Laurel Elisabeth Stevens

The Windhover,  a publication of Mary Hardin-Baylor, has recently published an essay of mine entitled "Sometimes in Church." You can order a copy of The Windhover here and also see excerpts from the issue,  including my essay, in Volume 24.2. I wrote this essay before COVID-19 kept us from regularly meeting together in church, and rereading it has brought me back to a former time--before extra spaces between seats, before masks, before church-on-the-living room couch. I miss singing in church and singing with fervor. Not just any song, although I do love singing Les Miserables and LaLa Land songs while Elisabeth plays them on the piano, and you'd be surprised at how many Stevenses can start belting songs from Frozen 2  all together.  I miss congregational singing. Yes, we sing along with the online church service, and that is very good. But it is not the same. I look forward, and with hope, to the time when we can all join in congregational singing again, witho...

Jemar Tisby brings us on a tour through the decades, starting in 1667 when the Virginia General Assembly encouraged masters t o evangelize their slaves, without fear of having to grant them their freedom, given that "the conferring of baptism does not alter the c ondition of the person as to his bondage or freedom." (pg. 25).  Year piling on year, Tisby shows us how the church in America has not simply overlooked racism, but has participated in, encouraged and upheld racist practices, both explicit and entrenched.  "What do you think," I once heard a teacher ask a group of high school students in a Christian School, "What was the better way, Martin L uther King or the Black Panthers?" Students eagerly explained that MLK definitely was better "because he was peaceful. The Black Panthers were violent, and you can't do that."  I hoped the teacher would ask some clarifying ques tions, or press her students to dig a little deeper. I hoped s...

I am sharing this week and in posts to follow a few influences--videos, books, people, places, stories--that have helped me notice my blindspots with regard to racial justice . The story is ever growing. In fact, sometimes the more I learn, the harder it is to write. So I'll just start here, hoping that if I tell one or two stories it could be a way forward to you reading or telling one or two more stories, and that could be a way forward for all of us.   In the spring of 2016 a friend of mine, Liz Crusey, led a group of members from Grace Presbyterian Church on a vision trip to Lebanon to learn about a group of Lebanese Christian ministries there.  We were joined by Mike Higgins, an African American pastor from St. Louis and chaplain of Covenant Theological Seminary.  During the trip I noticed that Mike kept talking about someone named Michael Brown and I started thinking, Who's this guy, Michael Brown? Is this a friend? A guy from his church? I eventually realiz...

This Sunday in The Woodlands The weather got a little cooler here in the Houston area . . .for a couple of days.  It was already warming back to the 80s today.  But on Sunday we got to wear sweaters and realize that no, we won’t be able to wear sandals all year long. At church I spoke with a friend who was asking how our transition was going, saying that he felt for us, having to leave Germany after just two years.  It nearly made me cry, but at the same time I was grateful for his understanding.  He knows from personal experience the work it takes to move and adjust overseas.   I’ve been looking over my notes and writings from the last two Octobers and Novembers.  Wow--the seasons are really different!  It does feel like continual summer here and, well, I’m not minding it.  Not right now, at least! The entry below was mostly written on a Sunday in November, 2011, when John was in the U.S. for about two weeks.  It was ...

 Kölner Dom I couldn’t help thinking of this little pun while we were exploring Bonn on Saturday, but it was already one day late.  Actually, I think Germans don’t pronounce Bonn to rhyme exactly with “gone”--the short o vowel is shorter in duration somehow.  These days if I’m not sure how to pronounce something, I ask Henry.  He seems to be a pretty good gauge. Elisabeth didn’t have school on Friday, so we took a 2 1/2 hour train ride to Cologne (Köln in German) and spent the day there.  In truth, we spent most of the day in and around the cathedral. It was everything I wanted it to be, and more.  I had heard from John and several others who had been there that it is great to go to Cologne by train because when you get off the train you are right there at the cathedral.  What they didn’t tell me is that the church dwarfs the train station.  The windows of the station are huge, and allow only a portion of the cathedral to be se...

In Germany we have visited a number of German speaking churches--Lutheran, Reformed and Evangelical Free, but today in Warsaw I went with my parents to what they already, after one month of being here, refer to as "our church."  It is the Church of England in Poland, meeting in a Catholic chapel called Res Sacra Miser,  pictured here . There were certainly a lot of things for the kids to look at, a big change for these Protestant kiddoes.  Elisabeth sat on the pew with my parents and the three of them filled it up, so Henry and I sat behind them. The liturgy was printed on 2 sets of paper and it was a bit tricky to follow along, but it was so good and so needful to hear the word of God.  In my own language.  I don't think I realized until I looked at the liturgy, how hard it has been to not be at an English speaking church.  In truth I was refreshed. We read together the Nicene Creed, which is more in depth than the Apostles Creed, which even in most Pre...

Monday was the day after Pentecost and in Germany it is a holiday.  Some people get together with family, some go out of town for a long weekend or take the whole week off (if they don’t have kids in school) and some just hang around the house like we did.   After a late breakfast we got out for some exercise.  John and Elisabeth headed out first, John running and Elisabeth on her bike.  They wended their way through the neighborhood and then onto some trails to eventually end up at a playground at the edge of the woods.  Henry and I took the direct route to the playground, he on his bike and me on my speedy feet (walking).  As we went by the Lutheran church where Henry attends Kindergarten we saw a large group of people who seemed to be leaving the church.  I assumed there was a Pentecost Monday service.  We took a different route so we wouldn’t have to ride right through them, but encountered them again a few minutes further into the woods....