May 30

May 30 Ebenezer (1 Samuel 7:3-12)

I was running the 5.8 Trail at Percy Warner Park because I didn’t know what to do. Honestly, it had been a crappy few days. Sunday had been my birthday. Now birthdays for adults are not filled with the same amount of excitement as birthdays are for kids. Still you want to have a good day. Mine started with a two-week old hot water heater spraying water into our laundry room to the tune of 3 inches of flooding. On top of that, our children—probably because of some combination of the flooding, being displaced for a night, and the end of the school year—had gone full Lord of the Flies on us.

This one-two punch combined with a few other things to send me into an existential tailspin. None of it was big, but it was enough to snowball into this response of “Oh no, I’m horrible at life! I’m not a good parent. Am I good at my job? Am I even passable for an adult?” None of which is a a good headspace to be in when you’re supposed to be coming up with a sermon for the next Sunday.

May 22

May 22 Twenty-Four Plus Ten

Chris Cox

I don't listen to Switchfoot anymore.

That's not a knock on the alternative rock (is that still a genre?) band's music or lyricism. The band was incredibly important to me during my college years. Their songs ignited me like few things did during that time. But as I waded deeper into adulthood, the tether that tied my heart to their music snapped and I'm not exactly sure why. Time deepens some loves and erodes others.

So it was weird that Jon Foreman's voice was the first thing I heard in my head when I woke up on my thirty-fourth birthday:

I want to see miracles
To see the world change
I wrestled the angel
For more than a name

May 18

May 18 To Jim on his 7th Birthday

Chris Cox

Jim,
We came to your school today to eat lunch with you and bring your class cupcakes. It is fun to see you in this new environment. We were worried how you would adjust to the move, but you prove to us again and again how resilient you are. Your teacher told us that you are a delight. And that's true. You are a delight.

You wear your heart on your sleeve. Your emotions are always at the forefront. Sometimes it goes a little overboard, but I hope that you never learn to shove your feelings down. I hope that I can always see joy on your face when you're happy. I hope that you will be brave enough to let people know when you are sad and upset. You have a beautiful heart and it ought to be worn on your sleeve.

May 18

May 18 Fragments

Chris Cox

So I haven't written on here in some time. It is not for lack of interesting events. Easter was less than a month ago. A few weeks back, I got to watch our youth group lead our church in worship. We moved into our new house. EA and I went to Seattle this past weekend. We saw U2 in concert while we were there. All of these are events that would typically spark many blog posts. I always think that it's kind of pretentious when artists talk about their muse, so I won't venture down that avenue. I've just been creatively tired of late.

I'm hoping to claw out of this writing malaise this summer; partly because I need it to keep me sane. So I am going to write a few bits and pieces of the thoughts that have been bouncing around my mind these last few weeks. Not enough to be full on posts, but little fragments and incomplete thoughts.

Apr 27

Apr 27 If This is Back, Then I'm Sorry We Were Ever Here

Chris Cox

I was getting Jim ready for school this morning while a morning news show was on in the background. A senator was talking about the first hundred days of the current presidential administration. He was spinning his tail off to say that it had been almost universally great. But, you know, that's what politicians do. Yet there was one thing that sent a chill up my spine:

"With the bombing of Syria, that proved America was back."

America has returned to prominence because we rained destruction on a country. That's taking Occam's razor to his statement. I am sure that this senator would say that is not what he really meant, but let's not kid ourselves. The idea that value lies in might is a common sentiment.

Apr 23

Apr 23 Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise (Matt. 28:16-20 & John 20:24-29)

Chris Cox

Sermon Manuscript, Weekly Lectionary

I remember wet socks. Whenever I think about my baptism, wet socks are the first thing that jumps to my mind. Socks completely submerged in water feel funny. But beyond the socks, I remember the white robe. I remember the darkness outside the sanctuary because it was an evening worship service and I was only used to seeing daylight through those windows. I remember my family sitting in the front pews and the pride on their face. I remember wading in the baptismal pool out to my dad; pride on his face. I remember being buried with Jesus in death and going under the water and hearing my dad say, “Raised up to walk in newness of life.” I was seven years old and I was as sure of God’s love as I was of those wet socks and the love of my family. I am not as certain now of that as I was when I was seven and yet here I am.

Baptism has been on my mind this week. The Matthew passage was selected as the text because upstairs today over two dozen fifth graders are being baptized. Baptism has also been on my mind because it seems like nearly every time I’ve gone outside the past few days, the weather has tried to drown me. So it’s the week after Easter and we remember baptism and new beginnings and Jesus giving his followers this Great Commission. It’s a celebratory day. So why did I undercut a cute-ish baptism story with an admittance of doubt? Well, I am following the lead of Matthew and the tradition of the church at large.

Apr 14

Apr 14 Stations

Chris Cox

This was originally published in 14 parts over Holy Week last year. I am re-publishing in a single post this re-imagining of the Stations of the Cross along a modern subway line for Good Friday.

I was speeding on the subway
Through the Stations of the Cross
Every eye looking every other way
Counting down 'til the pain would stop
-"Moment of Surrender" by U2

Station 1
The train pulls into the subway station with a prolonged hiss. Businessmen, hipster couples, young families, and tourists rise up and make their way to exit the car. The doors slide open and people burst forth into collision. As one mass jostles to get out, another fights the tide to get in. Every eye is focused, steeled to push through to some goal past the throng...

Apr 13

Apr 13 Trying, Failing, and Trying Again

Chris Cox

I sit here on Maundy Thursday and I think about Peter. I wonder if he had any clue that afternoon that his world would be turned upside down. He certainly didn't know that someone would be thinking about him on this day nearly two thousand years later; that his cowardice would be written down in a book and read by millions over the years. Was he excited about Passover? Did the foreboding words of Jesus predicting his death haunt him in the daylight?

I see him panicked in that courtyard. The walls closing in on him. No, he doesn't know Jesus. No, he has never met the man. For God's sake, he doesn't know the man! Then the rooster crows and the shame floods over him as he remembers the words. He remembers his words: his boasts and promises. He remembers the words of his teacher: three times he will deny their relationship. How could he not break down and cry?

Mar 30

Mar 30 1 Phineas Ferb:12

Chris Cox

When you're a parent, you're exposed to a lot of cartoons. Most of them you tolerate. Some annoy the fool out of you. Some have a seemingly innocent premise that becomes sinister once you start thinking about it (I'm looking at you, Thomas the Tank Engine). And then there are a few that you enjoy just as much as your kids. That cartoon right now is Phineas and Ferb.

Phineas and Ferb is about two brothers who come up with wildly imaginative ideas to pass their summer vacation. They build rollercoasters, set out to become a one hit wonder, play a game of volleyball with jet packs, fix a time machine, and so on. All the while, their pet platypus Perry is a secret agent waging a never-ending skirmish with the evil Dr. Doofenschmirtz and their sister Candace tries to bust them for their outlandish adventures. It is full of optimism, imagination, and is whip-smart funny in a way that adults appreciate. It delights me so much, you guys.

Mar 26

Mar 26 Good Cop, Bad Cop

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

GC: Let’s walk this through one more time, Mr. Johns.

J: I have already told you everything that happened.

BC: Oh, he’s already told us everything that’s happened, O’Houlihan. (pounds the metal table with his fist) If you told us everything that happened, we wouldn’t still be in here you little punk!

GC: (pulling his partner back) Shefshesky! Take five! Listen, Johns, I’m sorry about my partner. He’s under a lot of stress. We got this Jesus guy running around makin’ our job more difficult.

J: How’s he making things difficult?

GC: Ya see, word on the street is he’s healing people. People who can’t walk, people who can’t hear, people (motions to Johns) who can’t see…

October 30, 2026

What's My Name? What's My Station?

I have a new office in our home and one of the things I am enjoying is decorating the space. I have placed books, Lego sets, and Funko Pops on the shelves. My wall has photos of family, places that I have traveled, artwork my siblings have given me, diplomas, etc. Across from my desk on the wall, hangs a cross that we got from a church in Reykjavik and a small colorfully-painted tile depicting Assisi. On the floor beneath them is the one item in here that I haven’t yet put up: my certificate of ordination.

I was ordained as a minister ten years ago today. It was a step with which I struggled for awhile. My Baptist roots fostered in me a firm belief in the priesthood of all believers. If you say that you are a follower of Jesus, then you are a minister. So the hierarchy implied by being called “Reverend” made me feel a little uncomfortable. I did not use the title for myself often unless I was writing my Congressperson. Despite these qualms, I did ultimately pursue ordination. I am glad that I did. I am just not totally sure what to make of it now.

I don’t serve as a vocational minister anymore; not in a church, not as a chaplain, not in some sort of parachurch organization. I am an Administrative Assistant in a hospital Spiritual Care department. In fact, I haven’t even attended a church service in maybe a year and a half save an Ash Wednesday service that I snuck off to at the beginning of Lent. I did officiate a wedding in a church over the summer; an experience that I loved and was very meaningful for me. But I don’t really know what to do about that ordination certificate. Or church.

June 15, 2026

Dangerous Memories and Unfinished Futures

“’Do this in remembrance of me.’ Jesus invites you to commemorate his betrayal, death, and resurrection. His invitation makes space for ‘dangerous memory,’ a memory that, as post-Holocaust Catholic theologian Johann Baptist Metz tells us, ‘puts pressure on and questions our present because in it we remember an unfinished future.’ Memory can unsettle the unreconciled present and open up a future for the hopeless and the forgotten, the failed and the oppressed….Remembering keeps the ghosts alive so that they may warn and comfort, haunt and inspire the living: dangerous memories that rush toward an unfinished future. Making the absent present allows for processing grief, strengthening commitments, and opening up vision. Such remembrance commits you to work for a future for those who have been forgotten, erased, and left behind.”
-Hanna Reichel, For Such a Time as This, 88, 89

I believe that most of us experience an internal tug-of-war between the past and the future. In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis’ titular demon supervisor advises his underling Wormwood that one of best ways to keep a human from doing good is to keep them ping-ponging between those two times that are not the present. One keeps trying to recapture or reach towards moments that are mist. It can keep a person from doing something.

The quote above resonates with me because it harnesses the past and unfinished future into a catalyst that animates our present. We remember the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus because it means something today and compels us to presently work for the Good that is already here, but also not yet. We remember the hope and pain of the past to do something that help us take some sort of step each and every day. We realize that the hope which exists within the gospel story is not yet fully realized. Many people are still being left behind and forgotten. The realization, as the theologian Metz states, puts pressure and questions on the present.

June 1, 2026

First Day of Pride

Being a parent forces you to take a close look at yourself. Of course, you don’t have to be a parent to self-examine, but there is something about the reality that another living human is under your care and protection for the foreseeable future that makes you take stock of your strengths, weaknesses, and beliefs. For example, I used to think I was a far more patient person before I had kids; like superhumanly patient. And then a crying toddler shows you the folly of that belief. On the flip side, time has moved on and having two teenagers affirms that, yes, I am ridiculously patient and that has been a strength as a parent.

Among many other reorienting moments that came with parenthood was full acceptance of our LGBTQ+ siblings. That process began many years earlier. As someone who studied religion, I knew that the biblical case against these individuals was not nearly as airtight as I was previously led to believe. Science and stories from people gave strong indication that this life was not a choice. And I had met gay and lesbian folks who were good people. The old axiom that you will know a tree by its fruit applies here.

But the tipping point was holding a tiny infant who I loved more than I thought possible and knowing that I never wanted him to be ashamed of who he is. I did not want a potential future in which one of my children came out as something other than heterosexual with the fear that we would not love them. Not accepting my child was not even conceivably on the table. So we raised our kids to know that LGBTQ+ were beloved members of God’s creation.

May 24, 2026

Not a Defeat If You Can Find a Way to Laugh About It

There is this typical ice breaker question that is some variation of “If you could have dinner with anyone famous living or dead, who would it be?” And one of my steadfast answers for almost twenty years has been Stephen Colbert. Through both The Colbert Report and The Late Show, he has given hours upon hours of laughter and more than enough on which to ponder. I feel like we’d have a lot to talk about since we are both unabashed nerds, products of the Palmetto State, and he just seems like a good hang.

Beyond all of that, I appreciate how honestly and humbly Colbert approaches his faith. There have been numerous times over the years when his comedy and conversations take a turn into the spiritual that is challenging and convicting. I remember an episode of The Colbert Report where one minute he was making a joke about Ben Franklin’s predilection for French prostitutes and then organically made his way to the following quote:

If this is going to be a Christian nation that doesn't help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we've got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and serve the needy without condition and then admit that we just don't want to do it.

Then there are the interviews that he has conducted on The Late Show. Colbert has said that he sort of found the heart of his show when he had a conversation with then-Vice President Biden about grief. Indeed the loss of his father and brothers at a young age has led him to create an empathetic space to explore loss in the midst of celebrities promoting their most recent projects (my mind immediately comes to a conversation that he had with Andrew Garfield about the loss of the actor’s mother).

May 21, 2026

While I Breathe, I Hope

On the way to school, the youngest burrowed his head into my arm. “I don’t like that you’re getting older.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you’re one year closer to death.”

“There it is.” That’s my kid. Very sweet. Very sensitive. Brutally, bordering on inappropriately blunt. “Well, it’s better than the alternative.”

“Getting younger?” He thinks for a second. “Oh…dying.”

“Yeah, you can’t get younger.” I scratch him on the head. “And hopefully I have a ways to go. Ideally, I’ll still be kicking around when you turn 43.”

“You’ll be 73. So that’s reasonable”

“Yeah.”

“Granddad will be 103.”

“Less likely. But maybe. I hope he is as long as he’s happy.”

“And healthy. Happy, healthy, and alive.” Then he goes into a bit from an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine which makes me laugh.

Birthdays, as my oldest posited this morning, are kind of weird when you get older. Or at least they morph into something different from the second Christmas-esque excitement when you’re a kid. Because there does get to be that point where it creeps into your mind that you are a year closer to death. And that forces you take stock of your life which is a hit-or-miss affair due to being human’s volatility.

May 18, 2026

To Jim on his 16th Birthday

One day last week, I picked you up from school after took one of your AP exams and then I moved over to the passenger seat so you could practice driving. In the midst of being hyper vigilant about your speed, how quickly you stopped, how close you were to the side of the road, and what every single other car on the road was doing, I had a distinct moment of looking over at you and realizing that so much is changing. And we’re only at the start.

Today you turn 16. You are about to wrap up your sophomore year of high school. You’ll take a driver’s license test in just a few weeks. We have three more summers before you go off to college. There are times it seems like yesterday when you were sitting in the living room watching cartoons with a couple of dozen superhero toys. There are times it seems like last week when you were a newborn sleeping in my arms.

The feeling of you being 16 is kind of like being the passenger in the car while you are driving. I have a ton of confidence in you and trust you. And I worry about your lack of experience in a big, sometimes frightening world and whether I have taught you well enough. I am wary of everyone else on the road. I wonder if you are going too fast even though you are going an appropriate speed and I am the one who encouraged you not to go as slow in the first place. It is all very exciting, humbling, frightening, and new.

April 21, 2026

What Nintendo Can Teach the Church

Christmas 1988. My brother Taylor and I receive the Nintendo Entertainment System packaged with Super Mario Bros. and Duck Hunt and we have been fans ever since. We have grown up with the Japanese company’s gaming systems; the adventures of Mario, Luigi, Yoshi, Link, Zelda, Donkey and Diddy Kong, and more have been a consistent presence in our lives. Even though we are in three different states now as adults, Taylor, my sister Shari, myself, and our kids will get together every so often and play Mario Kart online. We love Nintendo, which is a weird thing to say about a corporation that makes a billion dollars but it is what it is.

With all that said, I loved the Keza MacDonald’s book Super Nintendo: The Game-Changing Company That Unlocked the Power of Play. Not only is it an engaging journey through video game history through the lens of Nintendo’s iconic (and less iconic) franchises, but the book also has a great deal to say about creativity, community, and culture. In fact, it is that last idea that got me thinking about how this video game company can teach the church (or any other organization) even as I am a bit of an outsider to that world presently.

Here is one of two quotes that jumped out at me from the chapter “Splatoon” which looks at how Nintendo continues innovate and create over 40 years into its video game endeavors:

April 12, 2026

Easter Orphans, A Lost Cat, and A Tightrope Called Hope

“Happy Easter?”

That is the first thing EA said to me as I woke up on Easter morning. I stretched and rubbed my eyes.

“I still believe in Jesus. It’s just the church that I’m not sure about.”

Some context: This was the first Easter in our 20+ years of marriage (and likely in either of our lives) in which we did not have a church to attend. It’s been about a year since we’ve gone to church as a family. Honestly, the church that we attended after I stepped down from working in a congregation had a tall order to tend to our hurting family. It was a good group of people, but the services and community never really clicked with our boys. Then early last year, I got moved to a Sunday morning shift. EA tried for a bit to go by herself but it wasn’t what she needed. In the end, I was gone for about eight months before anyone in the church really noticed and we decided to take a break.

I acknowledge my uncertainty about the church is a bit over-dramatic. Of course, there are great churches out there. There are wonderful people in congregations where my family and I have experienced the most pain. It’s akin to writing off burritos for life because you got violent food poisoning from one (This is based on a true story; I have not written off burritos just that particular Chipotle location). But the church hurt is real. As is the MAGA-fication of the denomination in which I grew up that feels so antithetical to the teachings of Jesus. So we don’t have a place to call home and it’s weird and sad and understandable.

April 1, 2026

Lent Fail

Absurdist Note: I really want to add “Woo-ooh!” after the title. If you know, you know.

I have not pulled off this year’s Lenten disciplines the way that I set out to. When this 40 day period began, I set out to take on this fasts/spiritual practices:

Stop drinking Coca-Cola
Stop eating French fries
Stop playing Disney Solitaire on my phone
Do a daily devotional from Richard Rohr’s Wondrous Encounters
Write a blog five days a week

When the war in Iran began and threw another log on the fire that is the world, it pained me both spiritually and physically. One of the ways that played out was headaches and since headaches were already part of removing the caffeine of Coca-Cola from my life, I decided I probably shouldn’t compound a problem and began drinking Coke again. I have had French fries a few times; not many, mind you, but enough to break up the fast. There have been several multiple day stretches where I did not do my devotional. And my efforts to blog five times a week quickly fell by the wayside. I have managed to keep from playing Disney Solitaire, but that still puts my Lenten average in Mendoza Line territory.

March 29, 2026

An Awkward Parade (Revisited)

Several hundred, some may say several thousand, years worth of anticipation hung thick in the air. Like summer humidity that sticks to your shirt the second you step outside, you couldn’t avoid it if you wanted to. Especially not during Passover week.

There was a guy making his way into Jerusalem; a guy claiming to be the Messiah. This was nothing new. He would not be the first that people claimed would save us. There had been tons of guys going around saying that they were the One; saying that they were going to show Rome what’s what. So a would-be messiah making his way to Jerusalem was about as common as a singer-songwriter making their way to Nashville.

But this felt different. He seemed different. Now there was a fair amount of debate whether he was the right or wrong kind of different. For starters, word got out that he had tried to keep a lot of the messiah talk and even tales of his miracles under wraps. But it is difficult to keep those kind of stories quiet: dead men walking, the blind seeing, demons plunging a herd of pigs over a cliff, and thousands fed from a lunch meant for a single kid. You can tell people to keep that hush-hush all you want, but it’s not going to happen.