Jul 25
Jul 25 Rescue

Batman asks Superman to come to Gotham City and talk to a girl in the hospital. Her foster parents were killed and her foster sister has been taken. To where? Up in the sky. This girl who has bounced around the foster system—Alice is her name—has been taken across the galaxy for some unknown reason. There does not seem to be anything special about her. She is an ordinary child mysteriously swept up into extraordinary circumstances. She’s lost.

Superman agonizes over what to do. He maybe could find her out in the vastness of space. Not only can he do the whole flying/super-speed/invulnerability/survive the coldness of space thing, but he’s a Pulitzer-winning investigative reporter in his day job. But it would mean leaving behind the planet he has sworn to protect. There are 7.5 billion people counting on him in a comic book universe where mass destruction, supervillain-fueled disaster, and alien invasions take place roughly every Tuesday. And she is just one child.

Yet he leaves the 7.5 billion behind to search for that one lost child; a needle in a galactic haystack. He is pushed to his limits physically, mentally, and spiritually and yet he continues to push forward too. Through time and space, he fights through it all—even himself—until he finds this lost girl.

I read Up in the Sky thinking it would be a respite from the heavy yet important educational reading that I have been doing. It would be a nice diversion from the present world; some superhero derring-do. And it got me right in the feels. This shouldn’t be a huge surprise. If you know me at all, you know I have a huge soft spot for Superman. Of course, this wasn’t just a superhero story. It was a gospel story.

Jul 19

Jul 19 Ladders and Ladders

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

God has this knack for showing up in the places we don’t expect. For Jacob, it was in the middle of nowhere when he was on the run. He dreamt of a ladder (or a stairway or a ramp) going to heaven. Messengers of God were ascending and descending. The God stood beside Jacob and reminded this wayward man that the Almighty would be with him wherever he went. “I will keep you,” God said. And I think all that most of us really want is to be kept.

So instead of dissecting this passage or providing some sort of devotional thought, I am just going to share a few of the ladders that have popped up in my life recently. Without any real explanation, these are the places, the moments, and whatever other unexpected things that have reminded me that God is with me. I encourage you do to the same. Write them down even. Where have been those spots where you have felt God with you?

Jul 18

Jul 18 Preaching to the Birds

Chris Cox

This is a story about Assisi and Alabama.

They say that Francis of Assisi was so in love with God that he would stop and preach the gospel to the birds. I have always loved that image. In fact, there is an icon depicting this scene that hangs on the wall next to my bed. It shows an individual who is so God-intoxicated—to borrow a phrase from Martin Luther King, Jr.—that he wants to every creature to hear about the wondrous love that has captured him.

When John Lewis was a child, he apparently ministered in a similar way. Before he sought to make his life an instrument of peace during the civil rights movement, Lewis was the son of sharecroppers in the Deep South. On the farm, he would preach to the chickens. They were his congregation. He presided over their marriages, gave eulogies at their funerals, and baptized them.

What I love in those two pictures is the profound love of God and of God’s creation. They show individuals who see the world as an audience for the transforming love of God. Francis embodied the credo of preaching the gospel at all times even when words are not used. Though his childhood nickname was “Preacher,” Rep. Lewis did not serve in that vocation as an adult. But he preached. He put his life on the line believing that God’s love and justice was for all from birds to the people terrorized by a sinful system.

Jul 12

Jul 12 Red Stuff

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

Esau comes in from the field. He’s hungry. Famished. Starving so much that he’s near death, he says. Anyone who is a parent will roll their eyes at that familiar line. His brother Jacob is cooking up a stew. “Let me eat some of that red stuff.” That’s what it says in the NRSV translation: red stuff. Esau doesn’t always come off as the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Jacob on the other hand is probably too sharp for his own good. Jacob says he’ll give his brother the red stuff if Esau sells off his birthright. We go from red to Burgundy because, boy, that escalated quickly. Yet Esau is unaware of the elevated stakes. Again, he just thinks he’s about to die and thus sells off his birthright for some of the red stuff. Esau sells off his leadership of the family, the carrying on of Abraham’s responsibilities for a quick meal.

Red stuff. That’s a really evocative image. Red connotes power, passion, and violence; that’s stuff for which people will readily sell out who they are. Red is the easy shortcut. Red is the stop sign we fly past. There are these things that in the moment seem like they will make life so much easier, they will satisfy us, but they never do.

Jul 5

Jul 5 Give Us Rest

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

2020 is just over half over and it has been a lot. I don’t have to list it out for you. You’ve felt it. You’ve experienced it. It is unbelievably overwhelming. Just thinking about the rest of the year can seem daunting.

We don’t know when this pandemic is going to turn in the right direction, but we’ve got to keep trying to do the right thing even as the others do not. We do know that there is a long road we must walk in fighting white supremacy in our country. And who knows what else this year might throw at us? All of which does not even mention all the personal heartaches and sicknesses and fears that each of us face as individuals. It can sometimes seem like too much to bear.

So hear this word from Jesus:

Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Jul 4

Jul 4 Hamilton and the Idea of America

Chris Cox

There are multiple times when EA and I were watching Hamilton last night when I felt my heart expand inside me. To be sure some of those moments revolve around the musical’s beautiful snapshots of love, camaraderie, parenthood, and forgiveness.

Yet there are also moments—primarily in “My Shot” and “Yorktown”—in which my heart swelled with pride for my country. As you see brave women and men of all ethnicities struggle for one another’s freedoms, you cannot help but think, “This is what it should be like.”

“Should be” is the operative phrase and it always has been. Hamilton is historical fiction (If you have a friend who is non-ironically wet blanketing people with this fact, pray for them because they don’t have much fun in life). With People of Color playing the founders of this nation, it is consciously more concerned with the Idea of America, where that idea has failed, and the continued struggle for it today.

Jun 28

Jun 28 A Psalm in Someone Else's Shoes

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

The psalms give us a language for praise and lament. Usually when I read a psalm of praise, my heart surges because I feel that praise towards God. When I read a lament it is because my own soul is downcast because others have hurt me or I have strayed in some way. Sometimes I will try to get in the mind of the psalmist. I’ll think about what that person was experiencing when they composed their cry to God.

But when I looked at this week’s psalm, it did not connect to my own experience and I did not find myself wondering what the psalmist might have felt. I immediately thought about the family of Breonna Taylor. She was murdered over three months ago and justice does not seem near.

How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I bear pain in my soul,
and have sorrow in my heart all day long?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

Jun 27
Jun 27 What I Wish the Evangelical Church Would Believe About Me

Chris Cox

Here is what I wish my friends in the evangelical church would believe about me (for that's the only person I can speak of) as someone who has gone outside the doors of that brand of Christianity: It was never about leaving Christ.

When I finally had the guts to say that Black Lives Matter, support rights for LGBTQ+ individuals, criticize the ways American nationalism compromises the church, and push back against biblical inerrancy, I wasn't trying to leave something. I was trying to move closer to Christ.

I want to follow Jesus the best I can. Sometimes I am awful at it. I get things wrong. But to paraphrase a song: I want to be a Christian in my heart, my head, my actions. So very badly. And where I am is where the journey has taken me thus far.

I have not strayed. I have not left the church (in fact I work as a minister in a local congregation). I have not capitulated to culture or been brainwashed by the media. I have thought and fought and prayed and studied. Though it looks different I probably cling to God more now.

Jun 6

Jun 6 Remember

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

There is so much going on in the world right now and it all can feel kind of overwhelming. Let us keep it simple and straightforward.

Jesus is with you. Always.

It’s Trinity Sunday and I am not going to strain any of our tired minds diving into the deep end of what that means. Don’t get me wrong. It’s great. Sit under the stars some evening and talk about the three-in-oneness of God the Creator, Son, and Spirit.

Here is what I find life-giving about this mystery way of being called the Trinity: it shows that God loves community. God is always in community, this divine dance. It is not good for anyone to be alone and God proves that within God’s own being.

Jun 6

Jun 6 Scenes from a Protest

Chris Cox

The first thing you must know is that you need to hear the stories. You and I cannot begin to understand, but their stories help. You need to hear of the deep wounds; not for your edification but because you need to know this is happening. You need to feel the heat from righteous anger. You need to hear the exhaustion. A child should not be so tired yet when you hear the stories you know why they are tired.

A child. That was one of the reasons why we felt drawn towards this protest; that we told our youth that we’d be there if they were there. This protest was organized by six high school girls: Jade Fuller, Nya Collins, Zee Thomas, Kennedy Green, Emma Rose Smith, and Mikayla Smith. Six young women dreamed this and it conjured 10,000 people to downtown Nashville. These young women led. They shared their hurt. They bared their souls. They told a crowd of thousands that this would be a peaceful protest and thousands followed their lead. These six want peace. They want justice. They don’t want to see one more death.

You need to hear them. You need to listen to the catch in their throat. You need to hear the spoken word performance from a young man in which he shares what it is like to grow up in this country as a black man. It will nearly rip your heart out just as it did mine. The only thing that kept it tethered to my chest was this young man’s beaming friend standing behind him full of pride. You need to hear that the world is vastly different for him than it is for you. Maybe you know that, but knowing and hearing are two different things. You need to hear these young leaders map out something better than what was handed to them.