I was seven years old when the church gave God a name I feared: Father. Looking back, I realize that word was supposed to make me feel safe. It didn’t. When my Sunday School teacher prayed, “Dear Heavenly Father,”...

Fifteen-year-old Meg raised her left hand to ask a question. She sat cross-legged on the floor with the other teenagers. Her right hand gripped a piece of pepperoni pizza. In a quiet voice, she looked at Dr. McGreely and...

And I suspect I’m Not the Only One As a pastor, I loved preaching. With a Bible in one hand and a pulpit in front of me, I could tell you what almost any verse meant. I even knew...

For almost forty years, I stood behind pulpits with an open Bible in front of me. I loved the people sitting in the pews. I wanted them to know God. Whatever situation they faced, my goal was to help...

I plopped down in my easy chair in the living room. Ten minutes earlier I had rolled out of bed and made a cup of coffee. I stretched. Yawned. Put my bare feet up on the footstool. I picked...