Spring Is Here though Gray

spring is here
our third 
since the world 
went gray
nevertheless 
color and life
beauty relents 
if our eyes are those
of a child
able to find goodness 
sprouting 
from the ground
calling us 
look
listen
all is not lost 
hope is here 
once more

What If Deconstruction and Difference Were Divine

What if

we are living in a new diaspora

after another Babel tower

crumbled to the ground

despite generations of

building upward

not outward

scaling the heavens

as if ascent was the goal

not forward and generous embrace

horizontal progression

inclusion of variance

what if we weren’t meant

to codify truth

or commodify community

as if one way of being

or doing

or loving

or believing

or grieving

or giving

was fully reflective of the sacred

the holy finally and fully contained

and proclaimed

what if difference was divine

and all efforts to preserve and protect

power

or the past

romance with the familiar

were let go

and our grip on what once was

believed good

released

to grasp

or at least grow

sink our hands in the soil of

what can be good

though new and mysterious

uncertain and unclear

not fully explained

or owned by one people

or practice

what if now is the beginning of

our next

and wholeness found

not in moving upward

rather listening inward

looking outward

and finding faith again

in the many

not the one

emerging freely

beyond convention

in spaces and places

persons and passions

unhindered

what if

Still We Must Dream: Butterflies as Persistent and Prophetic Poets for a New Year

**Original piece above created from ripped portions of various periodicals overlaid with stanzas from Mahmoud Darwish’s poem, "The Dreamers Pass from One Sky to Another."**

Art is therapy. So is poetry.

Then there are butterflies.

“The butterfly is what the poem doesn't say.

Her very lightness breaks words,

as dreams break dreamers.” 

Mahmoud Darwish.

If the last two years have taught us anything, it is to dismiss romanticized expectations and let go of lofty resolutions. Just be. Just love. Just aim to live another day and seek the common good.

Still, we must dream.

"From one sky to another the dreamers pass-

the butterfly's attendants carry mirrors of water.

We could be what we should be.

From one sky to another the dreamers pass.

The butterfly spins her garment on a needle of light, to decorate her comedy.

The butterfly is born of herself and dances in the flame of her tragedy."

In the midst of perpetual trauma and never-ending grief and loss, we must not relinquish our imaginations. Keep spinning resilient garments of hope even on the thinnest needles of light that decorate our comedy. And just maybe, like the butterfly, we can dance out of the flames of our tragedy.

May 2022 bring healing to pain, joy where sadness has lingered long enough, compassion to the silently suffering, and truth telling able to set each other free.

And when stuck, create something. Borrow the poetic words, colorful images, and stubborn resilience of prophetic artists past and present who have fluttered freely out of their stories and into our own, like dreamers who pass from one sky to another.

** Complete poem found in Unfortunately, It Was Paradise, by Mahmoud Darwish. 

Soul: AdventWord Day 3

Every morning death is at our door in the form of a six-foot pile of deflated penguin. The older kids call him Peter. Our youngest prefers Snowflake. Either way, each morning Peter/Snowflake is lifeless nylon.

I used to snark at families with morning graveyards of Christmas characters. Now we are one of those families. And while the mornings are a bit apocalyptic (okay, that’s an exaggeration), at night Peter/Snowflake comes alive (zombie?). The evenings are when Peter/Snowflake is infused with life and light and all the things Christmas.

Also an overstatement.

I wonder if that is what we mean when we speak of a person’s soul- what makes someone come alive and light up. A soul is what infuses someone with energy and possibility, beauty and playful zest. Our soul is the divine breath within us that awakens us to a world and our call to dance within it. #Advent is as good a time as any to contemplate the health and wellness of our soul- our sacred center. Advent is also when we recognize, maybe even confess, when and how we have felt so very deflated as we wait for love to come down again. Then we dare to let others help us seek and find whatever might restore us to who we have been created to be in the midst of it all. To come alive once more.

May you find your soul this season. #adventword #christmasinflatables

New Olive Tree Ink and the Color of Peace: Another Tattoo for the Rev

“We believe in justice. One day we will see the Son of Justice rise again.”

I’ll never forget hearing these words from Daoud Nassar, a Palestinian Christian whose family lives in the West Bank on an olive tree farm called Tent of Nations. After sharing stories of peaceful resistance in the midst of occupation and terror, including one about Jewish partners who helped replant over 250 trees after they were burned down as an act of Israeli intimidation, our group of pilgrims was invited to purchase one of our own in solidarity.

So I sponsored two. 

And the olive tree, for me, became a favorite symbol of resilience and resurrection, courage and care, hope and redemptive love.  

Olive trees can grow in uncommonly dry spaces and are known for their longevity of life, some say these trees never die but are eternally reborn out of the same root systems. Olive trees are the first named arbors in Scripture, whose leaves were plucked by the dove as symbol of new life after the flood. Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish writes, “The Olive Tree is the color of peace, if peace needed a color,” calling to mind the interfaith stories past and present that have leaned on the witness of these trees as they resist violence and pursue a better way.  Olive trees are also responsible for one of the most vital harvests in the Mediterranean, olive oil, made from a process of repeated pressing that is sacred imagery across faith traditions and an invitation to endure the struggle. Olive trees in Gethsemene, meaning “oil press,” even served as sanctuary as Jesus prayed with persistence and his disciples slept on assignment, only for the Messiah to call them thrice to “keep awake” and remain vigilant. γρηγορεῖτε (gregorēite) in Greek; my name thrice spoken among the olive trees where I pilgrimaged in 2019.

Now, every time I look down at my right arm, thanks to @billyhaines, I see not only my invitational name, but also the stubborn yet beautiful tree whose fruit will be pressed but not overcome. I will remember a rootedness that endures forever and nudges us to color the world justly and peacefully as we wait for the Son to rise again. We certainly need all of this and more in these pressing days. 

Mercy: #AdventWord Day 11

On Monday, I came upstairs from a zoom call and our kids were elbows-deep painting at the kitchen table. We are only in December and winter activities to occupy these minions is already a stressor. They had dozens of papers spread out, with colorful works of art ranging from Christmas trees to abstractions crafted by the imagination of an almost-four year old.  Around dinner time, we noticed another colorful canvas- our new curtains. Red paint at about hand height of same almost-four year old. 

“I didn’t do it.” 🙄

We mustered up whatever kind of mercy we could find, not wanting to squash the creative vibes.  At the same time...new freakin’ curtains! Lord have mercy for the words spoken as we scrubbed the fabric clean-ish.

Biblical translators often interchange mercy with loving kindness or steadfast love. The Hebrew word for this theological term is *hesed*. It is all over the psalms, “steadfast love and faithfulness will meet” (Psalm 85:10). The prophets are fond of it, too, “What does the Lord require of you, O mortal? Do justice, love mercy (loving kindness), and walk humbly with God” (Micah 6:8). Much like the paint in our kitchen by way of our four kiddos, the loving kindness and mercy of God is playfully and irrationally splattered throughout the pages of Scripture. Hesed shows up not only in the form of God’s faithfulness to a people whose faith wavers, but also in the same people’s constant quest to mirror the steadfast love of God in their treatment of one another and the stranger. This merciful loving kindness is messy and not always rational; hesed makes room for forgiveness and shows up in creative and colorful spaces to wonder in the waiting. We are in just as much need of hesed as we are called to live into it. Where might you see this mercy? Where might you participate in it all the more? Thanks be to God for Immanuel, hesed in human form. 

*Art by Mayah. Finger paint on construction paper (not curtain). 2020

Rebuild: #AdventWord Day 5

 
When something is rebuilt there is an assumption that what once was is worth bringing back to life.  This restorative work may involve complex deconstruction of old foundations, other times it merely warrants creative adjustments and minor up-cycles. Regardless, to begin a rebuild someone first needs to see with new eyes the fresh possibilities that what was old can be made new. There needs to come along an imagineer who dare says, “Yes, I can work with this. There is beauty here.”

This is the story of the incarnation. In God’s dwelling among us as one of us, God says to the brokenness of the world, “Yes, this is good and beautiful and worth the rebuild for sure!” Advent is a four week venture in communal and self (re)discovery, when we allow the holy to be unearthed from within us once more. We all have intrinsic value. While maybe battered by time or trauma, self-doubt or systems, not-so-healthy decisions, circumstances or isms that have targeted our worth and dignity, there is a divine belovedness about each of us that can never be taken away. Sometimes we need someone to speak this truth to us; sometimes we need to share lovingly the same with another.  There is beauty everywhere, if we have the eyes to see and ears to hear.

Check out the calendar of words for sacred imaging through AdventWord.

Showing Up in the Darkness Illuminated: Lessons Learned from Baseball Under the Lights

One of my favorite memories as a kid was playing baseball under the lights. We usually got one game a season. It was a chance for little leaguers to feel like big leaguers. I don’t really remember if we won or lost those games under the lights. I do remember, though, playing in the darkness illuminated.

Last night our kids had the chance to do the same.

Did we win? No. Lost 6-4.

Did we show up ready to play together and as a team. Yes.

That’s what will be remembered as we turn the page to a new day and the next game.

Friends, there is darkness all around us, yes. But there is also just enough light overhead to empower us to play together. Find it and play in it. In these spaces you may not always win, but you and those around you will never forget you at least showed up in the darkness illuminated. That is our collective human call- even when masked and physically distant. That is what will carry us forward into the next day...and the day after that... 

Meaning in the Mundane: A Poem

life can be vain mystery if we allow it do not seek and find joy and justice meaning made even in the mundane

cultivating

curating

just enough in deserted places

*Picture from Boulder Fields at Hickory Run State Park, Pennsylvania. Poem written after reading Ecclesiastes, the best of sacred cynics. 

Stay Woke: How Jesus and Ignatius Inspired My Lenten Ink

When studying the Scriptures, it is not only important to read the stories, but also to allow them to read you. St. Ignatius even used to teach his retreat participants to enter into the narratives’ sights, sounds, and smells. This imaginative exercise was to frame one’s prayer life and inspired movement in the present world. This practice is most meaningful for me during Lent. In Jesus’ engagement with the disciples at both the Mount of Olives (Mark 13:32-37) and the Garden of Gethsemene (14:32-42), where I pilgrimaged last May, a Greek variant of my name is literally thrice spoken by Jesus in each of the two parallel stories: γρηγορεῖτε (gregorēite). I will never forget reading it in proximity to the sacred space where it was spoken (likely in Aramaic). 

Keep awake.

Remain vigilant.

Stay woke. 

γρηγορεῖτε is an active call in the plural- a communal charge not to fall asleep to the patterns and oppressive power structures of this world. It is Jesus’ hope to carry the liberation story forward beyond his arrest in the garden and looming trauma at the cross. Yet these disciples, much like me every time I watch a movie after 9:30 p.m., fall asleep. And Jesus is peeved.

I cannot imagine these stories apart from their call to me (and all of us). My name is literally in it. And now, thanks to @tommygtattoos at Saints and Sinners in Fells Point, 36 years from when I was born in a hospital just over the Patapsco River in Baltimore, this personal and communal call is on my arm, too. γρηγορεῖτε is permanently inked as reminder to be vigilant, awake, and woke to hope in the midst of even the sleepiest of despair. 

But γρηγορεῖτε is not about the individual alone; γρηγορεῖτε is an invitation to all of us saints and sinners to stay alert when the systems of the day aim to lure us to sleep, “And what I say to you, I say to all: Keep awake” (Mark 13:37). 
---
Related Post: https://gregklimovitz.blogspot.com/2019/12/unexpected-adventword-day-1.html 

Epiphany: Looking for Stars of Hope in (Un)Common Places and People

One of the most powerful experiences for me of late was my recent visit to the wall in Bethlehem. As I walked alongside it and touched the concrete barrier between Palestinians and Israelis, I also found myself in unexpected awe of the subversive and beautiful graffiti that colored this symbol of intimidation. There were so many profound messages of hope in various languages, each called us to remember our shared humanity. And there was this star, too, that caused me great pause- to remember there is no darkness to which light cannot penetrate. 

On this Epiphany, I am reminded of the many ways God has shown up in the most unexpected people and places. These sacred encounters have led to holy pauses and dared me to travel different roads than previously dreamed or imagined. While these roads have had their share of difficulties, much like the Magi, I have also been doubtlessly “overwhelmed by joy” as I find the presence of Christ amidst the pilgrimage (Matthew 2:10).

I read the other day wise words from mystic Teresa of Ávila: 

[God’s] appeals come through the conversations of good people, or from sermons, or through the reading of good books, and there are many other ways, of which you have heard, in which God calls is. Or they come through sicknesses and trials, or by means of truths which God teaches us at times when we engaged in prayer; however feeble such prayers may be, God values them highly (Interior Castle, p. 24-25). 

In the midst of so many reasons to despair these days, may Epiphany be a call to holy pause as we look up and out to where the joy of Christ may be found. May we have our eyes and ears open to the appearances of God with Us through friendly conversations, thoughtful proclamations, good books, brilliant films, and even humble prayers, some which show up as graffiti on walls of division and oppression. In the end, may we dare to carve out new roads of liberation and love. 

Go: #AdventWord Day 20

“I refuse to lose to Santa,” I said to myself as I saw the runner in front of me dressed in an inflatable St. Nick suit. I began the local 5k in the front corral, only for the leader to be directed to go straight up a hill when we were supposed to go left. Fifteen of us followed. The result, we ran an extra quarter mile only to make an unnecessary descent just as Santa and the back of the pack were making their first turn. So I kicked it into gear and passed Kris Kringle with a kind greeting...and a bit of resentment. How did he know the way to go? 

The Scriptures are saturated with stories that hinge on a people on the go. Throughout these stories are the words of the prophets, calling for the people to live into the Torah- “this is the way you should go, walk in it” (Isaiah 30:21). These messengers called to the forefront of their communal memory who they were and how they were to exist for the well-being of one another. These words, though, were not always adhered to and the prophets often resented and rejected as the people went astray.

These days, there are so many rapidly competing voices and narratives lobbying for our allegiances and telling us theirs is the way to go. Whether the capitalist market, consumer culture, or partisan politics, if we are not careful, we can be lured off course from God’s dreams for the world and towards one of self-preservation alone. Advent is a chance to fix our focus once again on Jesus, whose birth name is an ancient one meaning “God saves.” This deliverance was more than an escapist call to some other world or personal salvation, but the beginnings of a subversive movement in the here and now with a goal centered on the common good. It was a (re)new(ed) vision of jubilee and justice, equity and welcome to all people. This continues to be the way to go, may we walk (or run) in it- and not only at Christmas. 

Root: #AdventWord Day 9

We place a lot of trust in the giant maple tree in our backyard, as ours and the neighborhood kids climb on and swing from the branches. This sucker is solid, tall, and expansive. The roots are no joke either, just ask my lawn mower. While these roots are not exactly deep, they are thick and extend far beyond the circumference of the tree. The maple is stable, healthy, and strong because it is securely rooted. 

You can tell a tree by its fruit, Jesus said. True. Yet the durability, longevity, and health can be found in roots, he would say elsewhere. 

In light of the many ways the biblical story has been co-opted in both the past and present, Advent is as good a time as any to contemplate the rootedness of our faith and the foundation of the gospel we profess. 
Here, Isaiah 11 may be a good plum line. The prophet anticipates a branch growing out of the “root of Jesse” to inaugurate a season so reconciling and universal, so upside down and inclusive that wolves will live with lambs, calves lay with lions, and nursing children can play over snake holes - a little child, not some pompous ruler- will even lead the way to the place where ”they will not hurt or destroy on the holy mountain.”

I have frequently wondered if Mary recited this lyric to Jesus when he was young. 

Fast forward generations later, the gospel roots itself in the leveling of power structures that have for far too long benefited the predator at the expense of the prey. The branch of Jesse, incarnated in Jesus, “leads the way” as he proclaims a vision to undo ecosystems that pit one creature against another and exploit the vulnerable. I am still longing for this dream to be fully realized. My bet is you are, too. Until then, let us sink our roots into Advent hope, sprout broad limbs of love, and bear the kind of fruit able to carry this story forward from one generation to the next. Maybe then neighbors near and far will trust the gospel once again. 

Worthy: #AdventWord Day 8

I am not worthy. 

Maybe not. 

Maybe neither who I am nor what I have accomplished warrants or entitles me to much of anything. 

Maybe not. 

I know I am not worthy of the amazing wonders who are our four children. Sure, they drive us crazy and get on our very last nerve at times, but they also are brilliant and imaginative and kind and beautiful and faithful reflections of us. And they are, without a doubt, worthy of all it takes to raise, nurture, provide, keep safe, educate, discover, and empower their gifts to impact the world. 

I often wrestle with how much Christian theology and verbiage perpetuates a sense of unworthiness of persons. If the world around us does not tell us we are insufficient and lack enough, we can always count on both traditional theology and kitschy modern worship songs to elevate how unworthy, broken, and despairing we are- we don’t deserve God’s grace, they write into their refrains.

Maybe not.

Or...maybe God does see us as worthy. Maybe God sees us as of even greater value than any theologian or lyricist has ever been able to put into words. Maybe God sees us not so much as broken but as beloved and beautiful, so much so that God would become one of us to aid us in uncovering the wonderful reflections of God’s very self that we are. Just maybe, or definitively, God sees us as worthy in same way a parent would speak of (or should) their own children. Maybe more so. 

This #Advent, may we not only see God as worthy of our love, but also every person as worthy of God’s grace and embrace. After all, each of us could use a little more good news these days.

Unity: #AdventWord Day 7

I have said it before and I will say it again, I go to church when I participate in local and larger races. No, I don’t walk into a sanctuary of brick and mortar. Rather, I enter the sacred temple of a human family united by the common bond of self care, movement, and participating in a sport to the benefit of a particular charitable cause organized to love near or distant neighbors. Whenever I despair or learn of yet another instance of human exploitation and acts of hate, I remember counter narratives like this morning’s Coatesville Red Run Challenge. I give thanks for the unity celebrated as one bearer of the divine image cheers another and money is raised to promote affordable post-secondary education and social programs for the intellectually disabled. We may be a divided people in more ways than one. Yet, if we dare have the eyes to see and ears to hear, unity can be found, too. 

The child Jesus whom we wait for during Advent eventually grew up and prayed for such unity to be manifested in this newly formed movement, “that they may all be one” (John 17;21). And what was to unify them was the same Spirit of God who is love. I pray that same Spirit would move in and through us this season and every season, at this race and every race. I pray we dare find unity in the midst of diversity as we celebrate what it means for all to be made in God’s image- to root for the well-being and success of each other. 

Raise: #AdventWord Day 5

“Daddy, the tree fell over.”

These are the words that greeted me as I came down the steps early yesterday morning. This year’s tree is not exactly symmetrical and quite top heavy. Add to this the traditional practice of our kiddos front-loading the tree with all their unique and homemade ornaments, our Douglas Fir was bound to face plant on our living room floor. But we raised it up, tied a few dumbbell weights to the trunk and threw a brick on the base and started again.

The gospels are chalk full of stories of perceived disasters and presumed deaths, only for Jesus to enter and call for the dead to rise- to leave tombs, be unbound from the garments of death, to pick up mats and walk, to wake from sleep and grab some breakfast, and more. The call to rise up is even synonymous with discipleship, to move into hopeful, subversive, and spirit-led action when all is perceived as lost and beyond repair.

This is not the first time our tree has fallen over, the last time was ten years ago when we tied it to the wall. Given the circus life we live, it likely will not be the last. And when that day comes, we will raise it back up again. This Advent, may God raise us up from whatever has knocked us over. May we also be those who come alongside others whom have been weighed down and on the verge of toppling over from whatever burdens they have shouldered for too long. May we be agents of love and grace who lean into Christ’s call to rise and be raised.

Unexpected: #AdventWord Day 1

My #AdventWord posts begin again! These daily reflections are accompanied with images I have captured and based upon the daily sacred word offered by www.adventword.org. Check it out. 

This year, #Advent started in a somewhat unexpected way: getting my first #tattoo. I have wanted a variation of this body art for several years, but the timing was not always right and I had not fully worked up the courage to commit to the design or incessant needling. Until now. The experience was unexpectedly sacred, as I shared a portion of my story with the artist, like how we battled infertility for years only to unexpectedly welcome twins, then their brother, and the unexpected arrival of our fourth bird after we were told there was no way. There was also the unexpected gift of an anecdote my artist gave me when he shared the ink was made of carbon, “the same stuff you are made of, my friend.” Then came the unexpected rush of connection I felt as Amber and I were inked at the same time, her design a variation of what she asked me to draw up several months ago. Life, much like the season of Advent, is a pilgrimage laced in the unexpected. Advent hinges on a journey to find “God with Us” when we may have not previously noticed or, even more so, struggled and questioned to see. For me, every time I look on my tricep, I will now be reminded of the ways God has come and will come unexpectedly in the midst of some of my most anxious moments (Matthew 6:25-34). I will be nudged to take comfort in a God whose presence is “comparable to a bird in flight in contrast to a caged bird” (Karl Barth, Evangelical Theology: An Introduction). And, yes, the flight pattern of birds is mysteriously unexpected and holy.

Follow my daily posts here and on both Twitter and Instagram at @gklimovitz. 

being and living

"the man became a living being." (Genesis 2:7)

being
without
living
is not
being
to be
human
is to
live
and
be
awakened
infused
by
divine breath
a body
becoming
holy
made for
the sacred
art of
cultivating
co-creating
life
through our
being
whole
and
living
beyond
merely existing 

[photo taken en route back from State College; the descent down 322 with the fall mountains on both sides is one of my favorite roads to travel)

Parenting is hard. That is all...

Parenting is the hardest thing I have ever done. Most days, I second guess myself, question if I handled this, that, or the other the right way. Am I holding in a healthy amount of tension both play and structure, responsibility and fair expectations? Are we offering a nutritional enough diet or will they be 18 and still eating chicken nuggets and refusing to do more than lick a vegetable and claim they tried it? Are we pushing them too hard with extracurriculars or are we not offering enough opportunities to develop as both athletes and artists? Is my anger and agitation getting the best of me...and them? How are they doing in school? Is it the right school?

Are they learning that loving-kindness is what really is to shape their life? Are we, as parents, modeling the same in how we treat one another and them as our children? Do we model grace and forgiveness and compassion? Will they look back on their childhood and have fond memories of love and laughter and a home that is, as my wife says, "a safe place to land?"  

Is faith formation in our family and church offering them space to encounter both God's love for them and an inclusive love for all people? Are we allowing them space for questions versus offering pat answers? Do we expose them to the right amount of social realities so they develop empathy for their neighbors near and far or are we isolating them too much? 

Are these questions primarily of privilege? 

As parents of four little ones eight and under, every day feels like a (half) marathon. There are moments where I feel we are at a good pace, our breathing is right, the strides are strong, and we may even have some supporters on either side of us telling us we are doing great- and this carries me. Then there are times when I feel like I am running up hill, my legs are heavy, my strides are off, my breathing is strained, my cell phone battery is nearly dead and so I run in silence and without a GPS (happened for real the other day), and the crowds are gone. This is when I feel a bit alone, as I push it up that last hill on mile 11, wondering if I need to stop and walk the remainder of the route, will I even complete it at all? 

Then I bust through the wall and remember, as my daughter once said as she braved herself to climb the monkey bars for the first time (unaware her biggest fan was watching), "I can do this. I can do this. I can do this."

Yes, I can do this. You can do this. We can do this. 

And parenting is neither a race nor performance. Do the best you can, remembering if at the end of the day your kids have been assured they are loved to love as high as they can count plus one, that will be enough. It will help them to offer the same to others, like when they hold their little sister's hand as her puppy purse is draped over his shoulder on a family run. This love, although surrounded by a fair share of anxiety and insecurity, may even help them reduce their own budding anxieties from classroom to choir, baseball field to art class. They may see all the more clearly they are God's and your beloved because they are, without exception or condition. 

Remind me of this on Monday, family, because it is Friday and the weekends are hard. 

Life Is Pilgrimage: Collection of Reflections from Recent Holy Land Excursion

Life is pilgrimage. 

Travel well and never alone.

Venture to spaces where the divine and human collide

in a particular place.

Go with eyes wide open

where stories and parables

share the ground your feet now tread.

Pray en route

and listen to the voices of the other

those more oft passed by.

Ask questions

linger longer.

Expect to encounter the Holy

and to return different than when you first set out.

I wrote this as I sat in the JFK airport waiting to board and head to Tel Aviv. And I can say without hesitation I returned different than when I first set out. I continue to linger in the conversations with all those I engaged, from friends on the bus to children in refugee camps, others on farms suffocated by settlements and leaders of mosques, synagogues, and grassroots justice movements. Questions. So. Many. Questions. They remain abundant, whether in casual conversations or engagement with the Scriptures, even more so in sermon preparation. My eyes have been opened anew through the collision with the divine in the place where the story that has centered my life first took shape. And I am grateful. 

I am also humbled by those who shared they felt as though they took the journey with me through my regular postings to holy sites and other places throughout the region. I have compiled some of those posts here in one place and provided a link to the photo book I developed, something I have loved watching my kids flip through as they have continued this journey with me. 

While I have returned from the Holy Land,  I will keep walking. I pray you will just the same. 

Pilgrim on...

And please do check out the blog series I curated with NEXTChurch that has incredible posts by dear friends with whom I shared the venture of a lifetime: https://nextchurch.net/blog/ . My post will be shared here and through the NEXTChurch platforms later this month.