A group of twenty-two Christian leaders traveled half a day to secretly meet and learn from a pastor who came from another country.

It began with an email a grieving father sent to me. He had lost his daughter Alyssa—a college junior—in a car accident, and he needed to hear from someone who understood his wrenching pain.

They sit side by side on Ball Street in my city—the Grand Ideas Garden and the county jail.

“Oh no!” That was my response upon opening a beehive and discovering the colony had suddenly died.

After wiping down tables with disinfectant, Shelia stooped to tie a garbage bag filled with used cups and plates.

An auditorium full of medical students at Albert Einstein College of Medicine listened intently as ninety-year-old Ruth Gottesman spoke.