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The perspective that informs my gratitude

male and female wood cut outs sit on a wooden 'bench' holding hands with a sign above saying Helen and Roy, the Loyd's

The girth of our gratitude is proportionate to the depth of our perspective. This truth was once again made apparent as I visited with my 87-year-old mother, prior to this year’s Thanksgiving holiday. It has …

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Eastern Christianity: A Journey

Eastern Christianity

The following is a talk which my departed grandmother invited me to give for her Sunday School class at First United Methodist Shreveport and which, due to some confusion, was given in its entirety to …

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Never too old to be too young

I grew up in a small country Southern Baptist Church in rural California. When my family moved there our family of six doubled the size of the church. But, the church did grow over the …

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Remolding Idols of Clay

I grew up in a Southern Baptist world filled with sacred tunes of both the vintage and contemporary variety. Ironically, the tune that has framed my spiritual experience more than any other stemmed not from …

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Dear Dad | A letter of concern

Dear Dad, You went to be with Jesus 10 years ago. In honor of a decade of the best 10 years of your existence, I wanted to give you an update on how things have …

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Am I Hispanic/ Latino/ Chicano?

Rondall Reynoso

Am I Hispanic? It seems like such a simple question. But ethnic identity can be complicated these days. I’m 6’5″ with grey eyes and light skin. My mother was from the Appalachian hills in east …

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This is my Creed: Christ with me

On the Louisiana College campus, there’s a carillon at the top of the central historic building that plays awful bell arrangements of  traditional evangelical hymns at certain times during the day. When I was a …

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The Religious White

Some of my earliest memories are filled with images of Pentecostal worship—from both above and beneath the pews, as I often slept under them during worship services. For most of my life, I’ve enjoyed preferred …

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Where they once hunted the mammoth

The fat water snake didn’t know what to make of us. It had slithered down toward the river, probably seeking the same swimming hole where we were spending the afternoon. Maybe it wanted to catch …

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