I’ve never been much for New Year’s resolutions. It’s not that I don’t believe in growth or intention—clearly I do—but the language of resolutions  has always felt a little too rigid for me. Too much pressure. Too much room for self-judgment when life inevitably gets messy. I tend to work better with hopes, intentions, and gentle goals that leave space for grace. That said, this year I am holding onto a very specific hope: I want to read more. The reality is that since 2020,

The new year always arrives with a kind of quiet insistence. It doesn’t knock loudly like a holiday or demand attention the way a birthday does. It simply shows up, standing there in the doorway of our lives, asking us to notice what has been carried forward and what might be ready to be folded differently. For me, this noticing often begins in the most ordinary of places: the laundry room. Laundry has a way of marking time. Loads come and go with the rhythm of weeks and seas

There is a list every December. It’s long, ambitious, and full of good intentions. It holds the things that should  happen, the things that would make Christmas feel just right if I could only check every box. And every year, somewhere between Advent hope and Christmas Eve exhaustion, I am reminded that not everything on the list is meant to be finished. The essentials get done. Most of the teacher gifts did get done, and that feels like a small miracle in itself. Worship is

Families waiting to visit with the one and only Santa Clause at Silverton UMC. Advent always begins with waiting, but I’m not sure I ever realize how much waiting we actually do this time of year until we’re deep into it. For our family, these early days of Advent in our family have been full—full of the usual traditions, the yearly rhythms we’ve come to love, the little markers that tell us Christmas is on its way. We’ve been selling Christmas trees at my son’s school tree f

Every now and then, a metaphor pops into my brain that’s just too good to ignore. I love cooking and baking competitions. Lately I’ve been watching a lot of Chopped and The Great British Bake off. Chopped is a frantic Food Network show where chefs are handed a mystery basket of ingredients. As I was watching Chopped the other day,  I thought: Oh my goodness… this is also pastoring. To be honest, for a fleeting moment, I thought this metaphor applied during COVID pastoring too

C & C at the Fall Showcase It’s a beautiful thing when you see someone—especially a kid—find that spark, that thing that lights them up from the inside out. But here’s the truth we don’t talk about enough: even when you find  your passion, it doesn’t always come easily. Sometimes you hit a wall. Sometimes you want to quit. And sometimes, that’s the exact moment you’re on the edge of a breakthrough. This past summer, my son was ready to hang up his drumsticks. We’ve always tri

A bright orange guitar pick with Gsus Saves on it. My office manager handed me this guitar pick earlier this week — bright orange, with the words “Gsus Saves” and a guitar chord chart printed right on it. I laughed out loud at first. It’s clever, right? A pun that strums right at the intersection of faith and music. But the longer I held it in my hand, the more I realized — there’s actually a little theology in this tiny triangle of plastic. On one side, there’s the Gsus chor

The start of something beautiful - I've been tasked to make a stole - one that will be shared among the Elders in our Annual Conference. I rounded out my renewal leave this week with an Order of Elders gathering in Hood River, OR. I found myself throughout our time together, sitting in that familiar space between conviction and questioning — that tender tension where God’s Spirit tends to do some of the best work. For the past few months, I’ve been wrestling with some vocatio

From childhood faith to justice-centered music, my story reminds me: the Spirit calls us to resist with love. Where do your roots lead you?

We know something about waiting in the church world. We’re quite good at it, actually.

Last year, I planted two  pumpkin plants. Two. That’s it. Somehow, those plants took it as their personal mission to make me the Pumpkin...

What does Christian perfection REALLY mean? As a United Methodist clergyperson, I have a love-hate relationship with the word perfection....

This picture is one of my absolute favorites of me in the midst of ministry. It pops up on my Facebook memories every year in late...

Because no matter our age or stage, the work of becoming is never finished. And thanks be to God for that.

Say what you mean and mean what you say On my 10th birthday, my Mom gave me a gift that I have cherished above all others. I had already...

A relationship with God isn’t meant to be static. It’s not a single well-worn recipe you memorize and never change. It’s alive, dynamic, and full of opportunities to grow.

There is something mesmerizing about sitting on the edge of a swimming pool and simply watching kids play. No phone in hand. No book open...

Here’s the thing: the church is not called to be a factory of platitudes. We are called to be a community of presence. A people of gritty, grounded, and grace-filled truth.

A pile. Here’s something that might not show up in a tidy Instagram square or make it into a catchy blog title: one of the biggest...

A few weeks ago, my office manager Jill and I took a day trip to Oregon State University to attend a presentation by Oregon Public Broadcasting (OPB).