Truth is, I love you like you’re my brother. And I respect you. And I think that as a cop you have a lot of courage to do what you do—a lot of willingness and self-sacrifice. I’m grateful to have those kinds of things in my friends. Thank you. And while you are in more danger … Continue reading On Black Lives Matter: confessions to my friend, a cop and Christian, whom I admire and love.
Dear Jonah & Simon, My family was pulled apart by lust: years of lust, generations of lust. So I grew up in two homes. In one home I woke up in my bed on school mornings; the other I visited two Saturdays each month, and Uncle Chris and I used the extra blankets and pillows … Continue reading To my sons, for Father’s Day.
At my church for the past few weeks, we've been observing Lent and meditating on the (new) Stations of the Cross. I've helped organize and facilitate some of that. Below are the meditations I wrote for this week, the final week of Lent— Twelfth Station: Jesus Speaks to His Mother and Disciple (John 19:25-27) … Continue reading I wrote three paragraphs. Finally. Three!
Our Father, We are tired. And we hurt. And we twist inwardly. In the evening, before bed; while we sleep and dream or stay awake alone; while we wake in the morning, eat, shower, arrive; and even now as we gather in your Name: there is this Something and this Something Else. And if I … Continue reading Chase us. Bug us. Haunt us. Woo us. —A communion prayer (4).
Recently, a journalist asked me to respond to the following question: What can “Christian Art” (i.e., art marketed by Christians for Christians) do better? But my ideas were snipped from the article. Therefore: I thank you, Technology, and I thank you, Democratization of Ideas via the Internet: my full response is below. • The question … Continue reading Things I believe are the same as or different than things you believe. Even so, even so! —Some notes on so-called Christian art.
We surround your table: we perverts, we thieves, we prostitutes, we cheaters, we racists, we who are lazy, we who use food to console ourselves, we who drink too much, who manipulate, who lie, who control, who rage, who hate, who refuse others forgiveness, we full of self-pity, we who give up hope, we prideful, … Continue reading More tragic or more beautiful. —A communion prayer (3).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVLP-URFgQo At first I cannot decide whether to read your oracle to Malachi in silence, or while listening to music. I choose music. Then I cannot decide whether Beethoven’s 9th Symphony or the Parantheses album by Sigur Rós will be more appropriate—whether the promise of joy, or of curse. I choose Sigur Rós; I choose … Continue reading Malachai. Beethoven. Sigur Rós. —A communion prayer (2).
In storytelling, if you want to make a thing matter to your audience, you have to repeat the same events over and over again. This is why in Homer’s Iliad, at the beginning and at the end, fathers beg for mercy and pity, for their children to be released to them: Have pity, they say. … Continue reading Chew slowly. Taste but do not savor. —A communion prayer (1).
On days I drive it takes only thirty-four minutes to arrive from Whittier to Redondo Beach, but only because I leave very early in the morning, to beat traffic. Traffic gets bad at 5:12 AM, goes from crowded-but-fast to crowded-and-great-can-you-believe-it-now-Grandma-is-writing-a-check-for-her-groceries. The switchover is instantaneous. Grandma can’t find two forms of ID. She goes back to … Continue reading Some days I take the train to work. Some days I drive. Part II.
On days I take the train—the Metro Link Green Line in Los Angeles, from Norwalk to Redondo Beach—I park my car at the Norwalk station. The parking lot is big and quiet. It holds many cars. I arrive to the parking lot at 4:57 AM, park my car, walk to the ticket-selling machine, buy my … Continue reading Some days I take the train to work. Some days I drive. Part I.