Silence can be unsettling at first. It confronts us with voices we’d rather avoid—the noisy and persistent echoes of jealousy, anger, resentment, or the lingering pain of loss and rejection. When we enter into stillness and silence, these voices can seem overwhelming, even deafening, tempting us to escape into distraction or entertainment. It is so easy to take out the phone and avoid the silence. 

As we prepare our tables, our travel, and our time off for another celebration of Thanksgiving Day, I find myself thinking that giving thanks is harder than it seems. I say “thank you” to people dozens of times a day. I say thanks for giving me my coffee, thanks for bagging my groceries, thanks for doing that thing I asked you to do. I do it so naturally and habitually that I wonder if I even know what I’m saying! Saying thanks is a habit. 

Lots of the attention to learning and growth in the church is centered on children and youth. Flowing from the promises parents make in baptism, the church helps with the shaping of young people as disciples. This is good and necessary. Yet, in our culture, we also think that once we “graduate” from school, finish the educational process in our youth, we are done, finished products with nothing left to learn.
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I’m back. After a graciously granted sabbatical, I have resumed my regular duties at Holy Trinity. I want to say, once again, “Thank you!” The foresight and care that the congregation shows in having a sabbatical policy in place is more than appreciated. It is essential. 

In a perfect garden, created by God for the sake of humanity, evil entered in the form of deception and lies. Christians refer to this story, found in the biblical book of Genesis, as the fall of humanity. This foray into human sin began when Adam and Eve, the first humans created in the image of God, were deceived.

Jacob Astley found himself entangled in the turmoil of the English Civil Wars (1642-51). A Royalist, he served as the King’s Major-General of Infantry and, just before the Battle of Edgehill on October 23, 1642, he offered a heartfelt prayer in the presence of his troops.

​​O Lord! thou knowest how busy I must be this day: if I forget thee, do not thou forget me. ~Amen

​When we think of kintsugi, we often picture it in a museum-like setting. We often see this Japanese art as a broken piece of pottery with lightning-like streaks of gold leaf, set against a sterile background. In this form, we admire the artistry—its beauty as an artifact.

In my mid 30’s as I started to engage more with my faith and God, I was encouraged to have a “daily quiet time” with Jesus. This usually meant five minutes of Bible reading and five minutes of prayer—a quick and efficient routine. It wasn’t uncommon for someone at men’s bible study to ask how your “daily quiet time” was going, and for many, it was just another task to check off.

After more than a few conversations with folks this past week, it has become increasingly evident to me that many of us hate turning on the news. When I have asked the question, “How are things with you?” the answer has increasingly become, “I am good if I can ignore the news.” People are tired of the onslaught of bad news.