#reconciliation — Public Fediverse posts

Why Do You Boast, Great Warrior?

A Peace Reflection on Psalm 52

“Why do you boast about your crimes, great warrior?
Don’t you realize God’s justice continues forever?”
—Psalm 52:1

There is something startlingly contemporary about that question.

Why do you boast, great warrior?

The psalm does not merely condemn violence. It confronts the strange human tendency to celebrate it.

We make monuments to conquerors.
We name weapons after predators.
We decorate generals.
We create highlight reels of explosions.
We speak of “dominance,” “strength,” “shock and awe,” “victory,” and “crushing the enemy.”

And sometimes the destruction itself becomes evidence of greatness.

Look what we can do.

Look how powerful we are.

Look how afraid others are of us.

Psalm 52 interrupts that boasting with an uncomfortable question:

Why?

Why boast about something that destroys what God loves?

Why brag about the ability to kill?

Why measure greatness by the number of enemies defeated rather than the number of enemies reconciled?

Why are nations proud of weapons capable of destroying cities but embarrassed by diplomacy, compromise, mercy, and restraint?

The psalm was written in a world in which rulers demonstrated their greatness through military power. Kings conquered territory, displayed captives, erected monuments, and told stories about their victories.

In many ways, we have not changed very much.

Our monuments are sometimes digital now.

Missile footage.

Drone-camera images.

Maps showing territory captured.

Military parades.

Defense budgets.

Weapons demonstrations.

Politicians promising to be “tough.”

Commentators speaking casually about bombing places most of us will never visit and people we will never meet.

War becomes abstract.

The enemy becomes a category.

And human beings disappear behind words like targets, assets, combatants, collateral damage, and acceptable losses.

Psalm 52 insists that God sees through all of that language.

Behind every map is somebody’s home.

Behind every casualty figure is a name.

Behind every destroyed building was a room where someone ate breakfast, tucked a child into bed, argued with a spouse, celebrated a birthday, prayed, laughed, worried, and dreamed.

This is one of the essential tasks of peacemaking:

to restore the human face to those whom violence has reduced to categories.

Psalm 52 contrasts two different understandings of power.

One is the power of the “great warrior”—the power to threaten, manipulate, deceive, dominate, and destroy.

The other is far quieter:

the steadfast love of God.

The psalmist eventually says:

“But I am like an olive tree, thriving in the house of God.
I will always trust in God’s unfailing love.”

What an extraordinary alternative image.

Not a sword.

Not a fortress.

Not a chariot.

Not an army.

A tree.

A living thing.

Rooted.

Growing.

Providing shade.

Bearing fruit.

An olive tree, of all things—the source of the olive branch that would eventually become one of humanity’s great symbols of peace.

Perhaps there are two ways to imagine greatness.

One asks:

How much power can I accumulate?

The other asks:

How much life can I nurture?

One asks:

How many enemies can I defeat?

The other asks:

How many enemies can become neighbors?

One builds walls.

The other builds tables.

One produces fear.

The other produces trust.

One leaves ruins.

The other plants trees.

And Psalm 52 makes another important claim:

Violence does not get the final word.

“God’s justice continues forever.”

Empires rarely believe this.

Every empire imagines itself permanent.

Every dictator thinks the palace will remain standing.

Every warlord believes fear will preserve power.

Every weapons system promises security.

But history is littered with the ruins of people who once believed they were invincible.

The psalm reminds us that brute force is spectacular but temporary.

Love is quieter and much more stubborn.

A bomb can destroy a house in seconds.

It takes years to build a community.

A bullet can end a life instantly.

It can take generations to heal the hatred that produced it.

Violence is fast.

Peace is patient.

Which may be one reason humanity so often chooses violence.

Violence gives the illusion of immediate results.

Peace requires imagination.

Negotiation.

Listening.

Justice.

Reconciliation.

Repentance.

Forgiveness.

Courage.

And time.

Yet Jesus places himself squarely within this alternative understanding of power.

Blessed are the peacemakers.

Love your enemies.

Pray for those who persecute you.

Put away your sword.

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

The first shall be last.

The greatest shall be servant of all.

Again and again, Jesus overturns our normal measurements of strength.

The cross itself becomes Christianity’s ultimate critique of domination.

Rome believed the cross demonstrated imperial power.

Jesus transformed it into a revelation of self-giving love.

The empire said:

This is what we can do to you.

God answered:

And still I will love you.

That is a very different kind of power.

For those of us committed to peace, Psalm 52 therefore asks more than whether we personally commit acts of violence.

It asks what we admire.

What do we cheer?

What language do we tolerate?

What stories do we tell our children?

Who receives our monuments?

Whose courage do we celebrate?

Do we know the names of our generals better than the names of our peacemakers?

Perhaps part of building a culture of peace is learning to boast about different things.

Boast about the person who stopped a fight.

Boast about the diplomat who kept talking when everyone else wanted to walk away.

Boast about the conscientious objector who refused to kill.

Boast about the victim who chose restorative justice over revenge.

Boast about the community that welcomed refugees.

Boast about the activists who stood between opposing groups.

Boast about the teacher who taught children how to resolve conflict.

Boast about the soldier who refused an unlawful order.

Boast about the neighbor who crossed a political, racial, religious, or cultural boundary and made a friend.

Boast about the people planting olive trees in places where others would plant land mines.

Maybe that is one way we begin dismantling the myth of redemptive violence.

We change what we call heroic.

Psalm 52 asks:

“Why do you boast about your crimes, great warrior?”

Perhaps followers of Jesus should answer with another question:

What if greatness is not measured by our ability to destroy an enemy, but by our courage to make peace with one?

The warrior may have the louder story.

The missile may make the larger explosion.

The empire may dominate the headlines.

But somewhere beneath all that noise, God continues planting olive trees.

And God’s justice continues forever.

May we be found among those planting them.

✮ Talking to a Stone ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ Talking to a Stone ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

✮ Talking to a Stone ✮

Subscribe to keep reading

Become a paid subscriber to get access to the rest of this post and other exclusive content.

How did #Somaliland build one of #Africa's most stable democracies without #ForeignIntervention? Part II of @marcelgascon's series examines SL's remarkable journey from post-war devastation to #DemocraticGovernance through #Homegrown #Reconciliation, #TraditionalInstitutions & #Peaceful #TransfersOfPower. #Democracy #HornOfAfrica #StateBuilding

https://saxafimedia.com/somaliland-rebuilt-foreign-intervention/

The Last Exchange: A Mythic Parable

After months of grueling war, the Gavaun leaders welcomed the Oshkin leaders to their tent to entertain conversations of peace. Hearts among the two nations were as hard as could be, and no civilian expected that this would be the moment that would curve things in a better direction.

As the Oshkin leaders approached the entrance, the Gavaun soldiers at the door demanded that they surrender all their belongings. Though insulted by these demands, the Oshkin reluctantly submitted to the rules. They removed their priceless rings and sacred necklaces, emptied their pockets into the hands of the smirking soldiers, and entered the tent. With the Oshkin out of sight, the soldiers chuckled and threw the objects into the trash. 

As you can imagine, peace was not found that day.

Months went by, and the tides of war shifted. It was now the Oshkin that welcomed the Gavaun leaders to their tent to discuss the possibilities of peace. As the Gavaun approached the tent door, they were met by Oshkin soldiers demanding that they surrender all of their belongings before entering. The faces of the Gavaun fell. They had heard the stories of what their soldiers had done. At the time, they had even gotten a laugh out of it. But now they knew their retribution had come. They sighed heavily and removed their priceless rings and sacred necklaces, and emptied their pockets into their enemies’ hands. 

Hours later, the Gavaun leaders left the tent quickly, their pace fueled by their anger. As they reached the gate, they heard one of the soldiers call out for them. “Sirs! Your belongings?”

The Gavauns stopped in their tracks. Surely this was a trick. Would they not be mocked when they turned around? They whispered to each other for a moment, and then one of them turned around and walked up to the soldier. He quickly grabbed their things from the soldier’s hand, and then they swiftly made their exit.

Peace was not found that day either.

Months went by, and the tides of war shifted once again. As the Oshkin approached the gate, they were surprised to find the Gavaun leaders outside the tent, one of them standing in front of a table holding what appeared to be a wrapped gift.

“You were humane with us when we were inhumane with you,” said the leader. “We cannot recover your priceless rings and your sacred necklaces, nor the items you kept in your pockets. While we do not know if peace will be found today, we would like to offer you this gift to make reparations for our behavior.”

The Gavaun pulled the bow as the box walls fell over to reveal an ornate sand timer.

“The sand timer is one of the greatest symbols among the Gavaun people, and this one was carved by our most acclaimed craftsman. Our most sacred lessons and stories are tied to this symbol, and it carries many meanings. In this case, it represents our desire to turn back time to better honor your first visit. But just as time moves forward no matter how you turn the timer, so can we only do our best to do better with the time ahead of us.”

As you can imagine, hearts began to soften. But peace was not found that day.

As the months went by, the tides of war shifted, and the Gavaun came to discuss peace at the Oshkin tent. The Oshkin leaders were found outside their tent, one of them standing behind a table holding a cylindrical box. The leader confessed that the Gavaun’s previous gift should have softened their hearts more than it did and that peace should have been found sooner. They now wished to reciprocate by giving a gift of their own. As the Oshkin began to slowly pull the tall cylindrical top off the gift, the brightest, golden glow you could ever imagine blinded the eyes of all who looked upon it. The solid orb that was revealed must have been made of the most refined gold in the world.

Peace was found that day. 

Peace Day became a holiday, and a new tradition was established. Every year, the Gavauns and the Oshkins would gather for a new kind of war: a “gift-off,” I suppose you might call it. Each nation would present a gift to the other to see whose might be better. It became an intriguing display of craftsmanship and culture, as each nation would explain the significance of what they had offered the other. 

This tradition continued for about a century, until one particular exchange between an Oshkin man and a Gavaun woman brought it to a sudden end. The man and the woman unveiled their nation’s gift at the same time, revealing the exact same gift: a large crystal glass with a small amount of gleaming white wine at the bottom. Both the glass and the liquid shone in the sun as all who gathered for the exchange looked at it with mouths agape. Neither nation had to explain the gift, for both realized in that moment that they had the same story. No greater gift could have possibly been given, and for that reason, the tradition no longer needed to continue.

“Do you hear that?” the woman said to the man.

The man looked around, listening closely, but heard nothing. He shook his head.

“It’s as though the beat of every sacred song ever written is contained in that cup.”

Wednesday, June 24, 2026

https://activitypub.writeworks.uk/2026/06/wednesday-june-24-2026/

A Day for the World to Say Sorry

From Australia’s National Sorry Day Toward an International Day of Truth, Repentance, and Repair

A PeaceGrooves Reflection

There are words so overused that they risk becoming weightless. Sorry is one of them. We say it when we bump into someone in a hallway, when we answer an email too late, when we make an insignificant mistake. Yet there are times when sorry is not small at all. There are wounds so deep, so deliberately inflicted, and so long denied that the speaking of sorrow becomes an act of public truth.

Australia’s National Sorry Day, observed each year on May 26, is such a day. It remembers the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children forcibly removed from their families, communities, languages, and cultures under government policies now associated with the Stolen Generations. The date marks the anniversary of the 1997 tabling of the Bringing Them Home report, the landmark national inquiry that gathered testimony from survivors and documented the devastation caused by these removals. The report called not only for recognition of what had happened, but for apology, healing, reparations, family reunion, access to records, and measures ensuring such violations would never recur.

National Sorry Day did not begin as a sentimental holiday….

Read the full essay at PeaceGrooves.

A Day for the World to Say Sorry

From Australia’s National Sorry Day Toward an International Day of Truth, Repentance, and Repair

A PeaceGrooves Reflection

There are words so overused that they risk becoming weightless. Sorry is one of them. We say it when we bump into someone in a hallway, when we answer an email too late, when we make an insignificant mistake. Yet there are times when sorry is not small at all. There are wounds so deep, so deliberately inflicted, and so long denied that the speaking of sorrow becomes an act of public truth.

Australia’s National Sorry Day, observed each year on May 26, is such a day. It remembers the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children forcibly removed from their families, communities, languages, and cultures under government policies now associated with the Stolen Generations. The date marks the anniversary of the 1997 tabling of the Bringing Them Home report, the landmark national inquiry that gathered testimony from survivors and documented the devastation caused by these removals. The report called not only for recognition of what had happened, but for apology, healing, reparations, family reunion, access to records, and measures ensuring such violations would never recur.

National Sorry Day did not begin as a sentimental holiday….

Read the full essay at PeaceGrooves.

A Day for the World to Say Sorry

From Australia’s National Sorry Day Toward an International Day of Truth, Repentance, and Repair

A PeaceGrooves Reflection

There are words so overused that they risk becoming weightless. Sorry is one of them. We say it when we bump into someone in a hallway, when we answer an email too late, when we make an insignificant mistake. Yet there are times when sorry is not small at all. There are wounds so deep, so deliberately inflicted, and so long denied that the speaking of sorrow becomes an act of public truth.

Australia’s National Sorry Day, observed each year on May 26, is such a day. It remembers the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children forcibly removed from their families, communities, languages, and cultures under government policies now associated with the Stolen Generations. The date marks the anniversary of the 1997 tabling of the Bringing Them Home report, the landmark national inquiry that gathered testimony from survivors and documented the devastation caused by these removals. The report called not only for recognition of what had happened, but for apology, healing, reparations, family reunion, access to records, and measures ensuring such violations would never recur.

National Sorry Day did not begin as a sentimental holiday….

Read the full essay at PeaceGrooves.

A Day for the World to Say Sorry

From Australia’s National Sorry Day Toward an International Day of Truth, Repentance, and Repair

A PeaceGrooves Reflection

There are words so overused that they risk becoming weightless. Sorry is one of them. We say it when we bump into someone in a hallway, when we answer an email too late, when we make an insignificant mistake. Yet there are times when sorry is not small at all. There are wounds so deep, so deliberately inflicted, and so long denied that the speaking of sorrow becomes an act of public truth.

Australia’s National Sorry Day, observed each year on May 26, is such a day. It remembers the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children forcibly removed from their families, communities, languages, and cultures under government policies now associated with the Stolen Generations. The date marks the anniversary of the 1997 tabling of the Bringing Them Home report, the landmark national inquiry that gathered testimony from survivors and documented the devastation caused by these removals. The report called not only for recognition of what had happened, but for apology, healing, reparations, family reunion, access to records, and measures ensuring such violations would never recur.

National Sorry Day did not begin as a sentimental holiday….

Read the full essay at PeaceGrooves.

A Day for the World to Say Sorry

From Australia’s National Sorry Day Toward an International Day of Truth, Repentance, and Repair

A PeaceGrooves Reflection

There are words so overused that they risk becoming weightless. Sorry is one of them. We say it when we bump into someone in a hallway, when we answer an email too late, when we make an insignificant mistake. Yet there are times when sorry is not small at all. There are wounds so deep, so deliberately inflicted, and so long denied that the speaking of sorrow becomes an act of public truth.

Australia’s National Sorry Day, observed each year on May 26, is such a day. It remembers the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children forcibly removed from their families, communities, languages, and cultures under government policies now associated with the Stolen Generations. The date marks the anniversary of the 1997 tabling of the Bringing Them Home report, the landmark national inquiry that gathered testimony from survivors and documented the devastation caused by these removals. The report called not only for recognition of what had happened, but for apology, healing, reparations, family reunion, access to records, and measures ensuring such violations would never recur.

National Sorry Day did not begin as a sentimental holiday….

Read the full essay at PeaceGrooves.

Fifty-Nine on Pentecost: Fire, Bridges, and a Heart Still Being Warmed

A Birthday Reflection — May 24, 2026

Today, I turn fifty-nine.

There is something strange about writing that number. Fifty-nine is not yet sixty, but it stands close enough to feel the gravity of that approaching threshold. It is a year poised at the edge of another decade, a number that invites a certain kind of honesty. Not the dramatic honesty that pretends everything has suddenly come into focus, but the quieter honesty of looking back over the terrain I have actually traveled: the things that have blossomed, the things that have hurt, the things still unfinished, and the signs of grace that keep appearing in the undergrowth.

I would like to say that I arrive at this birthday strong and full of energy, ready to gather every creative seed scattered through my life and bring it all into harvest. But that is not entirely true.

I have not been feeling well physically. My body has been reminding me that I am not simply a mind imagining world, a spirit dreaming visions, a pastor speaking words, or an artist shaping beauty. I am a body too—a body that tires, aches, worries, and longs to be well.

There is a particular sorrow in having so much one still wants to do while feeling uncertain about one’s strength to do it. There are stories pressing at the edges of my mind. There are songs waiting for breath. There are images, games, reflections, ministries, strange and beautiful worlds, and ideas of reconciliation and peace that I still want to offer. So much creative life has been stirring. So many sparks have appeared.

And alongside those sparks has been the quiet prayer:

Please, God, let me be well enough to tend the fire.

Perhaps that is why the date of this birthday feels especially meaningful.

Today, my birthday falls on Pentecost Sunday.

Pentecost is the day when frightened and uncertain disciples, people who had already known grief, bewilderment, failure, and hope beyond explanation, were gathered in one place. They were not standing at the height of their strength. They were waiting. They were living between what had been promised and what they could not yet see.

And into that waiting came breath and flame.

The Spirit descended. Words awakened. The scattered were gathered. The fearful found their voices.

I have often thought of creativity as something like that: a rushing wind through a room that has gone still; a flame resting upon an ordinary head; a language arriving that I did not fully know I knew. A story comes. A song arrives. An image forms. An idea for peacebuilding, a game, a sermon, a strange new country of the imagination appears as though someone has opened a window in a room that had grown close and airless.

Over this past year, windows have opened.

PeaceGrooves has continued to become more than an idea. It has become a gathering place for the things I most deeply care about: peace, creativity, imagination, justice, story, music, and the hope that human beings can learn to live differently with one another. I have imagined games that refuse the old assumption that conflict must end in domination. I have thought about creative peacebuilding not merely as an interesting phrase but as a calling: the possibility that art and story and play may become instruments of reconciliation.

I have continued to write strange, shadowed, luminous stories—stories emerging from history, disaster, forgotten figures, mystical places, wounded worlds, and the possibility that even within darkness there may yet be a voice calling toward mercy. I have made images and songs. I have watched one idea open into another and then another, like doors in an old house I did not know was so large.

And all the while I have continued to minister: to preach, to walk with people, to seek the goodness of God in the land of the living. I have continued to believe that reconciliation is not a decorative word for the church, but part of the very shape of the gospel: enemies becoming neighbors, strangers becoming companions, wounds becoming places where healing may begin.

Yet I can not pretend that this year has been only creative exhilaration.

There has also been weariness. There has been discouragement. There has been the familiar ache of wondering whether what I create will ever find the audience I hope for, whether the songs and stories and visions will reach beyond the small circle in which they first come to life. There has been the weight of inhabiting a body that does not always feel cooperative. There has been the fear that perhaps my energy will diminish before the fullest flowering of my gifts.

But Pentecost does not come only to the vigorous.

The Spirit does not descend only upon those who are untroubled, healthy, young, successful, or certain. The wind blows through closed rooms. The fire rests upon waiting people. The gift is not that the disciples suddenly become invulnerable; it is that they become alive with a life greater than their fear.

Today also carries another spiritual memory. On May 24, 1738, John Wesley went reluctantly to a meeting on Aldersgate Street. Reluctantly—that word matters to me. He was not triumphantly marching toward a spiritual experience. He went while troubled, still searching, still uncertain. And there, while hearing words about grace, he wrote that he felt his heart “strangely warmed.”

I find myself less interested now in a faith that demands I always appear strong and more drawn to the quiet mystery of a heart that can still be warmed.

At fifty-nine, I do not need to have everything solved. I do not need to prove that every dream has succeeded. I do not need to deny that I am tired or that I long for healing. Perhaps the deeper prayer is that my heart would remain warm: warm toward God, warm toward my wife, warm toward the people I serve, warm toward beauty, warm toward the wounds of the world, warm even toward my own imperfect and unfinished self.

It is possible for a person to grow cold over the years. Disappointment can do that. Illness can do that. Rejection can do that. The constant awareness of limits can make the spirit draw inward and protect itself.

But I do not want to live cold.

I would rather remain tender, even when tenderness hurts. I would rather keep imagining peace in a violent world. I would rather keep writing songs in a world of noise. I would rather keep dreaming of bridges while so many others are building walls.

For May 24 is also a day of bridges.

On this date in 1883, the Brooklyn Bridge opened after years of labor, loss, pain, and perseverance. Washington Roebling, who oversaw its construction, became physically incapacitated during the work, and the project continued in significant measure through the indispensable work of his wife, Emily. A bridge connecting divided shores came into being through vulnerability, endurance, and partnership.

That image speaks to me.

Perhaps a life is not measured only by towers raised or destinations reached. Perhaps it is also measured by the bridges one has helped build: between people, between faith and imagination, between sorrow and hope, between church and world, between creativity and reconciliation, between the person I once was and the person I am still becoming.

I do not know all the bridges my life may yet build. I know only that I want my remaining years to matter in that way. I want my ministry to help people cross from fear into love. I want my art to help people cross from numbness into wonder. I want PeaceGrooves to help people imagine forms of community, play, and storytelling that do not require enemies to be destroyed. I want my life to say, however imperfectly, that another way is possible.

On May 24, 1844, Samuel Morse sent the first long-distance telegraph message:

“What hath God wrought.”

It is a phrase of astonishment. A phrase for standing before something new and scarcely believable. A phrase that looks backward and forward at the same time: marveling at what has come to be while wondering what it may make possible.

Today, on my fifty-ninth birthday, I find myself asking that question of my own life.

What has God wrought in fifty-nine years?

Not perfection.

Not a life without sorrow.

Not a straight line of accomplishment.

Not a body untouched by weakness or a soul untouched by struggle.

But there is love. There is a marriage and a shared ministry. There are songs. There are stories. There are carved and painted and imagined things. There are sermons preached and people accompanied. There is the stubborn conviction that peace is not naïve, that reconciliation is not weakness, that the imagination may yet become an instrument of healing.

There is joy that has somehow continued to rise through weariness.

There is beauty I have been permitted not only to see but sometimes to make.

And there is still more waiting.

Bob Dylan, born on May 24, shares this birthday. He is another reminder that creativity needs not stop at the borders of age. It may deepen. It may shift. It may become more weathered, more honest, and more necessary. Songs do not cease simply because the singer has traveled a long road. Sometimes, the road itself gives the song its voice.

I do not want this coming year merely to be a holding pattern before sixty.

I want it to be a living year.

I want health—not simply because I want relief, though I do; not simply because I want freedom from worry, though I do—but because I love this world and still want to participate in it. I want strength to preach and minister. I want strength to make music. I want strength to create strange and beautiful stories. I want strength to love my wife well, to be present to people, to follow the paths opening before me.

I want to be able to receive each day not merely as something to endure but as something in which grace may still take shape.

Yet even here I must be gentle with myself.

My worth does not depend upon how much I produce. My life is not validated only by completed books, successful songs, public recognition, flourishing projects, or the ability to do everything my imagination desires. Before I make anything, before I accomplish anything, before I am strong enough to do all I hope to do, I am loved.

Perhaps that is the warmth I need most.

At fifty-nine, standing in the firelight of Pentecost, I pray for the Spirit once again—not as spectacle, not as spiritual achievement, but as breath.

Breath for a tired body.

Fire for a creative heart.

Courage for a minister of reconciliation.

Comfort for the places in me that are afraid.

Patience for what is not yet finished.

Joy is not dependent upon perfect circumstances.

Healing, as healing may come.

And above all, the assurance that I remain held within the goodness of God.

Today, I am fifty-nine years old.

I do not know what this year will bring. I do not know what my body will require of me, or what new stories will be born, or what doors may open or close. But I know what I hope for.

I hope to remain awake.

I hope to remain tender.

I hope to remain creative.

I hope to keep making peace.

I hope to keep crossing bridges and building them for others.

I hope my heart is still capable of being strangely warmed.

And on this birthday of wind and fire, of messages carried across distance, of bridges spanning divided shores, of songs still being sung, I offer my unfinished life once more to the One who breathes over creation and says, even now, that it is good.

Come, Holy Spirit.
Breathe upon what is weary in me.
Warm what has grown discouraged.
Heal what is hurting.
Kindle, what is waiting.
And grant that the year ahead may become,
in ways I can not yet imagine,
another answer to the question:

What hath God wrought?

Fifty-Nine on Pentecost: Fire, Bridges, and a Heart Still Being Warmed

A Birthday Reflection — May 24, 2026

Today, I turn fifty-nine.

There is something strange about writing that number. Fifty-nine is not yet sixty, but it stands close enough to feel the gravity of that approaching threshold. It is a year poised at the edge of another decade, a number that invites a certain kind of honesty. Not the dramatic honesty that pretends everything has suddenly come into focus, but the quieter honesty of looking back over the terrain I have actually traveled: the things that have blossomed, the things that have hurt, the things still unfinished, and the signs of grace that keep appearing in the undergrowth.

I would like to say that I arrive at this birthday strong and full of energy, ready to gather every creative seed scattered through my life and bring it all into harvest. But that is not entirely true.

I have not been feeling well physically. My body has been reminding me that I am not simply a mind imagining world, a spirit dreaming visions, a pastor speaking words, or an artist shaping beauty. I am a body too—a body that tires, aches, worries, and longs to be well.

There is a particular sorrow in having so much one still wants to do while feeling uncertain about one’s strength to do it. There are stories pressing at the edges of my mind. There are songs waiting for breath. There are images, games, reflections, ministries, strange and beautiful worlds, and ideas of reconciliation and peace that I still want to offer. So much creative life has been stirring. So many sparks have appeared.

And alongside those sparks has been the quiet prayer:

Please, God, let me be well enough to tend the fire.

Perhaps that is why the date of this birthday feels especially meaningful.

Today, my birthday falls on Pentecost Sunday.

Pentecost is the day when frightened and uncertain disciples, people who had already known grief, bewilderment, failure, and hope beyond explanation, were gathered in one place. They were not standing at the height of their strength. They were waiting. They were living between what had been promised and what they could not yet see.

And into that waiting came breath and flame.

The Spirit descended. Words awakened. The scattered were gathered. The fearful found their voices.

I have often thought of creativity as something like that: a rushing wind through a room that has gone still; a flame resting upon an ordinary head; a language arriving that I did not fully know I knew. A story comes. A song arrives. An image forms. An idea for peacebuilding, a game, a sermon, a strange new country of the imagination appears as though someone has opened a window in a room that had grown close and airless.

Over this past year, windows have opened.

PeaceGrooves has continued to become more than an idea. It has become a gathering place for the things I most deeply care about: peace, creativity, imagination, justice, story, music, and the hope that human beings can learn to live differently with one another. I have imagined games that refuse the old assumption that conflict must end in domination. I have thought about creative peacebuilding not merely as an interesting phrase but as a calling: the possibility that art and story and play may become instruments of reconciliation.

I have continued to write strange, shadowed, luminous stories—stories emerging from history, disaster, forgotten figures, mystical places, wounded worlds, and the possibility that even within darkness there may yet be a voice calling toward mercy. I have made images and songs. I have watched one idea open into another and then another, like doors in an old house I did not know was so large.

And all the while I have continued to minister: to preach, to walk with people, to seek the goodness of God in the land of the living. I have continued to believe that reconciliation is not a decorative word for the church, but part of the very shape of the gospel: enemies becoming neighbors, strangers becoming companions, wounds becoming places where healing may begin.

Yet I can not pretend that this year has been only creative exhilaration.

There has also been weariness. There has been discouragement. There has been the familiar ache of wondering whether what I create will ever find the audience I hope for, whether the songs and stories and visions will reach beyond the small circle in which they first come to life. There has been the weight of inhabiting a body that does not always feel cooperative. There has been the fear that perhaps my energy will diminish before the fullest flowering of my gifts.

But Pentecost does not come only to the vigorous.

The Spirit does not descend only upon those who are untroubled, healthy, young, successful, or certain. The wind blows through closed rooms. The fire rests upon waiting people. The gift is not that the disciples suddenly become invulnerable; it is that they become alive with a life greater than their fear.

Today also carries another spiritual memory. On May 24, 1738, John Wesley went reluctantly to a meeting on Aldersgate Street. Reluctantly—that word matters to me. He was not triumphantly marching toward a spiritual experience. He went while troubled, still searching, still uncertain. And there, while hearing words about grace, he wrote that he felt his heart “strangely warmed.”

I find myself less interested now in a faith that demands I always appear strong and more drawn to the quiet mystery of a heart that can still be warmed.

At fifty-nine, I do not need to have everything solved. I do not need to prove that every dream has succeeded. I do not need to deny that I am tired or that I long for healing. Perhaps the deeper prayer is that my heart would remain warm: warm toward God, warm toward my wife, warm toward the people I serve, warm toward beauty, warm toward the wounds of the world, warm even toward my own imperfect and unfinished self.

It is possible for a person to grow cold over the years. Disappointment can do that. Illness can do that. Rejection can do that. The constant awareness of limits can make the spirit draw inward and protect itself.

But I do not want to live cold.

I would rather remain tender, even when tenderness hurts. I would rather keep imagining peace in a violent world. I would rather keep writing songs in a world of noise. I would rather keep dreaming of bridges while so many others are building walls.

For May 24 is also a day of bridges.

On this date in 1883, the Brooklyn Bridge opened after years of labor, loss, pain, and perseverance. Washington Roebling, who oversaw its construction, became physically incapacitated during the work, and the project continued in significant measure through the indispensable work of his wife, Emily. A bridge connecting divided shores came into being through vulnerability, endurance, and partnership.

That image speaks to me.

Perhaps a life is not measured only by towers raised or destinations reached. Perhaps it is also measured by the bridges one has helped build: between people, between faith and imagination, between sorrow and hope, between church and world, between creativity and reconciliation, between the person I once was and the person I am still becoming.

I do not know all the bridges my life may yet build. I know only that I want my remaining years to matter in that way. I want my ministry to help people cross from fear into love. I want my art to help people cross from numbness into wonder. I want PeaceGrooves to help people imagine forms of community, play, and storytelling that do not require enemies to be destroyed. I want my life to say, however imperfectly, that another way is possible.

On May 24, 1844, Samuel Morse sent the first long-distance telegraph message:

“What hath God wrought.”

It is a phrase of astonishment. A phrase for standing before something new and scarcely believable. A phrase that looks backward and forward at the same time: marveling at what has come to be while wondering what it may make possible.

Today, on my fifty-ninth birthday, I find myself asking that question of my own life.

What has God wrought in fifty-nine years?

Not perfection.

Not a life without sorrow.

Not a straight line of accomplishment.

Not a body untouched by weakness or a soul untouched by struggle.

But there is love. There is a marriage and a shared ministry. There are songs. There are stories. There are carved and painted and imagined things. There are sermons preached and people accompanied. There is the stubborn conviction that peace is not naïve, that reconciliation is not weakness, that the imagination may yet become an instrument of healing.

There is joy that has somehow continued to rise through weariness.

There is beauty I have been permitted not only to see but sometimes to make.

And there is still more waiting.

Bob Dylan, born on May 24, shares this birthday. He is another reminder that creativity needs not stop at the borders of age. It may deepen. It may shift. It may become more weathered, more honest, and more necessary. Songs do not cease simply because the singer has traveled a long road. Sometimes, the road itself gives the song its voice.

I do not want this coming year merely to be a holding pattern before sixty.

I want it to be a living year.

I want health—not simply because I want relief, though I do; not simply because I want freedom from worry, though I do—but because I love this world and still want to participate in it. I want strength to preach and minister. I want strength to make music. I want strength to create strange and beautiful stories. I want strength to love my wife well, to be present to people, to follow the paths opening before me.

I want to be able to receive each day not merely as something to endure but as something in which grace may still take shape.

Yet even here I must be gentle with myself.

My worth does not depend upon how much I produce. My life is not validated only by completed books, successful songs, public recognition, flourishing projects, or the ability to do everything my imagination desires. Before I make anything, before I accomplish anything, before I am strong enough to do all I hope to do, I am loved.

Perhaps that is the warmth I need most.

At fifty-nine, standing in the firelight of Pentecost, I pray for the Spirit once again—not as spectacle, not as spiritual achievement, but as breath.

Breath for a tired body.

Fire for a creative heart.

Courage for a minister of reconciliation.

Comfort for the places in me that are afraid.

Patience for what is not yet finished.

Joy is not dependent upon perfect circumstances.

Healing, as healing may come.

And above all, the assurance that I remain held within the goodness of God.

Today, I am fifty-nine years old.

I do not know what this year will bring. I do not know what my body will require of me, or what new stories will be born, or what doors may open or close. But I know what I hope for.

I hope to remain awake.

I hope to remain tender.

I hope to remain creative.

I hope to keep making peace.

I hope to keep crossing bridges and building them for others.

I hope my heart is still capable of being strangely warmed.

And on this birthday of wind and fire, of messages carried across distance, of bridges spanning divided shores, of songs still being sung, I offer my unfinished life once more to the One who breathes over creation and says, even now, that it is good.

Come, Holy Spirit.
Breathe upon what is weary in me.
Warm what has grown discouraged.
Heal what is hurting.
Kindle, what is waiting.
And grant that the year ahead may become,
in ways I can not yet imagine,
another answer to the question:

What hath God wrought?

A while ago, I posted how I'd joined the Chief Coroner of Ontario to speak at the National Site Search Forum. Apparently they recorded a video, so if you'd like to learn more about who I am and what I do, have a look!

Our segment starts around the 2 hour, 55 minute mark.

https://youtu.be/Wifd3wsTOyk?si=_OkhfQikndU7UBIH

#HumanRemains
#Reconciliation
#Archaeology

Some days, I'm lucky enough to feel like I'm making a difference. Today was one of those days.

Thank you to the organizers of the National Site Search Forum for inviting me to join the Chief Coroner of Ontario to speak about how we're trying to decolonize our work, treat Ancestors with the respect and dignity they deserve, and ensure Indigenous partners have a meaningful seat at the table when decisions about their Ancestors are made.

https://www.sitesearchforum.com/

#Archaeology
#HumanRemains
#Reconciliation

*Recommended online educational resource.*

#FreeOnlineCourses to Advance #Indigenous #CulturalUnderstanding.

This section offers a range of free online courses that explore Indigenous histories, worldviews, and #reconciliation in #Canada. These courses are ideal for individuals, educators, and professionals seeking to expand their knowledge and embed Indigenous perspectives into their own personal practices and institutions.

https://www.indigenousfriends.org/free-online-courses-to-advance-indigenous-cultural-understanding

#Decolonization #DecolonizeYourMind #Educational #Learn #FreeCourses #FreeEducation #InvestInLearning #KnowledgeIsPower #EducationIsKey #BIPOC #IndigenousCanada #NativeCanada #ExpandYourMind #UNDRIP

@thenarwhal
I pull this #meme out often, regarding the government's partnership with ecocidal corporations to exploit more unceded Indigenous lands. It's how #Canada really puts the #RECON in #reconciliation.

#BCpol #CDNpoli #CSIS #Colonialism #Capitalism #WhitewashingThieves #GreenwashingThugs #BanCorporateLobbyists #StopCorporateWelfare #Ecocide #EcoJustice #IndigenousRights #UNDRIP #Landback #NativeLand #Unceded #CorporateGreed #GreedKills #Corruption #Bribery #DirtyDeals #BackroomBribes #PublicTransparency #PublicAccountability #PublicScrutiny #CrimesAgainstHumanity #RCMP #CIRG #FederalDomesticTerrorists #Inhumane #RemoveQualifiedImmunity #neoliberals #ColonizersLieCheatSteal #ColonialCriminals #StopTheWhitewash #KKKanada

Happy TRC day in Canada!!! Please learn about an Indigenous culture near you and how you can help the reconciliation process today. Here is a great website about the Metis which has a great section on "Métis Scrip". Do you know what scrip was and who it was given to? Click the link below to begin your learning journey!

https://tilixam.com/

#trc #orangeshirt #orangeshirtday #reconciliation #michif #metis #scrip #land #chinuk #chinook #indigenous

The Senior https://trailers.zouluvo.com/the-senior/

#MichaelChiklis #MaryStuartMasterson #RobCorddry #BrandonFlynn #JamesBadgeDale #RodLurie #19septembre2025 #ÉtatsUnis #2025 #septembre2025 #drame #sport #WayfarerStudios #SelectFilms #AngelStudios #foi #famille #footballaméricain #rédemption #persévérance #secondechance #équipe #footballuniversitaire #espoir #réconciliation #bataille #âge #courage #détermination #relationpèrefils #emotion

‘You belong here no matter what’: Bush chaplain  https://www.allforgardening.com/1362747/you-belong-here-no-matter-what-bush-chaplain/ #Anglican #Australia #BushChaplaincy #Christianity #faith #FirstPeoples #garden #gardening #GardeningAustralia #melbourne #reconciliation #SouthAustralia #women

‘You belong here no matter what’: Bush chaplain  https://www.allforgardening.com/1362747/you-belong-here-no-matter-what-bush-chaplain/ #Anglican #Australia #BushChaplaincy #Christianity #faith #FirstPeoples #garden #gardening #GardeningAustralia #melbourne #reconciliation #SouthAustralia #women

First Nations leaders provide national response to King’s Speech
#IndigenousPeoples #FirstNations #Canada #KingCharlesIII #IndigenousVoices #IndigenousSovereignty #TreatyRights #Reconciliation #CrownRelations #TruthBeforeReconciliation #Politics
https://the-14.com/first-nations-leaders-provide-national-response-to-kings-speech/

Portage la Prairie and Dakota Plains Wahpeton First Nation honoured for reconciliation efforts
#IndigenousPeople #FirstNations #Canada #CAMA2025 #IndigenousRights #Reconciliation #DakotaPlains #PortageLaPrairie #IndigenousVoices #TruthAndReconciliation
https://the-14.com/portage-la-prairie-and-dakota-plains-wahpeton-first-nation-honoured-for-reconciliation-efforts/

Harry, the Duke of Sussex, raises alarms about his family's safety following cuts to taxpayer-funded security. He finds visits to the UK increasingly dangerous, especially after his appeal regarding security arrangements was dismissed. His comments underscore a desire for family reconciliation, hinting that the King could help bridge divides. For deeper insights, read the full article here: https://www.bbc.com/news/videos/cwy6zd49490o #PrinceHarry #DukeOfSussex #UKsecurity #reconciliation #BBCNews. Kudos to the BBC for covering this important story.

L'État allemand a lié sa propre renaissance dans le "royaume des nations civilisées" au travers d'une relation de protection particulière de la figure du Juif, où les Israélien·nes (toujours juif/ves) sont une incarnation primordiale de la vie juive.

"Tant que la figure du Juif restera un vecteur d'articulation et d'expérimentation de l'identité allemande, l'accomplissement de la différence collective et de l'action politique juives sera relégué exclusivement relégué à l'État d'Israël. La figure du Palestinien, ainsi que la sujétion politique des Palestinien·nes et leurs revendications d'égalité, seront à leur tour considérées soit comme un désagrément à éviter, soit comme une menace à criminaliser, plutôt que comme un prisme décisif pour reconnaître les multiples niveaux de violence morale légitimée en Allemagne. "

Hannah Tzuberi et Nahed Samour en 2022 (en): https://contendingmodernities.nd.edu/theorizing-modernities/the-german-state-and-the-creation-of-un-desired-communities/

#tabou #fétichisme #sacré #Allemagne #culpabilité #philoSémitisme #confusion #antisémitisme #racisme #colonialité #prosionisme #imaginaires #rédemption #expiation #Réconciliation #nationalisme #patriotisme #unitaire #unitarisme #völkisch #volkisme #racialisation #communautarisme #valeurs #croyances

It's Just a Language: Why does Indigenous language revitalization matter?

https://tilixam.com/2024/10/16/its-just-a-language-why-does-indigenous-language-revitalization-matter/

#Community #Culture #Education #History #Indigenous #Indigenouspeoples #Inuit #Language #Languages #Life #Métis #Michif #Policies #Rebuild #Rebuilding #Reconciliation #Revitalization #firstnations

Comment se remettre d'un traumatisme ? En mettant en scène son amour de l'aggresseur ?

"Rappelons qu’à sa création, Tous des oiseaux avait également été boycottée à Paris, Lyon ou Genève, car la pièce était estampillée « avec le soutien de l’ambassade d’Israël » et annoncée programmée au Cameri théâtre, le théâtre municipal de Tel-Aviv, sans que cela ne mobilise guère la presse mainstream. Les appels au boycott des spectacles israéliens comme, en 2016, celui de la Batsheva Dance affiché à l’Opéra de Paris, et qui a annulé sa venue en juin cette année, sont récurrents, mais rarement relevés par les médias."

"Liban. Wajdi Mouawad et le boycott d’Israël, un cas d’école" https://orientxxi.info/lu-vu-entendu/liban-wajdi-mouawad-et-le-boycott-d-israel-un-cas-d-ecole,7481

#réconciliation #terrorisme #postTraumatisme #réconciliation #Montpellier #Monnot #boycottCulturel #OrientXXI #propagande #hasbara #théâtre #cinéma #israëlPalestine #israël #BDS #attentat #Liban #guerreCivile #arrogance #masculinité

Global News BC: Return of Nisga’a memorial totem pole to be celebrated with ceremony and feast https://globalnews.ca/news/9995372/nisgaa-pole-return-ceremony/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #HouseofNi’isjoohlmemorialpole #NationalMuseumOfScotland #MemorialTotemPole #StolenTotemPole #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #Indigenous #Housepole #totempole #Nisga'a

Global News BC: Return of Nisga’a memorial totem pole to be celebrated with ceremony and feast https://globalnews.ca/news/9995372/nisgaa-pole-return-ceremony/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #HouseofNi’isjoohlmemorialpole #NationalMuseumOfScotland #MemorialTotemPole #StolenTotemPole #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #Indigenous #Housepole #totempole #Nisga'a

Global News BC: Return of Nisga’a memorial totem pole to be celebrated with ceremony and feast https://globalnews.ca/news/9995372/nisgaa-pole-return-ceremony/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #HouseofNi’isjoohlmemorialpole #NationalMuseumOfScotland #MemorialTotemPole #StolenTotemPole #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #Indigenous #Housepole #totempole #Nisga'a

Global News BC: Return of Nisga’a memorial totem pole to be celebrated with ceremony and feast https://globalnews.ca/news/9995372/nisgaa-pole-return-ceremony/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #HouseofNi’isjoohlmemorialpole #NationalMuseumOfScotland #MemorialTotemPole #StolenTotemPole #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #Indigenous #Housepole #totempole #Nisga'a

Global News BC: Return of Nisga’a memorial totem pole to be celebrated with ceremony and feast https://globalnews.ca/news/9995372/nisgaa-pole-return-ceremony/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #HouseofNi’isjoohlmemorialpole #NationalMuseumOfScotland #MemorialTotemPole #StolenTotemPole #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #Indigenous #Housepole #totempole #Nisga'a

Kai Labusch from @stabi_berlin is presenting at #swib23 a very sophisticated service for named entity recognition and entity linking in digitized texts, constructed with machine-learning based on #Wikidata entities and their mentions in #Wikipedia. I wonder if one could/should use the #Reconciliation Service API protocol for use cases like this one. I guess the protocol would have to allow to send the context sentence along with the NERed string we want to reconcile. /cc @pintoch

Global News BC: Nisga’a memorial pole about to start journey home to B.C. from Scottish museum https://globalnews.ca/news/9924229/nisgaa-memorial-totem-pole-returning-scotland/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #repatriationofIndigenousartifacts #Indigenousartifactsreturnedhome #Nisga'atotempolecominghome #NationalMuseumOfScotland #repatriatedartifacts #Nisga'atotempole #BCFirstNations #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #repatriation #totempole

Global News BC: Nisga’a memorial pole about to start journey home to B.C. from Scottish museum https://globalnews.ca/news/9924229/nisgaa-memorial-totem-pole-returning-scotland/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #repatriationofIndigenousartifacts #Indigenousartifactsreturnedhome #Nisga'atotempolecominghome #NationalMuseumOfScotland #repatriatedartifacts #Nisga'atotempole #BCFirstNations #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #repatriation #totempole

Global News BC: Nisga’a memorial pole about to start journey home to B.C. from Scottish museum https://globalnews.ca/news/9924229/nisgaa-memorial-totem-pole-returning-scotland/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #repatriationofIndigenousartifacts #Indigenousartifactsreturnedhome #Nisga'atotempolecominghome #NationalMuseumOfScotland #repatriatedartifacts #Nisga'atotempole #BCFirstNations #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #repatriation #totempole

Global News BC: Nisga’a memorial pole about to start journey home to B.C. from Scottish museum https://globalnews.ca/news/9924229/nisgaa-memorial-totem-pole-returning-scotland/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #repatriationofIndigenousartifacts #Indigenousartifactsreturnedhome #Nisga'atotempolecominghome #NationalMuseumOfScotland #repatriatedartifacts #Nisga'atotempole #BCFirstNations #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #repatriation #totempole

Global News BC: Nisga’a memorial pole about to start journey home to B.C. from Scottish museum https://globalnews.ca/news/9924229/nisgaa-memorial-totem-pole-returning-scotland/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #repatriationofIndigenousartifacts #Indigenousartifactsreturnedhome #Nisga'atotempolecominghome #NationalMuseumOfScotland #repatriatedartifacts #Nisga'atotempole #BCFirstNations #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #Perspectives #repatriation #totempole

Global News BC: Saskatchewan First Nation says B.C. willing to keep talking to resolve concern https://globalnews.ca/news/9570887/key-first-nation-cautious-after-talks-with-bc/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #SaskatchewanFirstNations #indigenouschildwelfare #IndigenousChildren #KeyFirstNation #Reconciliation #ChildWelfare #NoelleO'Soup #ElliO'Soup #MitziDean #Politics #Health #MCFD

Global News BC: B.C. Nisga’a totem on display at Scotland museum since 1930 is heading home https://globalnews.ca/news/9319017/scotlands-national-museum-return-bc-totem/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #Nisga'atotempoleScotland #repatriationofartifacts #ScotlandNationalMuseum #indigenousartifacts #BCFirstNations #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #totempole #Scotland #Canada #World

Global News BC: B.C. Nisga’a totem on display at Scotland museum since 1930 is heading home https://globalnews.ca/news/9319017/scotlands-national-museum-return-bc-totem/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #Nisga'atotempoleScotland #repatriationofartifacts #ScotlandNationalMuseum #indigenousartifacts #BCFirstNations #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #totempole #Scotland #Canada #World

Global News BC: B.C. Nisga’a totem on display at Scotland museum since 1930 is heading home https://globalnews.ca/news/9319017/scotlands-national-museum-return-bc-totem/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #Nisga'atotempoleScotland #repatriationofartifacts #ScotlandNationalMuseum #indigenousartifacts #BCFirstNations #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #totempole #Scotland #Canada #World

Global News BC: B.C. Nisga’a totem on display at Scotland museum since 1930 is heading home https://globalnews.ca/news/9319017/scotlands-national-museum-return-bc-totem/ #globalnews #britishcolumbia #news #Nisga'atotempoleScotland #repatriationofartifacts #ScotlandNationalMuseum #indigenousartifacts #BCFirstNations #Reconciliation #Nisga'aNation #totempole #Scotland #Canada #World