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Born into privilege, Pharaoh’s daughter was nursed on narratives of Egyptian greatness. She grew up among the elite, watching them parade through the palace with their curried favor and entourage of servants. She never lifted a finger and never knew any different. Life was good alongside the Great Nile River, which seemed to wind and bend to her father’s command. She’d often visit the various balconies of his household and observe the slow rise of the mighty pyramids. She marveled…

Exodus is my favorite story in the Hebrew Bible. It is a foundational narrative that never ceases to offer rich metaphors, deep challenges and new trajectories. There is a reason we hear the drumbeat throughout the Torah and the rest of Scripture: "Remember, remember, remember when you were once slaves in Egypt." I still cannot shake the imagery of the brickyard first introduced to me by Walter Brueggemann. He made the brickyard, the incessant quotas, the fears and power of…

[caption id="attachment_1538" align="aligncenter" width="700"] PHOTO CREDIT: Tina Francis // taken in Burundi one summer afternoon[/caption] Reading through Proverbs lately I noticed, as if for the first time, the preponderance of women. They are everywhere among the words of wisdom. There is Lady Wisdom, the great personification, and the lesser Folly. We meet wives, mothers, an adulteress and the woman of valor among many other women offering instruction to all who would listen. I could imagine a reader nearly missing the…

The rebel in me stirred. Walking barefoot across the living room I felt the fist push through me. Oh yes, my inner rebel was roused. A younger version of me would have assumed this surge of rebellion synced with the sin of Eve, wanting more than is mine to have, desiring that which lives beyond my capacity to manage or comprehend. A rebel reaching for another piece of forbidden fruit for which I must be chided. But quick as I…

The Hebrews danced to the emphatic beating of the drums across the Red Sea, leaving behind the brickyards forever. They sang “The horse and rider YHWH has thrown into the sea!” as they moved beyond the reach of their taskmasters. Moses led the liberation parade as Miriam played her tambourine along the edge accompanied by a band of women. What a sight for sore, slave-weary eyes. I played a tambourine when I was young. It was small, made of chestnut…

If I’m honest, raising a son is hard. His constant motion, excited yelling, incessant questions and natural velocity try me. Every day. Keeping up with his curiosity, appetite and homework wear me out. But it’s not what keeps me up at night. How do I mother my spirited son toward peace in a world bent toward violence? This circles round me like a small but ever-present, ever-determined mosquito. Spending summers in Africa I know something of determined mosquitoes – get…

  [caption id="attachment_510" align="alignleft" width="150"] via Creative Commons[/caption] Some moments generate such momentum that song spills out naturally. Right in the middle of Les Miserables I became a gushing spring - singing aloud, waving my arms so caught in the moment and held captive by a Kingdom-size dream. In a unique way song allowed my voice to climb and try to keep pace with my soaring spirit. No wonder Mary turned to song when the angel announced the conception of…