On Good Friday, we stand in silence before the cross. We stand before the harsh reality of death. It is a legal death, but one that is deeply unjust—a death imposed by those who cling to power, those who protect their political positions, and those whose self-centeredness blinds them to the needs of others. It is an ugly death, born of evil.

It’s not just that Jesus died two thousand years ago. His death is repeated again and again, in our time. It is the death of those taken captive from our streets and imprisoned without due process. It is the death of those denied medical care because of corporate greed. It is the death caused by the marginalization of people in all its forms—whether through poverty, racism, sexism, ableism, or heterosexism.

Yet, even as we stand before the reality of death, we must remember that death does not define us. Indeed, the death of Jesus does not define Jesus. It is his life that defines him. His death marked a day—an important day, yes, but a day nonetheless. His life, however—his teachings to love one another, to live with compassion, to trust as freely as the birds of the air and as beautifully as the flowers of the field—his life and teachings are eternal. Death did not limit the truth that was his life.

And what about us? No, death does not define us. It is how we live that defines who we are. How do we live in the face of suffering? In what ways do we sustain hope when injustice crashes in around us? Can we find faith in life, in our lives, even when what we see before us is death?

Standing before the cross and finding life—that is the essence of the journey from Good Friday to Easter Sunday…and beyond, each and every day.

Resist evil! Learn to do good! Make justice your aim. Defend the oppressed. (Isaiah 1:17)

As the Christian season of Lent begins, I find myself drawn to the words of the Hebrew prophet Isaiah. It’s important to remember the context of Isaiah’s original words. The Jewish homeland was divided into two realms: Judah and Israel. Both were known for having corrupt governments that oppressed their own citizens. Isaiah’s writing serves as a call to action, using a structure common in persuasive argumentation: introduce the main points, then elaborate on them. In verse 17, Isaiah outlines key principles for living under a corrupt government.

Resist evil.
I am overwhelmed by the state of the world, particularly in the United States under the Trump regime. The reduction of international aid has led to widespread starvation and premature death. The firing of federal workers is making travel increasingly unsafe, contributing to the spread of disease, and accelerating the destruction of our planet. Geo-political realignment is estranging long-standing allies while elevating tyrants. Many people are watching as their retirement investments dwindle due to dramatic drops in the stock market, all while grocery prices continue to rise. Yes, it’s systemic, callous evil. But what does it mean to resist such forces, which seem greater than any one of us? At times, it feels as though we are all victims.

Learn to do good!
Whether or not we see ourselves as victims, we are called to do good. Perhaps we need to learn to do good in new ways. Some of us can donate money to noble causes. Others can volunteer to serve marginalized communities. But many of us are exhausted and overwhelmed. It’s crucial to remember that this is not a sprint but a marathon (or is it an Iron Man competition? I can’t tell!). We start by doing good in our everyday interactions. We do what we can, and then we build on it. Consider what it means to do good toward those around you today. And tomorrow, do a little more.

Make justice your aim.
The goal is to live with others—people, communities, and countries—in a way characterized by justice. Justice means treating people with dignity and fairness. It recognizes that, just as there is harmony in the cosmos, there is a balance that must be maintained among people. Justice is focused on sustaining right relationships, while injustice is driven by self-interest, seeking power, and prestige at the expense of others. Make justice your aim, your goal, your inspiration.

Defend the oppressed.
The oppressed are those made into second- and third-class citizens. Let’s be honest: In our current situation, most of us are oppressed. The question is the degree of oppression. Right now, immigrants, refugees, and trans individuals top the list. But seniors, facing the loss of investments and threats to Social Security and Medicare, are also oppressed. So are the poor, living with exorbitant housing costs and inadequate healthcare. The young, victims of substandard childcare and schools, also face oppression. The list goes on, and it’s overwhelming. Making justice your aim means defending the well-being of the oppressed, whoever they may be.

For me, as a follower of the teachings of Jesus, this Lent is not about giving up chocolate or eating meatless meals. Instead, the words of Isaiah stir my soul: Resist evil! Learn to do good! Make justice your aim. Defend the oppressed. The ancient prophet knew all too well the realities of corrupt government. His solution was to take action and do the right thing. His wisdom continues to inspire me—and perhaps it will inspire you as well.

We think of Christmas as merry and bright. Yet we are living through political turmoil, economic confusion, and personal losses, so we may not be sure how to approach Christmas this year. Perhaps the Christmas story can help us rekindle hope for the future amid hardship.

The following is a text version of this posting.

Christmas:  for many people, it’s a religious holiday.  But for many people, it’s also a cultural holiday.  And, yes:  it’s also a retail holiday and the most important sales time of the year.  The retail holiday business helps to make Christmas very confusing with lots of mixed messages.

Some years ago I was in Hong Kong, which is only about 15% Christian.  Yet, I was overwhelmed with the elaborate Christmas lights and decorations and the importance of Christmas as a family holiday.  That’s just one example of the significance of Christmas around the world.

But today, I want to talk about the spiritual and religious significance of Christmas.  Yes, Christmas is a very unique season.  Homes are decorated with lights, drawing on ancient customs from Winter Solstice observances.  Trees are decorated much like northern Europeans did long before Christianity.  People reminisce of Christmas past and look forward to celebrating happiness and joy.  Traditional songs – Christmas carols – bring a sentimental feeling to many people as they experience deep connections with themselves, their customs, their family, and their friends through this holiday.  All of that is part of the spiritual significance of Christmas.

But I find it important to consider some of the religious symbolism.  That symbolism is usually lost to what we associate with the holiday spirit of a merry Christmas, a Christmas of joy and laughter.

Whether you’re Christian or not, consider with me some of the aspects of the ancient story.  Today, I’m not asking whether anyone thinks the story is true but instead to consider the truth for all of us conveyed in the ancient story.

It begins with a teenage girl.  She turns out to be pregnant and no one knows who the father is.  The story assures us that the father is not the man she’s engaged to.  She lives in a culture where being pregnant and not married is punishable by death.  This teenage girl is in serious trouble.  So her family sends her out of town to stay with other relatives while they sort it all out.

The man she’s engaged to agrees to take her as a wife.  Things were tough, the girl is safe.  Yet, in her third trimester, she and her new husband have to go on a trip to another city to fulfill a legal requirement that doesn’t make any sense.  They go and the journey by foot with a donkey is rough.  She goes into labor but there are no accommodations for her.  They end up in a cave that serves as shelter for farm animals. 

Clearly, these are folks who are poor and living on the edge.  And forced to try to protect a new born from the elements in a cave.

As if this isn’t rough enough, out of the blue a bunch of shepherds turn up unexpectedly.  Remember:  shepherds live with their sheep.  They live with them and smell like them.  And staying out all night, they probably kept warm with a bottle of home brew or two.  What’s a teenage mother, who just gave birth, to do? 

And the magi?  We often talk as though they were three kings, but we don’t know how many they were.  They were kings.  They were astrologers.  They were probably from Persia.  While they bring odd gifts, they also come with warnings that the child isn’t safe.  The father understands that’s true.  So, he takes his young wife and new born child to Egypt for safety.  That’s a serious trek with a little kid. And escaping to another country, becoming a refugee?  This is serious stuff.

This is not a heart warming story.  We’ve made it into one.  Instead, it’s a story about life’s hardships.  These are people who are facing one catastrophe after another, who experience dramatic events any one of which would push most of us over the edge.  This is a story of thriving in the midst of tragedy and persisting with the belief that life will ultimately be good. 

We’ve spent the last two years in a global pandemic.  We don’t talk about what that’s done to us. Instead, we focus on getting back to normal.  I don’t know what normal is any more.  I know that far too many people have died.  Many of those deaths were caused by people failing to follow scientific advice.  (I’m not saying the people who died are to blame.  I know elders who died in nursing homes who were probably infected by people coming and going from the nursing home who brought COVID with them.)  Many people have had their lives pulled apart with disruptions with work or with their children’s lives.  While the economy is doing pretty well, more people are living with food insecurity, have died from drug overdoses, and have been diagnosed with depression and anxiety disorders.  In the face of two years of this pandemic, we are not doing well.  We’ve suffered and want to ignore that.

Perhaps this Christmas is a good time to look at what’s really conveyed in the Christmas story.  The Christmas story is one of people having faith in the future, of goodness yet to come, in the midst of hardship and tragedy.  If anything is born for us on Christmas day, I want it to be that kind of hope — hope that leads us onward to thriving and experiencing life’s goodness.

I want to wish you a Merry Christmas – not because all is well with the world and there is peace on Earth.  There isn’t.  Instead, I wish you a Merry Christmas so that hope may be born in your life and draw you towards greater wholeness and peace as we continue to live in troubled times.

The following is based on a seminar I developed for The Gathering, a progressive
non-traditional community of faith in San Angelo, Texas.

Waiting. It’s an experience we all share. Before reading further, take a moment to recall a time when you waited. Maybe it was at a coffee shop or restaurant, waiting for someone to arrive. Perhaps you were at a doctor’s office or waiting for an Uber. Regardless of the situation, recall what it was like to wait. How did you experience the waiting? What was your sense of time during that period? Were you agitated or peaceful? How did the experience of waiting shift when what you were waiting for finally came to fruition?

With your experience of waiting in mind, consider that there are probably common elements to the experience for most people. Often, when we wait, time seems to stretch out slowly. It feels like we are in limbo or suspended in time. We might occupy the time by reading a magazine or scrolling through our phones, but the time spent waiting can feel empty, hollow, or even wasted.

While waiting, we anticipate what’s coming next. We often wait impatiently: “Can’t the Uber just get here already?” or “What’s taking the doctor so long?” It’s as if time doesn’t feel real until what we’re waiting for happens. When we’re waiting for a friend or loved one, though, there’s a shift. When they arrive, a new energy fills the air, and the occasion we’ve been waiting for begins.

In our culture, we don’t value waiting. Waiting is often seen as a waste of time. We become irritable: “Why should I pay the doctor when he’s wasted an hour of my time?” We don’t want to wait—we want to get straight to the point, jump into the main event. We want the party to start, the celebration to begin. This attitude is especially true when it comes to Christmas. We don’t want to experience Advent, with its preparation and waiting. We want to trim the tree, sing the carols, and dive into the festivities. We want the celebration to begin in October and stretch all the way through the season.

Waiting can be uncomfortable. When we wait, we experience an open space in our lives that we feel the need to fill. That empty space can be uncomfortable. We want to fill the void, whether with distractions or with things that temporarily ease the discomfort of life’s meaninglessness. Skipping over Advent and diving straight into Christmas is an attempt to mask that ache we all feel in life.

But the weeks of Advent offer us an opportunity to create space in our lives, our hearts, and our spirits. By making room for stillness and anticipation, we open ourselves to the possibility of something more. When we allow ourselves to wait—when we lean into the longing of Advent—we recognize that something is missing and needs to be fulfilled. Advent invites us to wait with the belief that something new is possible in our lives.

Waiting is a deeply spiritual practice. It’s at the heart of meditation and contemplative practices, which encourage us to sit in silence, waiting with open hearts for something more to emerge. Waiting is also a natural part of awe-inspiring moments. Think of watching the sunrise or sunset. For centuries, people have kept vigil, watching for the movement of the sun. During those moments, we experience stillness and peace, nurturing our souls.

To stop and wait is counter-cultural. In a world that demands constant action, taking a deliberate pause to wait is an act of resistance. By choosing to wait, we refuse to participate in the frantic pace of modern life. We ground ourselves in what we know to be true and good. When we wait, we disconnect from the need to belong or be affirmed by the cultural trends around us. We resist the impulse to rush, standing firm in who we are and bearing witness to the fact that all things are temporary and fleeting.

This Advent season, we pause and wait. Through this quiet waiting, we prepare for Christmas. In this sacred vigil, what does it mean for you to wait for something new to be born in your life? How can you embrace the light shining in the dark corners of your world? How can you open your heart to receive good news that has the power to transform your life, your thinking, or the way you live?

At a time when many nations are divided politically and socially, what does it mean for you to stop and wait? By refusing to engage in the divisiveness and vitriol, by pausing to keep vigil, you are resisting the destructive forces that divide us. In the midst of political and social turmoil, it may not be clear what action can be taken. But by stopping, waiting, and allowing our hearts to rest in peace, we resist the forces of division and create space for peace to grow, even if just in small ways.

As we wait and keep vigil this Advent, let us remember the message of the angels to the shepherds. We wait for peace on Earth and goodwill among all people.

Are the experiences people have using hallucinogenic substances spiritual in nature?  What role do indigenous practices that include peyote and ayahuasca have for non-indigenous people?  Is there something valid with the use of hallucinogens for spiritual growth or is this just some sort of aberration?

The following is a text version of this blog posting.

Two people who see me for spiritual direction asked what I thought about the use of peyote and ayahuasca for spiritual enlightenment.  In case you’re not familiar with peyote and ayahuasca, indigenous people of the Southwest and Central America have used these hallucinogenic substances to induce trancelike states and visions.  Over the last few decades, it’s become increasingly popular for people who are not from these cultures to participate in retreats or other experiences which include the use of one or both of these substances.  Some people report life-changing experiences.  Others report that nothing much happened to them other than getting sick for a few hours from these substances. 

The use of hallucinogens for spiritual enlightenment is not new.  Of course, it’s part of some indigenous cultures and has been used for centuries.  More recently, in the 1960s, Timothy Leary used the phrase “Turn on, tune in, drop out” to describe the use of hallucinogens for personal and spiritual growth.  Also in the 1960s, Carlos Castaneda published a series of books exploring indigenous shamanism and the use of hallucinogens.  While the popularization of peyote and ayahuasca may seem like something new to many people, it’s not. 

The first concern that I have about the availability of spiritual retreats that provide the use of these substances has nothing to do with the use of hallucinogens at all.  Instead, it has to do with cultural appropriation.  Euro-American people have a long history of colonization and have stolen many treasures from indigenous people around the world.  Euro-American people have taken land, natural resources, art, music, people as slaves, and even the spiritual practices of indigenous people.  When it comes to spiritual practices, Euro-American people use these practices out of context and without respect for their origins and culture.  Of course, because of the cycle of colonialization, there are always members of marginalized cultures willing to sell off treasures from their cultures, whether those treasures are art, artifacts, or spiritual practices.

In the 1990s, I worked with Native American people and had several friends who were traditional healers.  They frequently shared their frustrations about spiritual colonialization with me.  Yes, I participated in many traditional ceremonies including drumming and dancing, sweat lodges, and an Apache Changing Woman ceremony.  But each time, I was invited by an elder from the community.  Each time, I asked what was appropriate for me to do in a ceremony and what would not be respectful.  What I’m attempting to convey is that unless someone is willing to follow the traditions of the culture with respect and learn how to properly participate, then cultural appropriation is probably occurring.  If someone is paying hundreds or thousands of dollars for an experience, that’s selling off the culture and a form of appropriation and colonialism.

My second concern about the use of hallucinogens for spiritual awakening has to do with the reasons behind seeking out the experience.  If it’s not part of your culture, are you just seeking the experience as a tourist?  Is it that you want spiritual insight of some sort without actually developing the spiritual dimension of your life?  Are you willing to take the time to develop the spiritual dimension of your life and engage in regular practice or do you just want an instant jolt? For me, that raises ethical considerations about seeking out the experience.

If one is willing to become part of a spiritual tradition that uses hallucinogens as a path for spiritual enlightenment and has a teacher from such a tradition, I don’t have any concern with this spiritual path.  It’s not my path, but it’s one that many have followed.  But I think more often or not, such retreats and experiences are forms of cultural appropriation and the larger issues of colonization.  With those things, I have significant moral and ethical concerns.

Thanksgiving and gratitude are unique in their ability to grow in our lives. Deep gratitude leads us to give of ourselves to others. To be grateful for what we have received leads us to give.  Explore gratitude with me in this video. 

The following is a text version of this video.

What does it mean to give thanks?  A good start is to say “thank you” to a person who has been kind or considerate.  Thank you cards are probably viewed as “old school,” but they make the expression of gratitude more tangible. But does thanking someone boil down to a sentiment, a few words, or maybe a gesture like a hug?

Over the last decade or so, there have been various kinds of “gratitude challenges” on social media, like posting thoughts about gratitude for forty days to expressing thanks every day for a week.  These kinds of things may help some people to be more aware of gratitude and perhaps make it a habit.  But I’m not sure that social media challenges lead us to deepen our lives.  I think they are mostly fads that come and go.

I understand thanksgiving and gratitude from a different perspective, based on my study of spiritual literature.  An influential spiritual writer born in 15^th Century Spain wrote a bit about gratitude.  His name was Francisco de Osuna.  His writing greatly influenced 16^th-century mystics like Teresa of Avila. 

One of the things he observed was that thanksgiving wasn’t a set of words, but a way of living, a state of being.  In other words, gratitude is a way of life.

De Osuna understood thanksgiving as a natural response to life itself.  He used the image of a fruit tree.  How does the fruit tree show thanks for the warm sun, the rain that waters its roots, and the nutrients that make it grow?  The fruit tree’s gratitude is producing succulent fruit.  It demonstrates thanks, it embodies gratitude, by responding with something tasty and nourishing. For de Osuna, the fruit is an expression of gratitude for all that the tree has received.

What Francisco de Osuna was trying to convey is that thanksgiving should change us.  It should cause us not just to live our best selves but should lead us to be generous.  Because we have received kindness from another, true thanksgiving is to show kindness to another. 

This isn’t about quid pro quo, you were kind to me so I’ll be kind to you.  Think about that image of the fruit tree.  It’s nourished by the sun, water, and the richness of the earth.  It produces fruit.  The sun doesn’t benefit from the fruit.  Neither does the water. The fruit is appreciated by the person or animal that eats it.  The tree produces something that is a kindness to someone other than the one who nurtured it.

Perhaps the Jewish concept of random acts of kindness gets at this a bit better.  Gratitude changes us and empowers us to be kind and generous with people we don’t know or who don’t expect it. 

When I moved to Atlanta more than ten years ago, I was startled when people would randomly say to me, “I appreciate you.”  The first time the person bagging my groceries paused and looked me in the eye and said, “I appreciate you,” I wasn’t sure how to respond.  I’ve grown used to hearing this expression and realize that it’s kind of a spiritual practice.  It causes someone to be mindful of the gift that other people are, to even for a moment, appreciate them.  It conveys to the hearer that they are a person of value, that they are appreciated.  Such expressions help us change our outlook and behavior, and enable us to be people of thanksgiving who live with gratitude.

Thanksgiving and gratitude:  it’s not about a day or a turkey dinner.  It’s not about being polite and saying thank you or even sending a note.  Real gratitude leads us to be changed more deeply, allowing us to respond with kindness toward others, demonstrating our appreciation that they have entered our lives even for a moment.

Be sure that I appreciate you and your time listening today.  I hope you’ll subscribe to this channel, like this video, share it with others, and leave some comments about thanksgiving and gratitude in your life.

What do mystics experience?  Is their experience different from the spiritual experiences of other people?  How do mystics describe the experiences they’ve had?

The following is a text version of this posting.

What do mystics experience?  How is their spiritual experience different from others?  While there’s no one path to mysticism, descriptions of the mystical experience are similar across the great wisdom traditions of the world.  Mysticism itself is the experience of union or communion with the Divine or something the person understands as ultimate in life.  Mysticism is described as an experience of union with God in various religions that hold a belief in a deity.  Or it could be the experience of union with nature or creative energy in pagan or indigenous religions.  The focus of mysticism is not on the belief but on the experience of union.

For simplicity’s sake, as I talk about mysticism I’m going to use God as a point of reference, but I want to be clear that the belief in a deity is not required for mysticism. 

Mystics typically nurture the spiritual dimension of their lives with contemplative practices, like meditation.  Mystics understand that contemplative practice is what they do to open themselves, open their hearts or the core of who they are, to the presence of the Divine.  The contemplative practice is sometimes referred to as plowing the field and making the soil ready for the seed to be planted and a sprout to shoot up.

In her book, The Interior Castle, 16^th Century Spanish mystic Teresa of Avila explains that God offers the favor or grace of the Divine Presence.  She refers to this as the prayer of union.  What’s it like?  Essentially, Teresa explains that you’ll know it when you experience it.  For those who haven’t experienced it, no description will seem real.  While she explains that the experience of union is fleeting, it’s also life-changing.  The experience may last a few minutes at a time or, she thinks it’s very rare for the experience to last more than half an hour.  But from that experience, a person begins to live with greater contentment and a sense of connection with all of life.

I think one of the clearest descriptions of the experience of mystical union is found in the writing of Meister Eckhart, a 14^th-century mystic. 

“God and I, we are one. I accept God into me in knowing; I go into God in loving. There are some who say that blessedness consists not in knowing but in willing. They are wrong; for if it consisted only in the will, it would not be one. Working and becoming are one. If a carpenter doesn’t work, nothing becomes of the house. If the axe isn’t doing anything, nothing is becoming anything. In this working God and I are one; God is working and I am becoming. The fire changes anything into itself that is put into it and this takes on fire’s own nature. The wood does not change fire into itself, the fire changes the wood into itself. So we are changed into God, that we shall know God as God is.”  Meister Eckhart, The Essential Sermons, Commentaries, Treatises, and Defense, 1981, 188-189.

Among my favorite mystic writers is Hafiz, the Persian Sufi poet from the 14^th Century.  His understanding of Allah is his Beloved.  The encounters Hafiz has with his Beloved transform his perceptions of everything around him, like seeing the stars dance in the sky, animals speaking of love, and all of nature imbued with the presence of his Beloved.  Because of the deep union he experiences with his Beloved, Hafiz understands that the energy of the cosmos is love itself.  He often describes this love in terms of lovers kissing, of people singing in a tavern, and of a bold sensuality that pulsates.  From Hafiz and many other mystics, we understand that mysticism doesn’t take us out of the world and makes us distant from life around us.  Instead, the mystical experience of union with the Divine leads us to a profound awakening of the pulsating energy that is life itself.  So it is that out of the silence of contemplative practice, a radical awakening occurs for the mystic.

Teresa of Avila is correct:  the experience is a gift.  We can’t conjure it up using particular practices or prayers.  But when our spiritual practice opens us, in time the seed is planted and something new is born inside of us that is an encounter with the Source of Life itself.

In 1980, I was stunned when Ronald Reagan swept the Presidential election, winning 49 out of 50 states.  Some saw it as good news.  But many people suffered as a result of his presidency.

Now 40 years later, Trump returns to office.  Some see it as good news.  But many people anticipate suffering.  Perhaps it’s time to look more broadly at politics, the ups and downs, and the role our faith and beliefs play in our outlook.  Faith – not so much about faith in God or a Divine being, but faith in ourselves and our shared humanity.  Please take a moment and listen.

The following is a text version of this posting.

I don’t think of myself as old.  It helps that I have good friends who are older than I am.  When I’m honest, I have to acknowledge that most people I know, in fact, most people in the world, are younger than me.  I’m not young.  I passed middle age more than twenty years ago.  Rather than saying I’m old, let’s just say that I have developed a certain perspective on life.

Having been born in the 1950s, I remember the excitement that came with leaders who inspired the nation and offered hope for change.  Of course, there was JFK who became president in 1961.  People referred to his inauguration and early presidency as a return to Camelot!  Yes, it was the stuff of fables, of hopes, and the shining knights of the Round Table and King Arthur.  That came to an abrupt end when President Kennedy was assassinated. 

There was Martin Luther King, Jr., who worked tirelessly for civil rights.  When friends visit me in my current hometown, Atlanta, GA., I take them to the King Center and his tomb.  Yes, during this fight for civil rights, he was assassinated.

As a gay man, I was hopeful when Harvey Milk was elected to the Board of Supervisors in San Francisco.  He was out, proud, visible, and elected to public office.  I wondered what Milk’s election would mean for the future of LGBTQ rights.  But he, too, was gunned down.

Many people say that there’s never been a time when the country has been as divided as it is today.  Yes, the division is clear.  Is it more divided than during the years of the Civil War? Is it more divided than during the US war in Vietnam?  Let’s remember that demonstrations during that war were marked by violence.  Yes, the police and the National Guard responded with incredible violence, beating peaceful protestors, shooting rubber bullets, and at Kent State University massacring students. 

As we live through this time of social division, I know that in my lifetime, while hatred, prejudice, and bigotry have not vanished, equality and equanimity among people are at a higher level than it was in past generations.  No, it’s not what it should be.  However, there is forward movement.  In addition, the martyrdom of past leaders did not end the struggle for greater freedom.  That struggle continues and needs to continue.  That’s true in the US and many countries of the world.

For me, this struggle is about spirituality and faith as well as justice.  The heart of the matter is my belief that human beings are capable of evolving and creating a better world.  It’s not just that we’re capable of creating a better world.  Instead, our human spirit strives for a better world.  It’s part of what makes us human. 

Yes, it’s very difficult to believe that human beings can make the world a better place when there’s so much evidence to the contrary.  We can hurt each other in profound ways, often denying the humanity of others.  But faith calls us to be better, to do better, to create pathways forward for ourselves and all people.  Believing that and working for the betterment of the world is the challenge of faith.

Georgia Senator Raphael Warnock, pastor of a church just a few miles from my home, often says that voting is a kind of prayer where we put our faith into action.  He’s right.  In addition to voting, every time we act in ways that care for others, advocate for others, and show kindness and compassion to others, we tangibly act in prayer-filled and faithful ways to make the world a better place.  In faith, I vote.  In faith, I advocate.  In faith, I am intentional about my actions to show kindness and compassion to others.  In doing these things, I believe the world becomes a better place for us all.

Social change is rooted in faith:  a faith that believes we can be more than we have been.  Social change is inspired by the blood of martyrs who died while working tirelessly to build a better society.  Social change comes about as we put our faith into action each and every day.  That includes voting for those who safeguard the rights and protections of others. Honestly, I’ve lived long enough to have sufficient perspective to know that these things are true.  And I have faith!