OK. So, yes, I am a “white male church guy.” And, yes, this is my giveaway. But the top ten list isn’t mine!
Earlier this month, Lore Ferguson Wilbert (one of my favorite bloggers and social media follows) posted her (snarkily named) “Not Your White Male Church Guy’s Top Ten List.” She describes it as “my top ten books by women this year with the assurance that these are actually my top ten books this year—and not just a conciliatory nod toward my own gender.” (Go follow Lore on her website, Twitter, Insta, and Facebook.)
I have great faith in Lore’s reading recommendations and so immediately decided to make this my personal reading list and my January giveaway (I decided to steal the snarky name). So I added Lore’s bonus mention and one of my favorite books of 2018 to round out the list to 12. One winner will receive the entire list. I’m adding four runner-up prizes so that a few others can take something home. (See the list and entry form below.)
But before we get to entering there’s something even more exciting… Continue reading “Not Your White Male Church Guy’s Top Ten List Giveaway”
I believe the Gospel.
Some of my theology is wrong.
Some of my theology will be wrong at death.
The Bible doesn’t indicate that God is in a constant state of annoyance with, anxiety over, or suspicion of me.
He patiently loves and teaches me.
How ought we to love one another?
Yesterday, my alma mater, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, released the results of a one-year study—”Report on Slavery and Racism in the History of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary.”
It is a severe and sobering thing to consider:
My formal theological education (and therefore a significant part of my ministry) was built on the backs of slaves.
Without them, my alma mater would have failed long before I arrived.
This grieves me.
Several years ago, I went for a long walk in my wife’s hometown while staying there on vacation. As I looked down the sidewalk, I noticed a well-to-do looking woman walking toward me. As she reached the intersection a block ahead, she crossed the street. Then she continued to walk in the same direction. I assumed she lived on that side of the street. At the end of the block, I glanced back. Once past me, she crossed back to my side of the street and continued on her way.
I wondered for a moment at her action. Why had she crossed the street? There was no mud or broken sidewalk or dogs to avoid. Then it dawned on me—she crossed the street to avoid me.
I wondered at that for a moment. Why did this woman want to avoid me?
Then it hit me.
Continue reading “Seeing Down Both Sides of the Street”