Still Staring at the Sky
When everything familiar has gone and the new thing hasn’t arrived yet, the disciples’ upper room is closer to home than we might think.
When everything familiar has gone and the new thing hasn’t arrived yet, the disciples’ upper room is closer to home than we might think.
Paul in Athens, a Muslim Uber driver, and a Georgian bishop walk into a sermon — and together reframe what Christian interfaith encounter could look like.
Philip asked Jesus to show him God. The answer dismantles centuries of angry-God theology — and exposes the retributive impulse hiding in all of us.
Jesus came that we might have life in abundance — but abundant life can’t be hoarded. The moment we try to secure it for ourselves at others’ expense, it stops being life at all.
When the executed one comes back, everyone expects retribution. The shock of resurrection is that he doesn’t.
Psalm 16 began as a farmer’s prayer about good land and steady faith — and became something bigger without leaving the earth behind.
The resurrection doesn’t restore what we lost — it reveals what we were always becoming: living icons through whom the world might glimpse the life of God.
When Jesus says “I am,” he’s not just making a claim — he’s pulling a thread that runs from a burning bush through a valley of dry bones to a man walking out of a tomb.
The desire for a fair universe is real and grief-filled – but Jesus steps outside that framework entirely, and invites us into something better.
Context changes everything. Where, when and how we encounter life changes what we seek and long for from God and faith. Adaptive faith allows for the constancy of God in our ever-changing lives. It also requires us to be fluid – like water!