Unemployed Theologian

I don’t know if I can say anything meaningful about Good Friday that hasn’t already been said, and better.  A few years ago, for instance, my favorite blogger Rachel Held Evans wrote a series called “ Holy Week for Doubters ,” which speaks poignantly to an element of faith oft unspoken, and one which resonates strongly on Good Friday, that sometimes God feels absent. For at least three days, Jesus lay dead in the ground, and those who loved him felt empty, bereft, hopeless. And being a Christian doesn’t exempt us from experiencing fear or insecurity in the face of life’s senselessness. Sometimes, doubt is the only honest answer to life’s bigger questions. Even I wrote a post two years ago, reflecting on the holiday after spending an afternoon working in a juvenile detention center. On a day set aside to recognize the deep pain in the world, and God’s presence in the midst of it, I sat in a big concrete box with kids who had suffered more in their short years than most of us wi...

I don't realize how awkward my facial hair is until I put on some nice clothes but forget to shave. Then I look like a homeless person who stumbled upon a bag of moderately-used semi-formalwear, all scruff and argyle. And this is how I dolled myself up to sing at my church's Good Friday service this morning. Now please realize, I never dress up for church. Never have, never much saw the need to. I don't mean any disrespect by it, no latent irreverence toward authority, I simply don't care much about my clothes or appearance. In fact, growing up without money for my richer friends' fancy jackets, backpacks and light up sport shoes made me pretty Zen about the whole style thing. Instead of dressing for fashion I dress for comfort. Basketball shorts, t-shirts, sandals (even in February), easy. Plus, I like to think I walk with God as much outside the church as in, so I never felt a need to gussy up for the in-house stuff. It's different when I'm up fr...

'My pastor, Veronica, one Sunday told the story of a sparrow lying in the street with its legs straight up in the air, sweating a little under its feathery arms. A warhorse walks up to the bird and asks, "What on earth are you doing?" The sparrow replies, "I heard the sky was falling, and I wanted to help." The horse laughs a big, loud, sneering horse laugh, and says, "Do you really think you're going to hold back the sky, with those scrawny little legs?" And the sparrow says, "One does what one can."' ~ Anne Lamott, Stitches Hope is a funny thing. You don't realize you need it until you suddenly find yourself without it. It's intangible, almost metaphysical, yet quantifiably necessary for survival. Scripture implores us to abide in it, reminds us of its utter importance (second only to love and tied with faith), yet counterintuitively does not seem to provide much definition for it. And in a season when life seems inte...

Last year I spent a lot of time writing about Advent, and the experience turned out to be deeply meaningful, so this year I decided to take a crack at Lent. Another season of the year devoted to austere reflection in anticipation of a coming hope. Lent, like Advent, is one of those traditions mostly foreign to my people (white Evangelical Protestants). As I mentioned when reflecting on Advent, we Evangelicals largely tend to ignore the Church Calendar because it seems ritualistic, archaic, perhaps a bit spooky. We get weirded out by it. But that's on us, not on our brothers and sisters who remember and retain the beautiful, historic practices of the Calendar, who recognize that ritual can engage the head, hands and heart in service of God. Granted, mere ritual cannot replace personal communion with God via prayer or devotional reading, but I see no reason to throw the baby out with the holy water. Just as Advent commemorates the Jews' period of waiting for their Messiah, Le...