So this has been what communication has looked like to many of  us these days. When we meet we all appear in tiny boxes above, below and next to each other. Conversations are interrupted by dogs barking, door bells ringing and various other life situations. We laugh at the various interruptions; sharing our humanness and realities with each other. When the online interruptions stop we continue.
Life seems like it has a bit of an interruption going on right now. Our normalcy is being interrupted with illness, pandemic guidelines and protective measures. 
What I have seen, is much like what goes on in the video meetings and chats. The interruption comes, we take note of it and then we continue. Thus is life, and through this time I have seen an incredible resilience. There was a time to stay in, we stayed in. There was a time to put on masks, we have put them on. There was a time we could move about but told to stay socially distance, and we do. We again share our humanness in the realiti…

The Little Green Light

You might have heard the expression "Preaching to the choir"; a distinct metaphor about preaching a message to someone who needs no explanation in the understanding of the message.
Well these days as pastors look out over their sanctuary they're not preaching to the choir..... or the ushers or the worship leaders or the congregation; or so it would seem.

It would seem they were preaching to no one at all, as they read the Word of God and prayerfully communicate a message of hope, all the while focusing on a tiny green light in front of them. The camera.

God taught me a distinct lesson early on, when I had decided that I was going to seek a relationship with Him on my own. This would require no church, no service and no people. I affectionately call it my freelance period with God. I had all the misguided ideas that many have about the church today. Its filled with hypocrites, they just want another volunteer and of course the ever present opinion that ....they only want…


Here we are the day after Easter. We have spent the past few weeks in what I have called our upper rooms; waiting, uncertain and disconnected.

We might find ourselves feeling a sense of anticlimactic disappointment as we find ourselves on the other side of Easter Sunday, still in our upper rooms waiting for our Pentecostal moment.

I read that pollution is down in several places due to the pandemic and its restriction on travel. As I go for my daily walk I see the streets filled with families bicycling or walking around the neighborhood; something I haven't seen since my childhood. I see a longing in the eyes of those I pass on the street as we walk off our uncertainty and isolation.

The longing is connection and relationship. When we say hello as we pass it is different than it was only months before. There's more engagement and appreciation. Instead of a muttered "Hello" as eyes drop to the ground it's a warm "Hello" eyes engaged and connected.



"This is the message we heard from Jesus and now declare to you: God is light, and there is no darkness in him at all."-1 John 1:5

I ponder this as I look up at the lights that hang in my patio. I think of this scripture and others that consistantly point us to the fact that God is light. 

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."-John 1:5 

I realize as I look up at the tiny glowing string of lights, that I've turned them on prematurely. The sun is still out and I can barely see them, but dusk is beginning to arrive.

Another scripture comes to mind as I watch the sun slowly slip behind the trees.

The LORD is my light and my salvation— whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life— of whom shall I be afraid? -Psalm 27:1

Darkness overcomes the sky as I think of the events of the past few weeks. Pandemic. Uncertainty. isolation. fear. All words that seem to relate to each other in profound ways. I …