James Derkits

I did play once in third grade with my buddy Rit Johnson. I remember that we spent a lot of time looking for my lost golf balls, so I just rode along for most of the game. Aside from that, and some Putt-Putt in Jr. High, I've really never played golf. I'm going to do it though, and I've assembled a very forgiving team (I hope they read that, and believe it.) Once a year, Trinity by the Sea Day School has a Golf Tournament to raise funds for their operating budget, scholarships, salaries, and playground equipment. It's for everything. The school depends on it, and helps keep many Port Aransas families working, since their children have an amazing school to attend daily. It is an amazing school. Nana Ward the director has been leading it for 16 years, and continues to assemble an outstanding staff of teachers. I get to spend time with them once a week in chapel, and it's one of the highlights of my week. Even when the students are especially wiggly. Usually, whe

I recently read a story told by John A. Sanford , an Episcopal priest and Jungian analyst, of a childhood well he remembered at an old family home. Before they had running water, they used the well, and it produced the most wonderful, cool, clear, delicious water. The family eventually introduced plumbing, so the old well was no longer necessary. Later in life, Sanford was curious about uncovering the well, and found it to be dry, not because the water level had dropped, but because since the flow of water out of the well had ceased, the tiny "rivulets" has he called them, didn't flow and so became clogged up. He compared that well to the spiritual life: when we cease to access the "flow" of the spirit, the resource may seem to dry up. When we do not practice drawing from the well, regularly, we may find it a difficult source. I know exactly what he's referring to because I have had such a spiritual experience. For a time during and just after college I wa

I don't normally post sermons, but since I've had a couple of requests for copies of this one, I'm going to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. I didn't write it all out until after the sermon, so it's probably a little different here than what I preached at 9 or 11 on Sunday April 12, 2015.  The Gospel story for the sermon was of Jesus returning to the disciples both on the first Sunday after his crucifixion and then a week later (8 days) returning to that same room. Thomas missed the first visit, and wouldn't believe unless he saw the mark of the nails and put his hand in Jesus' side. On the second visit, he had his opportunity. John 20:19 Thomas When I was about 9 or 10, I became fascinated with climbing up on the roof of my childhood home in Silsbee, TX. I didn't do it very often, and it all probably started with helping my dad get leaves and sticks down once or twice a year. Every-so-often, though I would sneak up there on my own

Psalm 23:5 "You set a table in the presence of those who trouble me." That sneaky little line from Psalm 23 often seems to sneak past our attention. Most of the psalm is quite pleasant, but when we get to that "valley of the shadow of death" part: look out! We'd rather, generally, stay beside the still waters where the shepherd safely guides us. The psalm would be all platitudes without that valley, and without "those who trouble me," because it would not be as real as life. The valley is real, and the troublesome lot is real. They may be sitting near you while you're reading this. You may be in the walking through death valley right now. In my tradition, on Sundays we read a cycle of readings we call the "lectionary." (Reading a set course of scripture across the annual seasons.) It's pretty cool, to me, that in a number of denominations, we're all hearing the same readings. We hear two readings from Hebrew Scripture (Old T