New Blog

While this blog is great and has been a great experience for me, I have decided to keep it up, but not updated. 

Please go over and follow me at Navigating Faith 

As you may or may not know, I have left the UMC and the Global Methodist Church and have started a journey to the Catholic faith. It was not an easy decision, but please be sure to follow me there. 

WICKED: A Story of Trauma, Faith, and Finding the Good in the World Around Us

Since its Broadway debut in 2003, WICKED has become one of the most beloved and enduring musicals in modern theater. Based on Gregory Maguire’s novel, WICKED offers a fresh, imaginative take on the classic Wizard of Oz story, offering a complex portrayal of the witches of Oz—Elphaba (the "Wicked Witch of the West") and Glinda (the "Good Witch"). While many people are drawn to WICKED for its catchy songs, dazzling visuals, and memorable characters, the deeper themes within the story speak to something more profound—trauma, faith, and the search for goodness amidst darkness.

At its core, WICKED is about the consequences of trauma and how it shapes who we become. The story dives deep into the emotional journeys of Elphaba and Glinda, both of whom are deeply affected by their past experiences. Elphaba, with her green skin, is an outcast from birth. Her difference makes her the target of prejudice and abuse, leaving her with a deep sense of alienation. Meanwhile, Glinda, who begins as a seemingly shallow and privileged young woman, undergoes her own journey of personal growth and understanding, realizing that true goodness isn’t about appearances or superficial success but about how we choose to act in the face of adversity.

Trauma: The Shaping of Who We Are

Both characters' stories are deeply rooted in trauma. Elphaba’s experiences—being rejected by her father, judged for her appearance, and witnessing the corruption of the political system in Oz—create a hardened exterior. Trauma, in Elphaba’s case, leads to distrust in authority, a rejection of societal norms, and, eventually, a kind of self-imposed isolation. She becomes the "Wicked Witch," not because of an inherent evil, but because of the cumulative effect of a world that rejected her at every turn.

On the other hand, Glinda’s journey explores how trauma can manifest in different ways. Born into privilege, Glinda initially fails to recognize the pain of others, and her approach to conflict is often superficial, focused on maintaining her social status. However, as she learns more about Elphaba’s struggles, she too is forced to confront her own vulnerabilities and reevaluate what it means to be "good." In this way, WICKED highlights that trauma isn’t always outwardly visible, and that each person’s response to pain and suffering can vary widely.

Faith: The Search for Meaning in a Broken World

Despite the deep wounds both characters carry, WICKED ultimately offers a story of hope and faith—faith in one another, faith in the goodness of the world, and faith in the possibility of change.

One of the most powerful songs in the show, “For Good,” reflects this theme beautifully. In it, Glinda and Elphaba express how their friendship—shaped by their struggles, misunderstandings, and growth—has transformed them both. The lyrics emphasize how people can touch each other's lives in profound, lasting ways, even if the impact isn't always immediately obvious. “Who can say if I’ve been changed for the better? / But because I knew you, I have been changed for good.” 

This is a testament to the idea that, even in the midst of trauma, there is goodness to be found. It's in the relationships we build, the lessons we learn, and the moments of kindness that shine through even the darkest times. WICKED teaches us that, despite the injustices and challenges of the world, we can still choose to see and nurture the good around us.

Faith in the goodness that surrounds us isn't about ignoring the darkness or pretending the world is perfect. It’s about finding the light within the cracks, trusting in the connections we form with others, and holding on to the belief that love, compassion, and understanding can heal even the deepest wounds.

The Healing Power of Community

Another crucial theme in WICKED is the idea that trauma doesn’t have to be faced alone. The characters' journeys are interwoven with others, and the support—or lack of support—from those around them plays a huge role in their outcomes. Elphaba’s alienation is exacerbated by a system that fails her, while Glinda’s evolution is made possible by her growing recognition of the importance of empathy and selflessness.

The story suggests that healing begins when we open ourselves to the possibility of connection and find those who will stand by us, even when the world tells us we’re different. The show’s uplifting moments are often tied to the small, human acts of care—whether it’s Elphaba standing up for what she believes in, Glinda realizing the importance of friendship, or the various other characters finding common ground despite their differences.

Ultimately, WICKED asks its audience to consider the power of community in healing trauma. It reminds us that we don’t need to shoulder our pain alone, and that, through faith in one another, we can rebuild and reshape our world.

### Conclusion: Faith in the Goodness of the World

*WICKED* is more than just a musical about witches, magic, and the Wizard of Oz. It is a story about trauma, resilience, and the ongoing quest to find—and believe in—the goodness that surrounds us, even when life feels broken. Through its complex characters, hauntingly beautiful songs, and its message of hope, *WICKED* encourages us to believe that, in the face of adversity, we can still find light. It teaches us that while the world may not always be fair, there is always something worth fighting for—a truth that can sustain us even in the darkest of times.

Why the Bible Shouldn't Be Mandatory in Public Schools: A Thoughtful Look at the Separation of Church and State

There’s a recurring debate in some circles about whether or not the Bible should be allowed—or even required—to be read in public schools. As someone who has worked in the public school system for over 10 years, I want to clear up some common misconceptions and explain why making the Bible mandatory in schools isn’t the simple solution some people think it is. 

The Bible is Already Read in Schools—Just Not in Class

First, let’s address a key point: there’s nothing stopping students from reading the Bible in school. In fact, I’ve seen students reading the Bible on the bus, at lunch, or during free periods. There’s no law against students practicing their faith or reading religious texts. What was stopped back in the 1960s was the practice of mandatory Bible reading and mandatory prayer in the classroom. The decision was made to ensure that schools remained neutral in matters of religion and that students were not forced to participate in religious activities that might conflict with their personal beliefs.

A Matter of Religious Freedom

The real issue here isn’t about whether or not kids can read the Bible at school. It’s about whether or not the Bible—and any religious text—should be part of a mandatory school curriculum. If we were to mandate Bible readings in schools, we would run into a host of problems.

For example, if the Bible is made mandatory, would we stop there? Shouldn't students also be required to read the Quran, the Bhagavad Gita, the Torah, the Tripitaka, and other religious texts from different faiths? Where does it end? The reality is that if we bring religious texts into the curriculum in a mandatory way, we risk forcing a specific worldview onto students—something that contradicts the very principles of religious freedom we hold dear.

Moreover, there’s the question of who would teach these texts. If Bible study becomes a mandatory part of the curriculum, who gets to teach it? Would we want a teacher of one faith responsible for teaching the beliefs of another? What if the teacher is an atheist, or from a different religious tradition entirely? Would a Catholic be expected to teach Bible study to a class of Baptists? These are difficult questions that don’t have easy answers, and they highlight why public schools need to remain neutral in religious matters.

The Separation of Church and State

The U.S. Constitution’s First Amendment is clear: "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof..." This principle of separation of church and state ensures that the government doesn’t favor one religion over another, and that citizens are free to practice their religion (or none at all) without interference.

If we allow the Bible—or any religious text—to become a mandatory part of the public school system, we risk blurring the line between church and state. The public education system serves a diverse group of students, coming from many different backgrounds, cultures, and faiths. Forcing one religious tradition into the classroom could create an environment where some students feel marginalized or excluded because their beliefs are not represented—or worse, because they are forced to participate in religious activities that conflict with their values.

The Importance of Choice

This isn’t to say that students shouldn’t have opportunities to learn about religion, or that faith-based education isn’t valuable. Religious studies can be part of the curriculum in private schools, at religious institutions, or as elective courses for those who choose it. But public schools are designed to be inclusive and neutral environments where all students can thrive—regardless of their religion, background, or belief system.

If you want your child to study the Bible as part of their education, there are plenty of options available outside of the public school system. Sunday schools, religious youth groups, private religious schools, or even homeschooling can offer a setting where students can dive deeper into their faith. Public schools, however, need to remain places where children of all beliefs can come together without being forced to adopt or adhere to any particular religious doctrine.

Why It Matters

The separation of church and state is there for a reason: to protect our religious freedoms. It's what ensures that no religion is given special treatment by the government and that people are free to practice their beliefs without fear of being pushed into a particular religious mold. In a country as diverse as the U.S., we must maintain this principle in our schools to ensure that all students—whether Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Hindu, atheist, or anything else—feel safe and respected.

Instead of fighting to make Bible study mandatory in public schools, let’s focus on creating educational environments where students can freely explore their beliefs, learn about other cultures and religions, and develop critical thinking skills. Let’s respect the diversity of our country and ensure that public education remains a space where all students are valued, regardless of their faith.

If you want a country where a particular religion is enforced in schools, there are modern examples you can look to—countries like Saudi Arabia, Iran, or even the Vatican, where religion is tightly intertwined with government. But that’s not the vision that America was founded on, and it’s not the vision that continues to ensure our freedom of religion today.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the Bible should not be made mandatory in public schools—not because the Bible isn’t a valuable text, but because our public education system must remain inclusive and neutral when it comes to religion. It’s important to remember that students are already free to read the Bible in their personal time. The challenge, however, is balancing the rights of all students to practice their religion without imposing any one faith on everyone. The First Amendment protects the freedom to practice—or not practice—any religion, and that principle is fundamental to keeping our schools fair and open to all.

Let’s keep the conversation respectful, informed, and focused on the bigger picture: ensuring that every student has the freedom to explore their beliefs in a safe, supportive, and inclusive environment.

A Call for Unity Amidst Division: Reflecting on the Election and the Spirit of Christ

As the election season draws to a close, the air is thick with tension, division, and fear of what may come. On social media, memes about a "Civil War" have circulated, some people laughing about the prospect, others expressing genuine concern. Many of these voices, from both sides of the political spectrum, claim the banner of Christianity—touting faith, love, and the teachings of Jesus—while posting things that seem to contradict those very principles. As a follower of Christ, I can't help but reflect on the contrast between the words of our Savior and the anger and division we see online today.

A Divided Kingdom Cannot Stand

It's hard to ignore the language of division and violence that permeates social media and our national conversation. Some Christians seem to be posting about "getting ready for the civil war," or asking "when does it start?" and there’s something deeply troubling about this. As followers of Jesus, we are called to be agents of peace, not chaos. Jesus, in His Sermon on the Mount, famously said, "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God"(Matthew 5:9). I don't think He was encouraging us to rally behind violence or division, but to foster reconciliation.

In fact, when His disciples were ready to fight and defend Him in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus rebuked them and said, "Put your sword back in its place...for all who draw the sword will die by the sword" (Matthew 26:52). How often do we forget that we are called to a different kind of kingdom? A kingdom not of this world, but one of love, peace, and reconciliation.

If we are truly Christians, we need to take a long, hard look at what we are posting, what we are sharing, and what we are saying in the midst of a divided nation. We must ask ourselves: Are we contributing to the chaos, or are we working towards healing and unity?

A Call for Reflection: What Are We Truly Saying?

Earlier today, someone asked me how I voted. When I told them I had voted, but not for either candidate, I was quickly labeled as a “baby killer” and was accused of supporting policies that harm our country. What was supposed to be a simple conversation turned into a barrage of judgment, name-calling, and anger. It was eye-opening, though, to witness how quickly the veneer of "holiness" can be stripped away when differences of opinion emerge. It left me wondering, how many of us—myself included—are guilty of showing more anger than grace in the face of disagreement?

Jesus warned us about the dangers of judgment. In Matthew 7:1-2, He said, "Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you."How often do we forget this? How often do we ignore the command to love our neighbors, not just the ones who agree with us, but all of them?

The irony here is that many who cry “tolerance” from one side of the political aisle seem to forget that tolerance includes allowing for differences of opinion, even those with which we strongly disagree. True tolerance doesn’t mean silencing the voices we don’t like; it means respecting their right to speak and finding a way to coexist peacefully, even when we differ. As Christians, we are called to lead the way in this, showing the world that there is room at the table for all.

Let Us Work Toward Unity, Not Division

So here’s my plea: If you wake up on Wednesday morning and the election doesn't go the way you hoped, take a deep breath. Accept the results. As Christians, we are not called to act out of anger or bitterness when things don’t go our way. James 1:19-20 reminds us, "My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires."

Instead of posting angry memes or making threats of violence, let us turn that energy toward something constructive. **Start working in your community.** Reach out to someone you disagree with and begin a dialogue. Volunteer. Serve. Be a part of the solution rather than contributing to the problem. The change we seek can only come through the hands and feet of those who choose to work for peace, healing, and unity in practical ways.

But the same is true if your candidate wins. Don’t gloat. Don’t look at those who disagree with you and rub their noses in your victory. **Romans 12:15** says, "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." If we can’t rejoice with others in their joy and mourn with them in their sorrow, we fail to live out the love Christ calls us to. Our victory should not be about boasting in our candidate, but in the opportunity we have to do good in the world around us.

Real Change Happens in Our Communities

Whether we win or lose, the world is watching how we respond. Will we be the Christians who spread love, grace, and understanding? Or will we be the ones who add to the chaos, division, and hatred? Our country is divided, but the body of Christ need not be. We are called to "make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace" (Ephesians 4:3). This doesn't mean pretending we don't disagree, but it does mean working towards peace, respecting our differences, and choosing unity over division.

So, if you wake up on Wednesday and things aren’t as you hoped, instead of letting anger or frustration rule your heart, choose to love. If things turn out the way you wanted, don’t let pride take root. Instead, choose humility and continue to work toward the common good.

Real change won’t happen in Washington or through memes on social media. Real change happens when we roll up our sleeves and get to work in our communities, in our neighborhoods, and in our hearts. It happens when we choose to love, even when it's hard. It happens when we live like Jesus, who was not a man of division, but a man of reconciliation.

Let us be the peacemakers, the change-makers, and the bridge-builders. Let’s show the world that Christians are united in Christ, not divided by politics. And in doing so, we will fulfill the command to love our neighbors as ourselves (Matthew 22:39).

May God grant us peace, wisdom, and courage in the days ahead.

The Tearing of the Veil: What It Means for Us Today

Last week after RCIA, I had an interesting conversation with my priest about some traditional Catholics who were upset that our church didn’t have an altar rail. They believed the altar should be railed off because it is holy ground. This sparked a deeper reflection on the significance of sacred spaces, particularly the veil that once separated the Holy of Holies in the temple from the people.

In the time of the Old Testament, the temple was designed to reflect God's holiness, and the veil was a powerful symbol of that separation. Solomon’s temple, as described in *1 Kings 6:2*, stood at 30 cubits high, but historical records from Josephus, a first-century Jewish historian, suggest that Herod later increased the temple's height to 40 cubits. This means the veil was likely around 60 feet high. Although early Jewish tradition claims the veil was four inches thick, the Bible doesn't confirm this detail. *Exodus* tells us that the veil was made from blue, purple, and scarlet material, intricately woven with fine linen, symbolizing the grandeur and holiness of God’s presence.

This veil was not just a piece of cloth; it was a barrier separating the Holy of Holies—the place where God’s presence dwelt on earth—from the rest of the temple, where men lived and worshiped. According to *Hebrews 9:1-9*, the veil represented the separation between God and humanity due to sin. Only the high priest could pass beyond this veil once a year, on the Day of Atonement, to make atonement for the sins of the people (*Exodus 30:10*; *Hebrews 9:7*). The veil symbolized our sins (Isaiah 59:2), but also pointed forward to Christ, whose flesh would be "torn" for us to grant access to God.

Then, something extraordinary happened during the crucifixion of Jesus. As He died, the veil in the temple was torn in two from top to bottom (*Matthew 27:50-51*). This was no small event; it carried immense theological weight.

So, what does the tearing of the veil mean for us today?

First, it symbolized the end of the old religious system. When Jesus died, He became the ultimate sacrifice for our sins, rendering the continual animal sacrifices of the temple obsolete. His shed blood was sufficient to atone for all sins once and for all. With the veil torn, the way to the Holy of Holies—the place where God's presence dwelled—was opened to all people, both Jew and Gentile.

No longer would God dwell in temples made by human hands (*Acts 17:24*). With the coming of Christ, the old temple was left desolate and destroyed in A.D. 70, as Jesus had prophesied (*Luke 13:35*). As long as the temple stood, it signified the continuation of the Old Covenant. But the tearing of the veil marked the dawn of the New Covenant, where God now dwells within the hearts of believers through Christ. *Hebrews 9:8-9* tells us that the temple system was only a shadow of what was to come, and now that Christ has come, we have access to God through Him.

In many ways, the veil itself was a symbol of Christ. Just as the high priest had to pass through the veil to enter God’s presence, so now Christ has become our High Priest. Through His death and resurrection, we can confidently approach God. *Hebrews 10:19-20* says, “We have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain, that is, His body.”

The tearing of the veil also reminds us that the temple and its rituals were always meant to point toward something greater: Jesus Christ. The sacrifices, the rituals, the priesthood—all of these were shadows of the ultimate High Priest and the ultimate sacrifice. Jesus, through His death, removed the barriers between God and humanity.

The veil in the temple was a constant reminder of the separation caused by sin. The daily and yearly sacrifices pointed to the fact that sin could never truly be atoned for by the blood of animals. Only Christ, the perfect Lamb of God, could take away the sins of the world. And by doing so, He removed the need for the veil and opened the way for us to enter God’s presence with boldness and confidence (*Hebrews 4:14-16*).

Today, as Catholics, we see this profound mystery unfold in the Eucharist. Through Christ's body and blood, we encounter the living God—not hidden behind a veil, but present with us in a tangible way. The torn veil teaches us that we are no longer separated from God. We are His people, and He is our God. In Christ, the way to the Father is forever open.

Let us approach with reverence, knowing that the veil has been torn, and we have been granted free access to the throne of grace.

Biscuit

Over the years, you have heard or read about Biscuit, my beloved little mixed breed dog...well Biscuit made her final journey on September 4, 2024. 

Buttermilk Biscuit Anders

Sept. 1, 2009 – Sept. 4, 2024

Buttermilk Biscuit departed this life on September 4, 2024. Known by her middle name, Biscuit came into the family like a whirlwind, and from that moment, nothing was ever the same.

Many might not know Biscuit's full story, so I'd like to share it with you today. Biscuit was a rescue from Alexander County, North Carolina. Her journey to us began after the loss of my beloved beagle, Hunter. When I saw Biscuit’s picture online, I knew in my heart that she was meant to be ours. During that week of contemplation, my parents advised, "Just pray about it." So pray I did. A few days later, with the adoption fee in hand, I asked my mom to "just go look."

When we arrived, we learned that Biscuit and her siblings had been abandoned, no older than six weeks. They allowed us to see her, and the moment Biscuit gazed into our eyes and nuzzled my mom's neck, I knew she was coming home with us. As we stepped outside, Mom said, "Let's go to the bank to get the adoption fee." I smiled and pulled the money out of my pocket, ready for the moment I knew would come. We walked back in and said, "Let's go home!"

Mom cradled Biscuit all the way back, and that night, when Dad came home, he picked the perfect name: Biscuit. We decided to add a touch of Southern charm by giving her a friend's CB handle, Buttermilk. And so, Buttermilk Biscuit became part of our family.

For 15 incredible years, Biscuit filled our lives with love, laughter, and more than a little mischief. She was never just a dog; to my parents, she was the "Baby," and to me, she was my "Little fur sister." After about 12 years of delightful shenanigans, Biscuit began to slow down. She developed liver and kidney disease and, six months ago, stopped hopping up the steps. Last night, she began to cry, unable to use her back legs. Today, four days after her 15th birthday, we made the ultimate act of love and mercy, letting Biscuit go. 

In reflecting on her life, I’m left wondering: Who really rescued whom on that day in October 2009? Biscuit may have been the one we brought home, but she’s the one who truly rescued us, filling our hearts with her unwavering love and joy.

Rest in peace, Biscuit. You’ll always be the "Baby" of the family, and the best little fur sister I could have ever asked for.

Navigating Faith and Belonging: A Personal Journey Through the Catholic Church

In late 2023, I embarked on a significant journey of faith, prompted by a profound disillusionment with my previous Methodist church. The split within the Methodist denomination, centered on issues such as homosexuality, same-sex marriage, and LGBTQIA+ inclusion in leadership roles, left me deeply troubled. I chose to abstain from the vote on the split, unable to support a decision that would marginalize a part of the Christian community based on their identity. My commitment to love and inclusivity guided this decision, leading me to leave the church when it aligned with a more conservative stance.

For nearly eight months, I was away from any church community. This period of absence was marked by a lack of outreach from my former church or its leaders, which was disheartening and left me feeling disconnected. My spiritual journey took an unexpected turn when a dentist friend invited me to attend Mass with him and his wife. What began as a single visit quickly became a regular practice, leading to an invitation from the parish priest to join the Order of Christian Initiation for Adults (OCIA) and consider teaching faith formation.

Despite the warmth and welcome I’ve experienced, I find myself grappling with several significant questions about the Catholic Church that have arisen during my time in OCIA. My reflections on these questions may resonate with others who are also navigating their faith journey:

1. The Origins of the Church

One of my main questions revolves around the historical origins of the Catholic Church. The Catholic tradition often traces its roots back to Peter, viewed as the first pope. However, this raises questions about how the Church’s practices have evolved since the early Christian community. If the Church’s origins were directly with Peter, why does the Catholic Church not align more closely with the early Jewish roots of Christianity, including the observance of Jewish feasts and festivals?

2. The Role of Communion

Another area of concern for me is the role and requirements for participating in communion. The Bible, particularly 1 Corinthians 11:28-30, emphasizes self-examination before partaking in the Lord’s Supper: “Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup,” and warns of serious consequences for those who do not. This suggests that communion is a personal and reflective act of faith. Why, then, is formal church membership a prerequisite for receiving communion in the Catholic Church?

3. The Concept of Pride and Exclusivity

Lastly, I’ve encountered the notion that not joining the Catholic Church could lead to a questioning of one's faith or standing before Jesus. This idea concerns me, as I believe that salvation and faith are deeply personal and not solely contingent on denominational affiliation. I find it troubling that some might view non-Catholic Christians as inadequate or excluded. This perspective seems to imply a level of pride and exclusivity that conflicts with the inclusive nature of the Christian faith as I understand it.

Reflecting on Faith and Belonging

My reflections are not meant to challenge or critique but to seek understanding and clarity. I am deeply committed to exploring a faith community that aligns with my values of inclusivity, love, and personal faith. As I continue this journey, I hope to gain a deeper understanding of how the Catholic Church’s teachings and practices align with the broader principles of Christianity.

Thank you for joining me in this exploration of faith and community. I look forward to continuing this journey with an open heart and a quest for knowledge, hoping to find a spiritual home where my beliefs and values are embraced and nurtured.


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