When I walked into the grocery store, he was standing by the door. I’d never seen him before, but he was wearing a uniform and I knew he was an employee. I said an average hello, and he responded with a hello so happy it startled me. Then he handed me a shopping basket. I…
The Mask that Changed His Face
In an age of doubt and—worse—of apathy and cynicism, we all struggle to “believe.” We can’t believe what we blindly accepted as a child; many passages from the Bible are either confounding or troubling; taken literally, the Creed is a bridge too far. Faith or spirituality was always presented as a matter of “belief”—what you…
Love and Work
It’s Labor Day weekend, and most people won’t think a thing about labor. Work is just what we do to put bread on the table or maintain a lifestyle. Like everything else, we tend to do it mindlessly. But it would be hard to overemphasize the importance of our labor. Freud said, “Love and work…
Sixty-Four Ounce Sodas I Shall Not Want
“WE DON’T NEED BUREAUCRATS TELLING US WHAT BERVERAGES TO BUY!” That’s the dyspeptic protest I’m seeing on posters and t-shirts, sparked by New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s attempt to ban large sodas in the city. His anti-obesity crusade aims to make sixteen ounces the limit—at restaurants, delis, movie theatres, sports arenas, and food carts. This…
Goodbye Routine
Routines, habits, daily rituals are important. Get up, make the coffee, feed the dog, get the paper, shower, leave for work. Habits are efficient. If you had to get up every morning and think, “Now, what should I do first?” you’d still be sitting on the edge of your bed at noon. The downside is,…
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About the author
I’m a writing pastor, privileged to work among the people of Saint Luke’s Parish in Darien, Connecticut. I love this work. I spend my days with people who are trying to live lives of faith in a pretty forbidding world. I’m lucky—people talk to me, share their stories, nurse their doubts and questions, ask me how to find God when you’re so stressed you can hardly breathe. Mostly I listen, tell them they’re not alone. I don’t have many answers, but I love the quest. I sit in front of a screen and write my way to God. I never know where I’m going when I start, I just try to tell what amounts to a story. And when it’s true, the story takes me home.
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David Anderson
I’m a writing pastor, privilged to work among the people of Saint Luke’s Parish in Darien, Connecticut. I love this work. I spend my days with people who are trying to live lives of faith in a pretty forbidding world. I’m lucky—people talk to me, share their stories, nurse their doubts and questions, ask me how to find God when you’re so stressed you can hardly breathe. Mostly I listen, tell them they’re not alone. I don’t have many answers, but I love the quest. I sit in front of a screen and write my way to God. I never know where I’m going when I start, I just try to tell what amounts to a story. And when it’s true, the story takes me home. [Read more]
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About the author
David AndersonI’m a writing pastor, privilged to work among the people of Saint Luke’s Parish in Darien, Connecticut. I love this work. I spend my days with people who are trying to live lives of faith in a pretty forbidding world. I’m lucky—people talk to me, share their stories, nurse their doubts and questions, ask me how to find God when you’re so stressed you can hardly breathe. Mostly I listen, tell them they’re not alone. I don’t have many answers, but I love the quest. I sit in front of a screen and write my way to God. I never know where I’m going when I start, I just try to tell what amounts to a story. And when it’s true, the story takes me home. [Read more]
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