by Lori Wilson We have now turned the page in our seasons, and we are in spring. Yet I realize that through this last part of winter, I have been longing for Light—longing to see God in the midst of this world, in the midst of memories I have been working through. Times in my life when I felt lost, alone, and afraid. I realize I was waiting in what felt like darkness, longing for God to be my light. It's not easy sometimes to realize that you have healed from something in you

by Lori Wilson I'm beginning to notice how certain weather patterns call me into a deeper stillness, into a day of true contemplation. A heavy snowfall invites me into profound quiet. I find myself noticing gifts I might otherwise take for granted - the warmth of radiators humming, coffee steaming in my hands, the weight of a blanket, the companionship of those nearby, the technology that lets me text my children and check in with friends. Snow creates this cocoon of awarenes

by Lori Wilson A Lenten Reflection The Misunderstood Disciple Judas is one of the most misunderstood and disregarded people in the Holy Week story. We don't know much about him—his growing up, his family life, what drew him to follow Jesus in the first place. As Jason Royle explores in his book Judas: Hero Misunderstood, there may be layers to Judas's story that we've missed, dimensions of his character that deserve our compassion rather than our quick judgment. What we do kn

by Lori Wilson I had coffee with a friend last week, and halfway through our conversation, he paused and said, "But what do you actually need right now, Lori?" The question stopped me. Not "How are you?" Not "What's new?" But what do you need? I realized I'd been talking around everything—updating him on tasks, sharing stories, filling the space—without really saying what was true. His question created an opening. It invited me past the surface into something more real. And s

by Lori Wilson As I become more wise (or perhaps, as I grow older and hopefully wiser), I'm learning that my life's worth doesn't lie in productivity. I am invited to be a human being, not a human doing. And yet I have spent decades as a doer, priding myself on how much I could accomplish in a day, a week, a month, a year. Jesus invites me to take care of myself, to love myself so that I can love others. I hear this clearly in his words: "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Matt

by Lori Wilson Last week marked my birthday - Valentine's Day. I've always loved this day, but not for the reasons the stores would have me believe. Not the sugary-sweet version with its carnival of pink cards and candy hearts. I'm thinking of something richer, more complex. The dark chocolate kind of love - the kind that's an acquired taste, that reveals its depth slowly, that has a little bitterness alongside the sweetness. I think about St. Valentine, that third-century ma

by Lori Wilson A directee recently shared something that stopped me in my tracks. She had been praying with Matthew 5:13-16 - you know the passage: "You are the salt of the earth... You are the light of the world." But instead of the usual focus on being salt and light, she heard an invitation to see it. What if each person we encounter is salt and light for us? What if the person standing in front of us - this specific person, right now - has something that could illuminate

A Reflection for the New Year by Lori Wilson God has been speaking to me through a hymn—"The Summons" by John Bell from the Iona Community in Scotland. The questions in this song have been following me, gently persistent: Will you come and follow me if I call your name? Will you go where you don't know and never be the same? Will you let my love be shown? Will you let my Name be known? Will you let my life be grown in you and you in me? These aren't questions for the new

by Lori Wilson As Advent begins, our hearts turn to Mary and Joseph - to their costly yes. When the angel Gabriel came to Mary, she didn't understand. "How can this be?" she asked (Luke 1:34). She was being invited to risk everything - her reputation, her safety, her certainty about what life would be. Her parents' dreams for her. Joseph's trust. The simple future she'd imagined. And yet she said yes: "I am the Lord's servant. May your word to me be fulfilled" (Luke 1:38). Jo

by Lori Wilson Another shooting. Another sanctuary violated. Another community shattered. I find myself sitting with a grief that has no bottom, a weariness that threatens to pull me under. How many more times will we gather to mourn children who will never grow old? How many more communities will have their sense of safety torn away? And I keep returning to Jesus. Jesus, who looked at the crowds and said, “Blessed are the peacemakers.” Jesus, who taught us to turn the other