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Something is happening. Which is not to say that this moment is an opportunity or – God forbid! – a gift. But we might do well to live differently, even just for the moment.
How hard this season is – for God and for us! When we give in and have a good cry, we are never alone in it. For this, I am grateful.
We may experience isolation, but we are not alone. We may feel that we are at an end, but we are only at a beginning. This is the promise of faith, of resurrection.
There is no telling what mess and depths you or me or this world might be in today. Wherever we are, may we remember God is still with us and still hears our cries.
Holy One, we pray to you from the belly of a pandemic. We don’t know how we will come out of this, but we pray we too will be converted.
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.
Perhaps our calling in this moment isn’t to point fingers at skeptics but to create a world where truth and love are ever-present.
There’s a difference between resurrection as a doctrine, and resurrection as a word with our name on it. It is often amid grief and confusion that resurrection becomes personal.
Nobody loves being last. But Paul wasn’t ashamed of being the last and the least admirable. We too are latecomers, yet even to us, Christ appears.
One lot – one life – is no more and no less than what God promises. Just one – not two or three or five or all. Just one. And these limits are good. These limits are godly.