‘How Big Is Your God?’ asked Paul Coutinho provocatively in his spiritual best-seller a few years ago.
And this weekend, we get an answer of sorts.
‘How Big Is Your God?’ asked Paul Coutinho provocatively in his spiritual best-seller a few years ago.
And this weekend, we get an answer of sorts.
What do you think she noticed first, the woman who for 18 years had been ‘bent over, completely incapable of standing erect’? What did she see…as she straightened her spine and looked into the eyes of the One who had just cured her infirmity?
Grandson Francis and I have at least this much in common: We know when we’re surrounded by love.
Had something of a “moment” with Psalm 12 this morning.
The sanctuary provided no sanctuary last evening, and that was a most uncomfortable feeling.
Heading into the final weekend of MLB’s regular season, I figured the Cardinals would find a way to sneak into the playoffs in 2016—and make a sixth-straight appearance in the postseason.
We’ve reached the tipping point, I think, with the annuals that adorn the planters on our front porch. After giving us a summer of vigorously contained beauty, the blooms are just about tuckered out heading into these last days of September.
We welcomed Francis Thomas into the world the other day, and I marveled at his beauty.
It was an odd feeling, gazing out over the gentle contours of the grassy acres where my home once stood.
A bit of mystery was resolved for me when I came across a hagiography of St. Giles the other day.
“St. Who?”, you say. And that’s precisely my point: I don’t believe I’d ever heard of the man until we landed in Edinburgh on the 4th of July, and took up temporary residence in a flat just across the plaza from that city’s iconic St. Giles Cathedral.