Church can be extremely boring. It can be very meaningful, it can be character forming, but can be have very little fizz in it.

The tradition piece is so embedded in me I don't know that I can see it any more, but the community piece is one I've been in danger of losing.

Divine reality is not way up in the sky somewhere; it is readily available in the encounters of everyday life, which make hash of my illusions that I can control the ways God comes to me.

The great wisdom traditions of the world all recognize that the main impediment to living a life of meaning is being self-absorbed.

The church grew, and I gained a reputation for preaching, and people came, and it was a wonderful community. But we had a building that seated 82 people, and with a congregation then approaching 400 we were up to four services on Sunday, and everyone was tired.

The real problem has far less to do with what is really out there than it does with our resistance to finding out what is really out there.

I love being alone. I learned that from my father, I think, who loved his own company.