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In Memoriam: Wendell Berry

In Memoriam: Wendell Berry
1934–2026

It was late fall or early winter of 2000, as I recall. Wendy and I, along with a few friends, made our way to a bookstore in downtown St. Paul to hear a man read from his newest book. It was not the first time I had heard of this man, Wendell Berry of Kentucky. But that evening made me a student of this Kentucky farmer, novelist, poet, conservationist, and profoundly deep and witty writer.

The book from which he read that night was Jayber Crow: A Novel: The Life Story of Jayber Crow, Barber, of the Port William Membership, as Written by Himself. I left that bookstore with a copy that is now worn, battered, and deeply loved. I now have thirty-five of his books in a place of prominence on my bookshelf. I have read them all, many of them more than once. I am pretty sure a friend or two has others that once sat on my shelf but never found their way home. On a wall in our house, I have a letter from him, written in Advent 2017, and nearby, a picture of him sitting at his writing desk—just a few feet from my own.

Wendell died on August 31, 2026, at his home in Port Royal, Kentucky. He was ninety-two. I grieve his death. I feel it as a personal loss. My tears fell, and my voice choked when I heard the news because, for more than twenty-six years, he had become an honored teacher, a spiritual influence, and a wise voice in my life. I want to tell you why. Read More

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Church for the City

We recently celebrated an event on Whidbey Island called Church for the City.   Perhaps as many as 16 churches gathered on the Oak Harbor waterfront at Windjammer Park. It had something of the feel of an Old Testament sacred assembly: elders and neighbors gathering the people to worship, sing, serve, and remember God’s movement in the life of their community. More than a thousand of us came for worship,  a day of service to our city, and a shared communion service. And, by the way, I got a T-shirt.

Our day called to mind Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles in Babylon:

“But seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile, and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare” (Jeremiah 29:7).

The word translated welfare is the Hebrew word shalom – peace, wholeness, well-being, thriving, and resilience. The repetition matters: seek the city’s shalom, because in its shalom you will find your shalom. This was not a letter to people who had freely relocated after looking up housing options on Redfin. They had been carried into exile after defeat by a mighty military empire. Jeremiah’s instructions were not merely surprising; they must have been terribly upsetting. Read More

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I Lift Up My Eyes: Psalm 121

 

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
 from where will my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

Psalm 121:1-2

What are you looking at?

It is an ordinary question—one you ask when a friend suddenly pauses, their attention caught by something you cannot yet see, or when a passenger turns to look back along the highway. We ask, “What are you looking at?” Common, yes, but it may be one of the important spiritual questions with which to begin a day: What will claim my attention in the hours ahead? It is a question to be asked by all of us.

 

For ministry leaders, the question carries particular urgency. Our eyes are trained to notice what needs attention: the unfinished sermon, the struggling congregation, the conflict that will not resolve, the call still unreturned, the budget, the building, the meeting, the grief beneath someone’s composed face. Much of ministry is the holy work of looking closely at what stands before us. But over time, faithful attention can harden into the weary habit of staring only at what is wrong. For the rest of us, we know the busyness that distracts during a typical day of work, groceries, the gas station, bill paying, and dinner preparation.

 

Attention is never merely optical. What holds our gaze eventually lays claim to our imagination, emotions, dreams, and hope. Read More

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A Word to the Wise: You Are Not Finished

Sometimes At the Table is meant to inspire. It is always meant to invite us more deeply into Scripture and into conversations that matter. But every so often, we also need to be challenged—called to account. Today’s “word to the wise” is one of those moments.

Rich, a mentor of mine when I moved from parish ministry to campus ministry, taught me this lesson well. Only a year or two older than I, he retired before I did—but he did so with an attitude. He helped me reimagine this stage of life not as retirement, but as re-deployment.

At the time of my own re-deployment, I assumed I’d be asked to serve on boards or teach classes on campus—or something like that. Truth be told, I didn’t know what. But one of the best questions a mentor can ask is short and piercing: “What’s next?” It sparks anticipation, stirs curiosity, and invites us to wonder about the season ahead.

In my case, the message was clear: I wasn’t finished. In the Kingdom of God, retirement is never the end of our calling.  Read More

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Interlude Questions Matter

In a recent blog, Rob (Loane) talked to us about connecting the “answers” with questions. For many years, my work put a grant in our hands that allowed us to develop campus ministry leaders in two ways: leadership practices and spirituality. As a group, we loved times for “shop talk,” when we opened the floor for new ideas, innovations, and methods for spiritual formation on college campuses. The ideas would flow, copious notes would be taken, and many of us returned home with a “plug and play” mentality about what we heard from our peers.  

 

Over time, however, we needed to remember that best practices are “answers” or “responses” to questions that emerged out of local issues, contextual problems, or partial “solutions” in vivo, that is, in life lived on a campus in Indiana, upstate New York, urban LA or Minneapolis, small town Kentucky or metropolitan Dallas. We discovered that “answers” in the form of new programs or practices are not universal but specific to place, setting, staffing, ecclesial identity, and practical movements in the story of the ministry itself.  

 

A new campus pastor might bring something new to the table that a long-time pastor might have tried years before. A large staff team might initiate multiple complex plans that a campus pastor with a part-time assistant could not. Once again, questions matter.

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Peace Like a River

Wendy and I found ourselves in a VRBO on Penn Cove in the middle of Whidbey Island. We were wrestling with our future: Where shall we go? Should we make a move back to Washington State? There was uncertainty, sprinkled with more than a little anxiety. 

One evening, as we listened to music, a sea otter showed off its athletic prowess just north of our deck. A song began to play: “It Is Well,” sung by Kristene DiMarco. A version based on a hymn written in 1873. 

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Embracing Hospitality, Listening, and Mentoring

In a world teeming with noise and distractions, the teachings of Jesus offer a roadmap to cultivate deeper connections with God and others through hospitality, listening, and mentoring. These three practices are not isolated acts but integral threads woven into the fabric of a life lived in faith. By embodying these principles, we participate in the spiritual formation of ourselves and others, creating a ripple effect of transformation.

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David: A Walking Contradiction

Though this reflection speaks directly to men, David’s story offers insight for all of us who wrestle with forgiveness, calling, failure, and grace. 

A Call to Men

David was called a man after God’s own heart. That wasn’t a title; it was a name whispered by God—a way of saying, ‘I know this man, flaws and all, and I still choose him.’ David’s identity was forged not in the noise of battle but in the quiet hours under the stars, where only sheep and sky kept him company. Out there, he came to know God as a companion, friend, and coach. He learned to trust that “my times are in your hands.” Read More

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Jesus Saved a Life: We Were There

I was a young pastor in a university town, newly baptized into the fierce faith of campus ministry. Soon after, a group of Christian students—bold, bright-eyed, unashamed—welcomed me into their company. They carried the gospel like wildfire, unafraid to bring the name of Jesus into the thick of frat house bravado.

 

“Will you join us,” they asked, “as we go into the fraternity houses to speak the name of Jesus?”

I said yes. Braver in word than in spirit, I nodded—though inside, I trembled.

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How I Fight My Battles: 

It was the late ’80s. A guest was coming to Chapel—an international musician, a name known across the Christian world, and more importantly, my daughter Keri’s favorite: Michael W. Smith. She skipped school that day, rode with me to the airport, and sat behind us with quiet anticipation. Only later did I discover she had tucked a tape recorder under the seat, capturing every word, as if to hold onto a memory of a fleeting morning. She knew something special was unfolding. Years later, one of his songs—simple, pulsing like a heartbeat—brought me back. “This is how I fight my battles.” A repeated phrase, a cry, a creed. Not through sword or shield, but through praise. Through presence. Through faith. It summoned in me the vision of Isaiah 61—an epic chapter of beauty and protest, lament and renewal.

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