The lights of Christmas feel especially needed this very dark year; this COVID-19 year most people say they can’t wait to leave behind. But take hope: we will surely leave it behind, for every year in the history of the world has ended. So has every pandemic. I like the …
On the night before Christmas of 2019, I sat in a cozy corner by our slender lit tree. Minutes earlier I’d stood in the backyard, waiting for our shaggy sheepdog, Cash, to finish his business, and feeling particularly UNfestive. After the hype leading to the 25th, the harried schedule, decorating, …
Cloudy days of the soul often block our view of God, threatening faith in his goodness. But they persist in our souls’ regions, these pandemic times. “Cloudy with increased chance of precipitation, in the form of salty tears,” a forecaster may say. The Preacher has fought depression ever since he …
As a child of the fifties and sixties, I grew up surrounded by haunting echoes of WWII. I heard them while huddling under my covers, every time the 1 a.m. shift siren wailed from the pipe mill at the end of Murray Street. My street. I heard them while listening …
At this writing, our globe has grappled with COVID-19 for almost a year. It has changed everything for too many people, and too many things for everyone. “I don’t want a new normal,” my friend said, referring to those pandemic changes. She stamped her foot a bit and fumed. “I—we …
I’m grateful for democratic elections, for national assistance programs and government watchdogs. But more than a restoration of what we had before COVID, Canada needs God. We need changed hearts. Too many other countries have demonstrated what happens otherwise… No trick or treaters, those. Blows rattled our friends’ door in …
“What are you up to?” the Preacher just asked. “I’m wrestling words,” I said, peering at him from behind my laptop. “Writing next week’s column. Why?” “When you’re done wrestling,” he said, “could you demonstrate the therapy harp to Anthony? He’s only seen pictures.” I’ll likely never be done word-wrestling. …
Trevor attended my church’s youth group. No fan of boys, I paid no attention to him at first. But one evening he sat down at the piano in the rec hall. His long fingers trickled over the ivories like a rushing stream. He had no music. He didn’t look down, just kept …
I don’t write this column to share family stories. I write to demonstrate how God meets us, whoever we are; where we are, every day, any place, all the time. How Jesus walks beside us, no matter our chosen paths. How he connects our horizontal with his vertical, and layer …
“Why do you always seem glum?” someone asked my friend and fellow Christ-follower. “Christians should be joyful!” My friend, serious by nature, felt challenged and somewhat bruised by that question. For a time she wondered if she’d gotten something wrong in her faith and life equation. If her joy-basket had a hole …
