Liminality

When Jesus wraps himself in our dust, he takes on the complete role of being human. And he finds it necessary to pull away from his life and reflect. This year for Lent I was going to give up drinking sweet tea. Then Noelle took me to Chik-fil-a and I thought better of my sacrifices. I am participating in Lent though. Noelle bought me a devotional book that uses quotes from my favorite theologian and spiritualist, Henri Nouwen. This book is walking me through a journey of reflection and penitence. It’s reminds me that I am a sinful, imperfect, broken vessel. It concentrates on an inward journey to the heart. A journey that requires intentional moments of reflection, prayer, and stillness in my day. I’m learning I go too fast. I’m learning my plate is sometimes too full. I’m learning that the more I do the less aware I am of my own needs. This year for Lent, I’m giving up being busy and replacing them with moments of stillness. And I can’t help but notice that when

Joseph Campbell is well known around the theology world for his work in dissecting myths across cultures. He travels the world tracing stories, legends, fables, myths (especially in the religious arena) and charts his findings. Over the course of time, he found an overwhelmingly consistent theme. In almost every story there is a main character that swoops in and saves the day. A champion. A rebel who rights the ship. And these champions follow a similar life story. Campbell calls this theme the Heroes Journey. These heroes experience a call, cross a threshold (point of no return), battle conflicts and opposing forces, only to find themselves immersed in a life changing saga that inevitably changes the course of history. Along the way they meet helpers too. Ones that travel along life’s path helping at a moment’s notice. Then the hero approaches the climactic moment in the journey. It is the last battle, the last stand, where good meets evil, where fates will be de

Choosing to follow Jesus may bring on a few socially negative implications, but the reward far exceeds the threats. The reward supersedes the implications. The reward is eternal. Fred Craddock tells this story: I recall preaching in a university church in Norman, Oklahoma, some years ago, when a young woman came up to me after the service. I had preached on the call of the disciples. She came up and said she wanted to talk with me and said, “I’m in med school here, and that sermon clinched what I’ve been struggling with for some time.” “What’s that” I respond. “Dropping out of med school.” “What do you want to do that for?” She said she was going to go work in the Rio Grande Valley. She said, “I believe that’s what God wants me to do.” She quit med school, went to Rio Grande Valley, sleeps under a piece of tin in the back of a pickup truck and teaches little children while their parents are out in the field. She dropped out of med school for this, and her folks back

As the story goes, instead of going to Galilee, Luke takes us to Nazareth. He makes us witness a synagogue scene. And then he throws us a curveball. Instead of making us hear a sermon from an old rabbi, we see Jesus standing in the middle of the congregation, working his way to the platform and reading from the prophet Isaiah. Luke has him announcing that he is the new favor of the Lord. He is the rightful Jubilee. But something happens here. A twist occurs. Conflict arises. Nazareth isn’t pleased with Jesus. They don’t like what he is saying. This is not how the story is supposed to go. Jesus is supposed to be loved by his hometown. But instead they become outraged. They grab him. Attempt to take him to a cliff. They want to throw him down, silence him, kill him and keep him from becoming who he is supposed to become. Why? What did he say? This past week, three friends and I packed our tents, bags, pillows, and headed to Warner Robbins, Georgia for the new