When our days become dreary with low hovering clouds of despair, and when our nights become darker than a thousand midnights, let us remember that there is a creative force in this universe, working t… — Martin Luther King Jr.
by Ken Sehested
Two things distinguish the “Jesus Prince of Peace” icon (displayed below). One is the sheer fact of the hand-drawn images of brutality and violence surrounding the central figure. This isn’t normal iconographic practice.
The second distinctive is that the iconographer is a Baptist—not your usual religious affiliation for such artists. And he is 
from Georgia, but not that Georgia.
by Ken Sehested
Baptists and bishops have never played well together. With a few exceptions, neither has been friendly to clergywomen. So how to explain the anomaly of Bishop Rusudan Gotsiridze of the Evangelical Baptist Church (EBC) of the Republic of Georgia?
Certainly one of her influences was St. Nino, the 4th century Cappadocian woman who first evangelized her homeland, the region then known as Caucasian Iberia, which became only the second kingdom, following neighboring Armenia, to officially convert to Christianity. But there was also her grandfather, a Baptist pastor.
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In case you missed this historic video (1:10)—of President Barack Obama and family deplaning in Havana, Cuba, on Monday morning, 21 March 2016.
Even now, during the Christian comm
unity’s Passion Week, a countersign—the Promise embedded within the Passion—can be discerned. History, despite its bloodied face, is not fated; and we, among history’s actors, need not abandon the field in hopes of a private realm of bogus atonement detached from fleshly circumstance.
Easter morning, Sunday 24 April 2011
Marion Correctional Institution
(maximum security prison for men)
Text: John 20:1-18
by Ken Sehested
It was still dark when Mary Magdalene crept away from her home, down the street, up into the garden to where Jesus had been buried two days before. Joseph of Arimathea had bravely volunteered to take Jesus’ body away from the Golgotha killing ground. Nicodemus, with whom Jesus had earlier met secretly at night, also came to the burial place, bringing traditional ointments and spices to retard the smell of a decomposing body, along with linen, the customary burial garment of the time.
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Introduction: It is right and proper to retrieve and celebrate the memory of women of significant achievement who model excellence, infused with righteousness, for us all. However, the vast majority of such women (and men) are highly contextual, inconspicuous, and will only be known to a handful of witnesses. Kathy Waters is one of those.
The following is a meditation, circulated to friends, after the collision of trauma and joy surrounding my youngest’s wedding. I did not realize until now that these events from 14 years ago coincided with International Women’s Day.
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by Ken Sehested
My vote for this Lent’s saint of the season is 8-year-old Amelia Meyer of Kansas City. Given the current electoral charade, with its evisceration of democratic traditions, her testimony couldn’t come at a better time.
I learned of her story in a most mundane setting. My lunchtime habit is to heat up leftovers, or smear apple slices with peanut butter, and watch television news channels or sporting reports while eating. Occasionally, when all of those have simultaneous commercials, I flip to CNN’s “Headline News” for an update on “trending” styles and the subjects of public gossip. (You should try it—it can get pretty funny.)
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I had a dream. We were in Sunday’s circle, settled in our motley gaggle of chairs, some fabric, some stained; some vinyl, some torn,
Huddled ’round an ordinary, store-bought Formica-topped table, of folding legs, covered in cloth and adorned with host and cup and candles burning,
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Eons ago, “the Lord”—in the guise of three traveling
strangers—ventured into Abraham’s and Sarah’s
oaken camp at *Mamre, were given hospitality, and
then announced the promise of a fertile womb beyond all conceivable prospect.
Today, that same angelic presence peers through the eyes of yet more strangers, waylaid on some new Jericho Road, modern refugees from Cain's ancient madness, and
not so far from the ancient Mamrean encounter. Their apprehensive, hungering gaze
is arresting, innocently clawing at stingy souls, imploring more than furtive glances and alibis.
by Ken Sehested
The following was published in February 1991 by the Baptist Peace Fellowship of North America (BPFNA), along with the names of 1,700 individuals who earlier formally endorsed the “Call to Prayer and Fasting” action sponsored by the BPFNA as one response of resistance to “Desert Storm,” the U.S.-led war against Iraq. This material was originally delivered at Prescott Memorial Baptist Church, Memphis, Tenn., on Wednesday evening, February 13, 1991, as part of the church’s Ash Wednesday service.
Two months ago we urged members of the Baptist Peace Fellowship (and any others who would join us) to engage in daily prayer and weekly fasting. We issued a document entitled “All Things Are Possible: Call to Prayer & Fasting.” Its purposes were to mobilize and amplify the voice of Baptists and others who opposed the prospect of war in the Middle East, to affirm diplomatic initiatives to resolve the conflict, and to suggest creative, practical and redemptive ways for Christians to express their convictions.
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Text: Luke 9:28-43
Once upon a time, Chris Semper and I both lived about an hour southwest of New Orleans, so we know about the significance of this time of year in South Louisiana. (TO CHRIS: Did you go to a lot of Mardi Gras parades?) The parades in New Orleans go on for more than a week; and lots of smaller towns down the bayous had at least one parade, all leading up to “Fat Tuesday,” the day before Ash Wednesday.
Mardi Gras is almost synonymous with “revelry.” Partying. Excessively so, in some cases. Bourbon Street, in the heart of the French Quarter and ground zero for Mardi Gras festivities, is appropriately named.
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