When kids spill out onto the sidewalk in laughter or race down the block on bikes, we catch a glimpse of the divine extravagance.

As we approach “stewardship season,” I want to question the language of stewards and stewardship. To be clear, this is not a critique of fundraising. I serve a small Spanish-speaking congregation, and I know firsthand how vital annual pledge drives are for a workable parish budget. My concern, rather, is theological. My question is whether stewardship is still the best framework for what we are doing this season.

Praying together helps me see how God has already torn open the heavens through Christ’s death and resurrection, and is alive and actively working to bring hope where we thought it a lost cause and to topple all the would-be gods and emperors with a love stronger than any evil and a life stronger than death.

I understand why so many parents devote endless hours to the perfect organic diets for their kids, why so many of us research endlessly where to send our kids to school, how to address their medical needs. On a very deep level we sense that when it comes to protecting our children’s lives, we are ultimately mostly powerless, adrift in a sea of powerful interests, in a world where profit is king and kids are another line on a national expense sheet.

Independence and autonomy are not the gifts of baptism or communion. Instead, these sacraments remind us that God comes to us from beyond ourselves—that salvation is given, not earned.

We were early adopters of the Pray Without Ceasing (PWC) ministry opportunity. When I suggested PWC, some shared that praying for thirty whole minutes seemed like a very large hill to climb. Folks were nervous, asking, “What will we do for thirty minutes? Will there be awkward silence? Is this even Lutheran?”

How can we stand “close enough” to Presiding Bishop-Elect Curry and Secretary-Elect Mills? What is our call as ELCA Lutheran Christians to love, support, and protect our newly called leaders?

A man disconnected from others is more vulnerable than strong—and more dangerous than heroic. His high walls may look like strength but in truth they are purpose-built for hiding, not protection. In his isolation, he becomes a threat to himself.

How might such silly exercises embed the deeply sacred value that everyone’s voice is needed and worthy in your community?

This book is for anyone ready and willing to dig deeper into their personal and communal stories to unearth the healing wisdom that waits for us all.

We imagined a future of the world in 2070. Positive and negative. We imagined a future of spirituality in the world in 2070. Positive and negative. We imagined what we would want for spirituality and church in that year.

From the depth of my heart, I beg readers not to say, “I can’t believe it! This can’t be true! That would never happen in my church," ... Instead, “I see you; I believe you,” is a more faithful and compassionate response to the violence of racism perpetuated in our churches.

At a table that Jesus sets, God forgives us and feeds us with love eternal. In water and promise, God brings us to new life and breathes in us gifts that help the world

My hope is that anyone interested in immigration might pick up this book in order to learn a little about some of the people who are primarily affected by our nation’s broken asylum system.

As Christians, health around the world matters to us because it matters to God. […] God calls us to love our neighbors, serve the “least of these,” and address injustices.

Those pushing for these cuts often speak of Christian values while advocating for policies that would abandon the vulnerable. But true Christian values call us to a more expansive vision of community and care. As Luther reminded us, faith is active in love, and love knows no borders.

What if your church was positioned to meet the deepest needs of your community? […] what if a small change in the way you communicate could help motivate more and more people to engage with your church?

All of us could take a lesson from Elphaba in valuing the lives of neighbors who are too quickly pushed into the background ... or minimized and subjugated by those occupying roles of privilege and authority.

What were they waiting to see? [...] Biblical mandates bring us to life, full life. In full life, we can’t not work for the collective good through the giving of tangible and intangible gifts.

Righteousness, holiness or right living in Leviticus 19 was determined by the sharing of resources as a community, or collective identity.