Third Sunday of Easter (Year B, RCL)

I asked ChatGPT for a sermon. What it wrote seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

The idea that God loves us seems so simple.

Why doesn’t Jesus just remind the disciples of a story or an inside joke they shared before he died?

Pastors face intense challenges—though not necessarily unique ones.

“Each of the typical approaches has problems. The best solution would be to change the lectionary.”

It’s not possible to parent without experiencing risk, weakness, pain, and transformation.

Psalm 4:4 as practical wisdom

In case flesh and bone aren’t enough to convince the disciples, Jesus also asks for dinner.

Talking about God in the face of wounds that won’t go away

In Luke’s postresurrection appearances, the disciples have to reckon with the traumatic somatic.

Jesus' death is almost impossible to accept. Then he comes back.

Our risen savior has taste buds and a digestive tract.

In the Bible, freedom is always more than a simple choice or the absence of coercion.

Last summer, Charles Moore, a retired Methodist minister, nearly 80 years old, parked in a strip mall in his hometown of Grand Saline, Texas, pulled out a gas can from his trunk, drenched his clothes with gasoline, knelt down, and lit a match. He died in flames.

Touch me and see, said the prisoners. Shake my hand and discover that I am human like you.

The story goes that God got a body. I’ve often pondered the relationship between incarnation and pain.

My father died about three years ago. As May comes around, the azaleas spring to life, and I remember my father's passing. Just as sure as the tulips and dogwood blossom, my mind wanders back to my dad. Even when I begin to open up to these strange and wonderful stories of Easter, struggling with the notions of recognition and revelation, I think about the last few months of my father's life.

It’s been seven years, and I cannot access Jesus' word of peace. The tears still sting and slosh over my pail of remorse.

“People must believe what they can,” writes George MacDonald, “and those who believe more must not be hard on those who believe less.”

Faith is a gift. We don’t produce it ourselves. We receive it. And we certainly can’t brag about having more of it than other people do.

The appearance of a ghost can be explained in all sorts of ways. But when Jesus appears—bearing scars and hungry for a nice piece of tilapia—then we have to do more than merely rearrange some intellectual furniture.