A number of years ago I overheard an interesting conversation at my local Starbucks. From what I could gather, it seemed that a sincere Christian was struggling to field questions from an ardent atheist: How can you take the Bible seriously when there are inconsistencies within it? How can you trust a God that would command genocide? Partly I was tempted to chime in, but truthfully, I didn’t have great answers to the questions myself.
Recently Devyn Chambers Johnson, co-pastor of Community Covenant Church in Springfield, Virginia, hosted a daylong seminar called Talking with Children about Race. She invited fellow Covenanter Rukiya Davis from Windsor Mill, Maryland, to be the presenter. Davis earned a master’s in Christian ministry from North Park Theological Seminary and recently earned her master’s of social work. “From my perspective,” Davis says, “there aren’t a lot of clinically trained people who work with children and families in need inside the church. I want to advocate for people who are caught up in the foster care or assistance systems.”
I was team teaching second-grade Sunday school. Another teacher asked the class, “Does anyone know what Lent is?” A quiet boy who rarely participated raised his hand excitedly. “Lent is the stuff you find in your belly button!”
The book called out to me. That’s all I can say. I’d heard about it in passing, then one day I saw it on my colleague’s desk. Perhaps it was the phrase “I’m perfect” that was scribbled out and re-written “The Imperfect Pastor,” that struck me. But I still didn’t read it. Several years later, it sat languishing on my nightstand until I finally had enough wisdom (or desperation) to pick it up.
What comes to mind when you think about Fred Rogers? The zip-up sweaters and lace-up sneakers? The trips out into the neighborhood, where we meet people who do interesting jobs and make everyday things?
Count and report. Count and report. My initial days as a church planter felt urgent. Not only was I full of vision, I was eager to prove that the vision my co-pastor husband and I shared was a vision that could reach a lot of people.
Phil and Rici Skei did not set out to plant a church. Twelve years ago Phil was working for Intervarsity Christian Fellowship as the executive director of their Fresno Institute for Urban Leadership.
More than a century ago, a small group of Swedish immigrants and children of immigrants in my hometown of Attleboro, Massachusetts, decided to build a church. They wanted a place to worship together. And they want to sing the songs they knew, in a language they understood, among people they could love and trust. So they built a home where their little family of God’s friends could flourish.
By Cat Knarr As the boat rolled along rich, blue-green waves toward shore, Deb Masten’s eyes brimmed with tears. It was her last full day in the Holy Land, and she had been enjoying a peaceful ride on the Sea […]
By Abraham Bejarano NORTHRIDGE, CA (June 20, 2018) – For the past five months, the wife and two small children of Venezuelan pastor Adriel Tirado have lived with me while he remains incarcerated in a detention center in Georgia. He […]