Upon the Fall of a Pastor

On the week we were engaged, Jared and I were grocery shopping together when he got a text that nearly took the wind out of him. It was from a fellow pastor, asking if he'd heard the news: a preacher they both greatly respected, a stalwart leader and renowned expositor, had fallen to immorality. Overnight, … Continue reading Upon the Fall of a Pastor

Scent on a Spring Breeze

In The Country of the Pointed Firs, Sarah Orne Jewett wrote of a woman named Mrs. Almira Todd, who lived in a clapboard house on the coast of Maine---a gardener and a landlady and "an ardent lover of herbs, both wild and tame." They grew out from her gray-shingled walls and up her steep gables, … Continue reading Scent on a Spring Breeze

Everywhere the River Goes

One of the main characters in Wendell Berryโ€™s novel, Jayber Crow, is the river itself, which moves through the story like Jayber does, picking things up as it goes, sometimes setting them down again. The river is always changing---sometimes fat and angry, โ€œas if the mountains had melted and were flowing to the sea.โ€ In … Continue reading Everywhere the River Goes

A Light in the Valley

Mavonโ€™s dad knew he was dying. He didnโ€™t want to leave them here on the farmโ€”Mavon, her brother, and mother, but he was ready to be with Jesus, and he reminded them from his deathbed:ย  โ€œWeโ€™ll just be separated for a short time, and soon, weโ€™ll be together again.โ€ There was something elseโ€” โ€œHe told … Continue reading A Light in the Valley

Quiet, Little, & Long

This article was written for and published on The Christian Manifesto blog. โ€œWhat do you want to do?โ€ people wanted to know as soon as I finished high school. It was a problem, because I was already doing what I wanted to do. I was writing. I was teaching in my local church. I was using my … Continue reading Quiet, Little, & Long

The Man Who Built the Lord’s House

A True Story from Home I remember Frank as an old man, always kneeling in some corner to measure or drill, always doing it quietly with trembly hands. I remember staring at the nub where Iโ€™d heard heโ€™d lost a finger to a chop saw, and wondering if it was still lying in his shop … Continue reading The Man Who Built the Lord’s House

Sunday Morning

Itโ€™s Sunday morning and our pastor is there early, drinking his coffee, straightening the chairs in the sanctuary, and, I think, praying over them. The heater makes the ceiling creak as Jason and Courtney hold hands to pray before heโ€™ll lead worship in a voice that sounds like Mark Hallโ€™s from Casting Crowns, and sheโ€™ll … Continue reading Sunday Morning