Witness
A man rises up to stand behind the pulpit. The dark mahogany behind him frames his white face. He pauses to arrange his notes on the podium and looks up at the congregation. Voices call out to him. “Tell the story. Tell it, preacher!” If ever a truly “white” man existed, it was my father. …
A Day Late
…and a dollar short. Isn’t that how the saying goes? I usually post on a Thursday. I like Thursdays. I was born on a Thursday. You remember the nursery rhyme? Thursday’s child has far to go…. The line has special meaning for me. I sure enough know I have far to go— But I’m not…
Peter steps out
Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened….Matthew 14: 28-30 It isn’t that I lack the courage In fact last…
Ready, or Not?
I want to offer you two extraordinary opportunities for new experience and new learnings; opportunities that will open your mind, challenge your heart, and, yes, land you smack dab in the middle of holy discomfort. The School of Inclusion + Activism is holding some Hard Conversations: month-long seminars, led by authors, speakers, and social justice…
Un(en)titled
“If I say, ‘I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name,’ then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot.” (Jeremiah 20:9) I am looking for the hand, I say.No, she answers with characteristic bluntness.…
In the midst of life
I am taking a break from posting for the next three weeks (June 23 and 30, July 7), as my brothers and I prepare to memorialize our Dad and bury our father’s and mother’s ashes in a plot they purchased with our grandparents back in the 1960s. I was raised a Southern Baptist and now…
My Mother’s House
In the inaugural post for this blog, in March, 2021, I wrote that my mother and father taught me and my brothers everything we know about holy discomfort. “My mother dreamed of tending her own home, raising a family,” I wrote. “She always joked that she honestly had wanted the picket fence! And yet she…
John Wesley the Baptist
Going into the ministry was nowhere in my father’s plans for his life when he was a boy. It was Grandma Reid who named him. “Why don’t you call him John Wesley?” she proposed. “Maybe he’ll be a preacher.” Of course, there was that one time that young Wesley abruptly announced that he was going…
A Southern White Girl’s Upbringin’
Sometimes Love looks like turning tables over in the Temple. But that’s not how I was brought up. Eris. The Greek Goddess of Discord; Discordia, in Latin. The etymology of the name is uncertain, some scholars connecting it with a Greek verb whose English translation is “to raise, stir, excite.” None of which was of…
Who I (truly) am
Warren Massenburg was as massive as his name sounds. And not just physically— Oh, sure, at the age of 15 he stood well over 6 feet tall, his broad face framed by an Afro that added at least 3 inches to his height. Nothing about him was small; every inch of his frame was big,…
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holy discomfort: Love letters to the church 