In a world where pocket screens can volley our attention to six unrelated things in sixty seconds, reading poetry offers practice attending to the only necessary thing..

It is no small thing that the God who holds every atom of the universe, who breathes worlds into existence, who needs nothing from humankind, chose to sit on the earth with those who were made of it...

We often want to skip the uncomfortable, nonlinear steps of transformation, and jump straight to the center. But many of us are like me, in the messiness of process…

All that is breaking in my life is evidence of a divine Gardener close, present–and working…

Taking time to set the table with care helps me see meals as they really are…

God meets us at Walmart…

Rushing is a misunderstanding of who I am. ..

Wintering is a fitting time for rest…

What if we treated the stranger at our festal tables as Christ Himself?

Maybe cultivating generosity would mean holding our hours with open hands. God has given us time to give it away again…

For years I struggled with the concept of self-care, but lately I’ve been learning that it does have its place in the life of the believer…

What is perhaps most wonderful is the disproportionate grace of it all…

Lately, I’ve been asking myself: What would it look like to redefine productivity? What would it look like to evaluate my days from a Jesus-paced lens?

Moving in step with the Spirit, Jesus was not in too much of a hurry to be interrupted. He moved at a pace that allowed him to feel the anguish of others; to peer into the faces of the brokenhearted, stop for a conversation, offer a word, a piece of bread, or a healing.

When blood and bone, flour and water, get a chance to rest, God knits the tissues into life. He works miracles through human flesh and bubbling yeast…

My (often) unconscious thought-process goes like this: If I don’t keep doing, I won’t achieve. And if I don’t achieve, I won’t be worth anything. And if I’m not worth anything, I won’t be loved…

I decided to take a couple of months to rest from writing, to sit in uncomfortable silence, to listen to God. I started asking questions: why do I feel the need to rush (in everything, all the time)? Why do I feel the need for hyperproductivity?…

Sometimes the most fruitful act is rest…

What if I imagined church as a place reverberating with a power infinitely beyond us. A power more tumultuous than any looming hurricane. The Power, in fact, who holds hurricanes in the hollow of His palms?

Each of us was divinely fashioned to be a little sanctuary. A Garden of Eden radiant with divine presence. A tabernacle where God would dwell. An image of heaven…