“The Lord works righteousness and justice for all the oppressed.”

In the American context, I no longer believe the term evangelical can be redeemed. It has been politicized in a manner that deprives it of all historical meaning. Therefore, it is no longer a descriptor that I can apply to myself.

I haven’t been writing because it’s been too hard to focus on one thing.

A short poem and image questioning the idea of peace through violence.

Twenty-five years ago this summer I stepped off the plane. It was hot, muggy, and dark. The air was thick and mixed with the smell of dust and fuel. We had arrived in Nairobi, Kenya. It was my first time in sub-Saharan Africa and it would change my life.

We, humans, were created to bear God’s image in the world and God gave us, humanity, the responsibility to be stewards of creation. To be God’s representatives on this planet. Only something went terribly wrong.

See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy, which depends on human tradition and the elemental spiritual forces of this world rather than on Christ. Colossians 2:8

I’ve been living with this particular thought for several weeks.

It was late in the summer of 1992. I had moved from Belfast in June and was settling into my life in Minnesota when I saw the flashing lights of a police cruiser pull up behind me.