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The shooting in Alexandria, Virginia is a sobering event. As a person of faith it leads me to pray for those individuals affected. First, for those wounded in the shooting, Representative Scalise, as well as the Capitol Police. Second, I am led to pray for those who, though not physically hurt, will nevertheless carry psychological wounds. It seems the gunfire went on for some minutes, a time which must have seemed nearly unending for those lying on the grass of a baseball diamond wondering if they were about to die.

Some might ask: “Why do you keep at it, adding more new verses to a beloved Holy Week Hymn? Just let it be and let’s sing it and feel the emotion it evokes.” My response is simple: because it matters.

The hymn Were You There? is a wonderful old spiritual. Indeed, it is very emotive as we sing it during Holy Week. It has been sung for decades in churches and in homes, and hummed as an act of remembrance and devotion during the Lenten season by countless others, including me.

Were you there when they crucified my Lord?

The UCC Lent Devotional for April 5, 2017:

"Lord, hear my prayer, listen to my cry for mercy; in your faithfulness and righteousness come to my relief." Psalm 143

In my prayers, I often err on the side of praying for things that I could do myself. God’s likely pretty tired of hearing me ask: “Help me do my part to solve [insert societal woe]”. I like to hide behind theology to justify this—prayer isn’t magic, God isn’t a genie, etc. And that’s all true.

Yesterday started off with breakfast with a colleague at Dig Inn. I highly recommend the ‘avocado toast’. We talked shop: stewardship, staffing, HR, social media, preaching, etc.

The UCC Lent Devotional for March 19, 2017:

"The woman said to Jesus, 'I know that the Messiah is coming' (who is called Christ). 'When He comes, He will proclaim all things to us.' Jesus said to her, 'I am He, the one who is speaking to you.' ... Then the woman left her water jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, 'Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?' ... Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman's testimony, 'He told me everything I have ever done.'" John 4

The ‘meaning of the Cross’ is something we think and wonder about especially during the Lenten Season. It’s not that we don’t think about it at other times during the year, but our Lenten journey brings it to the fore.

‘Jesus died for our sins’ is perhaps the response we would hear most often throughout Christendom if the question were posed: ‘What is the meaning of the Cross?’ Or ‘What does Good Friday mean to you?’

The UCC Lent Devotional for March 2, 2017:

"Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my parents conceived me. Yet You desired faithfulness even in the womb; You taught me wisdom in that secret place." Psalm 51

So my wife and I are having a baby.

Sometime shortly after Easter—likely—our first child will be born. There is something deeply appropriate about the forty days of lent concluding the forty weeks of waiting that is this great journey through the wilderness of welcoming new life.

2016 was a tumultuous and heart-wrenching year for a great many people, including those of us in mainline / progressive churches; with 2017 promising to be even more heart-wrenching. Our ministries have always included the prophetic call, set forth in the Hebrew Bible and, for us in the Christian community, manifested in the life and ministry of Jesus. Mercy, justice, compassion, kindness, mutual respect, and radical inclusion are basic tenants of our journey of faith.

When Jesus had something to say to the powers and principalities he staged a march upon a capital city. Admittedly, it was a wobbly thing. A donkey. No stomping, snorting stallions. No weapons or armor. They didn’t march neatly, in line, in step. There was nothing crisp about it. It was a wobbly thing, this un-assault or anti-assault upon the seat of power. Yet, these 2000 years later that march still speaks, defies, and clarifies.

I recently came across one of my favorite Christmas poems, a poem by May Sarton, that speaks of our journey, yet again, to Bethlehem.

Indeed, we have made this journey before – last year - every year. Whether we are fully aware of it or not, we come with our hopes and our fears, our joys and our sorrows, our expectations for the future and our anxieties about our present.