The longer I watch him the more I wonder whether the Cross of Jesus was not the only moment our saving happened, as if such cruelty could solve an inevitable, deadly equation. Perhaps it was only the penultimate moment to resurrections’ triumph— though unheralded, un-choired— the sealing of love’s new first word. But even then it would be hollow without all those other interruptions: the … Continue reading The Time it Takes
I often cross myself in worship especially when the bread and wine of Christ are re-membered in me. The gesture is an affirmation of who I am and whom I follow. Today the cross is smudged on my face for all to see how poorly I reflect his cross I claim as my own. It is out of focus, lacking the crisp outline even … Continue reading Ash Wednesday
The pain he bore upon the cross was heavy, breaking him and not the scale on which he hung. Its heft was lightened only by the blood that leaked and dropped onto his earth. The soil beneath receiving liquid seed was not newly stained but saturated time and time before by rebels’ hearts spilled out. Their desperation dried and dead now mingled with his love … Continue reading Good Friday 2019: Spillage
The longer I watch him the more I wonder whether the Cross of Jesus was not the only moment our saving happened, as if such cruelty could solve an inevitable, deadly equation. Perhaps it was only the penultimate moment to resurrection’s triumph— though unheralded, un-choired— the sealing of love’s new first word. But even then it would be hollow without all those other interruptions: the … Continue reading The Time It Takes
Lent. The word creates both anticipation and dread in me every time we flip the calendar to a new year. I anticipate it because the congregation I serve participates in its ritual gatherings—Ash Wednesday, midweek Lenten worship, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday—with intention and faith. I choose the themes carefully and enjoy this season with them. We observe the passion of our Lord together and … Continue reading Running on Empty
I have read about “thin places,” where people go to sense God’s presence, places where it does seem God feels more palpable. Places in nature or in old structures where people have felt a deep connection with God somehow. One of those places for me is the railing in the sanctuary. (These are rural, practical folks. Clergy might call it a “table” for the Eucharist, … Continue reading Thin Places, Child Faces
saint sinner seeker 