“Your faith might feel shaky this Easter. But Jesus would rather you limp through the door than keep Him at arm’s length. And he knows a thing – or two – about arm’s length.” I wrote that two years ago, back when church doors were open. Back when we said the church wasn’t a building
This is the flower of a night-blooming cereus, a type of cactus whose twisted tangle of spines is ordinarily nothing more than a spindly eyesore. She blooms only when temps soar to triple digits and the desert floor cracks open with thirst. But, oh does she bloom. Her fragrant, palm-sized flower is called Queen of
“I don’t get it. Why do people go to church twice a year?” one of my co-workers blurted out this week in a brazen workplace violation of the holy trinity of taboo topics: politics, religion, and will-you-cover-for-me-while-I’m-on-vacation. No one spoke. Crickets. Just, thud. He rescued himself from his own pregnant pause by continuing, “That’s like
The entirety of the Christian experience hurtles toward this week. And I want to write today to those who feel like you’re missing it. Oh, this Easter Sunday, you’ll put a little extra poof in your hair, wear your Sunday best and smile at everyone you see – because if you’re not smiling on Easter
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