To find where Jesus abides, the church needs to put on our most comfortable walking shoes.
Lace up your Nikes, slip on your Birks,
grab your Tims—you pick your favorite pair—
and let’s hit the road. It’s in the walking with Jesus through the gospel we uncover what it means to abide in him, to remain with him.
Christian nationalism cannot be ignored or pushed aside.
It is a perversion of everything we claim to hold sacred.
It is the antithesis of the gospel we proclaim.
It is dangerous and unchecked it will destroy us.
We cannot be silent.
My final sermon as minister of First Christian Church of Puyallup, Washington. Saying farewell is always hard; saying farewell during a pandemic–such an odd mix of emotions. In my imagining of what my final Sunday with you might be like, sitting here, with Stoney, in my house was not one of them. I’d hoped for…
This year, there is no palm branch waving, no readers theater, no heart-wrenching renditions of Were You There When They Crucified My Lord. Many of us are isolated. Closed up behind our doors. Waiting for word that it’s safe to go out. How do we mark Palm Sunday in this strange moment we’re living through?
Our gospel reading may lack the barren landscape of bleached white bones, but we still find ourselves in a graveyard. This time it is outside Bethany–a place of danger, close in proximity to Jerusalem, the place of Jesus’s impending passion and death. It is a turn in the story, both in place and in time.