Judith: Courage and Faith in the Face of Fear

The Book of Judith is one of Scripture’s most powerful stories of faith, courage, and divine deliverance. Set in a time when Israel faced annihilation by the Assyrian army, it tells how one woman—Judith, a devout widow—rose above fear and despair to save her people. When her city of Bethulia was under siege and its leaders were ready to surrender, Judith refused to give up hope. Trusting completely in God, she prayed, devised a plan, and bravely entered the enemy camp. With calm faith and keen wisdom, she defeated the mighty general Holofernes, turning the tide of the war and restoring Israel’s confidence in God.

At its core, the Book of Judith proclaims that faith is stronger than fear. Judith’s power did not come from weapons or status but from her deep trust in God. She believed that God could use her—even her—to accomplish what seemed impossible. Her story reminds us that divine strength often works through human courage, and that holiness and boldness are not opposites but partners in God’s purposes.

The book also teaches that faith must lead to action. Judith didn’t just pray and wait; she prayed and moved. Her example calls believers today to act decisively in alignment with their convictions—to speak out for justice, to care for the vulnerable, and to resist the forces of despair that threaten our world.

Judith’s story also breaks through the boundaries of her time. In a patriarchal society, God chose a widow—a woman without position or power—to deliver His people. She became a symbol of divine empowerment, reminding us that God’s grace is not bound by gender, status, or circumstance. In our own age, Judith stands as an enduring example of the strength and wisdom that arise from a life centered in faith.

Today, we face our own “sieges”—divisions in society, moral confusion, violence, and loss of hope. Like the people of Bethulia, we sometimes feel surrounded by forces beyond our control. The message of Judith speaks directly to this moment: God still works through ordinary people who dare to believe, pray, and act with courage.

Judith teaches us that holiness is not passive. It is the willingness to step forward when others shrink back, to trust God when logic says surrender, and to act with wisdom rooted in prayer. Her story is both ancient and urgently modern—a call to live with courage, integrity, and faith in a fearful world.

Prayer:
Faithful God,
When fear surrounds us and hope grows thin,
give us the courage of Judith—
to trust You beyond what we see,
to act with wisdom and love,
and to believe that Your strength works through us.
Make us instruments of Your peace and partners in Your purpose,
that we may help bring light to a world in need.
Amen.

Blessing:
May the God who empowered Judith
fill your heart with courage and peace.
May faith rise where fear once lived,
and may you walk each day
in the quiet confidence of God’s unfailing love.
Amen.

The Book of Tobit: Faithfulness, Family, and God’s Hidden Hand

The Book of Tobit is one of the most tender and hopeful stories in the Bible. Nestled within the wisdom writings, it weaves together faith, family, prayer, and divine providence into a narrative that feels timeless. Though written more than two thousand years ago, its message still speaks directly to the longings and challenges of our modern world.

A Story of Righteousness in Exile

Tobit was a devout man living in exile in Nineveh, far from his homeland and temple. Despite the injustice of his circumstances, he remained steadfast in his devotion to God. He cared for the poor, buried the dead, and kept the commandments, even when doing so brought him trouble. In a cruel twist of fate, he became blind after an act of charity — a symbol of how good people sometimes suffer without understanding why.

At the same time, far away in Media, a young woman named Sarah faced her own despair. A demon tormented her, killing each of her seven husbands on their wedding night. Both Tobit and Sarah cried out to God in anguish, each feeling abandoned, yet their prayers rose together before the throne of heaven.

God answered by sending the archangel Raphael, disguised as a traveler, to guide Tobit’s son, Tobias, on a journey that would change all their lives. Through divine intervention, Tobias met and married Sarah, overcame evil through prayer, and returned home with the remedy to restore his father’s sight. The story ends with thanksgiving, praise, and renewed faith — a reminder that God’s plans are always working behind the scenes.

Lessons for Our Time

The Book of Tobit offers wisdom for a world that often feels fragmented, anxious, and divided.

1. Faithfulness in a Secular Age
Like Tobit, many people today live in a kind of exile — trying to remain faithful in a culture that often dismisses or distorts spiritual values. Tobit’s example encourages us to keep living with integrity, compassion, and reverence for God, even when the world around us doesn’t understand.

2. The Power of Prayer and Patience
Tobit and Sarah both prayed in moments of utter despair, yet those prayers became the turning point of their lives. We are reminded that God hears even our quietest cries and often answers in ways we cannot foresee. Prayer opens the door for divine timing to unfold.

3. Healing in Relationships and Marriage
The union of Tobias and Sarah reflects a relationship grounded not in passion alone but in shared faith. Before they touch one another, they pray. In a world hungry for authentic connection, this simple act shows us what it means to invite God into our most intimate spaces — transforming love into a source of healing and strength.

4. God’s Providence in the Ordinary
The angel Raphael’s journey alongside Tobias reminds us that divine help is often disguised as ordinary companionship. The people we meet, the turns we take, the timing of events — all can become instruments of God’s unseen guidance. We live under the care of a loving and attentive God who walks with us through every season.

5. Hope for the Disheartened
Both Tobit and Sarah reached the point of despair, yet God’s deliverance came when they least expected it. Their story reassures anyone who feels forgotten, weary, or unseen: God has not abandoned you. Hope is never lost.

Faith for a Modern Pilgrim

As someone who seeks authenticity in worship and a faith that engages both heart and mind, I find Tobit’s story especially comforting. It teaches that holiness is not confined to grand temples or rituals but found in daily acts of kindness, in prayer shared between loved ones, and in trusting God even in the dark.

In a world of noise and distraction, Tobit calls us back to quiet faithfulness — to living with gratitude, compassion, and steady hope. God’s providence, like Raphael’s guidance, still moves quietly through our lives, bringing healing and light where we least expect it.

A Closing Prayer

God of mercy and faithfulness,
You hear our prayers even in exile and despair.
Teach us, like Tobit, to remain steadfast in righteousness and compassion.
Open our eyes to Your hidden work in our lives,
And send us companions who carry Your healing light.
May our homes be places of prayer, love, and hope.
Through Christ our Lord, Amen.

Finding Real Worship: My Journey Through Isaiah, Malachi, and the Episcopal Church”

There are moments in Scripture when the voices of the prophets echo across centuries, harmonizing in truth so clear that it pierces our modern noise. Reading Isaiah 1 and Malachi side by side is one of those moments. Both prophets expose the danger of hollow religion — the kind that goes through the motions of worship while the heart stands distant from God.

For me, this message has become personal. My faith journey — even my decision to change denominations — has been driven by one burning desire: to serve God from the heart. I have searched for a place where worship is not performance, where prayers rise from sincerity, and where God’s presence feels real among His people. I never dreamed I would find that authenticity in the Episcopal Church, but here, among liturgy, silence, and sacrament, I have rediscovered what the prophets longed for — worship that is alive, honest, and transforming.


The Prophets’ Shared Message: God Wants Our Hearts, Not Our Rituals

Though separated by hundreds of years, Isaiah and Malachi confront the same spiritual sickness: outward religion without inner devotion.

In Isaiah 1, God rejects the people’s sacrifices and festivals, declaring:

“Stop bringing meaningless offerings!
Your incense is detestable to me…
Your hands are full of blood.” (Isaiah 1:13, 15)

In Malachi, the problem continues. The priests offer blemished animals, and the people treat sacred things lightly. God asks,

“When you offer blind animals in sacrifice, is that not wrong?…
I am not pleased with you.” (Malachi 1:8, 10)

Both prophets reveal the same truth — God is not impressed by religious activity. He desires a living faith that flows from integrity, compassion, and love.


Justice, Integrity, and Renewal

Isaiah condemns leaders who “love bribes and chase after gifts,” while widows and orphans are neglected (Isaiah 1:23). Malachi calls out priests who dishonor their vows and people who defraud the poor (Malachi 3:5).

For both prophets, worship and justice are inseparable.
You cannot lift holy hands to God if those same hands are stained by indifference or oppression.
True worship overflows into righteousness, fairness, and mercy — qualities that mirror God’s own heart.


God’s Call to Return

Despite the sharpness of their words, both Isaiah and Malachi end with hope:

“Come now, let us reason together,” says the Lord.
“Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.” (Isaiah 1:18)

“Return to me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord Almighty. (Malachi 3:7)

These are not words of condemnation but of invitation — a call to renewal. God does not want our perfection; He wants our honesty. When we return to Him with humility and faith, He restores, forgives, and breathes life into our worship once again.


Finding Authentic Worship Today

In our modern world, the same temptations remain — to treat faith as habit, to confuse emotion with devotion, or to seek comfort over truth. Yet the ancient call still stands: God wants our hearts.

As I have walked this path — seeking a faith that is both reverent and real — I have found unexpected grace in the Episcopal Church. Its rhythm of prayer, Scripture, Eucharist, and silence has not dulled my spirit but awakened it. It has taught me that authentic worship is not about style but about sincerity — a heart bowed before God, open to His transforming love.


A Closing Prayer

Gracious God,
You call us to worship You not with hollow words but with whole hearts.
Cleanse us from our complacency and renew our desire to serve You in truth.
Let justice and mercy flow from our worship,
and may our lives reflect Your light in all we do.
Lead us, O Lord, into the kind of faith that is both humble and holy,
that in serving You, we may truly love You —
in spirit, in truth, and from the depths of our hearts.
Amen.

Who Was Amos: A Reflection on the book of Amos

Amos lived in the 8th century B.C., during a time of peace and prosperity for Israel under King Jeroboam II. He was not a priest or scholar, but a shepherd and dresser of sycamore trees from Tekoa, a small town in Judah. God called this humble man to travel north to Israel and speak against the injustices and corruption that flourished there. Amos was a reluctant prophet — a simple man sent to confront powerful elites.

His story reminds us that God can use ordinary people to speak extraordinary truth, especially when the world becomes blind to its moral decay.


The Message of the Book

The central message of Amos is justice, righteousness, and genuine worship.
Israel had become wealthy and outwardly religious, but their society was marked by oppression, greed, and inequality. People went to temple, offered sacrifices, and sang songs of praise — yet they ignored the poor, cheated the vulnerable, and lived in comfort while others suffered.

Amos thundered,

“Let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.” (Amos 5:24)

He declared that true faith is not measured by religious rituals, but by how we treat one another. God rejects hollow worship if our hearts are hard and our hands are unjust.


What It Means Today

Amos’s voice is as urgent now as it was then. His words challenge us — not to turn away from suffering, corruption, or moral compromise, but to live as people who reflect God’s heart for justice and compassion.

For you, Roy, as someone who has walked a long road of faith and conscience, Amos calls you to keep being a truth-teller, a lover of mercy, and a voice for the voiceless, even when it’s uncomfortable or risky. It means standing in solidarity with those who are oppressed, staying humble, and letting your life — not just your words — testify to God’s righteousness.

Amos reminds us that faith without justice is empty, but justice without love is harsh. The fruit of the Spirit — love, gentleness, goodness, faithfulness — all flow together in Amos’s vision of a world where God’s people live what they pray.

Perhaps Amos’s message for you today is this:

“Roy, keep speaking truth in love. Don’t grow weary. Even if you stand alone, remember that righteousness begins with one heart fully surrendered to God’s justice.”

Personal Reflection

When I think of Amos, I am reminded of my father — a man with only a fourth-grade education but with the wisdom of heaven in his soul. He preached sermons that stirred hearts, not because of his learning, but because of his deep faith and love for truth. Like Amos, he spoke plainly and powerfully, and his words still echo in my heart today. I realize that God doesn’t require eloquence or education to use us — only a willing heart and a passion for justice and love.


My Pledge

I pledge to live with integrity, to speak truth with courage and compassion, and to act justly toward all people. I will not be silent when I see wrong, nor hard-hearted when I see suffering. Like Amos — and like my father — I want to be a simple voice for God’s righteousness, letting justice and mercy flow through my life each day.


Prayer and Blessing

Holy and Righteous God,
Thank You for the example of Amos — the shepherd who became a prophet — and for the memory of my father, who lived and spoke Your truth so faithfully. Give me the courage to stand for justice, the humility to listen, and the tenderness to love. Let my words be seasoned with grace and my actions filled with compassion. May Your Spirit guide me to be a light of truth and a vessel of peace in a divided world.

Blessing:
May righteousness roll through our hearts like mighty waters,
and may love overflow like an ever-flowing stream.
Amen.

Gentleness: Strength Wrapped in Love

Paul names gentleness as one of the fruits of the Spirit in Galatians 5:22–23. At first, the word might sound like weakness or passivity, but true gentleness is anything but that. It is strength under control—power guided by compassion. It reflects the heart of Christ, who could calm a storm with a word yet stoop to touch the untouchable, heal the broken, and forgive those who crucified Him.

To me, gentleness means living with a tender heart in a harsh world. It’s choosing to speak softly when anger could easily rise, to listen when I’d rather defend, and to offer kindness even when I feel wronged. Gentleness calls me to approach others with respect and care, seeing their humanity before judging their actions. It reminds me that my goal isn’t to win arguments but to build bridges of understanding.

Gentleness also invites me to treat myself with that same compassion—to let go of self-condemnation and receive God’s mercy anew each day. It’s the Spirit whispering, “You don’t have to force life; you can trust God’s timing.” When I practice gentleness, I make space for grace to do its work—in me and through me. It’s the quiet strength that transforms relationships and reflects the heart of Jesus to a world desperately in need of His touch.


My Personal Pledge

I pledge to live with gentleness in my words, my actions, and my heart.
I will seek to understand before I judge, to comfort before I criticize, and to speak truth wrapped in love.
I will treat others—and myself—with patience, respect, and compassion, knowing that gentleness is the language of God’s love.
In moments of tension or pain, I will pause, breathe, and choose the way of peace over pride.


Prayer

Loving Spirit, teach me the way of gentleness.
Help me to reflect the tenderness of Christ in how I speak, listen, and live.
When I am tempted to react in anger, soften my heart with Your calm.
When I encounter those who are hurting or difficult to love, remind me of how gently You have loved me.
Let my presence bring peace where there is conflict, healing where there is hurt, and hope where there is despair.
Shape my spirit to be gentle, like Yours.
Amen.

Finding My Voice in a Divided World: A Reflection on the Book of Joel

Today I read the Book of Joel, a brief but powerful message that begins with devastation and ends with hope. Joel speaks of a locust plague that destroyed the land — a symbol of judgment and loss — but also of a God who calls His people to return with all their hearts. Joel’s cry, “Rend your heart and not your garments,” reminds me that true change begins within. After repentance comes renewal, and God promises, “I will pour out my Spirit on all people.”

As I look at our world today, filled with political division, fear, and moral confusion, I feel the same tension Joel must have felt. I struggle to know what role I should play and how to be a voice of truth and love. I am 75 years old, and while I may not have the strength to march or protest, I still believe God calls me to speak — but with wisdom, grace, and compassion. Sometimes courage looks like quiet faithfulness, choosing peace over hate, and hope over despair.

I know that dissent can be risky; it can bring misunderstanding, isolation, or even danger. Yet I also know that silence in the face of injustice can wound the soul. My voice may not be loud, but it can still be strong — shaped by love rather than anger, by prayer rather than fear. In this way, I hope to live out Joel’s promise: to be filled with the Spirit that renews hearts and restores what has been lost.

A Prayer for Courage and Wisdom

God of mercy and justice,
In a world torn by anger and fear, give me the courage to stand for what is true,
and the wisdom to speak with love.
When I am afraid, remind me that Your Spirit still moves across the earth.
Restore what is broken within me, and help me live as a light of peace and truth.
May my life, even now, be a quiet testimony of faith in You.
Amen.

Faithfulness — A Steadfast Heart in a Changing World

“Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart.” — Proverbs 3:3

Faithfulness is the quiet strength of the soul that keeps us steady when life’s winds blow hard. It means being loyal, dependable, and true — to God, to others, and to ourselves. To be faithful is to keep showing up with love, even when it’s hard, to honor our promises, and to live with integrity when no one is watching.

Faithfulness reflects the very nature of God, who never gives up on us. When His Spirit lives within us, we learn to love with endurance, to believe with confidence, and to remain steadfast through both joy and sorrow. True faithfulness is not just about words or feelings — it’s about living each day with a heart that can be trusted.


My Personal Pledge

I pledge to be faithful — to God, who has never failed me, and to Robert, the gift of love in my life. I will stand beside him with loyalty and tenderness, keeping my heart true and my word sure. In good days and hard days, I will choose steadfast love, patience, and trust, knowing that faithfulness is not a feeling but a daily act of devotion.


A Prayer for Faithfulness

Gracious God,
You are ever faithful, constant in mercy, and steadfast in love. Teach me to mirror Your faithfulness in all that I do. Help me to be true to You and to those You’ve placed in my life. Strengthen my heart to keep my promises, to love without condition, and to live with quiet trust in Your plan. May Your Spirit guide me to be a faithful partner, friend, and servant every day.
Amen.

Faithfulness is love that endures the test of time — a quiet promise kept, a steady heart that mirrors the heart of God.

Peace in a Troubled World

The fruit of the Spirit for today is peace (Galatians 5:22). Yet when we look at the world around us, peace often feels far away. Wars, divisions, greed, and the heavy hand of corrupt rulers weigh on our hearts. It is easy to feel anxious or even hopeless when nations rage and leaders oppress.

But God’s peace is not the fragile ceasefire of this world. It is not dependent on governments, armies, or politics. God’s peace is shalom—a deep wholeness, harmony, and rest that comes from Him alone. Jesus promised His disciples: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” (John 14:27).

The peace of Christ begins in the heart. When we let the Holy Spirit dwell within us, His peace steadies us even in chaos. Paul wrote: “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7). This peace is not naive. It does not ignore injustice or pretend suffering does not exist. Instead, it anchors us in God’s presence so we can stand firm, speak truth, and love boldly.

As followers of Christ, we are also called to be peacemakers. Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:9). This means more than keeping quiet or avoiding conflict—it means actively working toward reconciliation, forgiveness, and justice in the name of Christ. We pray for our enemies, seek to heal divisions, and bear witness to God’s kingdom where swords are beaten into plowshares (Isaiah 2:4).

In these days of turmoil, peace begins when we turn our hearts back to God, trust His promises, and allow His Spirit to guide us. Peace grows as we live out His love in our relationships, families, communities, and even in how we respond to world events.

The rulers of this world may stir up strife, but the Prince of Peace reigns forever. His kingdom will not be shaken. As Isaiah prophesied: “Of the increase of His government and of peace there will be no end” (Isaiah 9:7).

So today, let us receive God’s peace in our hearts, let it overflow in our lives, and let it shine as a witness to a weary, broken world that true peace is found only in Christ.

Prayer for Peace

Lord Jesus, Prince of Peace,
the world feels heavy with conflict, injustice, and fear.
We confess that our hearts grow troubled when we see evil rulers and war.
But today we choose to rest in Your promise: “My peace I give you.”

Fill us with Your Spirit so that Your peace may guard our minds and calm our hearts.
Make us peacemakers in our homes, our churches, our communities,
and even toward those who oppose us.
Help us to trust that Your kingdom of peace will never end.

We pray for the broken places in the world.
Bring healing where there is violence, justice where there is oppression,
and comfort where there is grief.

Lord, let Your peace begin with us today.
Amen.

From Dualism to Wholeness: A Spiritual Journey Through Many Traditions Toward Sacrament, Justice, and Love

Finding Unity in the Episcopal Church After a Lifetime of Seeking

My spiritual journey has never been a straight line. I began within the Free Will Baptist tradition, carrying with me the dualistic view of sacred and profane, and the heavy sense that humanity was broken and bound for judgment. Yet, as the years passed, my experiences, teachers, and encounters with different traditions began to weave together a richer tapestry of faith—one that ultimately led me to the Episcopal Church.


Learning That Life Is Relation

At Free Will Baptist Bible College, I sat under Professor Leroy Forlines, who wrote on Bible ethics and taught that life is essentially about relationships. He described four foundational ones: with God, with others, with ourselves, and with the universe. That idea—that life is relation—stuck with me. It gave me a framework that would shape how I interpreted every new encounter with spirituality.


Wesleyan Influence and the Methodist Way

After years in the Free Will Baptist Church, I had the opportunity to serve as a Church of the Nazarene pastor. Through that experience, I became acquainted with John Wesley. His teaching opened my eyes to a broader vision of Christian faith, one that emphasized holiness, grace, and practical living. Eventually, I found my way into the Methodist Church, where I discovered the Wesleyan Quadrilateral: truth is discerned through Scripture, Reason, Experience, and Tradition. This made so much sense to me—so different from the sola scriptura approach of the Free Will Baptist and Nazarene churches.

In 1997, I formally joined the United Methodist Church and went on to attend Memphis Theological Seminary. There, Dr. Barry Bryant, a Methodist professor, drilled into us the heart of the Gospel: love God and love your neighbor as yourself. From him I also learned the depth of sacrament and sacramentalism—seeing God’s grace in ordinary, tangible ways.


The Splitting of the UMC

In more recent years, I watched the United Methodist Church fracture over LGBTQ ordination. Many congregations left, and I felt the services lose some of the liturgical richness rooted in Anglican tradition. My heart longed for a worship that was more sacramental, more connected to the deep rhythms of Anglican and Catholic practice. I yearned for a place where my expanding spirituality—shaped by so many influences—could be fully lived.


Streams That Shaped Me

By this time, I had already been shaped by multiple streams of faith:

  • Native American spirituality taught me that everything is sacred and all life is interconnected.
  • Quaker spirituality taught me to listen for the Inner Light and to seek truth in silence and simplicity.
  • Progressive Christianity taught me that love and justice are the heart of the Gospel, and inclusivity is non-negotiable.
  • Taoism, through the teaching of Dr. Larry Campbell, showed me the wisdom of balance, harmony, and flow.

All of these formed within me a vision of faith that went beyond dogma—one that cherished relationship, inclusion, and sacrament.


Finding Home in the Episcopal Church

That longing found its home at St. James Episcopal Church in Springfield, Missouri. Here, I discovered a community where all the influences of my journey seemed to converge. The liturgy connects me to the ancient church, the sacraments bring depth and meaning, and the spirit of inclusion reflects the love I had discovered in Progressive Christianity. I can see the harmony of Native American spirituality, the silence and integrity of Quakerism, and the wisdom of Taoism alive in this community’s practices.


In Essence

I became an Episcopalian because it is the one place where all the streams of my journey flow together. It is where sacrament and justice meet, where ancient tradition embraces progressive inclusion, and where the beauty of worship reflects the sacredness of all creation. For me, the Episcopal Church is not just a denomination—it is the home where my faith, shaped by so many influences, has found its resting place.

Finding My Spiritual Home: A Journey Across Traditions

I grew up with a strong sense of dualism—the sacred and the profane, heaven and hell, saved and lost. In the Free Will Baptist Church, I was taught the Arminian way, yet it still carried the weight of a worldview where humanity was seen as sinful and bound for judgment. Though I did not embrace the Calvinistic doctrines of total depravity, unconditional surrender, limited atonement, irresistible grace, or perseverance of the saints, I still carried the heavy burden of seeing humanity as broken and stained.

Over the years, I have walked a different path. What began as questions and longings has turned into a journey across traditions, a weaving together of wisdom that has brought me into a new understanding of faith. Along the way, I have discovered the gifts of Quaker silence, Native American harmony, Progressive Christian love, and even Taoist balance. This is my story.


My Ancestors and the Quaker Path

My connection to the Quaker tradition is not just intellectual—it is part of my story. My ancestor, Peter Pearson, came to America as a Quaker in the early 1700s to escape persecution in England. I discovered this when my sister Sue and I researched our family history over a ten-year period, from 1990 to 2001. That discovery stirred a question in me: what did it really mean to be a Quaker?

In Quaker worship, I encountered something profoundly simple and deeply moving. Sitting in silence, waiting for the Inner Light, I found that God is not locked away in heaven but present in each heart. No preacher, no ritual, no performance—just the Spirit speaking in the quiet. This simplicity spoke to me, especially as someone who grew up with sermons heavy on judgment and guilt. The Quaker way reminded me that truth, peace, equality, and integrity flow from the Spirit’s leading. It is not about escaping this world, but about living faithfully within it.


My Denver Years and Native American Spirituality

From 2006 to 2012, I lived in Denver, and it was there that I encountered Native American spirituality in a personal way. I met Frank, a Lakota Sioux man, who generously shared with me the ways of his people. What first drew me in was the sense of relationship. Rather than separating the sacred from the profane, everything is seen as sacred: the Earth, the waters, the winds, the animals, the ancestors. The Creator and the spirit world are not distant, but close, woven into every breath. This way of seeing frees me from a dualistic worldview and reminds me that I, too, am part of the sacred circle of life. Balance and harmony are not just ideals, they are ways of living.


Discovering Progressive Christianity

While in Denver, I also encountered many Progressive Christians. I read Kissing Fish by Roger Wolsey, a pastor from Boulder, and it opened my eyes to a Christianity that was inclusive, open, and justice-centered. Later, I was influenced by Patrick S. Cheng’s Radical Love and From Sin to Amazing Grace, and then by Richard Rohr’s The Universal Christ. These writings helped me reframe Christianity—not as a system of fear, but as a path of expansive love.

Progressive Christianity opened a different door for me: one where Jesus’ life and teachings are central, not as a dogma to enforce, but as a way of radical love and justice. Here, inclusivity is not an afterthought but a core expression of the Gospel. Worship is welcoming, questions are encouraged, and creation care is embraced as a spiritual responsibility. For me, this way reclaims Christianity from fear and offers it back as love in action.


Taoism and New Insights

Later, while serving as a teacher in the Classic Seniors Program at King’s Way United Methodist Church in Springfield, Missouri, I met Professor Larry Campbell, a retired math professor from Missouri State University. He taught classes on Taoism, comparing its wisdom with Christianity. Through his teaching, I saw more clearly how truths can flow across traditions—how Taoism and Christianity, though different, can echo each other in their pursuit of harmony and depth.


Where My Path Leads

When I weave these traditions and experiences together, I find a spirituality that feels alive:

  • From Native American wisdom, I’ve learned kinship with all creation.
  • From Quaker practice, I’ve learned to listen for the still, small voice within.
  • From Progressive Christianity, I’ve learned that love must be lived out in justice and inclusion.
  • From Taoist insights, I’ve learned to honor the flow of life and the wisdom of balance.

In Essence

My path has taken me from a faith of fear and dualism into a spirituality of relationship, silence, and love. Native American spirituality reminds me that everything is sacred. Quaker spirituality teaches me to listen and live simply in truth. Progressive Christianity calls me to follow Jesus through justice, compassion, and inclusion. Taoist wisdom adds yet another layer, showing me harmony and flow.

Together, these traditions form the spiritual home I never knew I was searching for. They remind me that faith is not about rigid belief or fear of judgment—it is about relationship: with the Divine, with the Earth, and with one another.