… Society informs us that race, politics, and religion do not have a place at the dinner table. Even casual mentions seem to make people’s hair stand on end. This is privilege disguised as politeness; apathy cloaked in hospitality.
I recently read an article proclaiming the danger of feminism in the church. It stated that it was a danger because it leads young women away from submitting to their husbands and from building homes that honor God. It begged people to raise their young women better in order to save the church from the ills of culture and urged them to teach women to be a specific version of feminine (“Biblical Womanhood”). To be anything other is divisive.
This is my response as an other.
To a younger me:
I see you, my dear, searching, fighting to define who you think you should be as a Christian woman. You’re hearing messages and learning truths about womanhood that seem opposed to what you have learned from the Spirit and how you have been equipped by the Spirit.
Most messages you hear will shame you into thinking that you’re less than because you don’t fit cultural expectations for what your life should look like. You will read blogs and hear sermons that will tell you that your value in the Kingdom is being submissive to a man and cultivating a household. You will read books that encourage you to wait for your “prince charming” and pray for a man to be a savior.
You will look at the wonderful, joyful life you’ve created in your singleness and...
All of it will feel a bit much.
You’ll feel like you failed, that your not quite…
Not an acceptable version of…
You will hurt.
But deep down you’ll know that your worth is not defined by a wedding band, or an expanding family. Your worth is not in your sex organs. I know it seems cruel that the world defines you by your sex appeal, while the church defines you by your utility. It seems cruel, because it is cruel. You’ll wrestle with anger over that cruelness for years, I’m afraid. You’ll wrestle with the thought of not-being-enough, not-having-enough because you don’t fit that very specific cookie-cutter mold.
You will hurt.
But you are enough.
You were created enough.
Married or single, you will feel the joy of submitting to the King. That is your strength.
Mother or childless, you will nurture your world into a place of more comfort and beauty. That is how you will share your light.
You will celebrate weddings and you will cry over newborn babies. Your life will be a technicolor celebration of love and joy and peace. You will be every bit as rooted as you want to be in community and in the intimate life of the church. Your life will have every bit of value as anyone else. You are strong. You are beautiful. You are enough.
Whether you like it or not (and sometimes you will not like it) your independence is a gift. Your ability to go out and serve, to be the hands and feet of love, will be a unique thing that you and your singleness bring to the kingdom and to your community. You will learn to taste and see how wonderful Christ is as you exercise that independence and grow fully alive in yourself. You will learn intimately about your skills, intelligence, and courage and all the ways God has designed you to be fully, unapologetically yourself.
Your righteousness will not be found at the wedding altar, but at the foot of the cross like everyone else. Just as you appreciate the intimacy a union brings, be careful to appreciate the independence your singleness brings. It is a gift, a healing balm to the world.
Let them call you a feminist. Let them worry. Let them question. Your life is not there’s to own or to judge. Your life is a marvelous dance of redemption and fully yours to live. Let them talk. And love them well through it. We are all weighted down under the expectations of our roles, married and single alike. Choose to turn your hurt to hope. Choose to live with courage, cultivating kindness in all of your spaces and places.
Just like the saints that walked before you, the Rahabs, the Ruths, the Esthers… the Marys, the Marthas, the Elizabeths… your worth will not be defined by your relationship status, but rather, your courage to love and to serve with adoration and abandon. The more you walk into that truth, the more others can as well.
I believe in you, young woman.
I believe in your worth.
I celebrate your independence and the great gifts you bring to all of those you know and serve. And if you get married, I will celebrate that as well.
Your life brings glory to God.
Your unique femininity and womanhood has something special to say about Him. Don’t worry about the cookie cutters and whispers. Don’t worry about the expectations.
You are enough.
The ground has been plowed with changes in our lives this summer. We needed time to adjust, find our bearings in new activities, and dive deeper into burgeoning relationships and therefor the blog went a bit silent. We have read, prayed, and fumbled through what it means to value community and love people well in new ways and in new places.
But, we are back! Transition has and is rendering us different than we were this past Spring and we hope to grow in vulnerability, authenticity, and zeal as we begin sharing with you this fall.
To start us off, here is a bit of what we have taken in this summer:
I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made For Whiteness by Austin Channing Brown
This book is a great memoir on being black in America. If you’re like me and are trying to broaden your understanding of race issues in America, this is a great start.
Inspired by Rachel Held Evans
This book gave me a renewed interest and love for Scripture. I really loved the Midrash elements and how the author tackled hard topics with grace. You might not agree with everything she writes, but this is a great book to think through.
Self Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself by Dr. Kristin Neff
This is more of a therapy recommendation. I’ve been pouring over it slowly as I continue my journey through therapy. It’s been a valuable book on relearning how to treat myself with kindness and grace.
Why Being White Makes You Racist by KERA’s Think Podcast
I love this episode. It’s an excellent interview on the tough subject of how deep racism is within our culture and how pervasive our complicity to it truly is. It’s an episode that will probably make you uncomfortable, but also give you a lot of hope.
Getting Curious with Jonathan Van Ness
Do you like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy? Do you like deep conversations about our culture, science, and whatever random topic comes to mind? Then this is the podcast for you.
Audacious by Beth Moore
Beth Moore’s Twitter account has been on fleak. Okay, so I have no idea what I am doing with hip words, but the point is, I needed more that the 40 characters from her. I tried to have a summer cram-reading session, but this book forced me to slow down and think. Her provocations were so expository to the apathy I developed over time, that I simply had to set the book down (often) and pray. This is a great book for any of you who are in a season of big changes.
Daring Greatly by Brene Brown
Feeling less than wholehearted? Struggling with the feeling that your life is fragmented and each compartment you have created is crumbling? This is the book for you. Think you are “pretty open”? This book is for you.
Men Explain Things To Me by Rebecca Solnit
This is an intriguing and challenging read. Within its pages there is no sugar-coating or precautious word choice to be found, but what it lacks in gentleness it makes up for in honesty. While a few arguments include proof I deem as bias or at least partial, I found myself encouraged, challenged, and fired up to preach the good news to women in my life: YOU ARE NOT FORGOTTEN! (Disclaimer: This is a “secular” read on Feminism.)
The Joy of Less by Francine Jay
This is a book that I actually started in February and finished this summer. It was a tremendous help in our move, as I let go of “stuff” and determined the value of each object in my home. As someone who has a hard time separating sentiment from substance, I found within its pages the freedom to love the space I call home.
The Story of King Jesus by Ben Irwin
This book is the grand narrative of scripture written for children. The illustrations are beautiful and engaging, only topped by the content and clarity of the words themselves. It is a forever favorite.
The Lost Lamb and the Good Shepherd by Dandi Daley Mackall
This book tells the story of the Good Shepherd chasing after the one lost lamb from both the lamb and the Shepherd's perspective. It is so creative and the rhythm of the words holds a child’s attention well.
Keith the Cat with the Magic Hat by Sue Hendra
This is a library find that made my three-year-old laugh out loud. Basically (spoiler alert) an ice cream cone falls on a cat’s head and he pretends it is a magic hat. With a little luck, he manages to convince the other cats that he really does possess magical powers.
The Saint Nick Story by Kate Davis
Kate’s book about Saint Nick, that was originally part of our Advent Devotional for kids, is now a published picture book! It is available on Amazon and B&N for preorder. Every purchase benefits the abolishment of modern day slavery. (See more at A21.org)
My dad died 6 years ago today. There are days it feels like only yesterday and days it feels like an eternity ago. These long moments and fast seconds of contemplating his life have passed with increasing regularity. It is in these moments that I find what I can only describe as profound humanity.
It’s not that I wasn’t human before. I was. It’s not that I didn’t understand death. I did. It’s simply that on September 4. 2012 my life lost its softness. To those who did not know us, it would be odd to characterize my father as a soft man. He was rough. He was tough. Most would remember him for his steely personality, full of flair but undeniably unchanging.
They say that the way you relate to your father is the way that you relate to God the Father. A rigid, correcting father leads you to believe in the sternness of God. A kind, gentle father leads you to believe in the caring nature of God. Whatever it might be, your father is your example. And I am no exception to the rule.
My father was no saint. Complicated and wounded, he fought through his life with a determinedness that forged on through every season. His life was a fight, one that would be won through the sweat of his brow and the determination of his mind. He was all steal and all metal. This was the father that I thought I knew.
And then I lost him.
I lost the incessant phone calls full of love and guilt and quiet curiosity. I lost the hugs and the gentle nudges to push forward with my next hare-brained idea. I lost the exasperated giggle when I dramatically retold my most recent hyperbolic interaction with the public in general. I lost the softness behind the steal.
In therapy I’m learning that the hardest part of grief is not grieving your memories, it’s grieving the potential of what you lost. It’s grieving the absurdity of the missed opportunity to argue over the 2016 Presidential Campaign. It’s grieving the loss of his wisdom while planning his mother’s funeral. It’s grieving all the hugs and the phone calls that would undoubtedly filled up the years. Those are the hard moments.
But, yet, even this has been a gain.
For it is in those moments of grieving my father’s softness that I see the softness of others. I’m able to cherish the text message from a friend or the late night phone calls. It’s the joy of hearing a friend’s surfing story and knowing that they will enjoy my latest email gaffe with the full kindness of knownness that only time can give. It’s the full celebration of seeing a dear friend’s face after all the years and enjoying the new wisdom in their gentle eyes.
I am grateful for my father. I am thankful that he showed me what it is to be both soft and strong. I am thankful that I can see both the softness and strength of God the Father through his example.
Mostly I am thankful for the community of people that are in my life, both Christians and non-Christians who have poured their lives into me through these long years. Their softness and kindness rekindling in me the knowledge of how deep and how wide and how high is the love of God.
It’s in these full moments of complicated grief I am able to appreciate what it means to be fully human and to hold on to those who are human with me. What a journey, what a gift to be able to walk alongside them even if our paths are short or our journey tumultuous.
What a gift it is to be human together.
So on this hard day I say:
To my dear, lovely friends, you are both salt and light to me. You are my softness and such a deep part of my strength. You help me discover the depth and heights of humanity with increasing grace and truth. I love you. I am thankful for you. You make my joy complete.
Here’s The Story
It’s crazy to think that it’s been almost a decade since I left the Bible Belt. In the last 10 years I’ve gotten married, bought a house, adopted a dog and a cat, lost a cat, had two kids, worried we might lose one of them, graduated from seminary, and planted a church.
There have been huge victories and even bigger failures. Friends have been made and lost...and overall I’m not sure Devin at 20 would recognize Devin at 30. I think he would be amazed at the patience, kindness, and the taming of a temper (although our recent trip to Disney and Seaworld revealed this area still needs a lot of work). It’s hard to go through your 20s and come out on the other side of a decade as the same person, and we all have forks in the road along the way that will determine the person we will become and the life we will lead. There have been a few things that happened leading up to the decade, and during it, that have further revealed Christ to me and in me, as well as some barriers that continue to obstruct the mission of Christ in our world.
Background: Waking Up From The American Dream
I grew up in the idyllic world of Northwest Arkansas. At the time that I moved there Bentonville had around 20,000 people. It was impossible to go anywhere or do anything without it getting back to your parents. For the most part everyone had good jobs and plenty of opportunity (a fringe benefit of growing up in the hometown of the world’s largest retailer). Eventually, I moved away to college that I began to see a world full of injustices. It was then that I realized how my own upbringing was able to shield me from the systemic injustices that I both directly and indirectly benefited from.
I attended college in Central and Southern Arkansas where racism didn’t feel any obligation to hide, and the structural and systemic racial inequality and inequity was on full display. I wasn’t able to see it growing up because the level of diversity was practically nonexistent. Yet, it wasn’t long before I was able to see that Sunday sermons either were an opportunity for Monday through Saturdays sins, or an excuse for them. The racial and economic divide was so stark that you would have to actively seek to ignore it simply to not have to address it. I guess when you’ve had a hundred years of practice, it gets easier.
Several months ago I began waking up early, before everyone else in my house, and sneaking off to Starbucks. After a few weeks of arriving five days a week at the same time, I became a regular. Baristas knew my name and order. And the other regulars welcomed me with nods and “good mornings”.
The truth is, I was there to be alone. There is a sensitive balance, as a stay at home mom of toddlers, between your need to be alone and your desire to be with other adults (both of which happen rarely). So Starbucks trips allowed me to start the day apart from being needed, apart from the piled responsibilities and laundry, surrounded by familiar adults, and alone with books, writing, and the Holy Spirit.
One morning I noticed that Craig, a semi-regular, was reading the Bible, and I commented something insignificant about us studying from the same source side by side. This struck up a conversation about faith that caught me by surprize. I was intrigued by what he mentioned so I asked if I could sit down with him and interview him some time. We set a day and got back to our studies.
Little did I know, my Starbucks experience was about to change. Eventually, I got to sit down with not only Craig, but also Howard (another regular) and discuss the work of God in each of their lives. They are so very different, but they possess a similar mission: pursuing God.
Here is what I learned:
Craig had his life turned completely around at age 25. He lived a pretty rough life, but didn’t know a better way. Soon after repenting and dedicating his life to God he attempted to surround himself with friends and roommates that shared his new-found mission. Then something happened.
He found that this new “church culture” was nothing like the Jesus who had saved him. Instead, they refused to associate with him at meals after discovering that he ordered the occasional beer. This rattled him in a severe way. Why is it that they fixated on self-defined markers of moral correctness rather than the work of God in his life? He decided that they didn’t really know the same God.
From that point on he made this commitment to himself and to God: No Golden Calves.
He would not accept bowing before anything or anyone other than God. This meant carefully praying over and studying any new teaching he heard about God before acquiring it as a belief.
As Craig shared his different experiences with church congregations he told me of many upsetting experiences in the process of learning what it meant to be a Kingdom Person. What baffled me, as someone who has served on a church staff, was that some of these experiences seemed harmless, if not helpful. For example, it offended him that upon visiting a church a man, not much older than him, approached him after the service and introduced himself as the Discipleship Pastor. The pastor then offered to get him “set up” with someone to disciple him. Craig never went back. Why? Because before getting to know Craig, someone assumed that because of a job title, he was to act as mentor to all that entered, not mentee. “What if God sent me to that church to teach him something?” Craig exclaimed!
I felt myself wanting to judge Craig, at first, as unteachable. But then, as I continued to listen I realized how wrong I was. He went to church to listen and learn. He found the sermon valuable for his own life. But the Church was only there to “serve” not be served.
I know, I know, “It is better to give than receive.” But if you take a moment and think that through, you will find that in order to love someone, you have to both receive and give. You have to allow others the gift of giving by receiving. And to disciple someone in how to receive teaching, you have to be willing to demonstrate a listening stance.
Craig could find no home in a place where he was not seen as valuable, where God’s work in his life had no weight against a man-given title.
I asked him, “So what is Church to you? Where do you find community?”
“Here.” He said. “Here, and at that Smoothie King right there. At work, and at the grocery store.”
He continued to explain that once he realized he was part of a the Monarchy of God and just a sojourner in this place, he discovered that there are fellow sojourners all around. He talked about his Kingdom citizenship the way a recently arrived immigrant may find themselves saying, “In my country…”
Breaking from his previous allegiances wasn’t and isn’t easy for Craig. He explained that a crucial part of learning to live as a citizen of the Kingdom is the need to unlearn the former commitments to political party and the “golden calf” of country.
He said that regularly hears himself saying or thinking something then catches himself with, “Wait. Why do I believe that? Who taught me that? This is the old me repeating something without really knowing it’s true.”
“No Golden Calves” meant not allowing others to become idols, but also not returning to old ways of thinking without bringing those thoughts before King Jesus.
This intentional repentance of former worldview was empowered by prayer.
Prayer was perhaps the most recurring topic in our hour-long conversation. I was convicted when he told me how frequently, intentionally, privately, and openly he prayed. He invited others to pray with him in many different settings. He brought all of his desires before God in prayer and witnessed miraculous provision and correction.
Prayer was also a common theme with my other Starbucks friend, Howard. Howard could not be more different than Craig. Howard is a mystic. He embraces the unknown of God and in return has found that God will meet him to comfort his worries, and challenge him to trust fully in God’s love for him.
As I talked with Howard and we shared with each other about the painful seasons in our life, during which God always came near, there was an ease about our conversation.
I kept thinking back to Craig’s response to my question about where he finds community and where he gathers with Church. “Here.”
The beauty of the Body of Christ is that we need both Howard and Craig. We need those who will seek God relentlessly for truth, and those who will sit in wonder of God’s mystery. We need them in our coffee shops, construction companies, hospitals, AA Meetings, and library story times. We have to be ready to “go to Church” wherever we are, learning from those who are seeking God along side of us, without paying mind to status or longevity of membership.
God is at work in the lives of those around us, and if we listen and look, we will see Him and be changed. I now know this to be true first hand.
I am convinced that we are all prone to mimic more than we listen. (Thank you Jesus for being the LIVING Word, our example!) So, when I think about my kids and their young budding understanding of God, I ask myself: What is it that I want them to see in me? If I want them to receive the love of Jesus for themselves, then I need to receive it for myself. If I want them to confess their wrongdoings before God and their community, I have to value those for myself. If I want them to choose pleasing God and worshiping him alone, then I must let them see me disappoint others as I do the same.
Words have power.
That sentence seems cliche, if not absolutely annoying to me. Who doesn’t know that words have power?
But, as I’ve learned in counseling lately, I lost that lesson a long time ago. The words I use to discuss my life are absent of action and intention. Life seems to just happen to me. The trauma that wrecked me stole my youth, and much more quietly, my voice.
I spent so long in the darkness that I couldn’t see how to “choose” to walk into the light.
Running has taught me this exact lesson throughout the last year. If you asked me six months ago if I classified myself as a runner, I would invariably say that I am not. I am too fat, short, and old for that title. I wanted to be a runner. I admired runners. But, simply put, I was not one. That was for those people who were much more in shape, active, and type A than I am. Other people are runners. Not me.
But then things started shifting. I began putting the lessons I learned in counseling into my daily life. I started using words that evoked action. And that’s when I realized, the only person denying my ability to run was me. I gave myself the language and the habits that shackled me. My language kept me from acting. It kept me from participating.
Truth is I am a runner. I have always been a runner. I just didn’t believe in who I was created to be and I stripped myself of my power. I might’ve crossed some finish lines but I allowed my language to steal my joy. It stole my power.
The same can be said for my faith journey. For many years, faith has been something that has happened to me. It’s is something that I am invariably linked to. I have to go to church on Sunday. I don’t have a choice. I have to tithe. I don’t have a choice. I have to (insert action). I don’t have a choice.
As I traveled through my Lenten season, I learned that words lead to self responsibility and engagement. Being a Christian is not sitting on the sideline and waiting for all the action to happen. It’s getting into the mix of things. It’s not waiting for God to force us to do something or to be something. Being a Christian is choosing life. It’s choosing love. It’s choosing to use your gifts, your time, your treasure for the Kingdom of Heaven.
Many of my favorite passages from scripture use their language to equip us with power. Hebrews 12 urges us to “throw off everything that hinders” us. It tells us to “run” and to “fix our eyes on Jesus”.
The beauty of this passage is that it recognized that Jesus, too, had a choice. He didn’t have to submit to death. But, he chose to “endure the cross” and its shame. He chose it. For you, for me…
He chose it.
And, likewise, we too can choose to throw off all our baggage and shame. We can run the race, fixing our eyes on Jesus just like he ran it for us. He chose it out of love for us. We can do the same.
But, we can also choose not to.
We can choose not to run, not to fix our eyes on Jesus, not to throw off all that hinders us. We can choose to divorce our thoughts and our words from our actions. We can choose a language that strips us of identity and action. We can choose to not participate. We can choose to stay shackled to our burdens and our sins.
We can choose.
My name is Corey.
I am a runner.
I will run my race well, fixing my eyes on Jesus.
I will lace up my shoes and put one foot in front of the other.
I am not a prisoner to my body or my mind.
I am not an inactive participant in life.
I am not an inactive participant in my faith.
I am making my choice.
I am a runner.
Who do you choose to be?
We are a paradox people.
We look at loss of prizes,
But by our cries of desperation,
God Almighty rises.
The world in search of power,
Sometimes within our titles,
But those who are the remnant,
Are found kneeling for survival.
“Hosannah” is the battle cry,
Not vengeance but request,
That God himself would save us-
He alone ease our distress.
We do not march with fear,
But with holy recognition,
That without his saving grace,
Ours is a hopeless condition.
He climbed the hill stripped naked,
Spat on and disgraced.
He gasped for breath and whispered
On his murderers, God’s grace.
All man considered holy,
Was finally exposed,
As fruitless acts of godlessness-
Stem of thorns without a rose.
Unprepared in a borrowed tomb,
His body lay in death.
Scattered were those close to him,
Confined to sabbath rest.
How could one rest without him?
Uncertain of the past,
And uncertain of forever.
“Hosannah” in her rising.
“Hosannah” in her care.
She gathered what she needed.
For death she was prepared.
Her heart already broken,
She clung to what she knew.
The air escaped her grieving lungs,
“Hosanna! Where are you?”
“Alive” was her answer.
The lips of angels reached her.
The start of something beautiful,
This world’s first Christian preacher.
This truth brought hope and fear,
It was Jesus that she needed.
Overwhelmed she wept until,
“Mary,” her King greeted.
This tomb was meant for death.
This garden marked with sadness.
But God restores the shattered,
And gives us hope of gladness.
If you are entering this Easter
Carrying burial preparations,
Certain evils can’t be changed,
No faith in restoration-
Set down your baskets and behold,
Christ, on whom you can rely.
He greets, by name, the mourning,
Feasting with those whose lips deny.
“Hosanna!” We are here.
We’re blessed because you hear us.
Though evil tempts with worldly gain,
We’ll chose to have you near us.
Rejoice for he is Risen!
Our King is risen indeed.
His Spirit expanding his Kingdom,
Through those still in great need.
He will meet you when you seek him,
His expectations gracious.
His table has a place for you,
For the desperate, seats are spacious.
We are Easter People. The Kingdom of those reborn by the resurrection.
Gather your people.
Raise your glasses.
The Toasts of Easter Feaster
(Based on the 4 cups of the Passover Meal.)
The first toast is the toast of Sanctification. Now is a time to raise your glass and share a way you have been sanctified this year. Do you feel set apart by God? How so? How has God assured you that he is still active in your life?
The second toast is the toast of Salvation. What have you been saved from? Maybe it's a bad habit or sin that you are no longer enslaved by. Maybe it's a toxic mindset that you have been freed from. Maybe God spared you from a consequence you deserved. Tell us, how has Jesus saved you?
The third toast is the toast of Redemption. God makes broken things beautiful and revives dry bones. What has God redeemed in your life this year? Did you have any truly terrible things made beautiful by the presence of the Creator? What has been turned around in your life this year? What has been mended?
The fourth toast is the toast of Hope and Restoration. This is the toast of Kingdom still to come. We raise our glasses and say, "I believe God will make all things new, and once again, mankind and God will walk together in the garden." Proclaim your hopeful expectations. What do you long for that you know will come to pass when Jesus returns?
In a final toast, raise your glasses all together and say, "We praise you, Jesus. You are our King, our Savior, our Redeemer, and our God. Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was and who is and who is to come. Hallelujah!"
Today is Holy Saturday, a day set aside by the church to remember the time between Christ’s death and his resurrection. As you prepare your heart and house for Easter, take time to contemplate the significance of Christ’s death.
Below is an exercise in remembrance:
Set a timer for 5 minutes.
Spend that time in prayer, asking God to reveal new depths in the Easter story as you contemplate Jesus’ death and its purpose.
Journey through Romans 6: 3-11. Follow the prompts and questions laid out below:
3 Or don’t you know that all of us who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? 4 We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.
Contemplate Christ’s death.
What does it mean to be buried with him?
How does that impact your life?
5 For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his. 6 For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body ruled by sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin— 7 because anyone who has died has been set free from sin.
Contemplate being united in Christ’s death.
What does it mean to be crucified with him?
How does that impact your life?
8 Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him.9 For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. 10 The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. 11 In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus.
Contemplate living with Christ.
What does it mean to to be alive to God in Christ Jesus?
How does that impact your life?
Set a timer for 10 minutes.
Spend that time in silence. Contemplate Christ’s death and the tomb. Think about what it must have been like to be a follower of Jesus on the first Holy Saturday. Let the knowledge and thought of his death wash over you.
For the past several years, our community has taken a “day of silence” where we don’t listen to music, watch TV, or have any other form of audio distraction on the Saturday of Holy Week. We remember the hush that the disciples must have felt as they fearfully reflected on the previous day’s events. We consider what our faith would mean without the resurrection and what our destiny would be without his death.