acrylic on canvas
They’re a conservative Christian family. Church on Sundays, Bible reading every night. Born again. They’re looking for a church where their teen boys can fit in. But they’ve had a hard time finding a church that would accept them, one that isn’t a gay church, that is. I was talking to my old college roommate. […]
Nigger is a nasty word. Like any other word, there’s nothing offensive about those particular letters strung together. It’s the connotation, and this one has a history as ugly as any. It has been spit out with venom and hatred, with whipping, chains, and every kind of inhumanity. I don’t know how Paula Deen said […]
These shoes look like ordinary high tops, in the Converse style that a lot of people are wearing these days. Actually, they’re much more, and not because they’re this incredible, burnished bronze, reminiscent of something Renaissance, or because they’re so comfortable (unlike most of the hard, flat, archless versions of this style), or because they […]
I want to read Emily Freeman’s book, Grace for the Good Girl, the way my three year old wanted to hear me talk about him on his play phone. He would hand me the phone and wait expectantly while I gave the listener a play by play description of his activities. He wanted to see […]
I was an urban professional with a preference for black and steel walking into a family of colonial country plaid and floral.
She did not like the idea of her husband being with another woman, especially not her maid, and she was glad that part was over. Was it her imagination, or was Hagar patronizing her?
Where in her life had she made the Wrong Turn? What had she done to deserve a barren womb? And where was God in all of this? What was the good of a God who controlled all things, if at best, he forgot you, or at worst, botched everything up?
He was not a coward. No, not in many things. But he had an irrational fear, a foreboding almost, that someone might kill him to get at Sarah.
“Take your son, your only son, Isaac, whom you love … . Abraham’s heart had dropped to the pit of his stomach. He could feel the sweat cold on his temples, as he thought, “Lord, could this please not be a hard request, another stretching, another move beyond my comfort zone?” He had wanted to cover his ears, but he could not cover God’s mouth, and God had continued as if he had not known Abraham’s desperate thoughts, as if it did not matter.
God did things his way and in his time, and things were not always what they seemed. He could be trusted, but he was not predictable. This much he had learned, or perhaps was still learning. How could he explain this to Sarah? How could he expect her to hope again when he could give her none of the assurances she would expect?
Hagar had always been carried along by the current of other people’s lives. In Egypt she had been sold as a slave to the highest bidder. Abraham bought her and Sarah took her as her personal servant. They had brought her to Canaan, and then quite unexpectedly, her own body, her womb, had been called into service.