Sunday’s Coming

Is this passage more than a cautionary tale about the tendency to stuff a suitcase to the gills?

Jairus knows the weight of justice delayed as justice denied. But he keeps moving.

The wind and water operate at a guttural level within these fishermen disciples.

It’s a beautiful plant. It’s also an invasive weed.

Yes, Jesus is possessed—by a new vision of what it means to live in community and in relationship with God.

My forebears were a little shortsighted with their strict sabbath codes, but they weren’t entirely wrong.

Nicodemus’s problem is the power of evil, and he can’t find his own way out of it.

The Spirit affirms our differences, speaking in ways that each of us can understand—yet also drawing us together.

In Acts, the gospel takes on organizational structure.

We hope and pray that God will meet us, even if God feels absent to us.

1 John says the love of God comes first. Oh. Right.

Sometimes it seems that the vine grower has prepared the vineyard and gone off to a remote island where things are warmer and nicer.

A hired hand is all I’ve ever been, professionally speaking.

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

Some people say they don’t identify as Christian because of what they see, or don’t see, in the church.

There is a chasm between Peter and Jesus that cannot be glossed over.

Peter doesn’t want to suffer. Who does?

The enduring significance of Jesus’ act in John 13 turns on the little preposition to.

Isaiah’s suffering servant plays on our own ambivalent ideas about violence, passivity, and retribution.

A worshiper can go a long time without any idea of who Melchizedek is and what it means to be a priest according to his order.