Something happened our last night in Evansville. It all started around midnight. The adults had gone to sleep and we youth were still up …
My earliest memory of church takes place in a Sunday school classroom. I am 3 years old, seated at a low, rectangular, wooden table with a half-dozen other children my age. Our kind, smiling Sunday school teacher has just finished telling us a Bible story. Then she removes the tabletop, and inside the table we discover an amazing surprise—a sandbox. For the rest of the class session, we play together busily …
The good news of God’s forgiveness has me a bit befuddled these days. Not because I have lost sight of the joy of being forgiven …
With a mad dash to the car and a “Why am I always running late on these mornings?”, I mentally review the upcoming hours, ensuring that all details are in place. Heading north on U.S. 131, I go over the permutations of potential problems, trying to calm my spirit. A thought comes to mind—the marathon I’m running today is not unlike the church service I prepare for most Sunday mornings …
Dhildren today are exposed to many situations that raise questions and can lead to anxiety. Deteriorating social trends, news from the radio and television and information received from friends prompts them to ask questions. They lose their childhood innocence far too quickly …
Now and then in quiet moments, we dream for our children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews. We wonder how we can help them become adults who know God and who build loving relationships. What will help them learn to offer cups of cold water to the thirsty? Can they set aside the pull of materialism to make a difference in the world God so loves? …
Walk into any Christian bookstore today and you will see evidence of a phenomenon that is sweeping the Christian publishing industry. Study Bibles that are tailored for specific readers are now designed to appeal to every demographic imaginable …
In my mediation work with congregations, I have often seen how people in the midst of long-term conflict use defensive styles of communication. In one particular case, I saw how both parties repeatedly used the same words and phrases to defend themselves. These words set up a protective wall between them that prevented new things from being said and heard; the old words and stories continued to dominate the discussion …
Dear brother and family … Oh, I tell you, I was so caught up in this election. My whole family was, I guess. My husband, Abraham (they call him A.K. down at the publishing house) has campaigned for the Republicans since the 1860 presidential campaign! His brother, John (yes, the famous John F. Funk), was campaigning back then, too, for the Republican’s “Wide Awake” club. But ever since he was ordained in ’65, he hasn’t voted. Our Mennonite ministers aren’t supposed to vote …
A good life is spent building bridges. Growing up as a Mennonite and a pacifist, I knew few—if any—military people. I spent my formative years in Mennonite communities—except for elementary school where I was the weird kid who “didn’t believe in war,” kept quiet during the Pledge of Allegiance and never sang the national anthem …