Things are not always what they seem. Just consider ash and time. The end of a thing. The true unmoved mover. Remnants. Immutability.
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The Avengers-an elite force.
Is that a force of protection? A force of justice? A force for vengeance? A force for good? A force for evil? A force for vigilantes?
She departs for imagination. She withdraws. She leaves. Not to be rude or show disinterest in the current happening, but to find the creativity that dwells within.
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I’ve written a bit about possibilities and about paradigm shifts. Experimenting with both these things takes some doing. Or being.
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In a recent daily meditation from Richard Rohr (January 5 to be precise) In which Cynthia Bourgeault says, “We’re living in an era right now which some would call a major paradigm shift.”
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I, like many of you, have been inundated with news summarizing the good and the not good of 2020. As we move into 2021, we all have a choice to make.
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Like a blaze of color across a graphite landscape, an Epiphany of hope arrives as an outrage.
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Hi. My name is Andrea Lingle. For many of you, you know me as the name near the top of these emails. Others of you may know me as the woman who teaches writing-as-a-spiritual-practice with her eyes closed. I am not bragging about the ease with which I teach. I find myself talking to you all with my eyes closed. Why? I don't know. Y'all aren't that scary.
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God who created the sun that gives us light and the plants who turn that light into energy, we give you thanks! Incarnate God who came to table, we give you thanks! Holy Spirit who fills us with wonder, we give you thanks!
Amen.
Son of God who sat and told stories, Creator God who filled the stones with tales of mystery, Spirit of God who inhabits our stories, be they tales of joy or sorrow, grant us the courage to tell the truth—our truth.
Amen.
Spirit of God, who hovered over the chaos of the waters, meet us in the chaos of movement. Meet us on the way.
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It’s hard to be a non-profit that focuses on building community during a pandemic. We have been forced to contract, losing wonderful folks whom we love very much.
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On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him.
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For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand. Psalm 95:1–7a
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The man sat by the entrance of his home. His skin was loose and brown, weathered by the steadily accumulating years. The moments of his life stretched around him like a spreading pool of rich green olive oil on a table top.
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Wisdom is radiant and unfading, and she is easily discerned by those who love her, and is found by those who seek her.
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I am a native North Carolinian and, though I am not as old as the saying is, I remember North Carolina’s logo, “Variety Vacationland.”
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I have spent a majority of my adult life in a fifteen passenger van going from state to state playing country music. I would not trade one thing for my years on the road, nor the hundreds of thousands of miles I drove in that time.
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The context I am serving in is a long-standing Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) church that is in the midst of a lot of transition.
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Long ago in the small, calm city of Atlanta, two churches had thriving ministries in their neighborhoods.
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