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.
Every day I leave the Triple F Ranch to enter the world of academia. In academia I spend a lot of energy in conversations about language, perception, and communication. I do a lot of critical thinking. In between classes I take forays into my writing life where I think about poverty, and justice, and hope and Jesus (and coffee and kids and fiction and memoir and Guideposts devotions). And sometimes I come home with a headache.
Thank you for bringing me into the world.
Those dudes were resourceful and hardworking. And they essentially had taken a pile of something nasty and cleaned it up. No huge, sweeping gesture, no dramatic production. They had just done what they could do. Rolling the mess into little balls and taking it away.