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.

Let’s see… Democratic lawmakers in Tennessee face expulsion from the state legislature because they took part in a student-led protest to address gun safety… The Archdiocese of Baltimore is racked by accusations of a cover-up of sexual abuse involving 600-plus children… RFK Jr., he of the vaccine denier mindset, has filed papers to run as a Democrat and challenge Joe Biden in 2024… and Kevin McCarthy travels to Taiwan, though not sure why. Is he capable of listening and making sense of policy and doing the right thing? The jury’s out on that.

Oh, and almost on cue, Trump is accused of fomenting threats against the judge in his case.

So, Thursday.

A gag order is an interesting concept in the land of concern for First Amendment rights. Of course, in Donald Trump’s case, practically everyone expects him to run up against the edge of indiscretion and challenge the statute, which he has apparently already done because he can’t help himself.

It seems inherently dicey—an easy target for 1^st Amendment purists—to place a gag order. But in Trump’s case, the argument could be made that his intent is to offer up cues which his army of lemmings can only interpret as a call to arms or a call to violence. Trump has a knack for melding incendiary language with plausible deniability, daring authorities to react.

By the sound of things, a gag order is not out of the question here, but it has to be narrow enough to walk that line between being effective while not trampling on 1^st Amendment rights.

Trump is a known quantity. He has a history of suspect rhetoric. In his case, a gag order seems almost inevitable, even warranted. He’ll bring it on himself and then cry “oppression.”

The number of Trump supporters at yesterday’s arraignment was underwhelming. It was more a curiosity seeker’s circus, and might get one wondering, if and when Trump needs to do the same thing in Atlanta and Florida and D.C., if there won’t be more of his faithful in those places than up north in NYC.

MTG did show up, but not for long. It looked like folks made her feel… unwelcome, and she sped off in her big, white SUV.

There seems to be a real North/South vibe going on, a Mason-Dixon reprise, the same old animosity that’s been brewing and occasionally boiling over since 1865, and way before.

More breathless coverage, helicopters and drones, second-by-second progress of Trump’s arrival at the airport, at the courthouse in Manhattan, and of course his plane leaving for Florida. He must have been loving it, all those cameras focused on him.

Nothing a perp can do except make it look like he’s still in control.

Donald Trump arrested… I honestly had my doubts about ever hearing those words. And those charges numbering in the 30s turned out to be 34 felonies.

Make it stick, Mr. Bragg. Make it all stick.

I hear the LSU coach can be a real piece of work, and there were some feisty moments on the court aimed at Caitlin Clark. Good for LSU. She got a taste of her own medicine.

Clark is a phenomenal player, but her brashness is annoying, somehow out of place and over the top. Just play the damn game and dispense with the histrionics.

Where do these antics come from? How and why do these players become such showboats? Do they think fans expect this type of behavior from them, is it instilled by parents and siblings and coaches along the way? Do they spend as much time cultivating their trash talk prowess as they do their athletic skills? Always playing with a chip, always something to prove.

Take a chill pill, and just go out on the court and be happy with letting your play do the talking. No need for the extracurriculars.

We’re well aware by now that this is unprecedented. Every anchor and pundit has mentioned it breathlessly: Trump is the first President—ex- or otherwise—to be indicted… yup, we got it.

Donald probably considers it a feather in his cap.

Let’s get this day over with. I’m so tired of hearing about him. He’s had enough air time, enough attention paid. Read him his rights, book him, send him back to Florida, throw him in jail or issue a gag order if he starts blabbing and being a wise ass, and prepare for some address later tonight that reeks of sour grapes, complete with disparaging remarks aimed at Alvin Bragg and Democrats, with mentions of “witch hunt” and promises to vigorously fight these charges until the cows come home.

Shut up, Donald. You’ve never really wanted to be President. You just wanted the attention. May your hope of “vindication” be a flight of fancy. We need to turn a corner on you.