My mother has had a stroke, apparently. An MRI will likely confirm what has happened. She’s 90, but up until a couple days ago not what you might envision when you think of someone who’s 90. She’s had a series of challenges of late—perhaps consequence of her age and also not necessarily being good about reporting aches and pains over the years that probably should have been investigated.

Anyway, if you talked to Mom on the phone up until a couple days ago, you’d probably think she was much younger. But the current reality is that she can no longer speak in complete sentences, speaks largely in gibberish interspersed with an occasional lucid phrase. A drastic change for someone for whom words and conversation were bread and butter.

The brain is a remarkable organ. We’ll see what comes back in the days ahead.

Justin Jones and Justin Pearson have been reinstated to the Tennessee legislature. I’m not clear on what’s happened here, the procedure in place. It sounds like they are back in their seats but they have to run again for the office from which they were removed? I guess if I actually read up on this situation, some of the blanks might be filled in.

But let’s just go with the optics for now.

In a historically racist state, two black Democratic lawmakers are expelled while a white member escapes expulsion for joining in gun violence protests in the chamber’s gallery. The explanation given for the expulsions was that Pearson and Jones had used a bullhorn, while the third offender—Gloria Johnson, a white woman—hadn’t. I guess this might have provided clarity for the Republican supermajority to do what they did. Maybe it had little to do with race, and using a bullhorn after your mics are cut off was just a bridge too far…

The public reacted vociferously to these expulsions, bringing the pressure and making the Republican supermajority look bad. Thus the reinstatements. But now the two legitimately elected representatives have to go through another election– first a primary within 60 days, then a general election within 107 days. Both have said they will seek reelection.

Seems like alot of unnecessary rigamarole. And guns are still blazing.

How can it still take 5 minutes or longer for my laptop to boot up?

And how in the hell does top secret military information show up on a social media site for unwarranted eyes to see? The U.S. has some seriously debilitating chinks in its cyber armor, and Russia seems light years ahead of us when it comes to exploiting and exposing plans and weaknesses.

It’s the nature of the technology, I guess, but it’s also inexcusable. Holding our own in cyberspace is as critical as any other aspect of this fucking animosity we seem to want to perpetuate. We put people on the moon– almost fifty-four years ago– with the computing power found in a washing machine. It’s way past time we ramped things up and got our ass in gear.

Probably not the best analogy, and I’m sure the goal posts are constantly moving when it comes to cyber security, but you know what I mean. If we’re putting all our eggs in the internet basket, we better learn how to defend ourselves there.

Since the year began, we’ve been averaging more than 1 mass shooting per day—145 so far this year, the latest at a bank in Louisville, KY.

I suppose one could argue that there are lots of people and lots of guns, along with myriad media aching to cover “breaking news,” so it’s little wonder we hear about such things so often… it’s just the law of averages… people are gonna be in the wrong place at the wrong time somewhere, right? It’s a big country.

So, nothing to see here.

“… a warning for the GOP…” reads a portion of a headline from this morning’s newsfeed re the recent Democratic win in the Wisconsin Supreme Court election.

Yup, people are showing up and voting out the Party of Backwards, the party that can’t get the hang of keeping its ear to the ground or fingers on the pulse. The religious right can’t seem to help itself when it comes to issues that are hot-button for them but apparently for no one else—transgender laws, book banning, drag queens, etc. And their stance on abortion rights has met with opposition at every turn, to the point that the decision to overturn Roe v Wade may be revisited at some point in the near future.

Republicans are laser focused on taking things away— freedom of expression, control over one’s body, the opportunity to vote. They are often running scared. They have a corner on hypocrisy, claiming to be a party that values freedom but, as it turns out, freedom for a few, not for everyone. Those other issues that they apparently lose sleep over really don’t rise to the level of “issue” until they make them so, and then they only betray their fear and provincialism and irrelevance. And they make people mad.

What’s astounding is that, as a phantom ‘majority,’ (aka minority), they still wield so much power. It’s the dark math and magic of gerrymandering. And fearmongering. And white paranoia.

How is it that a judge in Texas can make a decision that stands in the whole country? Guess I should read up on our judicial system.

The guy sounds like just another cockeyed, bloviating, brainwashed Republican assassin.

One could say that my posts about the church and faith have been all over the map, often reflective of inner conflict and confusion. I started this blog in the Spring of 2017, when I was still a called, full-time pastor. I initially hoped it would be a place to display pictures and an occasional opinion piece, interspersed with light-hearted fare. I enjoyed the daily discipline of writing. But by that time, I was already feeling like I had reached the end of my effectiveness in the pastoral role. And Donald Trump had emerged from his fortress of chaos.

In any event, insecurity and doubt were ever-present, from ordination onwards, and I was growing more restless and convinced that I had nothing new to offer and was looking for another call, even contemplating walking away from the whole enterprise.

I had always been a reluctant servant, if “servant” is even the right word. I never felt like I had a handle on things—it was more like I was wading in water that was just below my nostrils. I could never contribute very much in any conversation with colleagues, and honestly, I didn’t really like hanging out with them, anyway. I felt like an odd duck, a fish out of water. Many a conversation at clergy breakfasts was a gripe session or cerebral exercise, occasionally interspersed with humor and lightheartedness.

I didn’t know much of the lingo, I wasn’t well versed in minutiae, and systematic theology– mostly because that never interested me and seemed more like Euclidean geometry and fodder for people who liked to sound smart and talk over everyone’s head (mostly untrue). I wasn’t ignorant- I grasped the theological fundamentals of my denomination well enough to function in a congregation of folks who were searching for meaning and relevance, for a connection between their faith and life in the real world. And I was personable enough to be pastoral.

Yet something always felt “off.” It was usually me—I could never allow myself to go all-in. I was writing sermons and newsletter articles that came from a place of skepticism. I was, more often than not, measuring my words, sounding more like someone from the secular world hedging his bets than an ordained minister of Word and Sacrament who was expected to secrete Jesus from his pores.

My head has always ruled my heart. I have had significant doubts all along the way. And, as has been revealed in many of the more recent posts, those doubts are occupying a more prominent place in my thinking.

It’s Easter morning, and for the second year in a row since retiring, we will probably not go to church. On Easter morning. This time around it’s mostly because my wife has a cold and she shouldn’t be out and about. We had actually intended to get up early and go to a local sunrise service, but that service started ten minutes ago. So, the twilight and quiet of this Easter morning seems as good a time as any to let feelings flow and share them with the two or three folks who might occasionally read this blog.

The posts that treat my faith journey, or whatever this has been, are the longest posts. I have a lot in my head, and my heart, and I need to see it on paper or a screen, try to work through it and come out on some other side where something clicks, where something meaningful gets revealed, where I feel like what I’ve written has touched on something significant, a fair and honest accounting for where I’m at as a person and, still—yet—a seeker.

I can’t give up on this Christian faith, even as I doubt it and wonder if it’s all been a chasing after wind. I still feel guilty for not being more like Jesus. I still say grace, I still offer thanks to God for safe travel, for making it home in one piece. I still pray for family and friends every day, never really sure who, if anyone, I’m praying to. I still have hymns and carols in my head, still remember all the years that someone in my family would often be the one closing up after worship on a Sunday morning, church rats that we were.

I can’t walk away from believing in someone I’ve never seen other than in a sacramental way. I can’t make the break, as much as it is tempting to do so. Logic and reason have gained a foothold, and too much time has passed with no reinforcement or affirmation. Promises oft repeated, assurances offered, insistence on being in it for the long haul because God works on a different timetable and in mysterious ways… that’s all getting old now.

Yet I’m still hanging on, still listening and wrestling. To walk away from whatever faith still smolders is something I still can’t do.

Let me preface this post by saying that I am not a member of the NRA. I don’t hunt, don’t own a gun, though I think I could enjoy target shooting—something I last did as a Boy Scout 55-plus years ago. I want to elaborate on the previous post, coming at it from another direction besides as a proponent of gun control.

One could argue that this American culture is growing more godless by the day, and it is killing us. Literally. Whether or not any religion is actually based in fact and reality or is rendered irrelevant by science is beside the point. When people have a faith life and at least try to practice what they hear and read and what pastors and priests and rabbis and imams preach about peace and turning the other cheek and loving one another, they are more likely to give thought to being accountable to others, give thought to more peaceful ways of thinking and talking and acting.

If people have hope, if people know that others care about and are aware of them, the temperature will drop when it comes to anger and despair and frustration.

Even this won’t cure us of the scourge—some people are, sadly, broken, and others are gonna hate—but it would greatly reduce the daily parade of headlines reporting more senseless violence and heart-rending loss. We might be able to utter the word “civilization” without thinking it ironic or offering up a derisive chuckle.

We need grounding in something other than wild west fantasies and the paranoia of a looming Doomsday. We need a course correction that moves us away from the distractions of self-absorption—which isn’t at all easy, because at every turn our culture is heavy on temptation and appeals to self-indulgence and fulfillment, while being light on appeals to and tools for gaining self-control.

Consumption as obligation—seems like this most days. When we’re busy buying that lie, we are losing our way and our connections with one another. Religious faith- and I can speak only of Christian faith with any degree of experience and expertise- offers us a different approach to life, a different voice calling us from our navel-gazing tendencies toward a different posture of raising our heads and becoming aware of a bigger world that has needs we can address.

Maybe it’s time more of us decide to kick the tires, give faith seeking understanding a test drive. Despite the daily evidence of how Christianity gets corrupted and misappropriated and given a black eye, at its core there is much to be commended– guidance born of love and selflessness.

Human beings are not inherently moral and upright. There is no internal moral compass always pointing to True North, whatever that means. We are flawed, we all walk with a limp. Call it sin if you want.

So, we can use the help. Let me recommend reading Romans 12:1-21.

Please don’t stop at the Ten Commandments.

This morning’s headlines reported seven different incidences of gun violence, maybe eight, one follow-up to the stabbing in San Francisco, and two more about searches for missing women.

And of course, Ron DeSantis still has a bone to pick with Disney. Someone will probably end up getting hurt there as well.

But there’s nothing to see here. America doesn’t have a gun problem. People just aren’t thinking and praying hard enough—that’s all.

Why is the Savior of the World a man? Would it disappoint anyone if the Son of God was instead the Daughter of God? How about this: maybe it’s neither.

What was the milieu back in the day? Was there even a word that captured the concept of “feminism?” Mary is venerated because scripture tells us she was a willing and faithful servant who carried and gave birth to Jesus. But Jesus gets top billing. He is the New Testament.

The longer and more deeply one thinks about this, the more tenuous the whole premise becomes, a mere product of ancient times. Or should it matter to anyone that the Savior just happens to be of the male gender? Or is it best not to think about this too much…?

It doesn’t take long to go down the rabbit hole in this exercise.

All I’ll ask is why—why would God open such a can of worms by anointing a son and not a daughter, apart from the fact that this was how the society in which scripture was written already worked? The all-knowing God couldn’t anticipate evolution and change, or an awakening? Or couldn’t somehow communicate to the prevailing male-dominated culture of 2000 years ago that it couldn’t default to a narrative that featured a male hero because they couldn’t conceive of the female of the species being Savior material?

God’s only son. How apropos of the times.