The Abbey

04/28/2026

04/25/2026

Hi everyone,
Heather and I are hosting a casual potluck dinner at our place this Sunday to celebrate The Abbey surviving one more year! It’ll be a wonderful chance to get together and catch up one last time before the summer break kicks in.

The Details:
When: Sunday, 5:30 PM – 9:00 PM
Where: 365 Beaver Street, Summerside

We’ll be providing the drinks and some food. For those who would like to bring something more food is always welcome—but please, no pressure at all to do so!
Looking forward to seeing you all there and celebrating together.

04/22/2026

The Harvard Study of Adult Development is one of the longest formalized studies of human life ever conducted. Beginning in 1938, “it has tracked the same individuals and their families, asking thousands of questions and taking hundreds of measurements—from brain scans to blood work—with the goal of discovering what really makes for a goodlife” (HSAD website). Today, that study is still ongoing, now in its ninth decade, following more than 1,300 descendants of the original 724 male participants.

Last week, we watched a 2015 TED Talk from Dr. Robert Waldinger, the study's fourth director. His conclusion, then as it still is today, is that after all these years of following these young men’s lives—and now the lives of their children and grandchildren—strong relationships have the greatest impact on physical health, mental health, and longevity. In the TED talk, Waldinger boiled it down simply: “Good relationships keep us happier and healthier. Period.”

This study originally caught my eye because I have long argued that my greatest unearned advantage in life is not my skin color, gender, or s*xual orientation, but the fact that I was born and raised in a healthy, well-adjusted home. While we were not financially affluent by any means—and I grew up amidst the chaos of having four brothers and no sisters, which created its own brand of dysfunction—at the end of the day, there was an unwavering foundation of assurance that my parents loved one another and each of us.

Beyond that, and this is what I want to focus on tonight, I grew up in a healthy spiritual community. The church my dad pastored here in Summerside was my second home, and its members were my extended family. In so many ways, I was a lost child at school. Academically, I did poorly; emotionally, I was all over the place; and because I was the smallest kid, I was the target of relentless bullying. But unlike many children who feel lonely and isolated in school, I had a supportive community outside those walls where I could find refuge and a sense of belonging.

What makes a healthy spiritual community, and why are they so hard to find today?
To answer the second question first, we can’t talk about community,or the lack thereof, and ignore the impact of social media. In so many cases, offline communities have steadily moved online, including religious ones. This migration from face-to-face interactions to living life in front of a screen has transformed how we communicate.

We are still being told that social media is part of the solution to the "loneliness epidemic." It is, after all, designed for social connection. Yet paradoxically, multiple studies show that the more time people spend interacting online, the more likely they are to experience increased loneliness and isolation.

The reason is not simply that social media directly causes loneliness; it is that people are choosing to spend hours on it, sacrificing time that would otherwise be spent engaging in the real world with friends and family. Yes, it increases our ability to connect with others in both sheer numbers and across greater distances, but it reduces the quality of those interactions.

For me, when I message people online, it takes much longer to communicate through writing than it does to speak in person. The reason is simple: it takes time and effort to choose the right words to convey the intended emotion and tone that would be obvious in a face-to-face interaction. Fewer words are needed in person because anywhere from 65–93% of all communication is nonverbal.

Misunderstandings are more common online, and when they occur, they are rarely rectified in real time; the delay can be hours or even days before a response is given, if one is given at all. You can be part of a thriving online community, spend hours engaging with that group, and still feel utterly lonely.

I get a lot of flak for this opinion, but I believe the communities that best mitigate loneliness and isolation are exclusively offline. Whatever online components exist must be treated as a necessity rather than a convenience. To put it more bluntly: online engagement should never come at the expense of time spent together in person.

So tonight, I want to talk about the markers of a healthy spiritual community.

First, they are multi-generational. Churches that cater exclusively to young people or the elderly tend to be unbalanced. Each generation brings something crucial. It is the blending of hope for change with the acceptance of what cannot be changed that gives a community perspective. The passion of the young meets the wisdom of the old! The lived experience of seniors finds new life in the energy of youth. Sometimes people my age simply need to get out of the way and let this short but precious window of time, where the oldest and youngest bring out the best in one another, happen as it has throughout human history.

Second, they are multi-perspective. In today’s culture, this may be the rarest and most difficult trait to navigate. We live in a polarized world, shaped by online algorithms that divide us into ideological echo chambers where our beliefs are rarely challenged and those who disagree are demonized.

Communities that include different points of view inevitably create friction. Yet, being able to first build relationships and bond over the 90% we share in common makes a world of difference when confronted with the areas where we disagree—especially compared to arguing with a stranger online. A bit of friction within the foundation of real-life relationships is a good thing. It tends to grind down the sharp edges of our political and theological dogmas. Our beliefs become more nuanced, and we gain a greater appreciation for those who don’t share them.

Third, healthy spiritual communities are multi-focused. They are not sustained by rallying around a single idea or issue. This is another area where I get pushback.

The cause nearest to my heart for the past 25 years has been the Pride movement. In that quarter-century, I have seen an unprecedented societal shift toward the embrace of LGBTQ rights. Within the Christian community, while progress has been slower due to theological and biblical obstacles, the change is still impressive.

Yet, over the last few years, I have noticed that there are those within this movement—most often the "allies" rather than people who identify as LGBTQ—who are angrier and more intolerant of any divergence from full-hearted allegiance to the cause than ever before. The original spirit of that movement, captured in the inclusive message of “love is love,” has often given way to a more combative stance.

Often, this is what happens when a community's identity, motivation, and energy become sustained through grievance rather progress and healing. This is happening across an ever-fragmenting society, on both the left and the right. As traditional marginalized communities are broken into smaller and smaller sub-groups, a competitive race for recognition now seems to be the norm.

This leads to the fourth point: healthy spiritual communities reduce fragmentation rather than highlighting it. They celebrate unity in diversity rather than focusing solely on differences. While uplifting our differences ensures each person’s identity is valued, going too far creates an imbalance that privileges the "fragment" above the "whole." When communities find a balance between individualism and the collective, both benefit. And when that balance also incorporates caring for the world outside of that community, it adds positive value to all three.

Fifth, healthy spiritual communities minimize the “us-versus-them” dynamic. Communities whose identity is shaped by what or who they are against tend to be insular and offer little value to the outside world.

Finally, healthy spiritual communities are welcoming even to those who bring negative energy and anger. It has become "in vogue" to surround oneself only with positivity and shun anyone who might bring the mood down. Like individuals, fragile communities often marginalize people who disrupt the "good vibes." Healthy churches, however, can absorb a level of negativity and conflict that would unravel others. They trust that the cohesion of the whole is more transformative than the disruption of the one. They recognize that those who arrive with the most negativity are often the ones who need the protection of a loving community the most.

A poem by Edwin Markham captures this perfectly:
He drew a circle that shut me out
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But love and I had the wit to win:
We drew a circle and took him in!

YEAR END - CLOSING REMARKS

I didn’t have a chance to check, but I’m pretty sure this is the ninth last service of the year that I have held. When I began the Abbey close to a decade ago, the purpose was not to facilitate community. My intention was simply to create a space where individuals felt free to come and go without being accosted by a greeter or feeling any pressure to be part of something more organized. I saw it as a drop-in center for sacred space and theological reflection.

In many ways, this service was designed based on what I would want if I were to walk into a new church for the first time. What never occurred to me is what I would want this place to be the 10th, the 15th, or the 25th time I walked through these doors. Would I still desire to be a stranger in a sanctuary of other strangers?

One of the things that opened my eyes happened last fall when, due to a scheduling conflict with the church, I had to cancel our service. Instead of taking the week off, I decided to invite anyone who was interested to our place for a potluck dinner. I expected maybe five or six people to show up, but to my surprise, everyone who could have made it was there.

After it was over, I received so many comments about how nice it was to finally have a real conversation with this person or that person—people who had previously been limited to a quick "hello" before or after the service. It was this recognition for me, and probably for all of us, that we might have, over these years, accidentally become a community.

I won’t lie: this idea that the Abbey is a community fills me with some apprehension. It means I’m not just invested in this service, but also in each of you—and to some degree, you in me, and you with one another. Whatever that means, however long we have, I’m so glad to have you with me to share this journey.

04/11/2026

We are back this Sunday night, April 12th, @ 7 pm, Summerside Trinity United.

04/04/2026

Happy Easter, everyone!

03/28/2026

This Sunday, March 29th, is our annual Easter Service. It begins at 7pm at Summerside Trinity United.

03/26/2026

For the past ten years, Donald Trump has been at the center of political discourse, not just in the US, but globally. If you have spent any time watching the news or doom-scrolling through social media, you may be thinking that things surely cannot get any worse. Yet every day, Trump and his sycophants are able to find new and creative ways to make the world a bit bleaker, less kind, and more unsafe.

By any metric, we know the negative impact this US administration has had on society is real. It will continue to be felt through the remaining years of Trump’s term and long after he is gone.

It is, however, the cost of lost opportunity, that we will regret the most. The window to mitigate the worst impact of climate change came and went, barely noticed. Mirroring what we have done to the planet, the existential threat posed by big tech companies who have stripped-mined human attention and social cohesion for profit with no consquences. A generation of children had their childhood stolen by screens and social media, while AI, with minimal resistance, has rapidly integrated itself into our daily lives in ways none of us yet understand.

The good news is Donald Trump won’t be in power forever. While the US is still two and a half years away from electing a new president., in reality, he has months, not years, left wielding significant unrestrained power. His base has fractured over a number of issues, including the war in Iran and the handling of the Epstein files. His poll numbers are historically low, and the likelihood that the Democrats will win majorities in both the House and the Senate in this November’s midterm election is rapidly increasing. If this happens it should, at least in theory, rein in the worst of his administration’s impulses.

With all that being said, I don’t believe we’ll see a notable improvement in the state of the world by the end of 2026. We will be dealing with the consequential impact of the Trump years for decades after he’s gone. I expect this year, like the past number of years, will end with relief that it is finally over. But maybe, unlike in recent years, we will be a bit more optimistic about the future as power dynamics of our southern neighbour shift.

It is tempting to approach these last two and a half years of the Trump presidency as a waiting period. If we can hang on and survive long enough, when it’s over we can begin transitioning back to our former way of life. For Canada, this means a return to an integrated economy with the United States. But is this what we want?

The now-famous speech Mark Carney gave at the World Economic Forum in Davos, titled "Principled and pragmatic: he argues Canada's path within the US-led, rules-based international order has been permanently broken. Carney stated, "The world is in the midst of a permanent rupture rather than a temporary transition.”

He closed his speech this way:

"We know the old order is not coming back. We shouldn't mourn it. Nostalgia is not a strategy, but we believe that from the fracture, we can build something bigger, better, stronger, more just. This is the task of the middle powers, the countries that have the most to lose from a world of fortresses and most to gain from genuine cooperation.

The powerful have their power.

But we have something too – the capacity to stop pretending, to name reality, to build our strength at home and to act together."

Whether you voted for Mark Carney or not, I think most Canadians appreciate his longer-term vision of forging a new path for Canada, rather than returning to the old way of doing things - and then in six years, expecting history not to repeat itself. The world as it was is the world that made the rise of Donald Trump not just likely, but inevitable. To wish for a return to that world is to ignore the often-repeated quote about the definition of insanity, “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

Mark Carney’s warning against nostalgia should serve as a wake-up call for the Christian church. I think it’s time for the Church to begin preparing to live in a world after Trump. This begins with a clear and public delineation between Christianity and Christian nationalism. It means denouncing Christian nationalism as an anti-Christian movement that wraps itself in the symbols and familiar vocabulary of our religion, but whose prioritizing of national identity and worship of political power is the antithesis of Jesus’ message.

At the same time, we must work to create greater fellowship within Christian denominations, recognizing that the Church is not a political party with a left or right ideology; our allegiance is not to a country but to God and to one another. While we may at times disagree with our theology and in the way we read the Bible, we share a clear understanding of where God’s demands lie. “What does the LORD require of you?” asks Micah. “To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God”. This means caring for the poor, the immigrant, and those on the margins of society. This is a major theme throughout scripture, both in the Old and New Testaments.

In the same way that Canada is a middle power among other countries, within the realm of social institutions, the Church is a middle power. It has some modest influence, but cannot unilaterally shape the world.

To effect change, the Church must then work with other middle powers, whether that be local municipalities, educators, community organizers, the medical community, or small businesses. The Christian Church can serve as a moral compass within in a coalition of middle powers, pushing for greater attentiveness to the concerns of those who need help the most.
From a practical perspective, having a positive impact on the world begins with having an impact in our local communities.

To quote environmentalist and author Paul Hawken, “real change occurs from the bottom up; it occurs person to person, and it almost always occurs in small groups and locales and then bubbles up and aggregates to larger vectors of change.

Within the wider community of faith we must show greater unity in speaking out against the abuses of the powerful: large corporations, big tech companies, and governments that operate in ways that benefit the rich at the expense of the poor, and the planet. This means seeing the world through a lens that transcends national borders, religious affiliations, and income status.

When the “Make America Great Again” and Christian Nationalism’s influence is finally pushed into the margins, the Church will be called to welcome back into fellowship the prodigal sons and daughters who have be duped. It will mean forgoing reciprocity in favour of forgiveness, resisting the temptation continue the cycle of resentment. We must show grace rather than contempt for those for those who differ on social justice issues, understanding that we are all in different part of our spiritual journey. And finally means heeding these words of the prophet Isiah:

Shout out; do not hold back!
Lift up your voice like a trumpet!
Announce to my people their rebellion,
to the house of Jacob their sins.
Yet day after day they seek me
and delight to know my ways,
as if they were a nation that practiced righteousness
and did not forsake the ordinance of their God;
they ask of me righteous judgments;
they want God on their side...

(This is) the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the straps of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
..to share your bread with the hungry
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?...
If you offer your food to the hungry
and satisfy the needs of the afflicted,
then your light shall rise in the darkness
and your gloom be like the noonday.

The Lord will guide you continually
and satisfy your needs in parched places
and make your bones strong,
and you shall be like a watered garden,
like a spring of water
whose waters never fail.
Your ancient ruins shall be rebuilt;
you shall raise up the foundations of many generations;
you shall be called the repairer of the breach,
the restorer of streets to live in.

03/11/2026

https://summersideabbey.com/services/

Last Week's reflection and music selections are up on our website.

02/25/2026

Whenever I walk through the doors of an evangelical church, it is an experience of mixed emotions. It doesn’t happen a lot anymore, at most a couple of times a year, occasionally out of my own volition, but more often as part of family visits.

These rare Sunday mornings come with a great deal of personal angst. When I take my first step onto the walkway to the church's front door, I feel like the prodigal son returning to a home that once felt so safe. Before entering the church, I take a deep breath to mentally prepare for what lies ahead.

Once inside, I’m greeted warmly at the door and offered a bulletin. As a piano plays in the background, I enter the sanctuary and quickly take my seat. I stare at the bulletin, pretending to read it while feeling others' eyes on me. A few people stop by and introduce themselves, shake my hand, and welcome me to their church. Their names and even their faces are a blur as the forgotten familiarity of these surroundings rushes back. That feeling of nostalgia.
The service finally begins with the pastor welcoming everyone and offering a special greeting to visitors. My eyes immediately return to the bulletin, eliminating any chance of making eye contact with her.

After a list of announcements and a few odds and ends, everyone is asked to stand and the music begins. Two electric guitars and a young kid on a drum set start rocking out to the first song, "How Great Is Our God," A song letting God know that we know how awesome God is. In the corner of my eye, I see someone’s hand begin to rise. Before long, more go up. By the time the second song begins, half the church has their arms in the air, some with both extended upward in a vee, others with just one hand, fingers stretched out reaching towards the heavens. And there is always at least one introvert in the crowd, elbows tucked tightly to their side, hand raised ever so slightly in front of their chest, nervously shifting their weight from one foot to the other. By this time, my anxiety is rising, I keep my slightly shaking hands firmly in my pockets, as my whole body tenses.

Other songs follow, a quick succession of identical-sounding high-energy music, repeatedly marvelling at the power and beauty of God and the salvation found in the name of Jesus. Then suddenly things become more quiet, more intimate, as the music becomes personal.
After a couple of ballad-like songs, the singing stops and the instruments continue to play quietly in the background. The worship leader, in a reverent yet urgent tone, offers a prayer acknowledging Jesus’ worthiness to receive all of the praise given, while invoking the Holy Spirit to speak to the hearts of all those in the sanctuary.

An invitation is extended for anyone to come up to the front of the sanctuary to kneel and pray. The singing begins again, this time on the theme of surrendering to God. Individuals leave their seats, first one, then another, and then five more to make their way up to the altar.
In the quiet I can hear a soft sob echoing from the front. There is a pit in my stomach the size of a grapefruit and I begin to feel nauseous. I sit down, take out a hymnal and flip through it, landing on the section with the Christmas carols, trying to find some normalcy in this bizarre world that was once so familiar.

Mercifully, after 45 minutes, this praise-and-worship part of the service ends, people return to their seats, and I can feel my anxiety subsiding. The scripture is read, the minister preaches her sermon, and a final song is sung. After the service I spend a few minutes chatting with various people. And I leave that church with two thoughts. First, how lovely the people are. And second, thank goodness it’s over.

I am an introverted, non-conformist. As an introvert, I am socially uncomfortable in any church, especially the praise and worship portion of a typical evangelical service. As a non-conformist, my natural inclination is to sit when others stand, read when others sing, and keep my hands in my pockets when others have theirs in the air. My temperament is not a good fit for this style of worship.

But it goes deeper than that. Despite the awkward fit, there was a time when I found value in this experience. As a young teen, the music was emotionally moving to the point of feeling something bordering on spiritual inspiration. But in my adult years, worship services like this have no emotional impact beyond inciting anxiety. What happened to me? What happened to the music?

In our current culture, contemporary Christian music, or CCM, is not simply a blip on the radar of popular music. It is a multi-billion-dollar industry, one of the largest and fastest-growing genres in the music world. And praise and worship music is front and centre.
In my last reflections on the music industry, I described it as a creatively hollowed-out assembly line of monotonous, soulless hit singles, where a few unknown producers and songwriters are responsible for the majority of the songs we hear on the radio.

The contemporary Christian music scene mirrors this to a tee. It is a creatively hollowed-out assembly line of monotonous, soulless worship songs, where a few relatively unknown producers and songwriters are responsible for the majority of music played in evangelical, non-denominational, and charismatic churches.

A 2023 Worship Leader Research (WLR) study showed that 95% of the most-used worship and praise songs originate from just four megachurches: Elevation in Charlotte, Bethel Community Church in Redding, California, Hillsong in Australia, and Passion City Church in Atlanta.

If you go to an evangelical, non-denominational, or charismatic church anywhere in the world, there is a strong chance that every praise and worship song you will hear originate from one of these four communities. Like Max Martin and Dr. Luke who perfected the formula for writing hit singles for the mainstream music world, these mega churches have their own formula for creating accessible, emotionally expressive worship songs around which so many churches build their services.

This music all sounds very similar, a plug-and-play sound that fits seamlessly into every service, regardless of the overall theme. Lyrically, it is predictable with a lot of Christian tropes. The lyrics tend to go from one extreme of feeding God's ego to the other end of the spectrum where the worshipper is the centre of God’s universe. The music is an exercise in affirmation and simplification of what to believe, meant to evoke ecstasy rather than reflection, obedience rather than questioning.

It’s not that I don’t see value in it. The value, as I see it, and I trust those within evangelicalism would agree, is that this time of praise and worship is it’s own form of spiritual discipline. For these communities, repetitive singing is essentially prayer set to music, meant to move spirituality from the brain to the heart, deepening intimacy with Jesus rather than merely talking about God. The concept of a personal relationship with Jesus is somewhat foreign to many people in other Christian traditions.

With that understanding, Is this use of music in this way any different from praying a psalm over and over again? Is it different from the use of the rosary? Or the silence we use here? Because if it’s not, why does it not work for me? Why does it give me the heebie-jeebies? Why do I feel so uncomfortable in that atmosphere?

For me, the disconnect between the loving God they are singing about, with a God sends people to hell to burn for eternity because they didn’t “believe” in the right way, is jarring. Through worship music they are ignoring the fact that this is the same God who deems a loving relationship between two people of the same s*x as abomination, causes hurricanes and and chooses not to cure cancer -whose ability to forgive is solely dependent upon the crucifixion of an innocent man. I cannot in good conscience sing songs of praise to this God nor will I ever again kneel down at an altar and pray to this God.

And so we come to the story of Abraham. God asks Abraham to do the unthinkable: sacrifice his son Isaac as a show of obedience. And Abraham goes along with it, knowing full well that what he is about to do is awful. There is a reason he avoids letting Isaac and those travelling with him know what he is about to do. Abraham shuts off the rational part of his brain that must have known only an evil god would ask this of him.

The fact that God stops him before he goes through with it matters little. The point of the story was not whether God would stop Abraham, but whether Abraham would put his trust in God despite what was asked of him. Abraham does and God blesses him for it.

I believe in the goodness of most of people within Evangelical Christianity. The idea of hell, issues of same-s*x marriage, the problem of evil, and atonement theory are largely downplayed and disregard, focusing instead most of their spiritual energy singing their songs of worship and praise. I know very few people, in these traditions, who are passionate about protecting these concepts. I think most in evangelicalism wish these problematic inconsistencies did not exist, and try not to think about them. Their particular style of worship offers the ability to ignore those harder questions. Like Abraham, there is a blind trust that God’s love will triumph, and all of these things that seem so contradictory will someday make sense.

There is another story in the Bible, a few chapters later, about Abraham’s grandson, Jacob. In this account, Jacob wrestles with an unnamed adversary, later identified as God.. The struggle lasts throughout the night, and is so violent that Jacob’s hip is dislocated. Yet he refuses to let God go until God blesses him. Jacob named the place of the encounter Peniel, because he saw God face to face, and did not lose his life. God renames Jacob Israel, because he has struggled with God and with man and has overcome. Jacob walked away from the fight with a limp and God’s blessing.

Two different stories, two different men, two very different ways to receive God’s blessing. I identify strongly with Jacob. I have gone to battle against God, the God of evangelicalism and walked away with that spiritual fire still burning within me. Yes, I now walk with a limp, carrying my share of religious baggage and doubts. It’s little wonder that the music that speaks to me comes from people who have struggled, who question, who put their doubts into lyrics and melody.

Contemporary worship and praise music can created a culture of theological complacency. And for many people, that's fine. They can live their lives, trusting in the goodness of God, and feel blessed without having to wrestle with some of the conceptual difficulties others do. But it does come at a cost. They sacrifice wisdom for comfort, theological resiliency for spiritual simplicity.

One of the dangers of being subservient to this God of praise-and-worship music is that God is so easily manipulated by those who control the message. The harshness of their Christian God is allowed to go unchallenged. What happens when these two worlds eventually collide?
What happens when the God of worship music is also the one who dooms children to hell?
Everyone who attends these evangelical, non-denominational and charismatic churches must, at some point, decide whether to get into the ring and go to battle with this God. Some don’t, and simply immerse themselves further in the world of praise and worship, shutting off that part of their brains. Theirs is a religion of the heart.

I know many people like this, and they are amazing. They love Jesus. They love their neighbours. Most minimal interest in fighting for or opposing same-s*x marriage or discussing hell. They are the quiet majority. There is a trust in God that things will one day make sense, and that is good enough. Staying out of the ring allows them to continue to believe in the God of their worship music. And like Abraham, their obedience comes with a blessing.

The problem is that many do eventually get into the ring. And they have not built any spiritual resilience or theological flexibility to go to battle, because their intellectual diet has only consisted of praise and worship songs. All they’ve known is a rigid, black and white understanding of God. When they wrestle with this God and lose, most leave the church with a broken faith.

I’m not saying people shouldn't listen to praise and worship music, but we all need much greater exposure to music with a limp, music that pushes against the Christian establishment and an incoherent view of God. We need music in our churches written by people who grapple with doubt and hopelessness, and is honest that sometimes religion is a struggle. Most importantly, music with a limp encourages and better equips those who have left the church, with a broken faith, to get back into the ring for one more round with God.
Closing

The church I grew up in is only a half dozen blocks from here. Some of my best memories and deepest personal connections were made within those walls. It’s been close to ten years since I’ve been inside the building. It exists as this sacred space in my head; maybe I don’t return because I don’t want this image to be spoiled.

I completed my undergraduate studies at an evangelical college of the same denomination. Both places have their fair share of praise-and-worship music theology. It was in this atmosphere that my deep love for the Christian faith and the importance of a relationship with God were formed.

But in these environments I was also exposed to some much deeper ideas. I credit my father and the professors, who challenged the simplistic way I read the Bible and thought about theology and social issues. Looking back, I realize they were laying the groundwork for me not to go to battle against the world, sin, or the devil, but to get into the ring and fight with God. The fact that I am here, still passionate about this faith, has a lot to do with those who took the time and care to prepare me.