Frederick Buechner, God’s Handkerchief (Part 1)

By Jason Gray

“What’s lost is nothing to what’s found, and all the death that ever was, set next to life, would scarcely fill a cup.”

When I learned of Frederick Buechner’s passing, it rolled through me like a subterranean tidal wave. And it’s no wonder! Nobody, other than my parents, has shaped my life—heart, mind, and spirit—more than Frederick Buechner through his writing.

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Jayber Crow and Naming Your Calling

By Lisa Dean

The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for his name’s sake. -Psalm 23:1-3

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Mullins, Chesterton, and the Renovaré Book Club

By Carolyn Arends

My first experience with a book club of sorts was more like a boot camp. It happened over 25 years ago when, much to my delight, I found myself serving as one of the opening acts for Rich Mullins on a 63-city tour.

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Redemption in the Wreckage: A Review of Drew Miller’s There Will Be Surprises

By John Barber

In Drew Miller’s aptly titled new album There Will be Surprises, unexpected delights lurk around every corner, and the result is a musical and lyrical feast. From the opening phrase, “Father, your world’s on fire,” to the powerful closing track, Miller takes us on a winding journey that explores the complexity of God’s providence and His goodness.

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Marcel the Shell’s Movie is Good Medicine for Our Pandemic Recovery

By Jeffrey Overstreet

On my way to the office to write this review, I passed Grumpy D’s coffeehouse and saw that it had closed. This place too? So many neighborhood “third places” have disappeared during these past few years of pandemic, lockdown, and economic hardships.

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The Consolation of Doubt: An Address to the Buechner Institute

By Andrew Peterson

RR Note: It feels like every corner of the Rabbit Room is shaped in some way by the meaningful work of Frederick Buechner. As we grieve his bittersweet passing at the age of 96, we wanted to repost an address given by Andrew Peterson to the Buechner Institute from 2016 that pays tribute to his eternal impact. 

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Piers Plowman and the Possibilities of Poetry

By Andrew Roycroft

During this past summer season I had the joy of taking an aimless stroll through St Albans, in Hertfordshire, England. History was everywhere on display. From the remaining Roman walls of Verulamium to the riches of a tightly woven Christian past, it is a town that provides a fair field full of folklore, a storehouse of what has gone before.

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On The Hiding Place & Shared Suffering

By Carly Marlys

A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting in a conference room with a group of my coworkers, and for some reason, my stomach was killing me. Sharp pain was shooting up and down my abdomen and all I could do was sit still and try to hide the pain with a smile. As I looked around at my co-workers, I noticed that no one could tell—either they were all too wrapped up in their own thoughts and actions to notice, or else I am a much better actress than I thought I was. 

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Hutchmoot UK: Waves of the New Creation

By Heidi Johnston

We spent the first evening after our return from Hutchmoot UK trying to revive our garden. In the busyness of life, with daughters going in one direction and Glenn and I going another, we forgot to arrange for someone to take care of our plants. The hot, dry weather had done its work and the results were obvious the second we looked out the kitchen window.

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Grief & Delight

By Jonathan Rogers

This past weekend my friend Heidi Johnston and I led a session at the Rabbit Room’s Hutchmoot UK in Oxford, England. Our topic was delight and the writer.

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Letter From a Benevolent Spammer

By John Michael Heard

I discovered the following note in my email inbox yesterday at 3:08 a.m. (Don’t ask me why I was up that late — the internet is a vortex.) The email subject line was: READ THIS TO AVOID BEING EATEN BY SHARKS. It was from one, Father Samuel Persla. It said:

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The Generosities of a Dungeon Master

By Rebecca Reynolds

When I was eleven, I enrolled in a five-week kids program at the University of Louisville. One class featured a new role-playing game that was sweeping America: Dungeons and Dragons. I was both fascinated and overwhelmed by the scope of gameplay, but just as I was finally getting my bearings, word spread that D&D was demonic and led to violence. So, my light blue plastic dice disappeared for the rest of my childhood, and I returned to Parcheesi. 

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