Spirit

A black UU and her mostly white church grow and change together, and challenge one another.

‘Salvation’ isn’t a word Unitarian Universalists use much anymore.

When I try to detour around the promptings of the Holy, I inevitably get busted.

Transforming a vandal’s cinderblock.

We need to be open to resurrection—looking up, not down; listening, not stopping up our ears; feeling deeply rather than numbing ourselves with the daily routine.

It was precisely my emergent humanist belief that equipped me to face what seemed a death sentence.

There’s a fine line between medicine and poison, powerlessness and agency.

A covenant group is like a gym for the soul, an oasis in the desert.

Translucent alabaster captures the spirit of fire.

The light and the dark are like twins.

With Unitarian Universalist youth communities this past summer, I sang—to grieve and to celebrate.

Get me outside myself, say, in a yurt on an island, and whoa—there are the stars, and crickets, the body I live in, the images of the people I love.