born and raised twice in the bay, I preach Jesus and him crucified
2 Kings 6.8-23; Psalm 34.7; Romans 8.31; Luke 24.13-35 Me in 1987, poised on the running board of a 1939 Desoto In 1987, the world felt full of boundless possibilities. It still does. Stranger still is how Things seem to have always been that way. We all begin life with a sense of wonder. As children, every day felt expansive and safe,... Continue Reading →
Bernardo Cavallino, The Stoning of Saint Stephen, c. 1641–1642. Oil on canvas. Museo del Prado, Madrid. Public domain. Some weeks feel heavier than others. A sense that life presses harder than we expected. A fear that we are not as faithful as we wish. Or a longing for God to break in with mercy again.... Continue Reading →
Andy Warhol's Campbell's Soup Cans paintings displayed at the Museum of Modern Art Exodus tells the story of a young people who keep thinking God has left the cupboards bare. They walk out of Egypt free, but fear trails them into the desert. The wilderness becomes the place where they discover that the One who... Continue Reading →
Lunch in Samaria, 2022 @Phillip W. Martin As Thanksgiving approaches, I have been thinking some about two moments from my early years. In 1994 I lived in Palestine, Texas, and received an invitation from Mom Brown. She was the mother of my mom’s high school friend, but after her daughter passed she became a bonus... Continue Reading →
@Phillip W. Martin, sunset over Dunlap, TN Three funerals in eight days. Grief has a way of clearing your sight. You start to see how much of life is gift. A shared meal. A phone call. A small kindness. Time with the people God gives us is holy. Ecclesiastes 7.2 tells us that the house... Continue Reading →
Phillip W. Martin 