Hello! My name is Staci. If you don’t know who I am, that’s okay. I’ve been coming to Grace Church with my husband (and now child) since 2008, but honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if you and I haven’t met because I tend to hang around the recesses of the shadows at church unless I’m singing on stage. I’m a bit introverted. What that means is I am most comfortable with and prefer the company of only a few people at a time instead of many. Don’t get me wrong: This doesn’t mean I don’t like or want to connect with people. During worship, especially, it's really powerful to be in community and to hear everyone singing and praising God together. I've always wanted to be an outgoing person, and I

“This kind does not go out except by prayer and fasting.” (Matthew 17:21) In 1998, on a Wednesday night during the season of Lent, I found myself with a small group of Christians who had gathered to celebrate the Eucharist at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Conway. For several reasons that had nothing to do with Lent, I had eaten almost nothing since the day before. I wasn’t intentionally fasting. My day at Hendrix College had been exceptionally full; I had simply not had a chance to sit down for a meal. To make matters worse, my insomnia had flared up and I was sleep-deprived. During the hymns and readings, I had difficulty staying focused on what was happening. The thought occurred to me,

“Gain” seems to be the the name of the game in this world. We define our identity and our success by the size of our bank account, the number of social media followers we obtain, the levels of success our children achieve, along with many other similar metrics. Our metrics might differ to an extent, but we all buy into this mentality in some form or fashion. It's reflected in our schedules, our priorities, and our bank account statements. The places we spend our time, our energy, and our resources are often indications of what we deem most important to us. This week during Lent, we’re practicing letting go. It's a radical concept in a society where more is better, but We’re living on borrowe

i asked you about blessings, and one would think you might say blessings are when everything’s going your way. basket-woven cornucopias brimming bounty from rich soil; towering stacks of dollars from meaningful toil; just the right number of quiver-full offspring who learn easily, behave, and perform athletically; rosy-glowed cheeks and the fountain of youth; blessed by God for performance—but that’s not truth. you said you were blessed by a disorder with eating that drew you closer to the Lord in your needing to learn to rely on His strength and unique timing; loss of job; divorce; a child born with disabilities; protection while waiting for a spouse with sensibilities; family pulled closer

Imagine the scene: A young girl strikes out on the last pitch of a softball game. She hangs her head and wipes away her tears with her dirty sleeve. It’s obvious she has given her all but has come up short. While the other team celebrates, her dad comes down from the stands and puts his arm around her to console her. Next comes a montage that shows her redoubling her efforts. There she is taking batting practice in the dark; up in the early-dawn hours finishing her chores so she has extra time to grab her bat and go through her swing in super-slow motion, over and over, to improve her technique; even shots of her running, doing push-ups, taking a series of hard and full cuts with her bat to