I have learned I could never be a second grade teacher. Not in a million years. Not for any amount of money. Sadly, quarantine has taught me that I am not as patient as I previously might have believed.
I’ve been looking for the essence of Easter. Cleaning out the closet, if you will, and ditching all of the stuff that may be nice, interesting, or appealing to someone else, but for me not really useful. I don’t want to argue about theology. I don’t even want to try to understand everything. I just want Easter in a nutshell, Easter distilled, Easter in its simplest form.
This is a picture of some of the world’s greatest body builders, all assembled in one place for an early Thanksgiving dinner. The little church building on the corner of where highways 309 and 23 meet in Ozark–Webb City Baptist–can’t contain them all at once anymore. Lifting weights, after all, makes you grow.
I am grateful I have no time. Really. This is the conclusion I’ve reached after much careful deliberation.