In Gennesaret

[Resurrection Station #2 – Luke 24] “Were not our hearts burning within us?” Three days after the crucifixion of the man they had hoped would be “the one to redeem Israel,” Cleopas and his friend met that crucified man walking with them on the road to Emmaus. And again, they didn’t recognize him. And again, I try to give them some grace about that, just like I give Mary. Some people believe that Jesus’ resurrected body was somehow different enough from his original that he wasn’t easily recognizable at first. And I can see that. I’ve often wondered what the new and perfect version of my body will look like – what age? What weight? What “flaws” will be gone? Maybe Jesus’ new face was missing scars from childhood accidents and wrinkles from sun damage. Maybe he fell and broke his nose at some point . . . and the nose on his new body was unbroken and didn’t look the same. I mean . . . why not? It’s possible. In any case . . . After hearing the men’s version of recent events, Jes

[Resurrection Station #1 -- John 20] " Who are you looking for?” Mary Magdalene is back at the empty tomb. That morning, she had come to finish anointing the body of Jesus and discovered that the body was not there. And after running to tell the boys the stunning news, she returned to the tomb, weeping. Sobbing too hard, it seems, to recognize Jesus himself standing beside her, talking to her, asking her why she is crying . . . “Who are you looking for?” You see, Mary wasn’t really looking for Jesus – I mean, not a living, walking, talking, breathing Jesus who calls her by name. She was looking for a corpse. She kept asking people where they had taken his body . That’s all that she thought was left. I look for Jesus. At least I think I do. But I wonder how often I am looking for a living, walking, talking, breathing Jesus. The Jesus I have looked for in the past, I fear, was probably pretty corpse-like. Cold doctrine. Hard facts. Literal history. But doctrine does not b

 I am SO not getting out the Easter baskets and eggs this year. Or the bunnies. And unfortunately, I'm not even buying the candy. My girls are all grown up, both of them getting ready to graduate from college and leave the proverbial nest. Even they  aren't interested in the old kiddie traditions this time around. The youngest came home from college yesterday, and we've been puzzling a bit about how to celebrate the holiday . . . I mean, other than going to church. And I don't mean to minimize the act of going to church on the most important of Christian holidays, or holy days .  But this year, it's not really cutting it. I recently finished re-reading Surprised by Hope  by N.T. Wright. Heavy reading, but good reading. Important, weighty stuff. One of the things he talks about (in fact, I think he devotes a whole chapter to it) is how poorly we do Easter these days. We spend a whole forty days on Lent (and by the way, I was today years old when I realized that the s