In difficult times, our simplistic answers stop working. What is life all about? What big story am I part of?
What do my battered trainers have to do with Paul’s stirring words about putting on the full armour of God?
Our experience of life is such a mxi of joy and sorrow, pleasure and suffering. How can we be grateful when the world is so full of suffering? Can we be grateful for, rather than to, the universe?
Some nights, I dream about freedom. About walking out the door without a mask, or having friends over to my house to have dinner together. To booking a plane ticket to, well, anywhere really, and being confident that I wouldn’t have to cancel it and add it to my enormous mountain of flight credit vouchers. But what does it mean to be really free – free in a way which lockdowns don’t touch?
Is our experience of church more like an untutored 12 year old on the verge of capsizing a catamaran? Or is it more like the skilful competence of the children of Swallows and Amazons? And what on earth does this have to do with the Letter to the Ephesians?
Who is this God person and what does he want from us? The beginning of Ephesians gives us a place to start.
What does suffering mean? What sort of universe is it that allows the suffering of a good person like Job? Are we better off just abandoning the whole idea of a good God?
What does Jesus have to say about Masterchef, my nonna’s favourite recipe, and the “sin against the Holy Spirit”?
I’d never really thought about the events of 24th of May AD 33 from an outsiders perspective. What must it have been like? And is there something particular an engineering mindset might bring to the story?
When it comes to Easter, what I want is the Hollywood version. No, scrub that. I want the Bollywood version – all synchronize song and dance numbers and glorious technicolor. Instead, what Mark gives us is something altogether stranger. But perhaps this strange, even broken, account of the Good News is precisely what we need in our context.