“We are, all of us, ‘walking through the valley of the shadow of death’; not just now, but always, every day of our human lives. It’s a beautiful image for a grim situation. Imagine a flock of sheep wandering through the Judean countryside. These aren’t the happy green hills like the Emerald Isle or your old Windows XP background, but the dry and rocky hills east of Jerusalem, where the mountains roll down to the Jordan River and the Dead Sea. Picture the flock walking down into a deep valley, a dry river-bed, in the late afternoon, as it suddenly becomes dusk.”

“Emmaus can be the one-click purchase, or the pint of ice-cream, the ‘one more drink,’ or the secret lusts or fantasies of the heart. Here is one thing to note from the outset: while the disciples are on their way to intoxicate their sorrows at the Comfort Pub, Jesus doesn’t condemn them.He doesn’t say, ‘why are you going there? Why are you trying to mend your heart with that which can’t mend?’ He doesn’t say any of that. He joins them on their way; as they guiltily slouch towards Emmaus, he accompanies them.”

“On this second Sunday of Easter, when we read the story of ‘Doubting Thomas,’ preachers will talk about what faith really means, why doubt is really important, or maybe—depending on how far afield they want to go—what this whole resurrection thing is really about anyway. This year, though, this story of Thomas and the other disciples feels more immediate to me. The reasons it feels relevant and interesting in other years are abstract and cognitive. This year is different. If in other years, I can identify with how Thomas thinks, this year I have a very real sense of solidarity with how the disciples feel, how they worship, what they do as they gather behind locked doors.”

“In the morning, while it was still dark, Mary went to the tomb… Did you catch that – while it was still dark Mary went to the tomb? …We’ve been awake in the dark with Mary, haven’t we?”

“Tonight, we celebrate the end of the forty days of dreary fasting and rejoice at the good news of Jesus’ resurrection. And then Monday morning, we’ll wake up for yet another week of rainy, isolated walks with no end in sight. So this year, nothing’s going to change on Easter Day in any sense that really matters to our everyday lives. But then again, this has always been the case.”

“The question a spiritual mentor of mine asked me during tough days in my early twenties came back to me this last week. She asked, ‘Garrett, how are you praying these days?’ If you’re like me, Week 4 of the pandemic feels different. The routine of it has set in. Whatever it is, however it is we spend our days, we’re pretty much locked into it now.”

“If I had to guess at the ten happiest moments in my mother’s life, they’d probably include the days her two children were born, the days we got married, the days each of her three grandchildren were born, and the day that I learned to clip my own toenails.”

“So I’ll tell you what this season looks like for me: it feels like we’ve all just attended a funeral. Actually, it feels as though we’re all attending a funeral. The problem is we’re all attending different funerals.”

“Every time you come to this website and join in this virtual worship, a new sinew connects you to the rest of us. Every time you phone a church friend to see how they’re doing, a new tendon stretches out between the two of you. Every time you log on to Zoom for Bible Study or Teen Formation or Crafternoon, you’re adding flesh and skin to the Body of Christ.”

“What does it mean to ‘breathe underwater?’ I’ll be the first to say, I have no idea. There was no class on any of this in seminary. And yet, before we grow any supernatural gills, we need to recognize that we are underwater. The indefiniteness of this moment; the uncertainty of it strikes us all differently, and yet the feeling of being underwater is a good one–some of us might feel like life is a massive undertow, and for others of us it is the dread of looking down and not being able to see the bottom.”

“I don’t know what you’re feeling right now. Confusion, or fear? Anxiety, or panic? Whatever you’re feeling, God is right there with you. If you can’t ‘shout for joy to the Rock of [your] salvation’ right now, then wail in lament and growl in frustration. If you can’t ‘come before [God’s] presence with thanksgiving,’ then ‘raise a loud shout’ of fear and anxiety. Trust me, there are plenty of psalms for that.”

“So we pray for ‘pure and clean hearts.’ We ‘await the day of his coming.’ But do we really want to be melted by the refiner’s fire? Do we really want to be scoured with the fuller’s soap? Do we really want the sleeping god to awake and hear our prayers?”

“Our spiritual growth is many-sided and complex. But we shouldn’t get too fascinated with its complexity. Because, in the end, it’s the three-word sentences that are likely to save us. ‘I love you.’ ‘I forgive you.’ ‘Sheldon, come home.’ ‘Come and see’ is Jesus’ invitation.”

“‘He saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him.’ It just wouldn’t have the same ring to it if it was a pigeon flapping over to sit on his head. It was, of course, a pigeon. Pigeons and doves, are, after all, members of the same family. The species we call the ‘common pigeon’ is the same as the ‘rock dove.’ It’s just that, in our culture, we think of pigeons as being kind of grimy. Uncouth. ‘Flying rats.’ But doves! Oh, doves! So beautiful, so intelligent! …I say all this because I think we often look at our lives and see pigeons where we ought to see doves. We feel the Spirit of God whooshing towards us and we cower and run, covering our heads with our handbags and ducking under an awning.”