United Church of Christ

Books of the Bible: Matthew

I don’t need to hear the news for the day. I’m still furious about yesterday. I can’t believe this is happening. Anger spurs my resistance, but faith requires meekness, not fury.


If rest is so holy and if God has rested since the dawn of Creation, should I worry that God will sleep through my own storms and ignore my pleas for help?


When I was new to kayaking, I would never have discovered Mud Lake unless someone had told me what it felt like, smelled like, looked like, and had brought me there in person.


We are accustomed to finding purpose in doing and busyness, but stay-at-home orders prevent much of that. Meanwhile, the flowers of the field still grow.


We all go a little reptile-brained once in a while, especially these days. It’s OK. It’s also never too late to hitch your thinking back up into the ole prefrontal cortex.


The original Easter story has still never ended. It goes on, in endless song, above earth’s lamentations.


‘Take nothing with you,’ Jesus once said. Today the dead Jesus lies in a grave not his own. And today we wait to see if he was right to live so dispossessed.


What makes this week holy is not our pretensions to innocence. What makes this week holy is the invitation to confess our betrayals and be forgiven.


The pandemic is revealing, once again, what really matters, and what the good gifts of life are that don’t arrive by two-day shipping.


There is enough wealth to care for the sick and the poor, the hospital and the small business, the grandparent and the grandchild. Not if we continue with business as usual.