Seventeen years ago I stood in this exact spot–only then, the gate was locked. I was 25 years old and working on my dissertation. I had been in England for about two months when I decided to find Lilleshall Abbey. I knew only ruins remained, courtesy of Henry VIII’s dissolution (1538) and the aftermath of…
From the Anxious Bench Archives I went to a perfect wedding last weekend. It was deep in the rural heart of Central Texas. Wide open fields dotted with cattle and the occasional John Deer tractor were broken by scattered farm houses. The roads were narrow and dusty; population signs for the small towns counted inhabitants…
The chair scraped next to me. It was 2:30 on Friday afternoon—time for our scheduled break. For three years I have been writing every Friday afternoon with a group of faculty women, blocking our calendars and ignoring emails. For three years I break with them for 15 minutes, pulling our chairs into a small circle….
It was Christmas, 1388, in Shrewsbury, a bustling market town far in the west of England. Winter frosted white the new timbers of the Bear Steps Hall, sparkling on the new glaze of the abbey’s west window, making even the centuries-old streets look new and fresh. Not much else was new in this old town,…
I almost didn’t write this post. After all, what more could I say? Sarah Bessey already voiced my outrage. The scoffing laughter of John MacArthur’s audience echoed in my head as I read her words. “It’s a sin to quench the work of the Holy Spirit in and through the lives of women. Repent, the…
Today we welcome Otis W. Pickett and his colleague Brian Franklin as they share their thoughts on a history panel held at the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in America. Otis is an Assistant Professor in the Department of History and Political Science at Mississippi College. Brian Franklin is Associate Director of the Center…