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There’s a new book coming out entitled, The Future of Truth by Steven Rosenbaum. The description of the book, according to Google’s AI, says, “The Future of Truth: How AI Reshapes Reality by Steven Rosenbaum explores how AI is challenging traditional notions of truth, examining the collapse of institutions under algorithmic pressure and the rise of synthetic realities. ”The author has, what I can only assume to be a real thing, “A Masters Degree in Truth from the prestigious

Stay safe, be kind, have fun, we love you.

As a preacher, it is my habit of using the Revised Common Lectionary to choose the scripture verses on which I preach. It’s a three-year cycle that provides weekly readings for the preacher to choose from. I prefer using the lectionary because it forces me to preach on a broad array of scripture passages rather than just the same five or six that I would usually pick. We all have favorites, and I know I would love to just preach those same six sermons over and over again.

I do a lot of writing in my professional life. I write one of these things pretty much every week, write sermons pretty much weekly, write reports for annual reports and the like, write newsletter articles, write announcements, and write an infinite number of emails. I write a lot for work, so it is rare that I remember the content of something I wrote after the first few weeks of it coming into existence. This makes the rare occasions on which I actually remember my words im

I am still thinking about our sacramental lives that we are called to. I have spoken at length already over the past few weeks about the sacraments in the Presbyterian Church, the sacraments as official acts of the church, and about the need to broaden our sacramental thinking in ways that allow us to see the divine in everyday spaces. This was started in this blog two weeks ago and was continued in my last two sermons.

Religion and politics… I’ve talked and written about this a lot before, but it seems to be a topic that arises are reliably as the sun rises.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the sacraments. As Presbyterians, we only have two sacraments – Baptism and Communion. I like those sacraments a lot, and have a lot to say about them (Which you’ll hear more of this Sunday if I follow through on my plans).

A guide to the proper observance of Holy Week, as outlined through tradition, scripture, and… um… me.

Throughout the season of Lent, we have been asking people to share some of the good news that they have encountered in their lives and in their worlds. The definition of what that good news is was left intentionally vague with the intention that people would share the good news as they saw it. The aspect of anonymity was chosen to allow people to share honestly and genuinely without any barriers. To that end, I received this note in the inbox for our good news and wanted to s

Each week our Lenten resource, Tell Me Something Good from A Sanctified Art, has given us a theme for what the good news is. These are the themes that we’ve encountered so far, the good news is: all are invited, so good it catches us by surprise, great love for God and neighbor, together the impossible is possible, and protection and care for the vulnerable. This week’s theme is that the good news is rooted in justice, mercy and faithfulness.

We are all connected to one another. Whether it is by the bonds of friendship, the connections of kinship, the proximity of community, or the interdependence of economy, we are all connected.

Last week I wrote about the corrupt and fallible reality of power. I talked about how power as a means of domination has always been a stain on our history. I quoted figures both modern and ancient. Two of those figures that I held in dialogue were Thomas Hobbes and John Calvin. It just so happens that I have recently immersed myself in a dialogue between those two titans, and in this research I came across a particularly trenchant observation about the nature of power and ab

This should stand as a warning to those who seek to use their power over people. History does not judge well those who use their might as an explanation of their own righteousness. Those who use their power to seek their own ends often find their own end.

There is a big shift in how church works in the world these days. Populations age. Numbers decline. Buildings lay unused. The reality is that the world no longer works the way that it used to. When the Israelites were in Egypt, they had access to all the water they wanted. It wasn’t under the best of circumstances, but they had access to it. But then they started acting like the desert should have been the same as what it was like in Egypt.

There is a better world available to us. I know this fact; I can testify to this fact. I don’t know what to do with that fact.

Our faith compels us to love our neighbor; to seek justice for the oppressed; to be in humble service to those who need it the most. Our faith impels us to live lives that witness to a kingdom in which all are loved and all people are seen as beautiful. Our faith is what guides us to find love even among our enemies; to seek common good despite differences; to stand against those things that prevent human flourishing. Neither heaven nor hell are a part of that equation.

Cliches have all sorts of different origins and etymologies, from the modern to the ancient. And it turns out that a lot of these cliches come from the Bible, or are informed by faith and religious culture. I thought it might be a fun to find some cliches that I didn’t realize were in that category.

People are free to choose the political system they want but not free to do whatever they like. They will have to be judged by God’s justice in the political or social system they choose. God is the judge of all social systems. Neither the gospel nor the church can be monopolized by any political or social movement.

I don’t know what it was about this Advent season, but it feels like this was the sneakiest Christmas I’ve had in years. There are some Christmases where it seems like Advent started in mid-July and dragged on. This was not one of those Advents. Instead, this was the sort of Advent that by the time it ended it had still just begun. Honestly, it makes me feel a little bit sad that the “Most wonderful time of the year” was put on 1.5 speed.

Is my Christmas Eve sermon the most important sermon of the year? This question is based on the premise that I have any real bearing on the sense of holiness that exists on Christmas Eve. What makes me think that anything I have to say could make Christmas any more or less special?