Gratitude is an important practice of anyone who wishes to walk with God. Seeing all things as gift can change one’s entire life. Expressing gratitude can literally change the world. Religious leaders, mystics and scientists all agree that those who practice gratitude attract a fuller and happier life. Those who dwell in negativity and lack attack more negative things into their lives.
Keeping a gratitude journal is a powerful practice. If you are experiencing hard times I highly encourage you to keep a gratitude journal that each day lists all that you can be grateful for. Even if it just states that the day is finally over!
There is an abundance of blessings in our lives, if we only look. Yet often there isn’t any discussion of gratitude and challenges. A grateful heart is not always a “happy” heart. That is why I believe it to be one of the most sacred spiritual practices. Gratitude lifts us into the Presence of the Holy. One can be grateful and grieve or grateful and overwhelmed and grateful and frustrated. This poem below addresses that. After you read it what are you thoughts about being gratitude and your spiritual walk? What are your reactions to the poem? Too simplistic or spot on? How does God and the comma connect with gratitude in all thing? This Thanksgiving, whether you are surrounded by an abundance of friends and family you love and/or avoid or you are alone, how can you let the day be one truly filled with gratitude?
Be Thankful
Be thankful that you don’t already have everything you desire,
If you did, what would there be to look forward to?
Be thankful when you don’t know something
For it gives you the opportunity to learn.
Be thankful for the difficult times.
During those times you grow.
Be thankful for your limitations
Because they give you opportunities for improvement.
Be thankful for each new challenge
Because it will build your strength and character.
Be thankful for your mistakes
They will teach you valuable lessons.
Be thankful when you’re tired and weary
Because it means you’ve made a difference.
It is easy to be thankful for the good things.
A life of rich fulfillment comes to those who are
also thankful for the setbacks.
GRATITUDE can turn a negative into a positive.
Find a way to be thankful for your troubles
and they can become your blessings.
When I was a kid growing up in Georgia, in a small village outside Atlanta, my parents were leaders in a small fundamentalist congregation. All six of us kids attended the SundaySchool and Vacation Bible School. One of the things I enjoyed most about those early educational experiences was the teachers’ use of “flannel graph” art as a teaching aid in illuminating the Bible stories. Pictures of people and significant objects in the story backed with flannel adhered to a lightweight board covered with flannel which helped make the story cometo life.
One of the stories I loved was “Noah and the Flood.” So I was fascinated to hear that Hollywood was producing a movie on the subject, and I intended to see it. Unfortunately I was unable to see the movie. Many years ago I stopped believing that the stories were literally true. In my imagination, however, I would like to have a heart-to-heart conversation with Noah. The really big question I would ask Noah is, why did God send such a terrible flood to destroy the people and animals and everything else in the land where you lived? But, of course, my interview with Noah doesn’t go well because we live in such different worlds. Everything is different. They are said to have lived unbelievably long lives, such as Noah’s 950 years. Different times, cultures, languages. Even to talk of faith and beliefs would be adifficult at best.
Setting aside a preoccupation with all the species of animals, birds, and insects being rounded up and adequately housed as totally impossible, I am left with the most important question of all: Why did God send such a terrible flood to totally destroy people, animals, and everything in the land were Noah lived? The ancient text gives the explanation:
God saw that human evil was out of control. People thought evil, imagined evil, evil, evil from morning to night. God was sorry that he had made the human race. . .it broke his heart. God said, “I’ll get rid of my ruined creation, make a clean sweep: people, animals, snakes, bugs and birds—the works.” – Eugene Peterson’s translation, The Message, chapters 6-7.
So what can we learn from Noah’s story? One possible lesson is that when human beings forget their origin in God’s creation, neglect their responsible stewardship of the earth, God’s gift, and forsake their due care for one another, then bad consequences follow. Pope Francis, a scientist himself, has caught the attention of the world, and one thing he said reverberates in our thoughts:“Destroy the earth, and the earth will destroy us.”In his encyclical,On Care for Our Common Home, Laudato Si, he referred to “integral ecology” which means that everything on earth is connected, and implies that our actions can and do upset the delicate balance of our environment, disrupting the intricate web of life supporting everything existing on earth.
The Psalmist says in Psalm 24, “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world and those who dwell therein. For it was He who founded it upon the seas and planted it firm upon the waters beneath.” Poetic to be sure, but it points to our problem: we have forgotten that earth is not ours to do with as we please. We mortals hold the earth in trust for future generations. In one way or another, we have participated in bringing the earth to the point of rebelling and crying out against the harmful effects of hubris and technology which destroy human community, and disrupt, poison, and pollute the oceans, our atmosphere, water, and soil. This, I venture to say, is the world-destroying “evil” which has brought us to this critical point in human history.
The nations of the world, their leaders and representatives, will meet in early December in Paris to make commitments to reduce and eliminate greenhouse gases from their combustible energy systems. Solutions are at hand. We need to find the politicalwill and the moral courage to apply them. Obviously, the change cannot be overnight, but we must act now with all deliberate speed in ways that enable the essential transitional changes to begin and continue without undue obstruction. That meeting of the nations should be in the prayers of every community of faith and in the hearts of all believers, beginning now and continuing until a just and healing solution is reached.
Almost twelve years ago, I moved from the Midwest to the Southwest. I had just finished a Master of Arts in Religion, and was starting a new adventure in a new place with my spouse of three years. I knew I would need a companion on the journey, who could help me discern my next steps. So I sought out a Spiritual Director.
Little did I know I was beginning a relationship that would last years. My Spiritual Director, Teresa Blythe, walked with me in those first few months in New Mexico as I found myself floundering in what I had thought was a vocational calling to full-time writing. (It turns out that’s a bad fit for an extrovert.) A few years later, she helped me listen for God’s voice when I began to feel a call to ordained ministry, and was with me throughout my Master of Divinity. She followed me into a long dark night of the soul, when a horrific church split rocked my theological foundations, and she helped me piece together a new theology that worked for me. Now, she’s walking with me as I move from the desert I love to a (yet unknown) calling in another part of the world.
In each of these steps on my journey, I found myself in need of some clarity. Having someone there who was trained to listen with me to the Spirit of Wisdom helped me find the path I should follow. It was as if I were walking in the desert, on a road marked only by cairns. When I lost the path, and needed to find the next cairn, I had someone there to help me in the search. I probably could have found the cairns on my own, but having a Spiritual Director helped me find them more-quickly.
Having an ongoing, years-long, relationship with a Spiritual Director also held other benefits I hadn’t expected. I remember one particularly hard December, when I was feeling quite “agnosticy” (my word for those times when I find myself bereft of God, and wandering in unbelief). Teresa, who had been meeting with me for several years by that point, gently pointed out that this was my third agnosticy December in a row. “Let’s explore why December might be a dry spiritual time for you,” she said. In the conversation that followed, I discovered that the busy-ness of the Holiday Season often leads me to set aside spiritual practices that feed me. So, it makes sense that I feel spiritually lost when I’m “too busy” for spiritual things. Now, I’m more careful in November and December — and I’m easier on myself when I’m feeling agnosticy.
If you’re a lay leader, an ordained minister, or any person who cares about your spiritual journey, I’d recommend finding a Spiritual Director who can walk with you. This relationship is so important that I schedule the next year’s worth of sessions every December, putting them on the calendar so I know they’ll be there when I need them. You can find a Spiritual Director who suits your personality and beliefs at Spiritual Directors International.
Whatever your journey, may you always have companions to help you find the next cairn pointing the way to the future.
When people find out I practice a contemplative life sometimes I get a dismissive look as if my practice is about keeping my eyes closed with no concern for what is happening in life. Yet living a contemplative life is truly about connecting in a very real way. I find is it like running barefoot.
Early one morning, as my radio turned on and I was half asleep listening to the news, a story come on about a runner who runs barefoot and how it is better for your body than running in shoes. I was pretty sleepy, but the gist of the story was that the bare foot moves and balances better than the foot in a shoe. The bare foot reacts to dangers in the path and helps the runner avoid them. Shoes can cause more damage to the foot and give the runner a false sense of security. And now there has been the creation of “barefoot shoes.”
This brought back thoughts of childhood and the process of toughening up our feet as summer began. We started each day by walking a few minutes barefoot on the hot cement. Just a bit every day and before we knew it we were running around the entire neighborhood barefoot even at 100 degrees. There was freedom and connectedness as we felt the grass under our feet and the sound of our feet pounding on the cement. Even to this day I prefer being barefoot no matter where I live, hot or cold climate. I love the feel of the ground under my feet, the sounds they make. There is a sacred feeling in that connection.
Going barefoot also means there is the danger of getting hurt. As kids, we really had to pay attention to where we were going. It took stepping on a nail to for me to learn that lesson. Isn’t that like life? We start out with abandon and then we get hurt causing us to rightly protect ourselves. Yet the danger is not to create so much padding we lose our connection to life. Life isn’t safe; at least that what I have come to understand. I have a choice: hole up safe and protected or go out into the adventure paying attention, being aware, not expecting safety, but trusting God. That is the contemplative life.
Moses at the burning bush was asked to take off his shoes. No insulation allowed on holy ground even if it seems like dangerous ground. God is saying, “Trust me, feel me from the very sole of your feet. I want you connected fully.” Often in hospice situations I’ve wanted to take my shoes off at the door. The level of grief, pain, joy and honoring in that room was truly holy and I instinctively wanted to be fully present. No safety allowed.
In the walk with God there are times when the call is to take off our shoes and really be vulnerable, trusting and aware. The contemplative practice is one in which we look for the holy ground everywhere and are willing to be barefoot. Even if it’s for a few moments.
Exercise
When was the last time you took off your shoes and enjoyed the feeling and potential danger of going barefoot? Where in your life is God calling you to become more connected to the Holy? Look at your shoes. What do they say about your journey? Spend some time walking barefoot, indoors or out, and pray as though you are on holy ground.
We are called to love. We are called to love those around us. What about this, though: Those around us are who we are called to love.
This removes the fantasy element of all of this. Now we are dealing with names, dates, places and times. We are dealing with life in real time. This is a different discussion all together because it is the marrow of life, the relationship aspect of our dwelling together. And it’s where everything can get messed up. There are so many moving parts that often require intention and care.
Anne Lamott says that we are on this Earth without a manual because this is forgiveness school. Wouldn’t that be something? If my purpose on this Earth was to be able to forgive? My access to self-forgiveness and my access to forgiving those around me often get in the way of my call to love. Now my ability to recount every wrong that someone has done is amazing. Where others may have athleticism, I have this down pat. If the Olympics offered resentment as a sport, you’d want me representing you there! And I am certain I am not alone in that. I am certain we could spend just a little time observing the world around us and find some Olympic quality resentment. And we don’t even have to observe the world around us; we can simply observe the world within us.
This is lived experience. Lived experience is often far different from imagined experience. It is in the lived experience that we get to have access to realities that change the very fiber of our being. Those around us, right now, are who we are called to love.
The recounting of wrongs, resentment embracing and the tit for tat lived experience does not allow access to grace. It allows access to what is due, not what is healing. A lived experience in which we keep record of wrongs and the score card limits our own access to grace. There is something so life affirming in affording someone else grace when the score card is full. In my own spiritual development, I have recognized that when I turn toward forgiveness and choosing love, I am turning toward that in my own life as well. I open that door to you and suddenly that door is open to me. I have access to a lived experience that before was completely blocked. I have access to the very love that I long for because I have offered it to another.
Richard Rohr speaks eloquently on this topic in his book, “Breathing Under Water” which is his description of choosing a life lived in spirit. He says this, “Grace will always favor the prepared mind.” It is not that grace isn’t extended to all. It is. Grace is all around. The love of God is all around. Our ability to have access to this grace and love is often in direct proportion to our willingness to turn toward love.
I lived in South Africa in the late 90’s. I was a 7th grade school teacher. I moved there at age 18 so I was a baby teaching babies. I was having it out one day with one of the students, Akhona Mvandaba. We had argued and argued and argued that year. I offended him. He offended me. Our score cards were oh so full! I don’t remember what triggered the moment of change, but something did. He said something that I didn’t like and we were on our way to the principal’s office. He had his angry face on and so did I. We were huffing up the way when our path was blocked by a Mama. Her name was Esther.
She asked why we were angry. I let it out, listing his bad parts that were just not acceptable. Then he let it out listing all the reasons why I just was not good people. As we took turns, Esther took my hand in her hand. She then reached for his hand. We continued as she held our hands. She began to say “Peace. Peace. Peace.” I responded to Akhona’s last sentence with furvor and anger. She started to rock with a sway, side to side, “Peace. Peace.” It went back and forth as she swayed. And the quiet began to rest on me. It began to rest on him. Peace. Peace. I cried. He cried. It was such a hard year. “Peace. Peace.”
She blocked our path to anger and spoke peace into our beings. And something changed fundamentally. There was no anger left, just sadness at all the moments we didn’t love each other. We swayed with her and the gentle rocking presence of God rested on us. Peace. Peace.
Those around us are who we are called to love. As Richard Rohr so eloquently put:
“Grace will always favor the prepared mind.” But then he continues, “Maybe we can sum it up this way: God is humble and never comes if not first invited, but God will find some clever way to get invited.”
Look around. The invitation is right in front of you.
Peace.
Peace.
Image above: My students at Valley Dawn Christian School in Willowvale, South Africa. Akhona is in the back row second from left. – Dax
“My gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.”
I begin this article with a confession. I should probably have used the #IWASKIMDAVIS hashtag for my Twitter and Facebook posts last month, because I’m one of those older ministers whose views have changed, and I’m chagrined to think of some of my past sermons and comments. My Christian life began in the Evangelical camp and I remained there for more than a decade. “You can only know what you know” and for years the only theological writings that I came across were of the typical and unfortunate category labeling “homosexuality” as a choice and a sin. Given that background, when I came across GLBT Christ followers, I could only see them as a challenge—challenging the presuppositions that I held.
My sister proved to be my salvation in this regard; without her I might still cling to a very limited view of God’s mercy, along with a hyper-literalist approach to the Bible. She has always been a model Christ-follower in our family (although I’m the one with the formal degree in theology). Simply by being herself, Joyce witnessed to me that my spiritual siblings who loved their partners of the same sex are as faithful to Christ and as transformed by the Spirit as I (nay, they are more so). And I’ve come to realize that my gay sisters and brothers have given me a tremendous gift—they are the witnesses that enable my own faith to withstand its most severe challenges.
As the culture wars heat up I’ve become intensely aware of how Christians get painted with a broad brush stroke. That came to a head a few weeks ago when a long-time friend told me “You’re not a Christian. If you choose that word to self-identify that’s your right, but I know Christians and you’re not that.” Now, she meant that as a compliment—her way of acknowledging that I’ve become a more inclusive and broad-minded person. But it also stung, because that accusation divides me within myself. Bombarded by the statements of right-wing politicians, preachers and ordinary believers, I struggle with doubts. Have I hit upon a truer faith now, or am I deluding myself to remain in a religion that has so long been characterized by oppression? Why couldn’t I have chosen a religion like Buddhism or Jainism that isn’t regarded as evil? Yes, I’m part of a big UCC family, with many inclusive fellow believers, but our numbers (around a million) are pretty small compared to more conservative groups like the Southern Baptists (15 times as many). And then I keep hearing old friends tell how they’ve left the faith and are so much more congruent embracing atheism (they do a good job evangelizing for their non-faith).
So am I crazy to keep believing? Thank God for the example of gay believers—they give me hope to keep on. If any group has reason to feel the sting of Christian guilt-by-association, it’s them. They’ve been told for centuries that their faith is illegitimate, that they are shameful and unloved by God. Yet their experience belies those lies and they continue to proclaim love for Jesus.
I read John Fortunato’s book Embracing the Exile: Healing Journeys of Gay Christians. He recounts the long and difficult struggle of growing up being both Catholic (sincerely devout) and gay. At one point he complains to God about his fellow believers saying “They call my light darkness! They call my love perverted! They call my gifts corruptions. What the hell are you asking me to do?” And then John Fortunato hears God’s voice, clear and unmistakable. “Love them anyway,” God said. “Love them anyway.”
I think of a trusted colleague in ministry, a gay man who reminds me that our calling is to assist all UCC churches to prosper—not just the Open and Affirming churches, not just the Progressive Churches—but all the churches in our conference.
I think of the young woman with a spikey hairdo in my church who wears a “Gay Christian” t-shirt and engages people in dialogue when they comment on that, taking on the role of an educator for the misinformed.
And if my gay companions can wear the label “Christian” despite the toxicity that’s been pinned onto that, then surely I can. Jesus is indeed fortunate to have such faithful followers—and I am blessed to be surrounded on earth by such witnesses.
Shrine of St Andrew, Edinburgh, photo by Ken McIntosh
A few days ago I was chatting with one of my closest friends about the popularity of the movie War Room. That best-selling film tells the story of a woman who saves her marriage by prayer. My friend said “Isn’t that just magical thinking?” I agreed that it was—while reflecting that I don’t want to dismiss the idea of prayer and causality. Magical thinking is defined by Wikipedia as “the attribution of causal relationships between actions and events which seemingly cannot be justified by reason and observation.” Increasingly, I find that my relations– both within the church and without– question the traditional understanding of prayer as a means of influencing reality. I share some of their concerns. Yet this discussion prompted me to think a bit more about what prayer is, and why I still practice it in the form of intercession.
Before reading further, be assured that I do not presume to prescribe anyone’s belief or theology. I embrace the UCC ideal that we have no tests of faith—only testimonies. I enjoy reading others’ theological ruminations –testimonies if you will. Whether I agree with them or not, I am blessed by all who voice or write their thoughts about God. I hope my own feeble musings might prove helpful in
some way.
Concerns over the ways that prayer has been misunderstood and misused
As I said, I share concern over the ways that traditional theism has perhaps misunderstood or misused prayer. Most obviously, the same people who wax eloquent regarding prayer also tend to embrace bibliolatry, hyper-literalism, prejudice, and rejection of science. Prayer is tainted by association. And prayer can actually be harmful when it becomes an excuse for inaction: what good does
it do praying for the environment, or for refugees, or for peace, if one is unwilling to spend time and money influencing the political decisions that foster these ills? Furthermore, prayers often seem directed toward “the Big Man in the sky”—too easily pictured as Michelangelo’s white-haired patriarch on the Sistine Chapel, an entity separated from the physical world.
It’s often pointed out that prayer primarily changes the person praying—and perhaps that is its efficacy. This is certainly true in my own experience. I’ve been driven to my knees hearing about an injustice, or seeing an image of suffering. Before I can rise again, something drives home my need for involvement. This leads me to the local government office to testify before a hearing, to deliver food
and diapers to a family in need, or to stand in lines protesting. Prayer does change things—and often the thing it changes most powerfully is me. But does it perhaps do more? Can we still affirm, rationally, that “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of”? (quote from Alfred Lord Tennyson).
Prayer and the nature of God
A common belief among UCC folks is “God is still speaking.” That keeps us on the forefront of the struggle for justice, and keeps us relevant in a quickly-changing world. As I thought about prayer recently, I had the very simple thought: “It does little good if God is still speaking but not listening.” Our wonderful dedication to justice and freedom—from Amistad to marriage equality—has come from a
long tradition that God is on the side of the oppressed, a tradition that hearkens back to the Book of Exodus. That Exodus event, in turn, is empowered by a God who hears: “They cried out …God heard their cry of grief, and God remembered his covenant…God looked…and God understood” (Exodus 2:23-25). What happened when God heard? God called Moses—and liberation began.
In much the same way, God spoke reassuring Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. at a turning point in the struggle for civil rights. As Dr. Julius R. Scruggs tells it, “King references the time during the Montgomery bus boycott when the bigots threatened to kill him and blow up his home. He retreated to the kitchen and laid his soul bare before God, praying for strength and guidance, and God sustained him then and through his difficult and challenging pilgrimage.”
If the only way that God ‘answers’ prayer were by influencing men and women to respond to his call, that would still to an extent fall under the criticism of ‘magical’ thinking: there is a cause (the cries of humanity for redemption) and an event (God speaks in response to their cries). Yet this action of God calling champions for love is a critical part of the legacy of the United Church of Christ.
My own belief in causal prayer comes from my understanding of God’s nature. I am a panentheist. Not a pantheist (where all is God) but a pan-en-theist (where the whole of physical reality is in God). As described in Acts 17:28 “In God we live and move and exist.” This also goes hand-in-hand with a process view of the Divine nature; God cannot be extricated from the flow of evolving consciousness in the universe. This means that I am indeed a part of God; Spirit indwells every person (and creatures as well); yet God also transcends flesh and matter.
If God then connects all that is, how can I pray without connecting to forces outside of my own body? I don’t pray to “The Big Man in the sky”…I pray as a part of the vast interconnected Reality that includes myself and reaches beyond the sum of the physical cosmos. And if that is so, then our prayers do matter. It may be “magical thinking,” but it still fits within a rational understanding of the nature of God and reality.
Inspiring words by a great theologian
I conclude with words from the late Walter Wink, who taught at Auburn seminary. In his book “The Powers that Be” he says:
“When we pray, we are not sending a letter to a celestial White House…rather, it is an act of co-creation, in which one little sector of the universe rises up and becomes translucent, incandescent, a vibratory center of power that radiates the power of the universe. History belongs to the intercessors, who believe the future into being.”
So, as we work together for the Beloved Community…let us pray.
Kenneth McIntosh serves as Church Growth and Renewal Coordinator for Southwest Conference and also as pastor of First Congregational Church in Flagstaff, Arizona. He has his M.Div from Fuller Seminary and has been in pastoral ministry for over twenty years in four different denominations. He is passionate about spiritual practices, justice and Earth care. Ken is author of several popular books on Celtic Christian spirituality and a facilitator for Forest Church. He lives with his wife Marsha in Flagstaff and enjoys hiking, traveling and reading on a wide variety of topics.
Vector: (mathematics) a quantity possessing both magnitude and direction. Source: Dictionary.com
Faith communities can be very unpredictable places. Take a look around your own spiritual home to see it with fresh eyes.
At the church I call home, we are often proud of the fast pace of happenings on our campus and their diversity. Sometimes we even go so far as to say, “You just never know what’s going on around here!” or “We don’t have ‘regular Sundays’ here!” And in a sense, these expressions are correct: it’s sometimes a busy, wacky place to be.
But in another, deeper way, what goes on here and at other faith communities is entirely expected. The Spirit of Life is at work. And while the Spirit is unpredictable, her vector is always the same. The Spirit moves in the direction of wholeness, peace, justice, grace, and love. Where the wind of Spirit rises and blows is always a surprise to us. The example during my own lifetime is clear: I never would have predicted 20 years ago that marriage equality would begin to sweep the country. The speed at which hearts and minds (and laws!) changed was a joy to observe. The where and the how fast both surprised me.*
“The wind blows all around us as if it has a will of its own; we feel and hear it, but we do not understand where it has come from or where it will end up. Life in the Spirit is as if it were the wind of God.” John 3: 8 from The Voice New Testament
We can imagine a weather map of the United States (pardon me for being ameri-centric, it’s the geography I know best). Imagine a wind that always blows from east to west. Sometimes a gentle breeze stirs on the Carolina coast from Wilmington to Charlotte around the issue of climate change and creation care and marine conservation. Sometimes a gale stirs the Great Plains from Des Moines to Lincoln around worker rights. Another day, a warm gust rises in El Paso and heads toward Phoenix, with energy and passion for humane immigration. Winds converge and create storms and new patterns. These winds can be different, but they blow always in the same direction: toward greater wholeness, peace, justice, grace and love.
So what do we do? How can we participate?
We care. Thankfully there are some true constants in a life of faith. Love God; Love one another; love ourselves. Everyday acts of kindness, service, and self-care stretch us and keep our hearts soft. So, when the wind around us begins to blow, our excitement can become greater than our fear.
We prepare. We ready ourselves for the new work that awaits us, with practices of silence and contemplation. We gather around ourselves others who are also preparing to join in and invest in relationships. We get some tools and supplies ready. Depending on the kind of wind we observe, we might need a kite or maybe a sail; prayer flags or perhaps flower seeds.
We watch. We study the horizon, looking for signs that God is at work. We become like spiritual meteorological Minutemen, ready to act at a moment’s notice when conditions change.
We harness. We join the Spirit at work, as our gifts indicate. The work gives us joy and purpose.
Unpredictable? Sometimes. But the holy vector is constant.
*Of course the pace has seemed slow to others, particularly those who were involved in this ministry of change. In some ways, this point of view reflects my own privilege and isn’t meant to denigrate or minimalize the hard work done by many.
Karen Richter is Director of Spiritual Formation at Shadow Rock UCC. She has worked previously in a variety of educational and nonprofit settings. Her interests include peaceful parenting, theology in pop culture, and adult/adolescent faith formation. She is also active in Shadow Rock’s sanctuary ministry and Whole Life Center. Karen lives in Anthem, Arizona with her husband, children, and tiny dog.
