Next month will mark the eighteenth anniversary of my first Sunday at Central Baptist. Looking back over the years I’ve been here I can see how much has changed. I’m not the same person I was back in 2003, and neither is this church. In a lot of ways Central and I have grown together–pushing…
We’ve grown rather comfy in this culture, so much so that a good many Christians have concluded that we really are the baseline of this country–and it’s everyone else who is weird. Let me disabuse you of that notion.
From the moment the CoVid-19 shutdown began I’ve been using what digital skills I have to keep people connected, and I created a benediction with which I could sign off.
I was able to get outside for golden hour a few days ago and capture some images of Central’s church building. The stonework of the building is stunning when the Sun hits it at that time of day. But the building feels lonely.
This is the weirdest Holy Week I have ever experienced.
A rip-current is not a bad metaphor for our society right now. But what’s it got to do with Mr. Rogers?