I’ve been too busy to post much lately (My baby boy is walking! And getting into even more things!), but this morning I just had to share some snippets from a post by the incomparable Rachel Held Evans:

I am ashamed… I am ashamed of the walls. They are built high, with circles of barbed wire around the top, to keep pests away from our bread and wine, to keep the Silence from getting in…. I am ashamed of the violence—in our theology, in our words, in myself… I am ashamed of mission trips that hurt more than help, of hijacked stories and imagined heroics, of our industrial savior complex, and most of all, my own stubborn complicity in the very injustices I decry. There is “slavery stitched into the fabric of my clothes” but I’ve learned to ignore the itch… I am ashamed that the Church has become the scariest place to come out instead of the safest, that it  routinely shuts out the most vulnerable, the most hurting, the most despised, when those were the people Jesus started with, the people he loved most…

But I am not ashamed of the gospel… I am not ashamed of the good news that we have it backwards: Privileged are the poor, the peacemakers, the merciful, and the suffering. Cursed are the rich, the full, the merciless, the hateful… I am not ashamed that when God strapped on sandals and walked among us, God rode a donkey instead of a war horse… I am not ashamed of the Church. She is a survivor, after all, a work-in-progress, a stubborn bride-to-be. The gates of hell will not prevail against her, they say. So I guess I better quit hedging my bets… I am not ashamed because my roots are deep and the sky is tall, and there will always be some place to grow…

>>Read the full post here.

Peace out, friends.  I hope to get back on my ShackBible hobby-horse soon once again.  In the meantime, remember Papa is especially fond of you.

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