He sat on the curb near the west-bound on-ramp to I-10 with a ratty duffle bag at his feet and a sign in his lap. As I pulled closer to make a right hand turn, I imagined I knew what his message would be. I anticipated "hungry, please help" or "need work" or "homeless vet." But his hand-lettered SOS had only one word, and it wasn't a word I expected. It simply said "West."
 Read more

A few months ago, Marva rang my doorbell. When I opened the door she introduced herself, and told me she was looking for some work to do. She explained that she had done some cleaning and outside work for other folks in my neighborhood, and wondered if I might have something for her. She was sick, she said, and needed money for medicine. She did not look well. She was very thin, and her face was scarred and drawn.

I couldn't think of anything at that moment that I needed, so I asked her what sorts of things she'd done for my neighbors. "I could clean your windows," she offered. And I thought, why not? I hadn't cleaned them in some time, and it couldn't hurt. So I walked outside and circled the house with her, counting the windows and agreeing on a price.Read more

I should be used to it by now, I know. But every time I go to a new place, meet new folks, I'm always a little ill-prepared for the sorts of questions that women typically ask one another.
"How many children do you have?" (None. Unless you count the cute one with fur. He turns four this month.)
"What does your husband do?" (This would be much easier to answer, I assume, if I were married. Which I'm not.) I've actually said -once- "I'm not sure." But I don't think the "asker" got my feeble attempt at humor.  
Then once these two awkward hurdles of social exchange are cleared, and I imagine I've escaped the getting-to-know-you-gauntlet relatively unscathed: "You mean you've never been married?" (This one is True or False, right? True. Final answer.)
Usually that's the last question in this particular line of inquiry, but occasionally, I'll get a fourth: "Really? Why not?"
When I was younger, I was prone to say with a smile, "I just haven't found a dress I like." A little later I employed "I haven't found anyone I want to ask." But then I realized a lot of women do ask or demand or set deadlines (!), and what I thought of as an absurdity might have actually been their experience. So I stopped that.
Now I just say that God hasn't seen fit yet to give me away. The question begs a longer answer, but really, this one is the essence of any further explanation I might give. My heart belongs to Him. It's His to give, and so far, if anyone's asked Him for it, He hasn't seen fit to say yes.
Do I have "the gift of singleness?" Every time I hear this phrase I think of a good friend (single well into his 40's) who likened it to the gift that no one wants--like a bad Christmas sweater or a pair of itchy pajamas. But actually, I do. Today. Because today I am single, and this day--all of it--is a gift from God. I don't know what gifts tomorrow will bring. But yes, today He's given me the "gift of singleness." And I hope to use it well.
I've never married. I've never had children. I'm not sure why. But if you asked me what part of my life so far I would have traded for the mystery behind "door number two" I'd have to say none of it. Because my Father's been very, very good to me in every season and every circumstance. And if you asked if I have any regrets, if there was "one I let slip away," I'd say I don't think so. (Although once I might have hesitated.)
I wrote a book about singleness because I was asked to, not because I wanted to. Good things came from it, but I never wanted to be just a "singles" author or a "singles" teacher, or "that girl who never married." My singleness is a present-tense fact of my life, just like the fact that I'm green eyed and Scotch-Irish, that I'm 5'7" and brown-haired, that I live in the city but dream of the country, that I love baseball and dogs and Scrabble and can't whistle or tan, and can make myself at home in five minutes with just about any book that's printed in English. It's only one fact about me. But it's not the one that defines me, any more than any of these others do.
Here's what defines me: I'm His. And I'll be His forever, no matter who else I might belong to in the meantime. That identity suits me. It fits. It's a role I'll spend a lifetime growing into. Until then, I am His to keep, and His to give away.

.Read more

“Let thy goodness like a fetter bind my wandering heart to thee.”
 
I can’t remember how old I was when these words struck me as memorable. Surely less than 10. Maybe seven, or eight. And I’d heard them sung scores of times by then. But one Sunday morning this phrase from “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing” barreled out of the choir loft and off the hymnal page straight into my heart, then rattled around there until I could try and make good sense of it.
 
I grew up in church. In the Southern Baptist Church . I heard hundreds of hymns and sermons long before I could hope to understand them. My age predates the trends of “children's church” and “age-appropriate worship.” The churches my parents and I attended deemed all worship appropriate for all ages all the time. No target marketing segmented the congregations of the Protestant South in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s. No sir. You showed up on time, parked your bottom on the pew, sat still, kept quiet, and paid attention. (And I’ve got no regrets.)
 Read more

I was in a city I'd never visited before on a Sunday, and looking for a place to worship. I found one, too - but not by Googling "churches + seattle". Instead I worshipped at the aquarium on Pier 59.Read more

“25 Random Things” has gone viral. NBC Nightly News and Associated Press have both noted that millions have responded to the “tag” to write and distribute 25 random things about themselves. Unless you are invisible on Facebook or your friends are merciful, you’ve likely been tagged yourself. It seems we’re talking about ourselves by the millions these days, thanks to this epidemic of virtual introspection.

So here are 25 random things. But not about me. This is the kind of stuff that really should be getting around, and causing some serious buzz: 

Read more

Read more

Carolyn Custis James' The Gospel of Ruth has been spurring lots of conversation among friends and colleagues who are seeing this old story through a sharper lens thanks to Carolyn's dedicated scholarship and lively writing. My own copy of The Gospel of Ruth is ink-marked, page tipped, and sticky-note glutted – and one corner of the spine has been gnawed a little, thanks to Owen, my Cavalier King Charles. I have asked questions of this manuscript, wrestled with it, and been tutored by it…a lot. Here Carolyn responds to a few of my sticky-note questions related to her newest book. Perhaps you'll have a question or two for her as well. Leigh McLeroy

The Book of Ruth changed my life. I grew up hearing and loving the story of Ruth. But as an adult, although I read and taught it many times, I never felt personally drawn to the story. The “happily-ever-after” ending always bothered me. You don’t get over the kinds of losses Naomi and Ruth suffered, no matter how many good things happen later on. Then too the book always seemed like a theological lightweight next to the weightier stories of Abraham, Moses, and David, or the writings of the prophets.

Then, I started hearing what OT scholars were saying as they continue digging in the book of Ruth.

Read more