This post was something I wrote years ago for my friend Mark Scandrette when he was exploring what the soul of money might be (long before a book of the same name by a different author was released). I’d somehow lost this article and was surprised to come across it
My friend Brenda Salter-McNeil has a new book being released so I asked her to give us a sneak preview. Trust me when I say you will want to read this one. Brenda writes with passion and transparency while always keeping truth at the center of her message. Sometimes her
Black lives matter to me. This makes some of my friends uncomfortable. Usually, for two reasons: they want to say all lives matter, and/or they want to point to the eponymous organization Black Lives Matter which has an agenda they find upsetting. Well, nonsense. Our hearts and minds have become
I’ve lost track of the number of boards I’ve served on. From organizations I’ve started myself to boards that have been around for nearly a century. They’ve included churches, foundations, mission groups, retreat centers, colleges, conferences, and companies. The common denominator in them all? Building a good board is hard
Tony Campolo has been a friend for decades. We first met in a brief encounter when he spoke at my college. Our friendship grew through letters — remember those? On several occasions through the years he spoke and advocated for ministries D’Aun and I were involved with. Last month Tony
Summer time is here, so I’m recycling some of my favorite posts from past years. This one was especially fun to write because I was on a roll — or rather, on a rant! So I’m reposting this for your summer reading amusement: Please don’t call me a thought leader.
The first half of 2020 has come and gone, and it was certainly a half-year to remember. Common themes of the first half include Covid-19, the economy, Black Lives Matter, and the US Election. My reading reflected some of these themes. Okay, so I didn’t read scientific journals about the
Growing up in the junkyard meant working in the impure and unclean. Actually, not just working in it, but embracing it. It was routine to come home covered in grease, dust, oil, and sweat. After a long day of work with my dad, my mom would insist I go through