The wind and the waves will always be a part of a life of faith; but together with all of our gifts and in each other’s presence, we find the hand of Christ.
We put on the brakes, sitting there for forty-five minutes without moving an inch, and all the while we are looking around, but there is not a detour in sight.
Throughout this world, we might pay attention to where we find wholeness in the midst of brokenness, and we might call it by its name. God’s grace can show up in so many ways.
Tables are sacred places in our lives and in our faith. Just think of everything that happens around a table. We find the bonds of family, the making of friends, the stories we tell, the questions we ask, the prayers we say, the laughter we enjoy, and the grief we experience.
The disruptions and distractions of this life can burrow down deep into our lives. Our souls can feel crowded by all of the noise around us so much so that one of our deepest, most honest prayers that we struggle to put into words might be to have a quiet soul.
This is important because in our darkest days, we need to know that the absence of light does not mean the absence of God.
I think it is important to remember that this conversation is as old as the Church, where a life a faith has never been free from such tension.
Have we been thinking about all of this in the wrong way? Are we starting with the wrong question? Is it that we make sense out of the gospel, or is it that the gospel makes sense out of us?
Paul comes back to the cross, which he calls foolishness, because he knows that all the explanation in the world cannot sell the cross. It can only be given away.