dirtying paper. scratching for beauty.
*if you’re curious where to find the soul-stretching landscape shown in the picture above, it’s in Ireland, on a stretch of path between Killarney and Black Valley. It’s a place of wonder that Miska and I discovered while walking The Kerry Way. You can’t see our faces while we’re snapping the photo, but we’re all smiles.
I’ve been around the ecclesial block far too many times to have glistening illusions about the church as a paradigm of perfection. Rather, we are a community who proclaims that in Jesus Christ, God has acted to save the world. And we, the Church, are the first in line in need of rescue.
On Maundy Thursday, we see Jesus washing the feet of those who would scatter, those who would betray, those who were disillusioned and angry and bewildered. And Jesus, knowing full well the shifty, half-baked crew gathered in that room, still went out of his way to call them all friends. Every one of them. Yes, …
You know that moment when your wife says. “Oh no, we have a problem,” and your heart sinks like an anvil in the ocean with the memory of how whenever it’s time for fix-it husband, you’re all mittens and hiccups, and you look at the catastrophe mocking you so that it feels like you’re in …