An Ending of Sorts

I stepped on the downtown pavement for the first time in months, surrounded by masked bodies holding make-shift cardboard signs with words written in paint or permanent marker, saying things like, “I CAN’T BREATHE,” or “NO JUSTICE NO PEACE,” or “SAY HIS NAME—GEORGE FLOYD.” 

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Trees, Hope, Justice And Waiting For Sunday

I sometimes want to be a tree. I want to blow in the breeze, feel the rain on my branches, shelter birds and squirrels, and grow roots deep and wide so that I am strong and resilient to whatever might want to take me down. I want to bend and grow without to-do lists and…

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The Epstein Effect: When power trumps justice

“While Jesus was here on earth, he offered prayers and pleadings, with a loud cry and tears, to the one who could rescue him from death.” Hebrews 5:7 (NLT) Truth: I avoid the news these days. My desire for justice often leaves me with gut problems; stomach aches over the inaction of men, women, silence of…

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The Strange Side of Compassion

“So, how did it actually feel to have dinner with a serial killer?” my colleague at the law firm asked. Shuffling depositions between color tabbed manila folders, I quickly changed the topic to billable hours for a client. I’d avoided this topic for so many years. Even when an author asked permission to use the…

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