Our creative writing team has been writing again.
The editing room is a rough place.
If you’re a writer, it’s where you mark through your favorite paragraph of witty language with a red pen—even when you don’t want to do so.
For the visual artist, it’s the pause between strokes as you discern which color and space to choose next for the canvas.
I have spoken before about what a stunning reform Biblical law was compared to the law codes of surrounding cultures. For example, the law applied equally regardless of social class; whether one was the child of a tribal chieftain or of a hewer of wood, the law was the same. There was no capital punishment for property crimes as compared to the hanging of horse thieves in our own country in the nineteenth century. The law was the same applied to the native born Israelite or the foreigner in the land.
I read the most interesting article today. Apparently, there are places in Florida, and I’m sure other states, where it is illegal to feed homeless people. Let me repeat that again – it’s illegal to feed homeless people. The article featured a picture of a 90 year-old man, who was arrested alongside two pastors in Ft. Lauderdale, and discusses the issue fairly well.
This week, I participated in a Food and Faith panel at Wake Forest University as part of National Hunger and Homelessness Awareness Week. The goal of the panel was to examine the role that faith-based groups could and should play in combatting the problems our nation faces with hunger and homelessness.
“I know how churches can be. I wouldn’t want to take anyone’s pew.”
I hear a lot of reasons why people don’t go to church: everything from theological differences to work schedules to football games to a desire to sleep late. What I did not expect to hear was this statement: a fear of entering a new place with new faces and sitting somewhere that someone else regularly sits. Many of us churchgoers probably have stories of being on one or both sides of the pew: as the person uncomfortably sitting where someone else is staring or the person uncomfortably staring at the person who is sitting.
I pass by them every Thursday on the way to school. Sometimes I try not to look because the site of it takes me days to get over. So much for “break my heart for what breaks Yours.” The run-down shack of a house, beat up car in the dirt drive, the worn out clothes hanging on souls with skin. It’s more than I can take.