It was hard to miss me on the lava-rocked streets of Goma, Democratic Republic of Congo, while I was working for a locally led organization, HEAL Africa. I lacked the grace of Congolese women who glided across the tumultuous terrain in high heels while I tripped over the ubiquitous black rocks.
Every day across America we see self-segregation in lunchrooms, in classrooms, and in church pews on Sunday morning. But how about online?
I moved to Tulia, Texas, in the summer of 1998, a year before a massive drug bust decimated the black side of town.
In 2001, my husband Bill was jolted out of racial complacency.
Many have commented on how Senator Obama's election has the power and potential to recast and redeem America's image in the world, usher in a new style of politics rooted in bridge-building and pro
I am what some refer to as a brown evangelical -- in short, a Latino evangelical. Usually when the media speaks of evangelicals we are one of the groups that is left out.
The first thing I read this morning was a reflection on the meaning of this week's events for the church.
Yesterday's election represents a watershed moment in the life and history of our country.
My mother is an immigrant from Korea who has worked as a janitor in a hospital and waitress in a Korean restaurant. My father is a white guy from a small town in Tennessee who has been a soldier and dock worker.