Maundy Thursday

Chris Cox

The flickering of lights in the upper room cast shadows all around. They were gathered for a meal, but a weight hung over the proceedings. The conversation did not crackle the same way. The laughter was nervous. This was unusual. Over three years, they had grown into a family; a bickering, loving, motley crew of a family bound by the amazing sights they had witnessed and their teacher. Yet they looked now at his face and felt in their bones that it was all coming to an end.

Then Jesus did something unusual, but to be honest, the unusual was actually fairly ordinary with him. He wrapped a towel around his waist and filled a basin with water. Then he knelt before each of them and washed their feet. Feet caked in dirt and mud mixed with cuts and sores. Feet that had followed him all over the Palestinian countryside. It was servant’s work, not something fit for a rabbi, much less a messiah or God’s own son.

Yet there he was kneeling before each of his students; including the one who he knew would walk out the door in a moment to betray him. He washed their feet clean and told them that was what they were to do. He was not a teacher who simply told them to serve one another from high upon a hill. He knelt down and showed them what it meant to serve and love one another, even those considered enemies. And he told them, he told us, that love was the true mark of being his follower.

A prayer prayed far too frequently

Chris Cox

God, it feels like a sick cycle. It touches every corner of the country. It shatters a new community every time and re-wounds the places where it happens before. An unspeakable act of violence that we have grown far too accustomed speaking about. A place of learning mutated into a battlefield. Children and the adults who have chosen to teach them, clean up after them, and care for them are killed.

The response is an unholy echo. “How could this happen?” “Thoughts and prayers.” “Don’t politicize a tragedy.” “Something must be done.” But there never seems to be enough willingness to do that something. Then slowly or maybe all-too-quickly, people begin to move on. Except the shattered communities that cannot and the families of people like Evelyn, Hallie, William, Cynthia, Mike, and Katherine. The rest of us forget until we are brutally reminded again.

God, help us not forget. Be with the families of the lost and wounded. Be with Covenant and the larger Nashville community. Be with Columbine, Newtown, Uvalde, Parkland, Columbine, and the scores of other towns whose hearts break with every new tragedy. Be with the children and teenagers in schools who see this pattern and for whom the inaction makes them feel like acceptable sacrifices.

To Liam on his 10th Birthday

To Liam on his 10th Birthday

Chris Cox

Let me start with a story from our trip to Disney World this past week. On our first day, I discovered that motion simulator rides and I are no longer friends. Millennium Falcon: Smuggler’s Run and Star Tours had me stumbling out in a disheveled sweat. But it was Avatar: Flight of Passage on Day 2 that nearly did me in. The ride is a technical marvel and halfway through I was really worried that I was going to vomit all over its technical marvelousness. I closed my eyes and began trying to take slow, deep breaths. I let out a few coughs which is often a sign that I am going to throw up.

Then I felt a small hand on top of my own and your voice called out, “Daddy?” I looked to my right and in the middle of this wild ride in which we were swooping over a gorgeous alien planet, your eyes were locked on me with concern. I weakly smiled and said, “I don’t feel too good, buddy.” You squeezed my hand and then held on to your virtual banshee dragon thing as it went into another dive. I still felt awful, but I think that one moment—when you noticed me in the middle of a theme park ride you were enjoying—was what kept me from getting sick all over the place. You notice people and are attuned to what’s going on inside them. Everywhere you go, your heart is always leading you.

You are, as you have proudly said more than a few times today, a decade old. You look older with your recent buzz cut. The chunkiness that has been in your cheeks since you were a baby is thinning out. You are growing at the exact rate that you should be and yet it all feels too fast. As I sit in your room as you drift off to sleep, I can see both the little boy clutching his duck and the young man that you are becoming.

This is a story about hope

Chris Cox

This is half of a story. The other half is about heartbreak and this is not the place for that tale. This is a story about hope.

While I was on my sabbatical, I prayed frequently for clarity and direction. I would eventually learn that you better make darn sure that’s what you really want before you pray for something like that, but I was in the naive bubble of rest and renewal.

As some of you might know, I spent the last weekend of my sabbatical on a silent retreat at the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky. It was amazing; a weekend that nourished and focused my soul. It was an introvert’s paradise that allowed me to read, write, hike, go to prayer services with monks, and not have to talk to anybody.

Often I would find myself staring at an evergreen tree outside the window of my room. Throughout the weekend, that tree would sway in the breeze. It was so quiet and peaceful and I would become transfixed by the gentle motion. For the first few days, I would not even think about it. I just rooted myself in my chair and watched the invisible push and pull the branches.

The Willfinity Saga

Chris Cox
Sabbatical Sketches

In yesterday’s Monday Mixtape, I made this random comment while talking about Will Smith’s “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It”:

This makes me yearn for a simpler time when Will Smith was known for party jams, blockbuster movies, and party jams that re-told the plots of blockbuster movies. Do you know how awesome it would be if Will Smith decided to record a double album that went through the entire MCU song by song? It would be amazing for his career! There could be songs titled “Cool Like a Winter Soldier,” “Thwip Thwip (Spidey’s Coming),” and “Ragna-rock.” Let’s make this happen, Will.

My brain has this habit of latching on to ludicrous ideas and not letting go. As a result, I came up with song titles, an album title, and an album cover. I even wrote a few lines of one of the songs, but decided not to go that far down the rabbit hole. So I present to you The Willfinity Saga, a double album in which Will Smith party jams tell the story of the first three phases of the Marvel Cinematic Universe:

Monday Mixtape: 1998-2001

Chris Cox
Monday Mixtape, Sabbatical Sketches

1998-2001
As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, EA asked to specially curate a playlist for our last few years of high school. So it only seemed right to ask her which songs she thought should make the cut for this Monday Mixtape. A couple of these songs were actually released before this 3 year window, but they were definitely on the radio by the time 1998 rolled around. Songs are in the order in which they were released. Also, the commentary for the below songs are totally from me and do not necessarily represent the thoughts and feelings of my wife.

1. “Tubthumping” by Chumbawumba (1997)
Come for the epic singalong chorus and then have fun answering questions for your kids about the verses. Yep, those are about getting sloshed and singing songs that make them happy. Although, if you replaced the lyrics with “O Danny Boy” with something like “Amazing Grace” and we’re suddenly talking about your hip local church that holds a Beer & Hymns night at the local pub. Also, Chumbawumba is definitely on the first ballot for the Fun Band Names To Say Hall of Fame.

2. “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” by Green Day (1997)
In which I always said something loudly to drown out the muttered profanity right before the guitar starts strumming. They never heard it because they would have definitely said something if they heard it. We don’t look like the best parents so far. I promise we are trying our best with them. Also, it is wild to me that I discovered this song because of a montage shown right before the series finale of Seinfeld. Even more wild that the montage made me tear up considering that Seinfeld was notorious for its “no hugging, no learning” rule.

3. “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit It” by Will Smith (1998)
Pop quiz: How many na’s are there each time before the former Fresh Prince says “Gettin’ jiggy wit’ it”? This makes me yearn for a simpler time when Will Smith was known for party jams, blockbuster movies, and party jams that re-told the plots of blockbuster movies. Do you know how awesome it would be if Will Smith decided to record a double album that went through the entire MCU song by song? It would be amazing for his career! There could be songs titled “Cool Like a Winter Soldier,” “Thwip Thwip (Spidey’s Coming),” and “Ragna-rock.” Let’s make this happen, Will.

Choosing the Highest Road, Messing Up, Choosing Again

Chris Cox
Sabbatical Sketches, Weekly Lectionary

The Deuteronomy passage—in which Moses tells the people of Israel that obeying God’s commands will bring blessings, but disobedience will bring death—popped up yesterday in a devotional book that I am reading. And the gist of the reflection was the standard to which Moses calls the people was unattainable, but that it was intentionally unattainable because it all eventually points to Jesus.

It didn’t sit right with me. I know that it is a riff of something that Paul does where he discusses how a person’s inability to follow God makes one aware of their sin. Yet that also makes it look almost like a long con on God’s part. As if God knew the mistakes that were going to be made, let them play out for a few thousand years while human beings suffered just to make the point that they couldn’t do it. It seems insulting to the Jewish people who genuinely tried to follow God to make them props in a massive point.

And maybe I’m wrong, but I feel like when Moses says “Choose” or when Jesus says “Follow me” that this is a legitimate offer on the table. It’s not just a setup to demonstrate how messed up we are but a calling to be the Good that we are intended to be. That capacity exists within each person because they are made in the Image of God.

Now will we always choose the right? Good Lord, no. In the Gospel passage, Jesus raises the stakes and says that calling a person a fool is like murder or lusting after someone is akin to adultery. He does not just want his followers to take the high road, he wants them to take the highest road.

Body in Motion, Soul at Rest

Chris Cox
Sabbatical Sketches

Technically, I don’t have a problem with stillness and quiet. I can do it. I have told my students that I can live in an awkward silence (so they might as well say something). I welcome the opportunity for quiet and reflection. I have been reading a great deal recently about the importance of stillness in our busy lives. Anytime someone discusses prayer and meditation, quieting your world is bound to be part of the discussion. I do not have a problem with stillness.

Buuuuuuuuuuuuut…

There are times when stillness has a difficult time finding a home inside my head and heart. I can be physically still. Being spiritually and mentally still is far more difficult. I live in my head. I have a vivid imagination, which is either awesome or terrible. When I lay down at night, my brain begins to whirr like a fan on a 90s desktop computer: coming up with ideas that eluded me during the day, replaying conversations I wish had gone differently (or creating imaginary conversations), swatting away insecurities, or coming up with ideas for the book I’ve always wanted to write. I am often silent on the surface, but quite disquieted underneath.

I have learned that movement is strangely the thing that often stills me. It’s why I write so often about what I experience on runs and hikes. It is why I love praying labyrinth. If I am anxious or getting tripped up by writer’s block or not sure what to do, moving my body will help. It won’t solve everything, but it will help in that it quiets my mind for just a bit.

Monday Mixtape: Sunday

Chris Cox
Monday Mixtape, Sabbatical Sketches

Sunday
A little bit of a switch-up. For about as long as I could connect an iPod (later iPhone) to a car stereo, I have been creating and continuously updating a Sunday playlist. This is typically what we have listened to as we go to and from church. It is due for another update, but I wanted to make note of what this ever evolving playlist is at this point in our lives. These are in the actual order in which they appear.

1. “Oh Great God, Give Us Rest” by David Crowder Band

This one is honestly kind of prayer for me since Sundays are rarely my most restful day of the week. The lyrics of this one have touched a chord within me especially in the last five years or so.

2. “I Need Thee Every Hour (20th Anniversary Edition)” by Jars of Clay

Before iPods and iPhones, we had these things called CDs that played songs. If it was a Sunday in my early 20s, there was a pretty good chance that the CD in my car would be Redemption Songs, Jars of Clay’s collection of re-recorded and reimagined hymns.

3. “Your Love is Strong (Live)” by Jon Foreman

This is a song that I would love to hear in a church context at some point; a beautiful, straightforward song that touches on teachings and parables of Jesus and the Lord’s Prayer. This version from Foreman’s Roll Tape: Live from Melody League Studios is my favorite with the exception of the Switchfoot frontman exclaiming, “I love playing with you guys!” at the end. Kind of messes up the vibe, but that’s how good the rest of the version is.

4. “Till Kingdom Come” by Coldplay

This song has been on the Sunday playlist from the very beginning. My favorite Coldplay song and one of the most personally meaningful songs in my life. I know technically it is not a song about God, but it has become one for me. I even preached a sermon about it this past year.

Halfway There

Chris Cox
Sabbatical Sketches

Whenever I run into someone who knows that I am on sabbatical, they inevitably will say something like, “Hope you’re getting lots of rest!” And I’ll respond with something like, “Ha, that’s the plan!” But internally I am saying, “I actually still feel tired. Oh crap, am I doing this wrong? Am I screwing up a one in seven year chance to rest?!”

In my more sane moments, I remember that tiredness does not vanish overnight (or over the course of a little over two weeks). I also remember that I am still very much on the clock for one of the more demanding parts of my life: being a parent. Before I took off, I had a lot of people ask me where I was going to go for sabbatical which was always somewhat confusing because most of these people know that I have a wife and two sons. It’s not like I’m going to say to my wife who is a high school Spanish teacher and say, “Alright, I’m off. See you in a month and you guys have fun!” That would be a surefire way to turn a sabbatical into something more permanent.

It probably sounds like I’m complaining and that’s not my aim. A great deal of my time has been restful and I have been grateful for it. Halfway through, I am bumping into the limitations of what a sabbatical can truly be. In the romanticized version, everything just stops. I have been reading about and listening to some podcasts that talk about both sabbath and the monastic lifestyle. Frequently in the discussion of these ideas, the conversation comes back to the desert mothers and fathers: early Christians who went out to the wilderness to dedicate their life to prayer and meditation. And there is part of me that would love to take a stack of books and journals and retreat to a cabin for a month.

Yet life doesn’t work like that.

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