I write this several weeks before a presidential election that will determine the leader of a country more polarized than I have seen it in my thirty-some years of living.
I write this several weeks before a presidential election that will determine the leader of a country more polarized than I have seen it in my thirty-some years of living.
Three. that is the number of times I have been baptized. One could say I took this Anabaptist thing a little too literally.
My nationality is Indonesian, so the flag of my country is Bendera merah putih. It is a simple red-and-white flag with two equal horizontal bands.
It was during my recent weeping years, as I’ve come to call them, that God introduced himself to me in a new way. Raised in the Methodist tradition, I first learned of God as Father, Son and Holy Ghost.
Like many people who’ve lost parents they were close to, I think about mine daily.
Anchored deep in the identity of Anabaptists is the pride that comes from the work of peace, relief, service and reconciliation.
In the past year, two fine memoirs about the search for Mennonite identity have been published, both using a motorcycle journey as the vehicle — literally and figuratively — for the quest to understand the writer’s Mennonite roots.
