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To Pray For Me To Pray For You

To Pray For Me To Pray For You

2334183401_c5c41d3aaa_zThey say prayer can move mountains.

They say when we pray we storm the gates of heaven, bringing fire down to earth. They say that prayer heals the sick, makes the blind to see, and frees the captives. They say that prayer is a truly miraculous thing that we are given to fight powers, principalities, fallen angels, and hell itself. They say we are to pray without ceasing, without stoping, without…

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Hands: Guest Post

today I have a guest post up over on Cara Strickland’s blog Little Did She Know.

Cara has a series going called de(tales). It’s all about the joy of writing about the little things. She invited me over to share, and I wrote a post about my son and his hands.

His hands are small.
His little fists fit into the palm of my hand, and I am reminded that he is still a small boy. After four years of…

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Father Factor: A Book I Have An Essay In

Father Factor: A Book I Have An Essay In

Father FactorI wrote an essay about my shitty relationship with fatherhood.

This essay is now a chapter in a book about the intersection of faith and fatherhood. This book is coming out this fall.

Yes, I am about to be a published writer. I’m damn proud of that.

More than that, I am proud of this book. My friend Anderson Campbell edited the thing, and many of my online friends contributed their own chapters…

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The Stories We Tell

The Stories We Tell

I keep thinking about my funeral.

I wonder what people will wear to come see my body be buried. Will it be open casket, where all can gaze at my corpse? Will it be a memorial service where some pastor gives a sermon and asks if people know where they will end up just as I somehow knew where I was heading after this corporeal life. I mostly wonder who would show up at my funeral and what they…

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If You Love Me You Will Love the Church?

If You Love Me You Will Love the Church?

Church is a baggage word.

There are sins and scars aplenty that come with the word. Deep hurts, abuse, and neglect that has left us reeling. There are memories even as new as this week that tell us how rough the hands of church can be as they bruise and batter. Church is a word that is so dirty in so many ways.

So why do people tell me to love the church? Why do people use the good to seemingly…

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When I Start to Feel Better

When I Start to Feel Better

I still have bad days.

I still have days when the darkness swallows my being and I am left in the lonely arms of depressions. I still have days when my hands twitch, my panic grows, and I am left a dysfunctional mess from anxiety. I still have days when I am swept up in the mind racing, heart pounding, euphoria inducing mania. I still have days when I have to remind myself that I am in treatment,…

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I Don’t Serve A Patriotic God

I Don’t Serve A Patriotic God

Wavin' Flag from Flickr via Wylio

© 2011 Kara Harms, Flickr | CC-BY-ND | via Wylio

I don’t serve a patriotic god.

I don’t serve a god who is beholden to American rules and regulations, to our political system or our cultural moors. I don’t serve a god who is Republican or Democrat. I don’t serve a god who is for, or against, America. The god I serve is not Americas god.

There is more to this world than the 50 states of the Union.…

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Cynic and Saint

There is a moment of hesitancy before the prayer.

It’s a moment to choose between giving up and leaning in to Jesus, a moment to choose between heartbroken doubt and hopeful wonder, a moment to choose between cynic and saint. In that moment, in the hesitation, I am found to be more of a doubter than a believer and more of an untrusting fool than I would like.

See, when that hesitation comes, I…

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Spread the Love Blog Tour (On Writing and the Writing Life)

Spread the Love Blog Tour (On Writing and the Writing Life)

Esther Emery tagged me in a blog tour about writing. I really like talking about my writing projects and the writing process in general, so this is right up my alley.

This blog tour comes at a time when I have really fallen out of the habit of writing. I’ve just kind of stalled out for various reasons. It’s good to be reminded about this writing thing I am so passionate about. I’m hoping this can…

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Between the Dreaming and the Coming True - Guest Post

Between the Dreaming and the Coming True – Guest Post

My Friend Ethan is a superb story teller. He has a new book out Called Catch and Release: Faith, Freedom, and Knuckleballs. It’s about playing catch and freeing slaves. It’s a great read, and a portion of the sales goes to Not For Sale. I’m giving him some space today to talk about what it was like chasing a dream which became his new book.

Every morning, I try to remember my dreams as I am…

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What if my Son is Gay?

What if my Son is Gay?

Yesterday, an article was shared with me about what to do if my child came out as gay.

The article was written by a conservative Southern Baptist, and at its crux was basically that I should evangelize with love to my child in hopes that they may be put right someday. The article told me that this is a gospel issue, not a “culture war” issue, and that as long as my child wasn’t telling me this…

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Tables In The Wilderness- A Book Review

Tables In The Wilderness- A Book Review

Tables in the WildernessI thought this was going to be a book about a Baptist becoming Episcopalian.

I thought it was going to be about smells and bells, about liturgy. I thought it was going to be the story of someone who is so entrenched, so comfortable, in their Baptist roots that they would never dream of becoming a liturgical worshiper. I thought it was going to be a story of faith crisis, church burnout, and a…

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You Used To Move

You Used To Move

churchYou used to move that way.

You used to show up in visions and prophetic utterances, in moments of euphoria and bliss. You used to show up as I spoke in tongues and was slain in the Spirit.

You used to move that way.

You used to move in signs and wonders. I saw the exorcisms and the healings. I felt the fervor of holy prayers and heard the words of knowledge.

Was it all just a sham? Was it just…

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When I Am Afraid

When I Am Afraid

The muse is silent.

At least that is what I tell myself. I say that my inspiration is dried up, that the words won’t come, that there is really nothing to say right now. I begin to entertain thoughts that maybe the writing life isn’t for me, maybe it was just for a time, and that time has passed. I ponder what it means if my best creative days are behind me, and now I must move on.

Horse shit.


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