What might it mean to bring our buried courage into the light? In Daylighting Courage Creek, Howard Thurman’s image of an “underground river” meets the practice of uncovering streams hidden beneath our cities. A walk along a recovering creek becomes a reflection on the quiet springs of confidence that sustain us through difficult times. It also becomes an invitation: to make room for those springs to surface in our own lives and in one another’s, then join together in the work of justice, mercy, and care for the places we call home. What could flourish if we kept a thousand little springs of action flowing?

When Ash Wednesday rolled around last week my wife asked if I wanted to go to any of the church services in town. You see, after seventeen years in pastoral ministry I’d been spending the last two learning the trade of earthen building. Separated from the rhythms of traditional church life, and more particularly the life of a pastor, I said I’d like to do laundry instead. But that Wednesday moved fast and it was dark and late by the time we left the adobe house we’re building. We opted for enchiladas and a Modelo and dirty clothes. After finishing our meal we chatted with the restaurant owner as the plaza in our small town was being cordoned off after rumors of an active shooter and bomb threat were being addressed. Snow was falling for what felt like the first time all winter.