In this second article in a three-part series, we’ll explore my second-and-almost-as-important rule of writing for Lutherans: Tell the truth.
Writing is hard. Always. It takes time and discipline, skill and creativity, guts and humility, no matter the context or the audience.
I first encountered morning and evening colors at Naval Station Newport in Rhode Island.
It began with one of the most powerful superspreading events in history: three thousand people at a single gathering. Although civil authorities were immediately concerned and quickly stepped up enforcement efforts in an attempt to isolate and quarantine the infected, it was too late. First the contagion spread like wildfire throughout the city, then it popped up seemingly at random in another city three hundred miles away and quickly spread there.
On paper, the home we had rented sight-unseen was perfect. It had the appropriate number of bedrooms and bathrooms for a family our size.
Weeds rank high on the list of a gardener’s least favorite things, right up there with drought, blight, wilt, groundhogs, rabbits, parsley worms and potato beetles.
If the only place the church could gather to hear the Word and receive the Sacraments was a [catacomb/graveyard/prison camp], would I go?
It may seem for all the world as though death is the end of love. But it is not so. In Christ, love never ends (1 Cor. 13:8).
Look ahead to the 2019 Synod Convention with previews of overtures, nominees for president, essays, the opening service and more in the June/July issue of The Lutheran Witness.
Readers curious to know more about who the Holy Spirit is and how He works will find plenty to ponder in the May issue of The Lutheran Witness.
Christ alone. It seems so simple, so elementary. Every Lutheran knows and believes that, don’t they? And yet … how often do we forget?
Lasagna and honey ham, lemon bars and snickerdoodles … There’s something heavenly about a potluck.