christianity

Walking My Spiritual Path: From Dualism to Harmony, Silence, and Love

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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.

As I have followed the path of Jesus into adulthood, I’ve discovered new streams of spirituality that have reshaped my faith. I have found a home in the Native American way, in the Quaker tradition, and in the Progressive Christian vision. Each of these traditions has offered me a gift, a piece of the puzzle, and together they have given me a spirituality that feels whole.

The Native American Path: Living in Harmony

What first drew me to Native American spirituality was its 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.

The Quaker Path: Listening in the Silence

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.

The Progressive Christian Path: Love Made Real

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.

Where My Path Leads

When I weave these three traditions 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.

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. Together, these traditions help me walk a path that honors the Divine, cherishes the Earth, and embraces all people as sacred.

Living Simply: Lessons from the Quaker Faith

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My ancestor, Peter Pearson, came to America as a Quaker fleeing persecution in England. Today. the Adult Formation Class at St. James Episcopal Church, studied a chapter on Household Economics written by Sharon Daloz Parks from the book, Practicing Our Faith edited by Dorothy C. Bass. The chapter mentioned simplicity as a practice of the Quaker faith. I came home and prepared this blog.

In our busy, consumer-driven world, the idea of “simplicity” can feel out of reach. We are surrounded by messages telling us to buy more, do more, and strive for more. Yet centuries ago, the Quaker faith—also known as the Religious Society of Friends—lifted up simplicity as one of its central testimonies. For Quakers, simplicity has never been about deprivation, but about creating space for the Spirit to move freely in daily life.

“Try to live simply. A simple lifestyle, freely chosen, is a source of strength.”
— Quaker Faith & Practice

What Simplicity Means to Quakers

The Quaker testimony of simplicity is rooted in the belief that truth and divine guidance are best heard when the noise of excess is stripped away. Early Friends practiced “plainness” in speech, dress, and possessions. They avoided extravagant clothing or titles, choosing instead direct language like “yes” and “no.” Their goal was not to reject beauty or joy, but to remain honest, grounded, and free from distractions that could cloud their spiritual vision.

Simplicity, then, is not a rigid rule but a guiding principle. It calls people to focus on what truly matters: truth, love, and spiritual depth.

A rare 125 year-old photograph of Philadelphia Quakers at Old City’s Arch Street Meeting House during a Meeting for Worship in April 1900.

Living Simply in Daily Life

Though few modern Friends wear plain dress today, the call to simplicity still shapes how many live:

  • Plain Speech & Honesty – Speaking truth without exaggeration or flattery.
  • Mindful Living – Choosing quality and usefulness over excess and waste.
  • Centeredness – Making time for silence and reflection, letting go of unnecessary busyness.
  • Community & Equality – Valuing people over possessions or status.

“Simplicity is the right ordering of our lives, placing God at the center and leaving space for what matters most.”
— John Woolman

(

A simple table with bread, fruit, and tea—a visual reminder of nourishment without excess.)

Why It Matters Today

In many ways, the Quaker testimony of simplicity feels more relevant now than ever. Our culture equates success with wealth and consumption, leaving many stressed, overworked, and yearning for meaning. Simplicity offers another way—one that emphasizes contentment, sustainability, and peace.

By choosing to live simply, we lessen our dependence on material goods, reduce our impact on the environment, and free ourselves to focus on relationships, service, and spiritual growth.

“A man is rich in proportion to the things he can afford to let alone.”
— William Penn

A Personal Invitation

The heart of Quaker simplicity is not about what you give up, but about what you make room for. When we release clutter—whether physical, emotional, or spiritual—we create space for what nourishes us most deeply.

Perhaps ask yourself: What could I set aside to make space for stillness, connection, and joy?

“Be patterns, be examples in all countries, places, islands, nations… then you will come to walk cheerfully over the world, answering that of God in everyone.”
— George Fox

A family or community gathered outdoors, sharing in simple joy together

Finding Joy in Life’s Trials

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Scripture Reading:

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
— James 1:2-4 (NIV)

Reflection

Life rarely goes according to our plans. There are seasons of deep joy and peace, but there are also times when our world feels like it’s turned upside down—loneliness, loss, uncertainty, or the weight of responsibility.

James, the brother of Jesus, understood this well. Writing to believers scattered across many nations, he encouraged them to “consider it pure joy” when facing trials. At first, this sounds impossible. Who could ever be joyful about pain or struggle?

But James wasn’t saying we should be happy because of the trial itself. Instead, he invites us to see trials through God’s perspective. Difficult seasons test our faith, but they also strengthen it, just as resistance strengthens a muscle. When we keep trusting God in the middle of hardship, our perseverance grows—and with it, our character and spiritual maturity.

James also reminds us that when we feel confused or overwhelmed, we can ask God for wisdom. He promises to give it generously and without judgment. The key is to trust Him fully, rather than doubting His goodness or being tossed around by fear and uncertainty like waves in the ocean.

Your trial today might feel heavy, but it is not wasted. God can use this very moment to shape you into someone stronger, wiser, and more compassionate. What seems like a setback may actually be a setup for growth and deeper faith.

Life Application

  • Look at trials differently. Instead of asking, “Why me?” ask, “What is God teaching me through this?”
  • Pray for wisdom first. Before making decisions, take a moment to seek God’s guidance.
  • Stand firm in faith. Refuse to let doubt or fear define your response. Trust that God is with you, even when you cannot see the outcome.

Prayer

Heavenly Father,
Thank You for being with me in every season of life. When trials come, help me to see them as opportunities to grow and to trust You more deeply. Give me the wisdom I need to face today’s challenges, and strengthen my faith so that I am not shaken by doubt or fear. May my life reflect Your love and bring You glory, even in difficult times.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Closing Thought

Trials will come, but so will growth. When you persevere through challenges with faith and courage, you will discover a deeper joy—one rooted not in your circumstances, but in the unchanging love of God.

The Journey of a Pilgrim

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Scripture:
“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” – Psalm 119:105

When I was in high school, my English and Literature teacher, Mrs. May Ruth Ishee, assigned me to read Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan and give a report to the class. At first, I saw it simply as another school assignment—a book to read, a report to prepare, and a grade to earn. But as I turned the pages and followed the journey of Christian, the main character, I began to see something deeper.

Christian’s journey was a picture of the spiritual life—a path filled with challenges, temptations, and victories. He faced moments of doubt, times of weariness, and battles with forces that sought to turn him away from his goal: the Celestial City. I realized that my own walk with Christ was very much like his. The Slough of Despond reminded me of my own times of discouragement, while Christian’s meeting with Evangelist echoed the mentors and encouragers God placed in my life—people like Mrs. Ishee, who helped guide me in faith and learning.

That book planted seeds in my heart that have grown over the years. It showed me that being a follower of Jesus is a journey, not a sprint. There are mountains to climb, valleys to cross, and burdens to lay down at the foot of the cross.

Looking back, I see that Mrs. Ishee didn’t just assign a book; she gave me a tool for life—a story that continues to remind me that I am, and always will be, a pilgrim on the road home.

Reflection Questions:

  1. Where are you in your spiritual journey right now?
  2. What burdens do you need to lay down at the feet of Jesus today?
  3. Who has been an “Evangelist” or encourager in your walk with Christ?

Prayer:
Lord, thank You for teachers, mentors, and friends who guide us along the journey of faith. Help me to walk faithfully with You, even when the road is difficult. May Your Word always light my path and lead me toward Your Celestial City. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Loving God with all we are

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In December of 1964, at just fourteen years old, I preached my very first sermon at Lee’s Chapel Free Will Baptist Church near Laurel, Mississippi. The text I chose was Mark 12:30-31:

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.
The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’
There is no commandment greater than these.”

I remember standing in that little country church, nervous and excited, trying my best to share God’s Word. Afterward, my Uncle Cleo, who was married to my Aunt Bess (my dad’s sister), told me I had delivered a good sermon — but if I had slowed down a little, he might have actually understood what I said!

At the time, I didn’t realize how deeply these verses would shape my life. Over the years, I’ve come to understand that this commandment isn’t just about feelings or words. It’s about giving our whole selves to God — our heart, soul, mind, and strength — and letting that love spill over to others.

Loving God with All Your Heart

The heart is where love begins. It’s the seat of our emotions and desires.
To love God with our heart means giving Him our deepest affections and loyalty. It’s not a half-hearted love, but one that says, “Lord, You come first in my life.”

This is where many of us struggle. Our hearts can get divided between God and the things of this world. Loving God with all our heart is a daily choice to make Him our priority — to let His love shape how we feel, what we value, and how we treat others.

Loving God with All Your Soul

The soul represents our very being — the essence of who we are.
To love God with all our soul means surrendering our entire life to Him. It’s saying, “Here I am, Lord. Use me for Your purposes.”

This isn’t just about Sunday morning worship. It’s about living every moment as an act of devotion. Whether we’re at work, at home, or serving in our community, we honor God with our lives. Loving Him with our soul means we are His — completely and forever.

Loving God with All Your Mind

Our thoughts matter. What we think about shapes who we are.
Loving God with our mind means filling it with His truth, His Word, and His wisdom. It means studying Scripture, reflecting on His promises, and rejecting the lies that try to pull us away from Him.

When we love God with our mind, we seek to understand His ways. We let His Word guide our decisions and shape how we see the world. In a world filled with confusion and competing voices, this kind of love brings clarity and peace.

Loving God with All Your Strength

Finally, loving God with our strength is about action.
It’s about using our energy, abilities, and resources to serve Him and others. This love isn’t just felt or thought about — it’s lived out.

Whether we’re helping a neighbor, caring for family, volunteering at church, or standing up for justice, our strength is a gift we give back to God. It’s how love becomes visible and tangible in the world.

The Second Commandment: Loving Others

Jesus didn’t stop at loving God. He added, “Love your neighbor as yourself.”
True love for God always flows outward into love for others.

This is often where the real challenge comes. Loving people can be messy, difficult, and sometimes even painful. But when we love God fully, His love gives us the strength to love others — even when it’s hard, even when they don’t love us back.

A Lifelong Journey

As I look back on that December Sunday in 1964, I realize how much I’ve grown — and how much I still have to learn. Loving God with my heart, soul, mind, and strength isn’t something I mastered at fourteen, or even now. It’s a lifelong journey.

Every day, we have new opportunities to love Him more deeply and to love others more fully. And when we do, we find the very purpose of our existence — to be vessels of His love in a world that desperately needs it.

So today, take a moment to ask yourself:

  • Am I loving God with my whole heart?
  • Is my soul surrendered to Him?
  • Are my thoughts filled with His truth?
  • Am I using my strength to serve others?

These are the questions that can shape not only our faith, but also our legacy. Just as that verse shaped my first sermon, may it shape your life — now and always.

The Seeds of Love: Lessons in Relationships and Faith

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When I was a boy growing up on a small farm in Greene County, Mississippi, my father gave me a handful of corn seeds and told me to plant them beneath an old oak tree. I had asked him why we couldn’t grow crops in the cool shade rather than out in the hot sun. Dad just smiled, handed me the seeds, and let me discover the answer for myself.

As you might expect, the corn never grew under that tree. What I didn’t realize then was that my father was planting more than just corn—he was planting a lesson. Over the years, that experience became a powerful image for me: some truths, like seeds, take time to grow and bear fruit.

The First Seed: Four Basic Relationships

After high school, I enrolled at Free Will Baptist Bible College in Nashville, Tennessee (now Welch College). There, Dr. Leroy Forlines taught a course on Biblical Ethics that left a lasting impression on me. He said there are four basic relationships in every human life:

  1. Our relationship with God
  2. Our relationship with others
  3. Our relationship with ourselves
  4. Our relationship with the universe (the world and creation around us)

At the time, I understood these words only on an intellectual level. It wasn’t until years later—and after some failed relationships and painful lessons—that I began to grasp their true meaning.

The Second Seed: Love as the Heart of Faith

Thirty years later, while studying at Memphis Theological Seminary, another professor, Dr. Barry Bryant, built upon the foundation Dr. Forlines had laid. Dr. Bryant challenged us to see the Bible through one central theme: “Love God and love your neighbor.”

He helped me to realize that life is not primarily about rigid rules and laws but about how we live in relationship with others. Loving God fully means loving with every part of who we are—our physical, spiritual, rational, and emotional selves.

Jesus simplified it even further:

“Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Mark 12:31)

Dr. Bryant pointed out something that profoundly shifted my understanding: before we can truly love our neighbor, we must also learn to love and value ourselves. Only then can we extend genuine, grace-filled love to others.

The Growth of the Seed

Looking back, I see how these “seeds” of wisdom were planted at different stages of my life. At first, they lay dormant beneath the surface, like that corn beneath the oak tree. It took time, experience, and even hardship for them to take root and grow.

The lesson is simple yet transformative: our faith is lived out through relationships.

  • Our relationship with God is the source of our strength and guidance.
  • Our relationship with ourselves shapes how we see and treat others.
  • Our relationship with others is where our love is tested and expressed.
  • Our relationship with creation reminds us of our responsibility to care for the world around us.

Living Out the Lesson

Today, I strive to live with this understanding: loving God means loving people. It means listening with compassion, forgiving freely, and walking humbly. It means seeing others—not as problems to fix or enemies to defeat—but as fellow travelers on life’s journey.

Just as that corn needed sunlight to grow, our relationships need the light of God’s love. Without it, they wither. With it, they flourish and bear fruit.

So, I ask myself daily: Am I planting seeds of love today? Am I nurturing them so they can grow into something life-giving?

Order in Mind, Life, and Dress

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When I was a freshman at Free Will Baptist Bible College (now Welch College), Dr. Judy Simpson, my English professor, taught me a lesson that has never left me. She graded our essays not only on grammar but on our ability to organize our thoughts around a theme. She often reminded us, “A messy mind means a messy person, and a messy person means someone who will sweep the dirt in a room under a rug rather than into a dustpan.”

At the time, it seemed like a clever way to encourage her students to write carefully. But in truth, she was pointing to something much deeper: the way we think and the way we live are inseparably connected. Disorder in the mind leads to disorder in the life. Carelessness in thought easily becomes carelessness in action. And dishonesty in small things—like sweeping dirt under a rug—can point to a pattern of avoiding the hard work of living with integrity.

Over the years, I have come to see that this same principle extends into many parts of life, even into how a person dresses. Clothes may seem superficial compared to grammar or moral character, but they, too, reflect something about the state of the mind and the heart.

Dressing well does not mean dressing expensively. It does not require the latest fashions or brand names. What it does require is care. A clean shirt, pressed slacks, a modest dress, polished shoes—these simple acts of order and attention say something about who we are. They say, “I value myself. I respect others. I take seriously the life I have been given.”

On the other hand, when someone constantly presents themselves as sloppy, careless, or indifferent in appearance, it often points to an inward disorder as well. Just as an essay with no structure reveals a wandering mind, and a floor with dust swept under the rug reveals a lack of honesty, so a disheveled and neglected appearance may reveal neglect within.

Of course, clothing alone cannot measure the worth of a person. Some of the poorest have dressed with the greatest dignity, while some of the richest dress with the least respect. The point is not wealth, but intention. Our outward dress can be, in its own way, an essay of the soul. Each day, as we put on our clothing, we are also putting forth a statement: This is how I choose to carry myself in the world.

Dr. Simpson was right—discipline of mind shows itself in every corner of life. In our writing, in our homes, in our work, and even in how we dress, order and care reflect the deeper truth of who we are. To live with honesty, integrity, and clarity is to refuse to sweep life’s dust under the rug, but instead to face it, clean it, and carry ourselves with respect.

A Biblical Reflection

Scripture often uses clothing as a symbol for character. Paul writes, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” (Colossians 3:12). Peter exhorts believers not to rely merely on outward adornment but to cultivate “the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight” (1 Peter 3:4).

These words remind us that while outward neatness and order matter, they are ultimately signs of an inward clothing that is far more important. Each morning, as we put on our garments, we are also invited to put on Christ—to let His character cover us and shape us. Clean clothes can reflect a clean conscience, but only when we live truthfully before God.

So whether in our essays, our homes, our dress, or our relationships, the call is the same: to live as people of integrity, who do not hide life’s dust under the rug but who face it with honesty, humility, and the grace of Christ.

Empathy Is Not a Sin: A Biblical Response

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In recent years, a curious argument has emerged in certain Christian circles: that empathy itself may be a kind of sin. Voices like Allie Beth Stuckey, Joe Rigney, Pete Hegseth, and J. D. Vance warn that empathy can cloud our judgment, compromise our convictions, and even lead us into affirming sin. They argue that empathy must be subordinated to truth and law, lest it pull us away from obedience to God.

But is empathy really the problem? Or have we misunderstood how sin, law, and grace actually work in the Christian life?

Sin, Law, and Grace

The critics of empathy define sin primarily as a failure to obey God’s law. By that reasoning, even sympathizing with someone’s struggle could become sinful if it risks validating their choices. The law becomes the unbending measure of truth, and grace is allowed only insofar as it calls people back to that law.

Yet when we turn to Scripture, we see something richer. The law itself is summed up in love: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Lev. 19:18, Gal. 5:14). Sin, in biblical terms, is not just rule-breaking—it is hardness of heart, a failure to love God and neighbor. And grace is God’s unmerited love, which meets us in our weakness and transforms us.

Empathy—truly entering another’s joys and sorrows—is not opposed to law or truth. It is one of the ways grace takes on flesh in human life.

Jesus and Empathy

Jesus did not fear empathy. He wept at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:35). He felt compassion on the crowds who were hungry and lost (Mark 6:34). He told the parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25–37), showing that true obedience to God’s commands is found not in avoiding the broken, but in drawing near with compassion. On the cross, He entered fully into human suffering—the ultimate act of empathy.

When Jesus said to the woman caught in adultery, “Neither do I condemn you. Go and sin no more” (John 8:11), He offered both empathy and truth. Grace came first; the call to transformation followed.

Paul and the Early Church

Paul commands Christians: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep” (Rom. 12:15). “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2). The law of Christ is not detached from empathy—it is fulfilled through it. Truth matters, yes, but Paul insists it must always be spoken “in love” (Eph. 4:15).

The Prophets and Compassion

The prophets consistently warn against legalism without compassion. Amos thundered: “I hate, I despise your feasts … let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Amos 5:21, 24). Micah sums it up: “Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God” (Mic. 6:8). Empathy is written into the DNA of biblical justice.

Where the Critics Go Wrong

The modern fear of empathy rests on a half-truth: yes, compassion can be manipulated if it is divorced from discernment. But to brand empathy itself as sinful is to cut the heart out of the gospel. It risks making us like the Pharisees—so protective of the law that we miss the law’s fulfillment in love.

Jesus shows us that empathy is not indulgence; it is incarnation. It is how grace meets sin, how law is fulfilled in love, how truth is spoken in tears as well as words.

Conclusion: The Power of Christlike Empathy

Empathy is not a sin. It is the way of Christ. It is how we live out the command to love our neighbors, how we embody grace, and how we witness to the world that God’s truth is never cold and distant but always warm with compassion.

As Paul reminds us: “The entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Gal. 5:14). To love as Jesus loved is to enter into the lives of others with empathy, grace, and truth held together.

Pilgrim Reflection: On this winding path of faith, may we resist the temptation to trade compassion for control. Empathy is not our enemy—it is the very heart of Christ beating within us.

Facing Reality with Eyes of Faith

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“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” — John 8:32

Jesus never asked us to close our eyes to the pain of the world. In fact, in three powerful passages of Scripture, we are reminded again and again that the Christian life is not about painting a rosy picture, but about seeing reality clearly and living faithfully in it.

In Matthew 25:31–46, Jesus speaks of the final judgment, not in terms of appearances or how good we made things look, but in how we treated “the least of these.” The hungry, the stranger, the sick, and the imprisoned—these are the true measures of faith. To ignore them is to ignore Christ himself.

In Matthew 5:38–48, Jesus calls us beyond the easy way of retaliation and into radical love—loving our enemies, praying for those who harm us, choosing mercy instead of comfort. That kind of love is not possible if we keep pretending the world is better than it really is. It demands we see the wounds of the world and dare to respond with compassion.

In Galatians 5:22–23, Paul tells us that the Spirit produces fruit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. These fruits grow best not in denial, but in the rich soil of honesty, where we acknowledge suffering and injustice yet choose to live in hope.

To paint a rosy picture is tempting. It shields us from discomfort, spares us from grief, and makes us feel in control. But the gospel calls us to more. Christian hope is not about rose-colored glasses. It is about seeing the world as it truly is—the good, the bad, and the broken—and daring to believe that God is with us in the midst of it.

The rosy picture denies the cross. The real picture sees the cross—and the resurrection beyond it.

A Prayer

God of truth and mercy,
give us courage to see the world as it is,
to face its wounds and its beauty with open eyes.
Keep us from the false comfort of denial,
and fill us instead with the Spirit’s fruit,
so that our love may be real,
our compassion deep,
and our hope unshakable in Christ.
Amen.

A Pilgrim’s Reflection

A pilgrim does not walk only through gardens in bloom. The road winds through shadow and sunlight, across barren places and fertile fields. To follow Christ is to keep walking with eyes open, heart awake, and hands ready to serve—trusting that even in the hardest landscapes, God is leading us toward resurrection.

Being a Bridge Builder in Springfield: Living as Salt, Light, and Temperate Spirit

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In a world that often feels divided and hurried, it can be easy to feel powerless to make a difference in our own communities. Yet, Scripture offers timeless guidance on how each of us can have a meaningful impact. Jesus calls his followers to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world (Matthew 5:13–16). Salt preserves, seasons, and enhances the goodness around it. Light illuminates the darkness, making the way clear and showing what is true. Both metaphors speak to a life lived in active, positive engagement with the world.

Paul adds another layer in Galatians 5, describing temperance—self-control—as a fruit of the Spirit. Temperance is more than personal discipline; it is the spiritual steadiness that allows us to engage others with patience, compassion, and calm. It gives us the ability to stand in the midst of disagreement or tension without being swept away by anger or fear.

Taken together, these teachings offer a blueprint for being a bridge builder in Springfield—or anywhere.

  • Salt: Preserve what is good in our city—our relationships, civic trust, and traditions—while gently addressing what needs healing.
  • Light: Shine clarity, understanding, and hope where confusion, fear, or prejudice may lurk.
  • Temperance: Approach every conversation and interaction with balance and self-control, creating space for others to be heard and understood.

Being a bridge builder is not about taking sides or dominating conversations. It’s about embodying the presence of Christ in the community—someone who can hold space between divides, restore dialogue, and help build a more harmonious city.

In Springfield, we are each called to preserve the good, illuminate the path forward, and practice the Spirit’s fruit of temperance. Every act of kindness, every thoughtful conversation, every effort to understand someone different from ourselves adds a layer of light and salt to the life of our community.

Together, we can make Springfield a place where bridges are built, divisions are softened, and the fruits of the Spirit are visible in daily life.