Aug 6

Aug 6 12 Years

Words will fail here. I should get that out of the way at the start. Whenever I write something, I always feel like someone who underestimated the distance of a jump, but only realized it midair. But I know that these words are never going to cross the gap. It's not possible.

12 years ago, EA and I were married and time has done a weird thing. It doesn't feel like we have been married for that long, but at the same time, it's hard to remember a time before EA was in my life. A dozen years doesn't seem that long ago. 2005 doesn't seem like it was eons in the past. Then I remember that 12 years before I started falling for this woman, I was seven years old just like our oldest son is now.

Jul 25

Jul 25 In Darkest Night

Chris Cox

"They told me this tale. A story about a creature that was born at the beginning of sentience. A yellow entity that was made of living fear. It created terror into anything it came in contact with. Caused entire civilizations to destroy themselves out of paranoia. Their fear was eaten by this creature....

[It] threatened to consume the entire universe. It wanted to infect every living creature with fear, and fear leads to violence. Violence leads to fear. Like an endless loop of death and destruction."
-from Green Lantern: Rebirth #3 by Geoff Johns

Jul 23

Jul 23 Still With Me

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

"Oh Lord, You have searched me and known me."

That can be a terrifying statement. It seems pretty innocuous at first. God has searched us and known us. That's what God does; knowing is one of the things the Divine just does. But then I consider the reality of God searching and knowing me. Not the front that I put up. Not the version of myself with my best foot forward. Not Writer Chris. Not Youth Minister Chris. Not even Husband or Father Chris. Sure all of those are part of me.

But the me that God has searched and known contains a tangle of insecurities, failures and screw-ups too numerous to mention, a heart that wants to follow God, but often veers from that path in a single beat. I read that first verse and sometimes I am flooded with every mistake I've made, every person I've hurt, every bit of myself that I wish were better in some way and I feel like the stoner at high school who feels nervous when the drug dogs come around. Please God, don't search me.

Jul 18

Jul 18 Death and All of His Friends

Chris Cox

Earlier today, the oldest and I were riding in a car to an appointment. He was having a rough morning of his own doing and I wanted him to get re-grounded before we set off on the day. So I plugged in my phone and I played the Coldplay song "Strawberry Swing." I told him the story about how this was the song that his mom and I listened to when we brought him home from the hospital and it will always be one of my favorites because it reminds me of how lucky we are to have him. In the span of 4 minutes and 10 seconds, his entire demeanor brightened and we were ready to take on the day.

The song after that is "Death and All of His Friends." It's probably been a year or two since I've heard this song, but the escalating refrain at the end has been in my head all day long:

I don't want to battle from beginning to end
I don't want a cycle of recycled revenge
I don't want to follow death and all of his friends

Jul 2

Jul 2 Say Their Names (Luke 16:19-31)

Chris Cox

Sermon Manuscript

My name is William Christopher Cox. The William is after my dad who goes by Bill, my Granddad who also goes by Bill—which, side note: my granddad’s name is Bill Williams and it absolutely blew my six year old mind when I figured out that his name was William Williams—and also my dad’s maternal grandfather. The Christopher in my name is because I was born in the early 1980s and it was federal law at the time that every fifth male child born in the United States would be named Christopher. Seriously, though, part of the reason my mom and dad gave me that name is because of what it means. Anyone who has rifled through those name bookmarks at Cracker Barrel can tell you that Christopher means “bearer or follower of Christ.” Faith has always been important to my family and my parents put that value into my very name.

There are bits and pieces of our parents and their histories in the name of myself and my siblings. My brother Taylor shares a middle name with my dad and his first name is a tribute to the South Carolina town where my parents met, fell in love, and served in a church. My sister Shari is named because it is a combination of Sharon and Mary—our two grandmothers—and her middle name Katherine is our mom’s name. We have the legacy of our parents’ lives in our very names, but it is remixed and rearranged into something that is unique.

Jun 25

Jun 25 Up with the Birds

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

From a wire
a cry
a song

one in a million
nothing special
nothing different

yet the divine
turns an ear and
soaks in the melody

Jun 12

Jun 12 Dance

Chris Cox

For one night, a rustic camp dining hall was turned into a dance club. Flashing lights pulsated and a smoke machine filled the room. Every few songs, a group of teenagers poured outside for a break. It was an unusually cool evening for June and, even by the campfire, the night air allowed for a brief recharge before the bass line of a favorite song compelled them to come back in. While the students were by the fire, they recruited.

"Chriiiiiiiiiiissssss, come in and daaaaaaaance."

I don't dance. Not because of some grand moral stance. I would love to dance. Or at least I think I would. No, the problem is I am a white guy from South Carolina who was raised Baptist. I have tripped other people doing the Electric Slide. Unfortunately, dancing for me is peak awkwardness for an individual that already feels pretty darn awkward most of the time. I discovered recently that I am a 9 on the Enneagram and dance avoidance is a classic example of preserving my inner calm.

And I kind of hate that, because dancing looks like so much fun.

Jun 4

Jun 4 Together

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

My headspace is a complicated place right now. Today is Pentecost; the day we celebrate the coming of the Holy Spirit. It's considered by many to be a sort of birthday for the Church. It reminds us of the ties that bind the disparate threads of Christianity together. We all started in that room.

At the same time, I'm processing another terror attack in London. Whenever something like this happens, it splinters everyone into factions. There are people saying we need to profile minorities more. Folks use the attack as a catalyst to argue certain political platforms. There individuals aghast at all of this and saying we need to pull together and others calling those people snowflakes. Such an atrocity divides, strikes fears, incites rage, and all of that is exactly the goal of such an evil act.

Jun 1

Jun 1 My Brother's Keeper

Chris Cox

Early in Genesis, Yahweh asks Cain where his brother Abel is. Cain, like a punk, replies, "I don't know. Am I my brother's keeper?" (P.S. He also killed Abel) God's response indicates that, yes, Cain is supposed to be his brother's keeper. But I wish the Almighty had been more explicit; that the story would have put it in all bold and all capital letters "YES! YOU ARE YOUR BROTHER'S KEEPER! AND YOUR SISTER'S TOO!" so that no one could ignore the reality that we are called to take care of one another.

I thought about Cain's flippant response when the news was announced that the president was pulling the country out of the Paris Climate Accord. The move was unfortunately not surprising as it fits his "America First" agenda and also considering his earlier statements that climate change is a hoax. Still, the move was infuriating.

May 30

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

Chris Cox

Sermon Manuscript

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.

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.