A single egg in warm morning light casts a long shadow shaped like a chicken across the ground.

What Came First?

This reflection begins with a question from Matthew 15: Blind to what? Following the Pharisees, a Canaanite woman, and the older truth of Genesis, it wonders what happens when the distinctions that came later become more visible than the image of God that came first.

Reflections of several people walking along a rain-soaked city sidewalk at golden hour shimmer in puddles, while the people themselves remain mostly out of frame.

Who Art Thou?

This reflection began as a struggle to pray. It became a search for the One I had been thanking all along. Through family, friends, strangers, and unexpected acts of kindness, perhaps grace has always been arriving with a human face.

Freshly sheared sheep standing beside its wool in an open field.

Same Sheep, Less Wool

This reflection begins with a shave nearly ten years in the making and follows what fell away into questions of survival, remembering, vocation, and coherence.

Four orangutans sit side by side in a forest; three cover their ears, mouth, and eyes, while the fourth sits uncovered and faces forward.

The Basic Instincts

This reflection explores fight, flight, and freeze through the lens of formation—and wonders whether Face offers another possibility: remaining present long enough for what we encounter now to become part of what forms us next.

Golden wheat and wild weeds growing together in a field, with a narrow path leading toward the setting sun.

Charity: Grace Outsourced?

This reflection explores the tension between charity and grace through the parable of the wheat and weeds, asking what happens when generosity travels elsewhere while the harm we participate in remains untouched.

A lone traveler pauses beside an ancient tree along a quiet forest path at sunrise, studying its immense trunk as warm morning light filters gently through the surrounding woods.

The Grace of “Perhaps”

This reflection explores why one small word keeps appearing in my writing and how perhaps became a practice of humility—creating space between memory and reality,
recognition and understanding, wonder and wisdom.

A weathered brass compass rests on a moss-covered stone in a quiet forest, illuminated by warm morning light as a symbol of orientation, remembering, and the journey of becoming human.

The Shape of Becoming Human

How a conversation with my mom, Paul's words, and one Tamil word unexpectedly became a reflection on formation, re-formation, and the enduring shape of becoming human.

A clay vessel stands beside an open Bible on a wooden table in a quiet church sanctuary, illuminated by soft morning light, symbolizing faith, formation, and God's grace amid human fragility.

Coherence Is Hard

This reflection begins with preparing to serve as lector and unfolds into a meditation on Romans 7, why coherence is so difficult, and how God's grace through Jesus Christ restores our participation in the life we were created for.