Theologian Stanley Hauerwas argues that to truly learn a story, we must act it out.
In my experience, Hauerwas is spot-on, but I’d like to apply his theory a step further. I believe the real, most-important learning comes not only from the acting out, but in the company of the actors.
Every Christmas at pageant time, the kids act and I direct, but it’s the company that changes us. The kids come to that first rehearsal either struggling against or showing off their part. They come clutching their scripts and focused on their own small scene.
No, we can’t have the shepherds use a GPS to find the manger. No, you can’t ask Joseph if he made a reservation. No, the Angel of the Lord can’t wear a gun and holster…
The irony isn’t lost on me that I’m the one who must lead them. Continue reading
A Holy God enters the cursed,
The King abandons His throne.
The Creator becomes the created,
Elohim with flesh and bone. (more…)
“I can’t help it. I just love them too much.”
It was the confession of a grandmother. Her daughter lives nearby with her husband and two small children. She was admitting she was an over-grandma. Over-caring, over-providing, over-serving…
Too much love?
Her tearful angst came at the end of our study of idolatry and traveled around our circle of women.
And when it came around to me, I felt the tension. I’m guilty of gusto, too. (more…)
Every Christmas, my family loves to retell the story of a gift that I gave my aunt a few years back. “Tell it again,” the kids say, and we start from the beginning and end up laughing so hard we cry. Continue reading
It’s called Five Minute Friday. Each week, we write freely on a one-word prompt. Then we link up at the amazing Kate Motaung’s site. It’s a flash mob of writers- having fun and sharing their take on one word. This week’s prompt is: CHOOSE YOUR OWN!
“Choose your own word”, she tweeted. “Just pick any word and write about it for five minutes.” Continue reading
I love our house at Christmas time. The lights on our tree give our living room a peaceful glow. My miniature village hides the dust on the piano, and the garland draws the eye away from the stained carpet and scratched wood floor.
But I know in January, the Christmas clutter will have worn on me and I’ll be quick to haul boxes of nativities, candles, and fake village-snow back to the basement. Continue reading
I like the music of The Little Drummer Boy, especially the new Pentatonix version, but that little smiling percussionist makes me uneasy.
I can remember watching the movie as a child and worrying because Mary sure seemed to like that drum song… and I don’t play.