In the Lectionary

These Trinity Sunday texts show God moving graciously—and persistently—toward people while they struggle to stay on their feet.

I got the epidural. As the pain receded, I felt an ache of disappointment settle in.

Casting lots to determine how to fill an apostolic vacancy? Really?

My desire to clean the kitchen was an exercise of love. Then my mom asked me to do what I was already planning to do—and my gift turned into affliction.

I used to read this as a story of Philip’s boldness and willingness to go even to the stranger to declare the truth. Now I understand just how little Philip knows.

"How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses to help?" Even some Christians rule 1 John's question out of order.

The appearance of a ghost can be explained in all sorts of ways. But when Jesus appears—bearing scars and hungry for a nice piece of tilapia—then we have to do more than merely rearrange some intellectual furniture.

Christ was "from the beginning." In its first moment, creation had humankind, therefore meaning, implicit in it.

The risen Christ does not rebuke Mary for her error. He seems rather to enjoy the occasion of her surprise.

"You're a preacher, I can tell," the woman said to me. "But not yet."

I can't fool myself into believing that I've gotten close to the kind of costly discipleship that Jesus is speaking of in Mark 8.

What can we possibly find in Mark's terse temptation account to help us in our wilderness wanderings?

If the disciples hoped before that Jesus didn't know what he was saying, these hopes are now gone.

In the midst of ethical and doctrinal problems, says Paul, what is most important is to love all people.

What animates our being? What possesses or consumes us?

Simon and Andrew immediately left their nets and followed. If only we could respond so quickly.