A quarantine sonnet inspired by a photo on a late afternoon walk near Monument Rock, and written out of the pensive pool of pandemic ponderings about light and life on the way to seventy.
Seeing Through the Artist's Heart
I was contemplating the role of the artist in my life of faith. I envisioned myself inside an enclosed room, walled in on all sides by this thing called time. Outside the solid yet opaque walls of my time box was eternity—the endless expanse of time and space. But there were windows in the walls of the time box.
These Are the Hands of God
Ink Thinking
WWJGTF?
CROSS WORDS: The Seven Last Words of Christ
Oh, Bother. It’s January 31. Oh, Dear!
Bread from Heaven
I Write the Songs
Books Are Like Children?
The “New” Pieces of Clay Blog
Who Knows Where the Time Goes?
[From 2015] Music anchors memories for me. While a few songs are forever tied to a specific event or place in my mind, I think almost every song that I’ve ever enjoyed is tied to a particular season or time in my life. They’re like the soundtrack of the mental movie of that part of my life. When I hear the song, I see that part of my story.
Being a Disciple to Make Disciples
Why I’m Still Evangelical
Waiving the Flag
[From 2015] The Civil War ended 150 years ago, but we’re still fighting over its most visible artifact. The racially-motivated murder of nine African American Christians in a church in Charleston, South Carolina, has only underscored and elevated a long-simmering charge that the Confederate flag has become a divisive symbol of oppression, racism, and discrimination.