In Gennesaret

  ". . . who forgives all your sins . . ."  (Ps 103) ALL my sins? Yep. Every one of them? Seriously, God? Cuz, I mean, there's a lot of them. All means all. All forgiven. From the moment you said "Yes" to me. So, like, my bad attitudes. My selfishness. Man, I can be selfish. My jealousy -- the way I hate that she's  got life so easy and I don't and I want what she has. My arrogance. The times I take credit I don't deserve and think I'm better than I am. All of that? Forgiven? Forgiven. Already done. Ooo . . . remember that time in high school when I flirted with my best friend's boyfriend behind her back? Dang -- that was scummy . I'm still ashamed of myself when I think about that. Yeah, that was pretty scummy, alright. All forgiven. Before it ever happened. And I keep losing my temper with the guy next door. I'm so sorry. I'm trying, Lord -- you know I am. He's just such a . . . well, I'm trying. I know. We'll keep w...

Of all the brilliant things the apostle Paul said to us (and yes, I acknowledge there are many people out there who hate Paul and would argue that he wasn’t so brilliant, but I’m not going to tackle that question today, so back to my point . . .) Of all the brilliant things the apostle Paul said to us, near the top of the list for me is the analogy of the church as a body (1 Cor 12). “Just as a body, though one, has many parts,” he tells us, “so it is with Christ” – that is, with his church. We are unified, but we’re also all different. Different in abilities, different in functions, different in passions . . . but all part of one body. And all NEEDED. “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you!’”. We need every single part. Although we tend to give special attention to the eyes, the mouth, the hands – the preachers, the teachers, the evangelists – the parts that seem so obviously critical – Paul reminds us that “the parts that we think are less honorable we treat with spec...

People use door posts to mark the physical growth of their kids. I mean, I never did, but people do, right? Get the pocketknife out and carve a notch right above their heads. “Susie – 5/14/96, 5yr.” “Jack – 6/23/96, 8yr.” They stood this tall two years ago – now, they’re up to here. Would that it were so easy to record the other ways we grow. I had a conversation on the phone yesterday with a guy about an invoice his company sent me. I knew they had charged me too much. I explained the situation, and he put me on a long hold while he looked into their records. When he came back, I had to explain more – and he had to explain more – and I pointed out where he was wrong – and he pointed out where I was wrong – and we finally came to a resolution. The whole exchange was frustrating, even though the young man was trying to be as helpful as possible. But I was calm and clear and confident and downright cheerful , even, people! Felt pretty good about myself when it was done. Three years...

“Rabbi, who sinned?” the disciples asked. Because that, of course, is the only pertinent question here. They’re walking by a “man born blind.” (John spends all of chapter nine telling this man’s story and he never gives his name. I suspect that’s because he didn’t know his name . . . because nobody asked. I wonder if that struck John later as he was writing the account, and if he felt any shame at that fact.) Isn’t it interesting that John tells us “ he saw a man blind from birth?”   Jesus saw him – it doesn’t say the disciples saw him. But Jesus must have somehow brought their attention to the man because they immediately began a theological discussion about whether the blindness was caused by his own sin or his parents’ sin. No talk about what could be done for the poor guy. No pity expressed for the man’s sad situation. They talked about this guy in third person, right in front of his face, as if he wasn’t even there. Don’t gloss over the coldness of that behavior. The ...

I've got covid. And it kind of sucks. I almost hate to even say that because I have July 2022 covid , which so far has been mostly like a horrible cold. I'm coughing. Every once in a while, it's a full-blown coughing fit, but mostly just an occasional deep-chest bark that sounds worse than its bite. I also find myself needing to lie down every once in a while when I realize I simply can't keep my eyes open a minute longer . . . but that's happening less and less often now. So far, the worst part has been the seven or eight waking hours on Saturday when I was quarantining myself in my bedroom waiting for my daughter to get test results. And y'all, I LIKE my bedroom a lot. It's quite comfortable. Windows to let in light when I want it . . . a little love seat with plenty of cozy blankets and pillows . . . bookshelves with plenty of good books . . . a desk to sit and work at if necessary, and full access to my printer and all of my office supplies . . . a spaci...