James Derkits

First of all, let me introduce a few new friends (in the above picture): Shelly, Adrian, and Taryn. I only met them on the first day of the Inner Journey Retreat retreat, and by the time I left a few days later, I thought of them as "my new camp friends." If you know me, or have read a handful of these blogs, you might pick up on how special that label is to me. I think the reason that it came to me to think of them as my new camp friends isn't just because we played music by a fire or went on a moonlit hike; it's because the welcome, care, and honesty I experienced were similar to what I experienced going to camp growing up. It was also, and perhaps most importantly about the spiritual depth we engaged in, exploring what makes us tick as humans, and how to engage more intentionally and purposefully in this journey of life.  My mentor Pittman McGehee encouraged me to go in an email. I had written him about a book I was reading and part of  a recent dream. I lea

Originally published in the South Jetty Newspaper, Christmas Edition Sometimes I wonder who actually reads these things. I mean, here you have "Christmas Messages" from a handful of clergy in Port Aransas, and it could be a bit overwhelming. Do parishioners from each denomination read only what "their" particular pastor wrote? Or, having heard from the same pastor week after week, does a person seek out a new perspective in the comfort of newsprint? Might you be the comparative type who decides to shop around and see the difference among the various voices of our faith traditions? Certainly there are a few critics who read these, looking for a bit of faulty theology or perhaps just something she or he does not agree with in order to treasure a small resentment, or reaffirm her or his stronghold against participation in any church. Who ever you are and for whatever reason you happen to have made it this far in this Episcopal Priest's Christmas Message, I'

This is a pretty good day for me to write about deflation--I'm feeling worn out after a wonderful Sunday full of baptism and confirmations during our visit from Bishop Lillibridge, our diocesan bishop. His and Bishop Reed's visits have been good experiences since I've been here at Trinity, in the Diocese of West Texas, and this one was as well. Now it's complete, I'm feeling a little worn out, and that's normal. Sometime last year, I was in a similar place, but was feeling more worn out than usual; it was a series of big events rather than just one big Sunday. When I miss taking my day off and things are busy, I eventually run out of energy. So, I carved out some time to get away for a little refreshing trip that included hearing a friend play a house concert. I also planned to go see a mentor who I used to meet with regularly. It was my rush to get to see him that led me to postpone stopping for gas for too long, and then I got on that new fancy highway out ea

January (named for Janus, the two-faced god of beginnings and endings) brings a lot of anniversaries for me, besides the New Year celebration, of which I am a fan. Like January's namesake, I spend much of January looking backward and forward. This year, I started a new habit of burning a calendar in a New Year's Eve Fire (Started in honor of my friend Heidi, who's had a really crappy year; we came up with that ritual to mark the change.) The fire has always been an important part of marking the end of one year and the beginning of the next. My favorite part is reawakening from the buried coals a new fire on January 1; a fire rising from the ashes like an ascending Phoenix. On January 6 (Epiphany, and Sister Gretchen's Birthday) I was ordained a priest at St. Mary's, Cypress. A friend reminded me to play some Nirvana since our music director, Celeste, helped me adapt "Smells Like Teen Spirit" to be a setting for Psalm 72. That was eight years ago. We h