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I wonder if Jesus prayed the psalms in the days before going to Jerusalem. I wonder if it gave him comfort that he could be that honest with God about his terror and grief.
I miss the future. All I can see is a different future: the end of the office, the end of school, the end of church. The end. We are on this journey without a map, without guides.
We’re not terribly interested in the hard stuff of life, are we? Fortunately, it is the nature of God to go straight into and through the hardest stuff, so we know we are not alone.
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.
During this Lenten season, I commit to inserting joy and laughter into my daily fight for justice and peace. I commit to saying ‘thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry.’
While Martha served dinner, Mary sat on the floor and poured fragrant perfume over Jesus’ feet. To some, her behavior seemed over-the-top. But sometimes too much is just right.
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.
Grandma was the first person who taught me about the power of agape love, and I believe the legacy of her agape love and persistent joy is still saving my life every day.
God, you do not cause us to suffer. Instead, you take the suffering we are given and plant it in the soil of your transforming grace and mercy. May we rejoice in the harvest.
Let’s not pretend with one another that loving God means you will never be broke. Because I’m not the only person of faith who ignores the 1-800 numbers of creditors calling.