Romans 13:8-14; 14:1-4, 7-10

We join the Church today in remembering our mortality and that we die in the same manner that we were born: held in love, shepherded by the Lord of all, and part of a communion of saints that is far bigger and more beautiful than we can ever grasp.

Acts 9:1-20

Saul’s physical impairment was a mark of the resurrection, a mark of his inner journey toward Christ, and a mark of his gestating faith. In meeting the risen Christ, in what might seem paradoxical, Saul loses his sight and receives wholeness.

EASTER SUNDAY ∙ John 20:1-18

There is a constellation of hope, and love, and joy in this place. It won’t make us unshakably certain, or unmovable strong. But it will make us alive — united in Christ, starstruck by the God of resurrections.

John 12:1-8

As we enter into Holy Week starting next Sunday, we are encountering mysteries that can only be expressed in music and song. It’s a messy week steeped in humanity: the very same humanity that is full of joy, and beauty, and complexity, and pain, and uncertainty, and everything else under the sun; the very same humanity within us that sings.

John 11

All Saints' Day is when we break the silence on grief—pull the cork out of the bottle together—and acknowledge that to be alive, means to have a relationship to death. Life, and death, are always talking to each other.

John 20:1-16, 18

Look into the empty tomb and be changed by it. Listen to the voice of love beckoning to you. In doing so, you might find the living God.