Maybe we imagine what happens after we die so that we can tell stories about how we should want to live.
I’d sooner gnaw my own fingers off, gouge my eyes out with a shellfish fork, and run naked down Seventh Avenue than ever betray that trust again.
But the truth… the deep down truth… the hard, difficult, arduous, burdensome, onerous, painful, troublesome, truth… is that we need Lent. Not just during the official season, but so much more often. We need it as individuals. We need it as a church. We need it as a society and a nation and a world.
The one who he expected to pass him by, for whatever ever reason, showed him mercy. And now that one is his neighbor… and the traveler has to love him.
It seems like he can't imagine a life that isn't governed by the accumulation of wealth. The world is sitting at his feet and he is... bored.
Jesus has been going around, from town to town, wreaking miracles.
We were not made to toil. We were made for a garden.
That call makes no sense; and it is completely irresistible.
About a week-and-a-half ago, a woman named Ashli Babbitt was shot and killed by police. And we have to talk about that. There’s no getting around it.
John’s going to get fired, of course. You cannot call your congregation a brood of vipers and expect folks to feel the spirit.