In Gennesaret

November 1 is All Saints Day. Soooo, raise your hand if you were aware of this. Okay, thank you – now keep your hand up if this fact will be affecting your day in any noticeable way. Mm-hmm. Growing up Baptist, All Saints Day meant nothing to me. It was just an ancient historical something that gave us a reason for costumes and candy on October 31 st . But I have since learned that it’s a day when we (that is, we Christians) are supposed to remember and honor the saints that “went before us”. And that's a lovely idea. So I felt an urge in church, when All Saints Day was mentioned, to schedule a pause in my day to remember believers who went before me . . . in particular, people at University Baptist Church in Wichita, the church I grew up in. Like Dorothy Melugin. From the earliest age I can remember, Mrs. Melugin was the kitchen lady – I think her official role was Chair of the Hospitality Committee (because we were Baptists and had to committee everything to death). She w...

( God, beaming at the humans he just created.) Aw, look at them! They’re so cute with their hair and their smiles and their short attention spans and their fragile egos. I’m going to enjoy hanging out with these guys. But now I need to figure out how to make that happen. Relationship , I mean. You gotta know someone to have a relationship with them, right? I know them , of course – inside and out. But I have to figure out how they can know me . . . how they can even understand who I am. I mean, they can’t really comprehend me in my entirety, bless their limited little hearts. But I can give them glimpses of me, here and there. Enough to make them want more and seek me out. ‘Cause I want them to seek me out. So let’s see . . . I’ll start with   . . . a Parent. Yes! Perfect. Every human will have a Parent. A stronger, bigger fellow human who protects them and nurtures them . . . who belongs to them no matter what . . . who adores them even on the days when they seem to be g...

A few weeks ago, someone on Facebook mentioned Rich Mullins. Rich Mullins,  people!   I used to have a “best of” cassette with a bunch of his songs. (Actually, I may still have it somewhere – I just don’t have anything to play a cassette tape on anymore.) But that random mention on FB sent me on a Rich Mullins jag. The man had some really powerful music. “Calling Out Your Name” absolutely sends me soaring in worship. “We Are Not as Strong as We Think We Are” moves me deeply. And I spent a couple days driving around with hands raised in praise (well, one hand up, one still on the wheel) while listening to “If I Stand”. Googling the songs again sent me also to articles talking about Mullins himself, someone I didn’t really know much about. I knew he died relatively young in a car crash (in 1997 at the age of 41). I also learned that he went to college at Friends University in Wichita, my hometown – which explained his reference to “the Keeper of the Plains” which I always wond...

Not many people know that I have a master’s degree in Guidance and Counseling. Mainly because I’ve never used it, at least not professionally. The only real “counseling” I’ve done outside of friends and family was the twelve-week internship at a middle school which I had to do to close out the program and get my degree. That experience proved to me that I had no business being a school counselor, bless my heart. My mentor was a wonderful African-American woman whom I admired and enjoyed; I could have spent hours soaking in her wisdom and never have gotten saturated. A few weeks into the internship, she organized a weekly meeting with a group of boys who were dealing with anger issues, a group that we were supposed to co-lead. She gradually let me take over more of the leadership of the group as time went on – which, of course, was exactly what was needed for my education but unfortunately not at all what was needed for these poor boys’ edification. Do you remember what I said a w...