A friend was reflecting on a remark she’d made that morning to someone, which she didn’t feel good about. “Sometimes I think about things after I say them,” she mused, “and wonder why I did.”

One late-summer evening, I snatched a moment to walk down to the lake. The day’s rain was starting to clear, golden sunshine emerging. The beach was criss-crossed with noise and activity: volleyball players, loudspeakers, food sales, toys, umbrellas. 

Love your enemies, Jesus tells us. Apart from the direct command of God, it’s not obvious that loving enemies is a necessary or even desirable thing to do. They can and do hurt us, and hating them can motivate us in protecting ourselves.  

Driving with a young friend, I was not surprised that she had the car window completely down and her face turned towards the breeze on one of these finally-gentle days of spring.  I enjoyed her enjoyment of the sweet fresh air sweeping in. 

It’s normal to return anger with anger, bitterness with bitterness, cunning with cunning.  

An article defending the widespread practice of abortion for babies with Down syndrome disturbed me.  

Oxford is a beautiful town, by nature and centuries of human living.  Exploring there once with friends, we saw a memorial, arrestingly inscribed: “To the Glory of God, and in grateful commemoration of His servants, Thomas Cranmer, Nicholas Ridley, Hugh Latimer, Prelates of the Church of England, who near this spot yielded their bodies to be burned, bearing witness to the sacred truths which they had affirmed and maintained against the errors of the Church of Rome.”