Safety

When we read about abuse that happens to someone else, somewhere else, we can be empathetic. We can be moved to action by the plights of others; we can become more aware, make more thoughtful choices. But when abuse hits home, it’s something else. Our reaction is visceral, our reality reordered. The recent revelations about the abuses in Southern Baptist churches have hit pretty close to home for me. One of the main churches identified in the Houston Chronicle/San Antonio Express-News series is a church where I used to be a member. I was even once interviewed for a staff position there. Reading about the convention’s utter lack of willingness to address what was a known problem makes me angr

A Little Piece of Cloth

This time last year, while I was traveling in Central Asia as part of a team from Youth With A Mission, an existential crisis was brewing inside me. Things had happened so fast as the trip came together that it was kind of like my body had gone ahead of my mind and spirit, and I was waiting for them to catch up. Also, team dynamics seemed to be changing rapidly as our young leaders’ goals for the group had shifted to a more personal focus. Honestly, I felt like things were falling apart. I was frequently asking God, “Why am I here in Tajikistan?” The only thing I thought to do was to set my body on autopilot and, when the moment presented itself, to just tell people how God had met me where

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