Every Christmas, my family loves to retell the story of a gift that I gave my aunt a few years back. “Tell it again,” the kids say, and we start from the beginning and end up laughing so hard we cry. Continue reading →
I want to be like Peter, the disciple who ran for the tomb on the third day. The one who leaned in to the emptiness and believed.
“Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” So Peter went out with the other disciple, and they were going toward the tomb. Both of them were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. And stooping to look in, he saw…” (John 20: 1-5)
I read the story of the Resurrection and cheer Peter on. My soul runs with him, toward the hope that I know is there… because I know the story so well. Because I love happy endings and want one for Peter- who’s floundering faith reminds me so much of my own. Continue reading →
The Law was etched into it, carving God’s people out of the world and into holiness. It was held high then smashed to the ground in a frustrated rage – because all fall short. A stone mirror reflecting a broken people.
They placed their offerings upon it. An altar without rest, and messy from endless efforts to cover their own sin. Spilling gallon upon gallon of the wrong kind of blood. A stone table for doing work their hands could never finish. Continue reading →