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My husband drives a beat-up white Tahoe that’s showing its age.

The Interfaith Chapel at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport doesn’t look much like a place of worship.

What is it like to parent a son or daughter with disabilities?

I know a lot of Christians who are interested in relating with Muslims these days.

“What is a pilgrim?”

The phone rings at 1 a.m.: a child is in the hospital.

How is a church like a chemo infusion center in a cancer hospital?

Who better to invite to a New Year’s Eve party than . . . Moses!

It started out as a normal Friday morning in February.

The way society and the church lift up stories of love and marriage is beautiful . . . but it is also dangerous.

It is a mistake to believe that your past no longer affects you.

Monday morning. Fourth grade. Dreaded memory verse time.

Isaiah 66:1 tells of God giving “peace like a river.” I like that.

Fifteen years ago, I said goodbye to my son. He’d only been with us for 11 months, but he was part of our family.

I am chatting with my friend Terry in a small prison yard on the outskirts of the prison where Terry has spent his days for the last three years.