Faith, Fiction, Friends

In the time B.K. (before kids), my wife and I lived and worked in Houston. I was at Shell Oil, and she worked at the Houston Chronicle...

Little black notebook is waiting her prayer, murmured and spoken her Saviour to hear; words penned to page with the ladies to share,...

  Thirty years ago, I was a 20-something speechwriter for a large manufacturing company, and part of a three-person speechwriting team. On...

I became part of a story once. Twenty years ago, the company I worked for, and the industry I worked in, faced a monumental problem, one ...

One day on a late Friday afternoon I was called into my boss’s office. There had been a reorganization of my area, and all the teams had bee...

Always in the eyes: violence, done; innocence, pillaged; oppression, afflicted; spirit, separated; hope, abandoned. The arms of the fa...

Mid the smell of sheep dung came the song. The gods are dying. The gods of men are dying. Self-shaped objects of worship crumble, ...

Today at the High Calling , I have an interview with poet David Wheeler , author of the recently published Contingency Plans: Poems . David ...

Today, I have a post over at The High Calling – a story about having no grandfather stories . The post will be live this morning. As a small...

We’reached the final chapter of Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survivie and Others Die by Chip and Dan Heath. The authors have covered the “...

Once more, it’s that time of the week, when our intrepid leader Duane Scott officiates at Pleasantly Disturbed Thursdays. Yesterday, page...

I wrote speeches for corporate executives for a long time, and now, more often than not, I’m writing speeches for myself. And while substanc...

For several months, I’ve been posting occasional articles at The High Calling Blogs (HCB). The site is owned and operated by Foundations fo...

Last November, my wife and I drove one Saturday over to Columbia, Missouri, to see youngest son in college. We brought food relief, went ou...