpit that Sunday, and her message. The stories of her life and the personal experiences she shared resonated with me. As I listened, my hopes rose. Maybe I can do this.

But as soon as the woman finished, a man sitting in front of me grumbled to the person next to him, “I don’t care for this ‘women’s’ way of preaching. Too many personal stories.”

All my fears and insecurities came rushing back. I can’t do this. I thought I could. But I can’t. It would take years for me to find my voice and come out of hiding.

Everyone has a story. It takes courage to share yours.

Cole Arthur Riley’s This Here Flesh: Spirituality, Liberation, and the Stories That Make Us sat on my to-read pile for far too long. Honestly, when a book about faith or religion rises to the New York Times bestseller list, my bias grows against it. Popular spiritual writing quickly gets tagged “shallow self-help” in my mind. But Cole Arthur Riley proved me terribly wrong.

Not only does Riley go theologically deep, evoking liberation and womanist theology, quoting bell hooks, Thomas Merton, Howard Thurman, and literary giants like Alice Walker and Tony Morrison, but her exquisite writing, and the sharing of her own experiences, elevated her to the rank of my new favorite contemplative writer.

As the title notes, This Here Flesh, is Cole’s story of her bodily spirituality. She courageously shares her personal stories of bodily trauma and chronic illness. Because she gets so personal—intimate, yet not overly so—we, as readers are invited to connect with Cole, her body, her soul, her health struggles, her faith. Reading this book was like the rare, soul-baring kind of conversation you can have with a good friend, where you are deeply honest and, as a result, deeply nourished. Cole’s book wouldn’t have been as nourishing or as liberating had she not courageously shared of herself and her personal story.

The grumbling man who doesn’t like “women’s” way of preaching can still trigger my insecurities, but now, I know better. I know—from experience—that authenticity resonates, and that vulnerability is a necessary risk we must take if we desire deep and meaningful connections. We can’t expect others to share their stories with us if we are not willing to share our own.

Recent writing:

For the Presbyterian Outlook’s issue on theological leadership, I share my hope that every pastoral leader hears these permission-giving, faith-filled words: “Feel free to make some changes.”

In my interview with interfaith leader and activist Eboo Patel, I appreciated Eboo’s challenge that “diversity is not just the differences you like. It’s also disagreement.” With all the talk about “deconstruction,” Eboo emphasizes our need for construction. “We need to build,” he says, as he champions religious institution-builders and the vision they bring to their work. Click here to read the whole interview. 

On the topic of religious diversity, click here to read my editorial calling for hospitality with more “moral punch.”

Books I’m loving:

I happened upon The Book of Hope: A Survival Guide for Trying Times by accident, but the title lured me in. Written as a conversation between legendary anthropologist Jane Goodall and author Douglas Abrams, The Book of Hope delivered lots of needed inspiration, stories and science that I will return to again and again. Who doesn’t need a good word of hope nowadays?

If you have a teenager, know a teenager, or just want to understand teenagers, pick up a copy of The Emotional Lives of Teenagers: Raising Connected, Capable, and Compassionate Adults by Dr. Lisa Damour. This book really helped me as a parent trying to cope with the wild swings of teenagerdom. Damour also has a great podcast called Ask Lisa.   

Finally, I’m almost done with my latest science fiction novel, A Psalm for the Wild Built by Becky Chambers. This is a short (147 pages), ethically-minded book, with a gender-neutral main character, Dex, who befriends a robot named Mosscap. In 2024 we’re publishing an issue of the Presbyterian Outlook on the ethics of AI, and I’m definitely going to reference this book in my editorial. Short, sweet, optimistic about our future. Worth the read.

Upcoming speaking:              

Saturday, October 28: Preacher and Keynoter for Grace Presbytery’s gathering at Austin College in Sherman, Texas.

Sunday, November 19: Preaching at Trinity Presbyterian Church in Harrisonburg, VA and speaking after worship about Necessary Risks.

January 2-5, 2024, Keynote speaker for College Conference at Montreat Conference Center, Montreat, NC. The theme for this conference is “Necessary Risks.”

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

I love it when women come together to support and encourage each other.

I just led a workshop on “Encouraging Courage” for a women’s conference. Thirty women and I dug into Susan Nelson’s article, “The Sin of Hiding: A Feminist Critique of Reinhold Niebuhr’s Account of the Sin of Pride.” I LOVED the energy in the room as women shared where they were in life and in what ways they were seeking courage.

First, we reviewed our understanding of human beings as imago dei, made in the image of God. Imago dei means humans are both bound and unbound. We are both limited in our mortality and free to grow more into God’s likeness—to develop our potential, our God-given gifts and talents. We cannot be God. Only God is infinite. But we can stretch towards that infinite in our freedom.

Reinhold Niebuhr highlights the sin of pride as the over expression of our freedom—thinking one’s own power, intellect, morality is boundless. The sin of pride keeps us from recognizing or honoring our limits.

But Susan Nelson critiques Niebuhr for not developing the under expression of our freedom, when humans don’t stretch towards more, when we don’t develop our gifts and talents, when we don’t live into our potential as imago dei. Nelson names this under expression of our freedom the sin of hiding, and the primary sin of woman.

In my book Necessary Risks, I write about the fear and anxiety that kept me in hiding and share this quote of Nelson’s:

By confessing the sin of hiding, woman stands exposed in her insecurities and self-doubts, revealed in her true vulnerability, so she can learn how to cope either with her own shortcomings, or with her talents and gifts. The woman is on the record; she is given a forum, and arena, a life to lived.

My workshop group then turned to the “hiding strategies” Tara Mohr writes about in Playing Big: Practical Wisdom for Women Who Want to Speak Up, Create, and Lead, including:

·      Creating in isolation; never sharing our work to get feedback from others.

·      Expecting perfection and overcomplicating the creative process with endless polishing.

·      Telling ourselves we can’t try something new because we don’t have the degree, or the experience, or the training certificate, or, or, or…

It’s amazing how God can place the right book in your hands at the right time. Playing Big inspired me to apply to be the editor of the Presbyterian Outlook. I didn’t think I’d get the job. But Mohr convinced me to try.

What are your hiding strategies? How do they show up in your life? What might you try in order to “play bigger”? 

Share Encouraging Courage

Recent writing:

After reading Priya Parker’s The Art of Gathering, I threw a party with a purpose—read about it here.

For the Presbyterian Outlook’s special issue on gun violence, I write about walking into a local gun store and holding a gun for the first time in my life.

Books I’m loving:

The Marrow Thieves, by Indigenous writer Cherie Dimaline, is a harrowing tale of a post-climate change future. On a devastated earth, “schools” are once again being built by White people desperate to get back what Indigenous people kept—the ability to dream.

Reading The Marrow Thieves led me to contemplate the way our dreams contribute to our hope and our humanity. Dreaming protects us from fatalism, or a paralyzing cynicism. It encourages us to keep living and keep moving, no matter the circumstance of our current reality. With its emphasis on Indigenous communities, The Marrow Thieves also reveals the power of a dream to bring people together—a bigger dream that holds us all. 

Eric Liu’s, You’re More Powerful Than You Think, is an encouraging read, sharing examples of people organizing to create positive societal change. Liu defines power as “the capacity to ensure that others do as you would want them to do.” But, Liu writes, power is “no more inherently good or evil than fire or physics. The only question is whether we will try to understand and harness it.”

Liu’s three laws of power gave me a lot to contemplate. 1) Power concentrates. 2) Power justifies itself. 3) Power is infinite. Working through Liu’s breakdown of these three laws, and the new understanding of power it will give you, is worth buying and reading the book.

Upcoming speaking:              

Saturday, September 9: Preacher and workshop leader, Shenandoah Presbytery’s Big Event “Faithful Decisions in Difficult Times,” at Massanetta Springs Camp and Conference Center.

Saturday, October 28: Preacher and Keynoter for Grace Presbytery’s gathering at Austin College in Sherman, Texas.

January 2-5, 2024, Keynote speaker for College Conference at Montreat Conference Center, Montreat, NC. The theme for this conference is “Necessary Risks.”

Let’s connect!

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my schedule—just hit reply to start talking or contact me by clicking here.

Throughout my ministry I have run into men (and some women) who do not believe women should be ordained as pastors. Sometimes a man will accost me with selective scripture passages calling for women to be silent in the (1st century) church or make superior-sounding statements that dishonor and violate God’s call on my life. My reaction to such an indignity: I’m flooded with anger, even rage. I will slap back with sharp words and then storm away, muttering obscenities under my breath, telling myself this person, this dignity-violator, is not worth my time and energy.

Yet, as Donna Hicks reminds me, this infuriating man’s life holds inherent value and dignity.

As an international conflict-resolution specialist, Donna Hicks found herself working in Cambodia with the United Nations in 1993. She worked with the Khmer women who suffered heartbreaking violations of their human rights under the Pol Pot regime. Witnessing the Khmer women’s joy as they learned their rights and helping them recover their sense of worth after suffering violent indignities led Hicks on a career-long path of developing the Dignity Model: a model of conflict resolution based on evolutionary biology, psychology, and neuroscience. We are born with dignity. Every human life has value and worth, and is worthy of respect, no matter what we do or how we live.

Hicks distinguishes between a person who deserves respect, and a person’s actions, which may or may not deserve respect. A smug, anti-woman-pastor attack does not deserve my respect. The speaker’s dignity, the inherent value of his human life, does.

Recently republished for its Tenth Anniversary, I discovered Hicks book Dignity: Its Essential Role in Resolving Conflict at a workshop on restorative justice. Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. Hicks’ emphasis on dignity (or violations of our dignity) as a common denominator in human conflict makes so much sense:

Dignity is a human phenomenon…a profoundly emotional human issue unique to our species. It transcends race, gender, ethnicity, and all the other social distinctions…We all want it, seek it, and respond in the same way when others violate it. We have powerful self-preservation reactions to violations [of our dignity.]

People will risk their lives to protect or defend their dignity and that of their social group. Wars are fought over threats to people’s dignity—threats so primal for humans that researchers have discovered they trigger our survival instincts of flee or fight.

When we perceive that we are being offended or hurt by others—when someone violates our dignity—our instinctive, self-protective hardwiring tells us that what matters most is our own well-being and survival, not the survival of the relationship… We are pulled to [end the relationship, to walk out the door, or] denigrate the other person and perhaps seek revenge…

We probably all know about our survival response of “fight, flee, freeze.” Hicks introduced me to another instinctive response of the limbic system in our brain: tend and befriend. Hicks writes:

Just as our limbic system can quickly signal us to disconnect from a person who harms or threatens us, it can quickly flood us with feelings of love, empathy, and compassion, compelling us to connect with another person, to find comfort in that person, to feel safer and less vulnerable, more worthy.

Human beings are hardwired to connect because we are safer and less vulnerable together; there is strength in numbers and in community. Dignity violations break down or disrupt these natural instincts to connect, befriend, and build relationships.

Hicks developed her model to help resolve global violations of human dignity and resolve international conflict. She was surprised when her book was adopted by business leaders, educators, and counselors—but dignity violations occur everywhere, in every context of our lives.

The language of dignity, awareness of how we are hardwired to respond to violations of our dignity, and courageously acknowledging when we have violated the dignity of others, has the power to heal long-neglected inner wounds and foster peace amidst human conflict. I feel empowered and encouraged by this new knowledge of human dignity, and I hope you do, too.

Recent writing:

This lectionary reflection on Acts 7:55-60 shares the connection I noticed between the stoning of Stephen and the expulsion of Representatives Justin Jones and Justin Pearson from the Tennessee legislature.

My May editorial for the Presbyterian Outlook encourages the church to pay attention to innovators who are doing ministry differently.

In this lectionary reflection for Pentecost Sunday, I wonder what we might do if we actually trusted the Holy Spirt to fill us and use us.

I was honored to recently receive a James Solheim Award for editorial courage from the Associated Church Press, for my September 2022 editorial “Listening and learning” about LGBTQIA+ rights.

Books I’m loving:

My fascination continues with Octavia Butler’s work as one of the first African American and female Science Fiction writers and the first SF writer to receive a prestigious MacArthur “genius” award. A friend recently introduced me to the podcast “Octavia’s Parables” where adrienne maree brown and Toshi Reagon discuss Parable of the Sower chapter by chapter, as well as the other books in Butler’s “Parable” series. I’m setting aside time this summer to reread this amazing book along with the podcast.

adrienne maree brown’s own writing is inspired by Butler’s explorations of our human relationship to change. An activist, brown developed “emergent strategy,” which she describes as “radical self-help, society-help, and planet-help.” Equal parts science and science-fiction, her book, emergent strategy: shaping change, changing worlds, presents a strategy for living and creating change that follows natural patterns, not hierarchal.

I’m halfway through N.K. Jemisin’s How Long ‘Til Black Future Month. The title of this short story collection comes from Jemisin’s essay about her conflicted relationship with the genres of science fiction and fantasy, and how terrifying it’s been to read science fiction that envisions a future devoid of Black people. In her essay, Jemisin describes re-watching The Jetsons, a show she loved as a child:

“There’s nobody even slightly brown in the Jetsons’ world. Even the family android sounds white. This is supposed to be the real world’s future, right? Albeit in silly, humorous form. Thing is, not-white-people make up most of the world’s population, now as well as back in the Sixties when the show was created. So what happened to all those people, in the minds of this show’s creators? Are they down beneath the clouds, where the Jetsons never go? Was there an apocalypse, or maybe a pogrom? Was there a memo?”

Jemison’s Afrofuturism stories are clearly multicultural, with a common theme of accepting differences and change.

Upcoming speaking:              

Saturday, August 12: Workshop Leader for Montreat Conference Center’s Women’s Connection Conference.(registration is closed)

Encouraging Courage will explore what feminist theologian Susan Nelson Dunfee says is the primary sin of woman: the sin of hiding. We will explore ways to develop our gifts, overcome our fears, and embrace our God-given potential.

Saturday, September 9: Preacher and workshop leader, Shenandoah Presbytery’s Big Event “Faithful Decisions in Difficult Times,” at Massanetta Springs Camp and Conference Center.

January 2-5, 2024, Keynote speaker for College Conference at Montreat Conference Center, Montreat, NC. The theme for this conference is “Necessary Risks.”

Is your book club or church reading Necessary Risks? Are you planning an educational event for your church, presbytery or synod that aligns with the theme of Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face? I’d love to get you and your group on my speaking schedule.

Let’s connect!

Does Donna Hick’s words about human dignity resonate with you? How have you witnessed your dignity or another’s violated? How have you witnessed or experienced dignity being honored?

Tell me in the comments, or at www.terimcdowellott.com.

As I wrote in my first Substack newsletter, I want to live my values. This is how I offer the best version of myself to the world— by showing up for others and myself in ways that align with who I believe God calls me to be.

We can easily lose sight of our values in a world hell-bent on bringing out the worst in us. In what bell hooks calls our “dominator culture,” we are socialized to believe there must always be a superior and an inferior party. Arguments and analysis don’t matter in such a culture because we’re not really listening—we’re just fighting to win. Our emotional default mode in this culture is that of the dominator: we position ourselves to wage war instead of living in a way that promotes peace. We are quicker to judge, criticize and demean than we are to listen well, love, and dignify others.

“In a culture of domination,” hooks writes, “almost everyone engages in behaviors that contradict their beliefs and values.”

This is why it’s so important to deliberately keep our values in focus. I created the word cloud below for a keynote presentation to the Presbytery of West Virginia, inviting them to meditate on this image and ask themselves: What are the values you seek to live by? How do you want to live? What values do you most admire in people you want to emulate?

Values are aspirational. Some might be inherent to our nature, but many can be developed over time. In my book Necessary Risks, I quote feminist theologian Mary Daly: “You learn courage by couraging.” I love the way Daly makes “courage” a verb. It feels like grace to understand courage as something that might not come naturally but can be learned through practice.

Even though I value courage, I am not always courageous. I do not always rise to the occasion. But the more I have risked stepping out or stepping up, the more times I have overcome my fear to practice the courage I value, the more courage becomes a part of who I am, rather than who I aspire to be.

Recent writing:

We recently published an issue of the Presbyterian Outlook on the topic of death. While discussing the Outlook with people who work with my husband, I discovered Virginia’s first natural cemetery was only a few miles from my home. So I sent myself on assignment, interviewing the owner of Duck Run Natural Cemetery and touring the property. You can read the article I wrote, Exploring the green burial.

I received some fun notes from people who knew me as a child and my family after my editorial, A whiff of home, was published in our Outlook issue on the theme of “Belonging.”

I also wrote this prayer after the tragic March 27 shooting at Covenant Presbyterian School in Nashville. We’ve been working hard on a special issue of the Outlook on gun violence that is, tragically, still an urgent issue for our nation.

Books I’m loving:

I finally got around to reading Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower. I read her book Kindred years ago and have wanted to read more. As one of the first African American and female Science Fiction writers and the first SF writer to receive a prestigious MacArthur “genius” award, Butler’s work is important. Her novels center on strong Black female protagonists and highlight themes of injustice. As its title suggests, Parable of the Sower includes Butler’s fascinating thoughts about religion and would make for an excellent book study for a church group—but readers should be warned about the violence. Butler’s writing is so visceral that the violence depicted in her novels is acutely felt. This can make her novels difficult to read—but also poignant. In this violence-drenched world of ours, we cannot afford to be numb.

Another book I’ve finally read after being on my to-read list for too long, is Marshall Rosenberg’s Nonviolent Communication: A Language of Life. Rosenberg developed Nonviolent Communication (NVC) based on his belief that human beings are naturally compassionate, and the process and strategies of NVC manifest this natural compassion. The objective is not to change people and their behavior to get our way, but to establish relationships based on honesty and empathy that will eventually fulfill everyone’s needs. The book is easy to read and full of examples and exercises, and Rosenberg has successfully used Nonviolent Communication to promote peace in tense situations around the world. I’ll be returning to this book over and over.

Upcoming speaking:              

Saturday, August 12: Workshop Leader for Montreat Conference Center’s Women’s Connection Conference. Workshop Description:

Encouraging Courage: This workshop will explore what feminist theologian Susan Nelson Dunfee says is the primary sin of woman: the sin of hiding. We will explore ways to develop our gifts, overcome our fears, and embrace our God-given potential.

Sunday, August 20: Preaching at Massanutten Presbyterian Church in Harrisonburg, Virginia.

Saturday, September 9: Preacher and workshop leader, Shenandoah Presbytery’s Big Event “Faithful Decisions in Difficult Times,” at Massanetta Springs Camp and Conference Center.

January 2-5, 2024, Keynote speaker for College Conference at Montreat Conference Center, Montreat, NC. The theme for this conference is “Necessary Risks.”

Let’s connect!

What did the word cloud generate for you? What books are you reading and loving?

Tell me in the comments, or through my website: www.terimcdowellott.com.

Leave a comment

This new year began at warp speed, and the pace hasn’t slowed in February. This month my focus has been on a major grant deadline and planning and attending an Outlook board meeting. When the news broke about the killing of Tyre Nichols by Memphis police, I grieved this travesty of justice, and followed the news coverage for a few nights while I folded laundry. I wanted justice for Tyre and his family. But I did not stay glued to every new detail of the crime released, or text my friends to ask if they would or would not watch the video. My White privilege protected and distanced me, and I pressed on with business as usual—until a meeting with two of my Outlook staff colleagues who are both Black women.

From the start of the meeting, it was clear that Outlook work needed to be put on hold. Unlike mine, my dear colleagues’ lives had been interrupted. They were distraught, angry, and exhausted. They’d seen too many videos of police brutalizing young men and women who could have been their son or daughter, their spouse or friend.

I leaned in to listen, and recognized how protected I’d been from the pain they must regularly face. I didn’t have anything eloquent to say in response. My words of care and concern stumbled awkwardly out of my mouth. But I promised them I’d write something—not just for their sake, but for mine as well. I needed to break the cold barrier of privilege that distanced me from the pain.

I took care crafting this editorial, “Tyre Nichols died by a system that protects me and my White life,” being as honest and vulnerable as I could.

I was so anxious about how my words would be received that, the night before it was published, I dreamed of people attacking me on social media. Of course, my fears cannot compare to the fear Black Americans live with every day. But the sins of systemic racism must be felt if we are going to begin to reckon with its injustice.

Healing can only begin when we are willing to touch the wound.

Recommended viewing for Black History Month:

Do you need to feel hope today? Listen to this twelve-minute orchestral performance, “Of Our New Day Begun.” Written by the talented Black composer, Omar Thomas, the piece honors the nine beautiful souls who were killed at Mother Emmanuel church in Charleston, South Carolina. I recently heard this piece performed at my son’s honors band concert. The music builds and builds, with strains of “Lift Every Voice and Sing” throughout. To me, the flow of the composition feels like grief being worked out. It may be twelve minutes, but it is worth every second. The ending left me with chills and feeling like—together—we can shape ourselves into the most beautiful, most captivating, most hopeful harmony.

Recent writing:

I’ve been writing Lenten devotions and lectionary reflections since early December. How strange that the season of Lent is just beginning! Here is the lectionary reflection I wrote for Sunday, February 26^th where I focus on Lent as an opportunity to set ourselves free, rather than a season to make us feel guilty.

Inspired by this photo of Artie Stewart (age 3) from my friend, Glen Bell’s, Facebook feed (Artie is Glen’s grandson)

I wrote this editorial, “Becoming like children,” to begin our February issue of the Outlook on the theme of pilgrimage and discovery.

Books I’m loving:

I read Jumpha Lahiri’s novel The Namesake after finishing a popular thriller that will be left unnamed. Lahiri is a brilliant writer who won the Pulitzer for her book of short stories Interpreter of Maladies, and moving from a “popular” book to Lahiri’s novel made me appreciate her literary skill all the more. The Namesake is about the Ganguli family making their home in America, while also trying to preserve their Indian traditions and culture. Lahiri’s character development is brilliant. By the end of the book, their lives entwined with my own through the beauty of story.

I also just finished reading Talk like TED: The 9 Public Speaking Secrets of the World’s Top Minds by Carmine Gallo. With so many new invitations to speak lately (I’m so grateful!), I’ve been looking for resources to develop my public speaking skills. This book got great reviews and it didn’t disappoint. Spoiler: Power point slides with lots of text are NOT engaging. Effective use of images and storytelling will help you engage, persuade and inspire.

Upcoming speaking:              

Sunday, February 26: Preaching at Second Presbyterian Church in Little Rock, Arkansas.

February 27 -28: Cecil and Ruth Boddie Farmer Guest Chapel Speaker and Lecturer at University of the Ozarks in Clarksville, Arkansas.

Sunday, March 12: Guest speaker for Sunday School at Second Presbyterian Church in Roanoke, Virginia.

Saturday, April 1: Keynote Speaker and Workshop Leader for West Virginia Presbytery’s “Festival of Faith.”

Keynote: Embracing a Love Ethic: In these divisive, polarized days of “purple” churches, listening well, embracing humility and encouraging vulnerability in our conversations with people of diverse perspectives are important. An “ethic of love” can guide us in these trying times.

Workshop #1: Living a Love Ethic. Building on the keynote that discusses the “whys” of embracing a love ethic, this workshop will focus on the “hows” of living a love ethic in everyday life. In light of our divisive and polarized society, we will discuss, practice and share strategies to engage with others across lines of difference.

Workshop #2: Inside the Outlook: I’ll discusses the mission and vision of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)’s only independent publisher, why the Outlook’s independence is important for the church, and my vision for the 200-year-old publisher’s future.

Let’s connect!

How have you honored Black history month? What books are you reading and loving?

I look forward to hearing from you in the comments or through my website: www.terimcdowellott.com.

In my book, Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face, I share the inspiring story behind the speech Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered on April 4, 1967, in New York City. At an assembly of three thousand hosted by an organization called the Clergy and Laymen Concerned about Vietnam, King broke his silence on the Vietnam War.

Before this moment, King had struggled with the decision of whether to speak publicly against the war. He had been sharply criticized for passing comments he’d made that were picked up by the news media, and his own advisors were divided on whether King’s anti-war stance was wise. Some encouraged him to speak. Others told him it would weaken the civil rights movement and distract him from his main work on behalf of Black Americans.

King made up his mind on a January flight to Jamaica, where the civil rights leader intended to get some rest. The January 1967 issue of Ramparts magazine caught his attention. As he got settled for the flight, King picked up the magazine, flipping through its pages until he reached the story “Children of Vietnam.” One photo showed Vietnamese children who had been horrifically burned by American napalm. Another showed a Vietnamese mother holding her dead baby. King was sick.  His silence on the war betrayed all he held sacred: his stance on non-violence, his activism against injustice, his call as a preacher of Jesus’ gospel, his commitment to the dignity and worth of every person. He decided to do everything he could to end this war.

The risk King faced in speaking against the Vietnam War cannot be underestimated. King knew the FBI had been tracking his personal life and worried they might incriminate him if he criticized the government. Advisors also warned him that a public anti-war stance would jeopardize his relationship with President Lyndon Johnson and the Civil Rights work they had already accomplished. But King was undeterred. He made his speech, calling on the Johnson administration to halt all bombing in Vietnam and to work toward peace negotiations.

The backlash was quick and condemnatory. Only a few newspapers and magazines supported King. Most of the media portrayed him as irresponsible and irrational, as a leader who had injured his influence and that of the Civil Rights movement. The NAACP announced that King’s merging of the civil rights movement with the peace movement was a tactical mistake. King’s call for peace negotiations to be conducted with the Viet Cong, North and South Korea, the USSR, and China also led to intensified FBI interest in his “communist” sympathies.

On a more personal level, old friends refused to comment on his speech. Others dissociated from King. He was tired, living out of a suitcase, getting four hours of sleep a night. The pressure was intense.

In response to these consequences, King said, “I was politically unwise but morally wise. I think I have a role to play which may be unpopular. I really felt that someone of influence has to say that the United States is wrong, and everybody is afraid to say it.”

“A time comes when silence is betrayal,” King said in his April 4th, 1967 speech against the war in Vietnam. It's important to understand that silence in the face of oppression of any kind is not empty, it is not neutral. It is not non-action. Saying nothing in the face of systemic oppression supports that oppression. As Elie Wiesel said in his Nobel Peace Prize acceptance speech, “We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

As I seek ways to encourage courage, I pray to not betray the oppressed, my values, or my God by staying silent in the face of injustice.

Recent writing:

In this lectionary reflection on Psalm 27, I write about finding myself in a spiritually dry season of ministry and how Henri Nouwen’s book The Genesee Diary helped me remember that God is present and ready to be found.

Our January issue of the Presbyterian Outlook magazine focused on quality of life for older adults. In my editorial for this issue I wrote about the “Three Plagues” of nursing home life—boredom, loneliness and helplessness—and how faith communities can help.

Upcoming speaking:

Sunday, January 22: Preaching at Massanutten Presbyterian Church on Isaiah 43:1-7 and the topic of belonging.    

Sunday, February 26: Preaching at Second Presbyterian Church in Little Rock, Arkansas.

February 27 -28: Cecil and Ruth Boddie Farmer Guest Chapel Speaker and Lecturer at University of the Ozarks in Clarksville, Arkansas.

Sunday, March 12: Guest speaker for Sunday School at Second Presbyterian Church in Roanoke, Virginia.

Saturday, April 1: Keynote Speaker and Workshop Leader for West Virginia Presbytery’s “Festival of Faith.”

Keynote: Embracing a Love Ethic: In these divisive, polarized days of “purple” churches, listening well, embracing humility and encouraging vulnerability in our conversations with people of diverse perspectives are important. An “ethic of love” can guide us in these trying times.

Workshop #1: Living a Love Ethic. Building on the keynote that discusses the “whys” of embracing a love ethic, this workshop will focus on the “hows” of living a love ethic in everyday life. In light of our divisive and polarized society, we will discuss, practice and share strategies to engage with others across lines of difference.

Workshop #2: Inside the Outlook: Teri McDowell Ott discusses the mission and vision of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)’s only independent publisher, why the Outlook’s independence is important for the church, and her vision for the 200-year-old publisher’s future.

Books I’m loving:

I’ve learned so much from reading the work of Martin Luther King, Jr, and recommend his books and writings to be read whole—not just the popular quotes. My copy of Where Do We Go From Here: Chaos or Community? is thoroughly marked and tabbed and returned to again and again. It’s just as, or perhaps more, relevant today than when King wrote it in 1968.

I’m halfway through Regina Jackson and Saira Rao’s recently published book, White Women: Everything You Already Know About Your Own Racism and How to Do Better. After getting invited to too many lunches and dinners by White women asking Jackson and Rao for racial feedback and learning, the two teamed up to start Race2Dinner. Race2Dinner coordinates two-hour dinner conversations with Jackson, Rao and eight White women. Participants also receive pre-dinner support and post-dinner consulting. The book describes the dinners, the honest and challenging conversations they foster, and the transformative racial learning they liberate. White Women is a challenging, but worthwhile read.

Let’s connect!

What books are you reading? How did you honor Martin Luther King, Jr on January 16th?

I look forward to hearing from you in the comments or through my website: www.terimcdowellott.com.

I’m awake early on a Sunday morning after being up way too late. My 13-year-old daughter had a sleepover with friends. Feeding and fetching snacks for a gaggle of girls, checking on the dog at 2am who might have accidentally been left outside, making sure all are awake and dressed for morning pickup is taxing parental work. I will need a nap today. But middle school is hard, and the laughter rising from our finished basement and the joy of knowing my daughter has found a place where she belongs is worth all the effort.

I’ve recently been contemplating how “belonging” is different from the concept of “welcoming.” To welcome someone, to invite them into our home is a beautiful gesture. But hospitality does just mean making space for them in “our” house.

Richard Wagamese is one of my favorite writers, and a Native American of the Ojibway tribe. If Wagamese were asked, “Where are you from?” he’d say his people come from the earth itself. “We emerged from her bosom fully formed,” he writes, “and ready to assume our place as stewards, caretakers, guardians. Our rich brown skin reminds us that we are her children, that we belong here, that our home is always at our feet.”

Tragically, the “belonging” of Indigenous peoples to this land has long been ignored. Wagamese, abused and abandoned as a child, bounced from one foster home to the next, believing there was nowhere he belonged—not in our White supremacist society, not in the White Protestant church, not in the institutions built by White people. “I was raised in a concrete Protestant reality,” Wagamese wrote, “with no room for imagination…no place for mystical thinking. Instead, faith sat in our home like a yardstick, a device by whose measure I always fell short.” (Wagamese, One Native Life, pg. 121)

There is a possessiveness about belonging. Who belongs and who does not is unfortunately controlled by who feels like they “own” the space. And once we feel like an institution, a land or a country is “ours” – then, well, we’re happy to “welcome” others, but not as happy to give them a share of the ownership, let them shape the space according to their ideas, values or culture, let them belong.

Allowing others to feel like they belong means giving up some of our ownership over the program, or the space, or the community. It’s honestly not easy, which is probably why we focus more on welcoming. But we also know, deep in our souls, that welcoming doesn’t often go far enough. People long to belong. People need to belong.

Recent writing:

The practice of writing is the way I learn the best. Articulating what I am reading or thinking gives knowledge a “stickiness” that serves me well. Over this past month, I’ve learned a lot. In this reflection on the crucifixion scene from Luke, I wrote responding to the violent attack on Paul Pelosi and the rising threats of violence against our political leaders. This reflection led me to learn about a theology of trauma, drawing on Serene Jones’ book Trauma and Grace.

In this editorial, I was able to articulate how a visit to the Rothko Chapel in Houston, Texas led me to look beyond first impressions.

My last editorial of the year focused on a fear I have for my Presbyterian church—that we will abandon our value of education and the educational development of God’s people. I’ve come to view education as a means of liberation. And there is so much from which we need to be liberated.

Upcoming speaking:

Monday, January 15: Joint presentation with Rev. Warren Lesane (Executive and Stated Clerk for the Synod of the Mid-Atlantic) for the Presbytery of Eastern Virginia’s annual Martin Luther King, Jr. Commemoration Service.

Sunday, February 26: Preaching at Second Presbyterian Church in Little Rock, Arkansas.

February 27 -28: Cecil and Ruth Boddie Farmer Guest Chapel Speaker and Lecturer at University of the Ozarks in Clarksville, Arkansas.

Sunday, March 12: Guest speaker for Sunday School at Second Presbyterian Church in Roanoke, Virginia.

Saturday, April 1: Keynote Speaker and Workshop Leader for West Virginia Presbytery’s “Festival of Faith.”

Keynote: Embracing a Love Ethic: In these divisive, polarized days of “purple” churches, listening well, embracing humility and encouraging vulnerability in our conversations with people of diverse perspectives are important. An “ethic of love” can guide us in these trying times.

Workshop #1: Living a Love Ethic. Building on the keynote that discusses the “whys” of embracing a love ethic, this workshop will focus on the “hows” of living a love ethic in everyday life. In light of our divisive and polarized society, we will discuss, practice and share strategies to engage with others across lines of difference.

Workshop #2: Inside the Outlook: Teri McDowell Ott discusses the mission and vision of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.)’s only independent publisher, why the Outlook’s independence is important for the church, and her vision for the 200-year-old publisher’s future.

Books I’m loving:

Speaking of belonging, Willie James Jennings’ book, After Whiteness: An Education in Belonging, is a marvelous read. Jennings weaves poetry and personal stories between rich insights into educational and theological history. He highlights the ways our institutions are built on White, Western cultural values—prioritizing self-sufficiency, individualism and masculinity—and calls for the creation of educational spaces where people can find meaningful, intimate connections, and their place of belonging.

I’m halfway through Braiding Sweetgrass, an exquisite book by Indigenous scientist, Robin Wall Kimmerer. If you enjoy the nature writings of Annie Dillard or Mary Oliver, you will love and learn from this book. In the first chapter, Kimmerer describes her shock when her students cannot name any known positive interaction between people and land. “How can we move toward ecological and cultural sustainability if we cannot even imagine what the path feels like?” Braiding Sweetgrass inspires such positive interactions and will make you want to go for a walk in the woods.

Although it’s not a book, I want to recommend the Instagram account @whitegirllearning to you. If you want to stay up to date (or catch up) on the writing of Black, Indigenous, and People of Color, this account is amazing. Marla Taviano is a White ex-evangelical committed to her learning and growth as an antiracist. She reads voraciously and posts helpful, short reviews. I’ve bought a number of “must reads” based off Marla’s reviews and feel as if I’m staying much more current by following her account.

Let’s connect!

What books are you reading? What thoughts do you have about belonging?

I look forward to hearing from you in the comments or through my website: www.terimcdowellott.com.

Share Encouraging Courage

This newsletter will be infrequent. And that’s okay.

We all need more grace—grace for ourselves and grace to share with others.

That said, I welcome this infrequent newsletter as a way to articulate how I am (or am not) living my values. It feels like good accountability, which, as a person of privilege, I need to build into my life. Benchmarks for faithfulness, might be another way of putting it. 

I often return to Brené Brown’s book, Daring Greatly for inspiration. Brown writes that the epitome of daring greatly is “wholehearted living” — a way of living that aligns with your values; with who you want to be. Courage, authenticity, and integrity are a few of my “wholehearted living” values. When I live from these values I feel as if I am offering the best version of myself to the world— I am showing up for others and myself in ways that align with who I believe God calls me to be. 

Every day presents new opportunities to live my values. I don’t always succeed. People piss me off, rub me the wrong way, treat me in ways I find demeaning and disrespectful and then I find myself responding with more of the same. In this reflection on 1 Corinthians 13, I wrote about a week when I received two scathingly angry letters directed to me as the editor of the Presbyterian Outlook. The temptation to clap back was strong. Replying swiftly with an equally angry email would have felt self-righteously satisfying. But responding to ugly with ugly just leaves me feeling ugly.

In my book, Necessary Risks: Challenges Privileged People Need to Face, I wrote about the fear and anxiety that kept me in hiding for much of my young life. It wasn’t until I reached college that I recognized how small my fear was keeping me. God wanted more from me and for me. I just had to muster up the courage to follow this growing sense of call. 

God continues to call me to places, people, and positions that trigger my anxiety. In these moments, it’s my instinct to retract in fear—to constrict myself and make myself smaller, to hide. (I can feel this constriction in my neck and shoulders where I carry all my stress.) Lately, though, I’ve been practicing being more mindful when my anxiety is triggered. I pause, breathe, and ask myself: Who do I want to be in this moment? How do I want to respond to this person or situation causing me stress? This brief moment of mindful pause helps me buy some time to choose the better response.

Recent writing:

I am constantly calling on my courage in my writing, to not stay silent in the face of injustice and important issues. In this reflection on Luke 14: 1, 7-14, I wrote about the threat of Christian nationalism. Here I wrote about debt forgiveness after President Biden announced his plans to cancel student loans. In this article for the Christian Century, originally entitled “Transitioning”, I chronicle all the stupid mistakes I made while trying to be supportive of the LGBTQIA+ community. This learning led me to recently publish a full issue of the Presbyterian Outlook on gender and sexuality. Here’s a link to my editorial from that issue.

Upcoming speaking:

Wednesday, November 9: Discussion via Zoom of Necessary Risks with campus ministers and chaplains. I wrote the book while serving as a college chaplain and discuss all I learned from my students, particularly those from marginalized communities.

Thursday, November 17th: Webinar on the “Risk Failing” chapter of my book for Ukirk campus ministers, chaplains and students. We’ll focus on systems of injustice that are built to perpetuate failure and my experience of this in our carceral system.

Friday, November 18: I’m speaking to 200 high school youth at the Keep Awake Conference at Massanetta Springs Conference Center. The conference’s theme ties into the Matthew 25 initiative of the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) I’ll discuss power, review the power analysis tools community organizers use, and hopefully leave these young people with the understanding that they have power to create positive change. 

Saturday, December 3rd: Preaching in chapel at Union Presbyterian Seminary-Charlotte and Sunday, December 4th Preaching at Caldwell Presbyterian Church in Charlotte, North Carolina. The lectionary text for this second Sunday of Advent focuses on John the Baptist preaching in the wilderness of Judea. The people of Judea had to venture outside the city, to the wilderness to hear John —a man who ate and dressed as one of the poor. What might we hear and learn if we risk going to the margins of our society and spend time listening and learning from the poor?

Books I’m loving:

I just finished Unwinding Anxiety: New Science Shows How to Break the Cycles of Worry and Fear to Heal your Mind by Judson Brewer. I picked this book up at my local library, but learned so much from it, I bought it and even downloaded the Unwinding Anxiety app. I appreciate Brewer’s use of mindfulness to help us understand our anxiety, and then also to help us respond to our triggers in healthier ways. I haven’t completely stopped burying my face in a tub of Breyer’s ice cream to comfort my anxiety. But I am much more aware of my anxiety triggers and have more healthy tools to turn to now. 

I also just started reading James McBride’s novel Deacon King Kong. I hadn’t read McBride before, but I’ll definitely read more of his books. I love his character development, dialogue, and humor. Deacon King Kong is set in a south Brooklyn housing project where an old church deacon publicly shoots the project’s main drug dealer. When writing Necessary Risks, I only read books by writers of color. I learned and grew so much from that practice, from encountering different perspectives and cultures, that I have continued to prioritize reading books by authors of color. I wouldn’t have discovered James McBride if not for this practice.

Let’s talk!

What practices help you live your values? What benchmarks for faithfulness, or accountability markers, have you built into your life to help you recognize when you are not?

I look forward to hearing from you in the comments or through my website www.terimcdowellott.com.

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