Halfway There, But Still Hurting
I ended up taking a sick day yesterday because I woke up with a migraine. The migraine had actually started Monday, and then a night of thunderstorms kept me awake for much of the night. When I got up Tuesday morning, the migraine was still hanging on, so I knew I wasn’t going to make it to work.
Thankfully, the headache finally eased up before noon yesterday. My back, which has been bothering me for two weeks now, felt a little better but still not great. I already had a massage scheduled for the afternoon, and I was hopeful that would help.
The massage therapist focused mostly on my right side — where the back, neck, and shoulder pain have been concentrated — and she said my muscles there were really tense. She really dug into my shoulder and back, and while that definitely helped loosen my back a bit, my shoulder was sore afterwards from how much work it took to get those knots to release.
This morning I have more movement in both my neck and back, which is an improvement, but the pain itself isn’t much better yet. My doctor’s office told me to call them back this afternoon if I’m still hurting after my muscles have had time to relax fully from the massage. I really hope that happens by then, but at this point I just don’t know.
With all this going on, I probably won’t have an art history post ready this week, but I’ll see what I can put together later on if I feel up to it.
I hope all of you are doing well — the week is already half over, so we’ve got the weekend to look forward to. Hang in there, and take care of yourselves.
In Summer Twilight
In Summer Twilight
By Joshua Henry Jones Jr.
Just a dash of lambent carmine
Shading into sky of gold;
Just a twitter of a song-bird
Ere the wings its head enfold;
Just a rustling sigh of parting
From the moon-kissed hill to breeze;
And a cheerful gentle, nodding
Adieu waving from the trees;
Just a friendly sunbeam’s flutter
Wishing all a night’s repose,
Ere the stars swing back the curtain
Bringing twilight’s dewy close.
About This Poem
In the warm quiet of a summer evening, there comes a moment when the world seems to take a collective breath — when the sun lets go of the day and hands it gently to the night. Joshua Henry Jones Jr.’s poem “In Summer Twilight” beautifully captures that fleeting moment, painting it in colors of carmine and gold, with whispers of birdsong, breezes, and moonlight. At its heart, “In Summer Twilight” is a love letter to the day’s end — a quiet catalog of its soft sounds, subtle colors, and farewell gestures. The poem’s language is delicate and luminous: “lambent carmine,” “moon-kissed hill,” “stars swing back the curtain.”
This poem reminds us that the beauty of nature is not just in grand spectacles but in the gentle transitions, the nearly imperceptible moments that signal change. Twilight is not a violent end to day but a tender and deliberate passing. Jones personifies the elements — trees nodding adieu, a sunbeam wishing repose — emphasizing the intimate, almost communal quality of dusk.
There’s also something quietly hopeful here. The day’s end isn’t mourned; instead, it’s a graceful curtain drawn by the stars, making way for the next act. The theme of harmony between the earth and sky, between time and rest, feels particularly poignant in a modern world that rarely stops to notice such things.
Joshua Henry Jones Jr. published this poem during the Harlem Renaissance, though he was based in Boston rather than Harlem. At a time when African American writers were pushing boundaries, reclaiming their voices, and asserting their presence in literature, Jones chose, in this poem, not to protest but to praise — to claim his right to beauty and belonging in the natural world.
In an era when Black Americans were too often excluded from mainstream notions of gentility, leisure, and pastoral bliss, writing a poem about the loveliness of twilight could itself be quietly radical. Jones’s work reminds us that the African American literary tradition is just as much about affirming humanity and celebrating grace as it is about confronting injustice.
About the Poet
Joshua Henry Jones Jr. (1886–1955) was an African American poet, journalist, and novelist who became an important literary figure in Boston’s Black community in the early 20th century. Born in South Carolina, Jones studied at Ohio State University and Yale before moving to Boston. He became known for his sensitive poetry, his novel By Sanction of Law (1924), which explored an interracial marriage in Boston, and his leadership in civic and literary circles.
His poetry often reflects a deep appreciation for nature, a gentle lyricism, and a quiet dignity — qualities that shine beautifully in “In Summer Twilight.”
As we enjoy these summer evenings, let Jones’s words be a reminder to pause and notice the world around us: the nod of the trees, the flutter of the sunbeam, the curtain of stars drawing closed. There is still room — and need — for this kind of quiet wonder.
Something Has Got to Give
Last week, I wrote about the back and abdominal pain that had been plaguing me. Thankfully, the abdominal pain has eased up, but the back pain seems to have gotten worse. To top it all off, I managed to sleep oddly last night and woke up at one point because my neck and shoulder were hurting. This morning, they’re still stiff and sore.
I called in sick last Monday, so I’m determined not to do that again today. I don’t want my boss thinking I’m going to make a habit of calling in sick every Monday. Mondays are hard enough — I don’t usually want to go to work on a Monday, but I still show up. Today, though, I really do have a legitimate excuse.
I plan to call my doctor’s office this morning. It’s conveniently just across the street from work — about 30 minutes from my apartment but less than five minutes from the office — so if they can fit me in, at least it won’t be a hassle to get there. Honestly, I just want some relief. I miss going to the gym (and that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say).
I also have an appointment for a massage tomorrow afternoon, which I really hope will help loosen things up. At this point, something has got to give.
Here’s hoping this week brings some healing.
Building One Another Up
“Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, leading to edification.”
— Romans 15:2
Not long ago, the Verse-of-the-Day that landed in my inbox was Romans 15:2: “Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, leading to edification.” I’ll admit, my first reaction wasn’t exactly devotional. The phrase “please his neighbor” brought to mind some rather human, even carnal, interpretations. While I don’t currently have any neighbors who inspire those kinds of thoughts, I certainly have in the past. But as I gently corrected my own imagination, I turned to what the verse is really about.
Romans 15:2 is a call to build others up—not for personal gain, but for the sake of their good and their growth. It’s about setting aside selfishness and leaning into compassion, patience, and encouragement—traits we desperately need more of in our world today.
Sadly, when we look at the current American political climate, we see a nation drifting further and further from that call. Instead of mutual care, we see mistrust. Instead of patience, we see outrage. Laws are being written not to edify but to exclude—especially for LGBTQ+ individuals. From renewed efforts to suppress trans rights, to politicians who dehumanize queer people for political leverage, we are witnessing a culture of cruelty that stands in direct contradiction to the Word of God.
James 1:19 gives us this charge: “So then, my beloved brethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath.” But how often do we see the reverse? People rush to speak, quick to anger, unwilling to listen. People shout over each other instead of listening. Social media rewards the harshest voices. Political debates are framed not by compassion but by conquest. This is not the way of Christ. In the world we live in, outrage and judgment come quickly, while compassion and listening fall by the wayside. It’s easy to shout. It’s much harder to hear.
For those of us in the LGBTQ+ community, particularly queer Christians, this dynamic is all too familiar. We have been judged before being heard. We watch as our identities are politicized and debated rather than honored and respected. We have been spoken of but rarely spoken with. We see leaders and lawmakers tearing down the dignity of queer and trans lives and yet, Romans 12:10 reminds us: “Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another.” God does not rank people by identity or status. We are called to show honor—especially to those the world dishonors. We are not meant to live in echo chambers of self-interest or tribalism. We are meant to honor each other—especially the vulnerable and marginalized.
Even in our churches, where we should expect unity in love, divisions often mirror the world’s brokenness rather than offering a better way. Even among Christians, division and discord can grow where love and unity should flourish. But Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 1:10: “Now I plead with you, brethren, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that you all speak the same thing, and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly joined together in the same mind and in the same judgment.” We don’t have to agree on every detail of theology or policy, but we are commanded to seek unity in Christ, grounded in love and mutual respect. This is not a call for sameness, but for unity through love, humility, and shared purpose.
Finally, we anchor ourselves in this hope from Romans 15:5–6:
“Now may the God of patience and comfort grant you to be like-minded toward one another, according to Christ Jesus,that you may with one mind and one mouth glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.”
As LGBTQ+ Christians, we often stand at the intersection of worlds that misunderstand or reject us. But we are not without hope. Harmony, not hatred. Encouragement, not exclusion. One voice—raised not in protest against each other, but in praise to God.
This is our calling—to live in harmony, to uplift each other, and to glorify God with one voice. As LGBTQ+ believers, we know what it means to seek belonging where others sow division. We know the power of kindness in a world of cruelty. Let us live this calling—not as abstract ideals, but as real, daily acts of love. As LGBTQ+ people of faith, we know what it means to seek harmony in the face of division. Let us be neighbors who lift others up. Let us be voices of peace and compassion in a time of bitterness. Let us be the voices that unify, and the hearts that honor God by honoring each other. And let us, with one voice, glorify the God who made us, loves us, and calls us to love boldly in return.
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