It took me a long time to accept this about myself. Eventually I even came to like it.
Monday lectionary email, archived here on Friday.
Naaman's servants' question cuts and burns.
I should have known better. Grandma had nine decades under her belt of doing things her way.
Other people have the things I want, and they seem fine.
The Gospels show Jesus as prophet, teacher, and miracle worker. But most intriguingly, they depict him as a storyteller--one who could not only draw a crowd but keep it riveted.
I have no idea what it would mean to be a shepherd, let alone someone who would abandon 99 sheep to go looking for a single stray.
There had to be something more to Jesus.
We see. We taste. We touch. We smell. We hear. To be human is to move through time and space guided by our senses. Reading this passage from Luke, I think about the sensory onslaught that defines my existence.
Jesus points out ways in which the line has already been dissolved.
"What has straw in common with wheat?" A lot, on the surface.