On Giving to the Poor

He said he and his mother had just finished at prayer meeting, and somewhere along the way he lost his wallet. He’d already asked a handful of people, all of whom said no.

“Who is so cruel as to leave people stranded after a church meeting?” he said.

He just wanted gas to get home. I had three thin dollars in my wallet, and offered them to him, but he said that wouldn’t get him far enough.

“I’ll Venmo you the money once I get home,” he said, handing me his business card. It had his picture on it, a real estate broker, it said.

“Sure,” I said.

Read More

A Broken Little Heart

I have a friend who, a few years ago, stopped believing in the same kind of Jesus that I do.

“In you and you and you, and in me, and sun and sky,” she would say, pointing to each with frustrated enthusiasm, conflicted that others didn’t see or experience the freedom of believing in her God, or at least in some kind of god who was, and is, and is working in everything.

She was an existentialist, perhaps, or an earth mother, although I don’t believe she’s read Kierkegaard or is a listener of Krisha Dass. Neither label would even half capture what kind of person she is, though I would like to acknowledge that this is true of most labels.

Read More