Feb 27
Feb 27 Live and Move and Have our Being

Listen to your body.

That’s a fairly new phrase in my life. It popped up as something that we would remind our children when they were feeling disregulated. It is an invitation to try to stop and sense what is going on within yourself. There actually would have been a time when I would have firmly opposed such a phrase. In some very reductive Christian teachings, the body is depicted as weak and even deceptive. Why would you listen to it?

Yet there is no compartmentalizing our body, mind, heart, and soul. They are intertwined. They work in tandem to help a person live and experience the world. The body tells us when we are tired and when we are hungry. It tells us when we need affection. It, rather annoyingly, remembers the trauma that weighs down our souls.

Our bodies often remind us that we need to move. Running has been an important physical, mental, and spiritual aspect of my life (again, they are all intertwined) since I was in middle school. This past year has been the least I have run since I was thirteen. New job, parenting, depression, gaining weight, and other factors kept me out of my running shoes. Then whenever I tried to get back on the horse, running was so much more difficult than it had been for years which only made me more despondent. I once made the arrogant college-aged comment to someone that they should shoot me if I couldn’t run a 5K without stopping. I would like that person, whoever they are, to refrain from honoring that request.

Feb 20

Feb 20 The Long Trail of Love that Leads to Where We Are

Chris Cox

EA teaches high school and therefore usually leaves our house before the sun is up. Since she has to be awake at such an ungodly hour, every morning she goes to Chick-fil-A to get a large Coca-Cola. The employee that regularly brings out EA’s Coke is a woman by the name of Monica. Over the last several years, EA and Monica have become pretty good friends one drive-thru at a time. EA has made Monica birthday presents and has said that Monica’s kindness has helped her on many a difficult day.

EA is heading out of town after school for a few days. She woke up the boys a little earlier this morning to tell them goodbye before she left. Then I got them moving to get ready for school. Our youngest started strong with his routine, but the though of not seeing his mom until the end of the week began to take its toll. It was a struggle to get Liam into the car and even then he was scared that he wouldn’t be able to go to school.

I had told the boys the night before that we would get Chick-fil-A breakfast as a treat since Mom was going out of town. In the drive-thru line, Liam looked like he was about to jump out of the car and run home. We pulled up to the window and who was there but Monica. She smiled warmly at Liam and reached through to him a five. A minute later, she came back out and brought a cookie for both Liam and his brother before going back inside.

Feb 11

Feb 11 Everything Will Change (But in the Meantime...)

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

One of the helpful aspects of scripture is how it is multifaceted. You can hear a story over and over again and then the 40th time you here it, it hits you a different way. The Transfiguration is a great story that I have heard many times. I have written blogs and monologues and I think even a skit about it. Yet it wasn’t until today that it struck me how this experience was both such an unbelievable blessing and crushing curse for Peter, James, and John. And perhaps there is something in that two-sided coin for those of us who are trying to do this faith thing.

These three disciples got to witness something that no one else in their group got to witness. They saw their teacher transformed before their eyes. They saw his clothes shine brighter than a flame. Moses and Elijah appeared and spoke with Jesus. Finally they heard the voice from the heavens tell them that this man they were following was the Beloved, God’s own Son. It was simultaneously amazing and terrifying; a spiritual experience like no other and a brain-melting “What the sheol is happening?” moment. And they were the only ones who knew. Jesus told them not to tell anyone else until after all was said and done.

On one hand, that is an amazing gift. They got a peak behind the curtain. Even though they didn’t stay on that mountain like Peter wanted, this trio knew there profound divinity coursing through every moment down in the valley. Each healing, each word had deeper resonance. Perhaps when things went sideways for Jesus, that experience on the mountain was a source of hope. A flashpoint of conviction that despite the present horror that everything would change.

Jan 20

Jan 20 God of the Long Game

Chris Cox

It is likely out of necessity, but I believe in the God of the Long Game. This is a God who is antithetical to how immediate and automatic most life is today. It is not the God of the Bullet Points nor the God of the Five Steps to Become a Better Blahblahblah. This is a God who takes time. That taking of time can be frustrating because honestly there is a lot in our world both big and small that we would like to be better now. And for whatever reason, God really seems to want us to be a part of that process of creating a tomorrow that was slightly better than the day before.

Of course, if we are going to be part of this then we need a God who takes time because we take time. Jesus spent three years teaching and molding his disciples. He was with them seemingly every day, hours on end. And the disciples didn’t get it and they didn’t get it and then they would have moments of breakthrough and then they wouldn’t get it again. These people were at ground zero of God With Us for tens of thousands of hours and it took them more than a minute to grasp on to what their teacher was teaching. The Way of Christ had to seep into them. It took lots and lots of time but, by God, it eventually took.

So this is where I am going to stake out my hope: God is with us for the long haul. Becoming the people that God desires us to be will take time. There will be moments of two steps forward, one step back, leaps of faith, and falling on our faces. Yet God is with me. God is with us. God is not here to give us our Best Life Now™️ or snap Their fingers to make everything perfect. God is with me to help me grow organically into who God wants me to be.

Jan 6

Jan 6 Star of Wonder

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

There are times when I find myself wishing that the Gospel writers gave us a little more detail. Actually there are many times when I find myself wishing for that. I know that their aim was not to flesh out the stories of all the “side” characters, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering what all these people were thinking when all this weird Jesus stuff was going on. The word gospel, of course, is ancient Greek for “weird Jesus stuff” (that was a joke; it most definitely is not).

Take the magi for example. They were scholars from the east who saw a great star and journeyed a great distance. Traveling a great distance was not something you did on a whim in those days. It looks some time. You would say goodbye to your friends and family and there was a reasonable chance that goodbye could be final. It was a long journey.

The magi finally arrive in Jerusalem after months or even years of travel. They come to the palace ready to pay homage. And this newborn ruler isn’t there. Not only is he not there, but the king has no earthly idea what they’re talking about and has to meet with his advisors to figure the whole thing out. This is the first thing I wonder: Was there a moment in which they thought they had come all that way for nothing? Were they frustrated? Angry? Did they snipe at each other as they waited for Herod’s scholars to figure things out?

Jan 1

Jan 1 May You Find a Light

Chris Cox

I cuss very sparingly. Not for moral reasons though it did start out that way. A lot of it has to do with the fact that I have spent so much of my career working around young people. Of course, some young people love it when an authority figure cusses, but I want to be respectful that different families approach profanity in different ways. Plus it is fun to play with language and exclaim “biscuits” like Bandit or “horse hockey” like the 4077’s Colonel Potter. Ultimately, I greatly value language. If you are just carelessly using cuss words all the time, or any words for that matter, they start to lose their meaning.

All of which is a prelude to saying that 2023 was a s*** year for our family.

Not that it was all bad. I got to fulfill a lifelong desire and stayed at a monastery for a weekend and it was a profoundly meaningful experience. We finally got to take our boys to Disney World and we ended up starting a podcast to talk about those memories. Furman finally made the NCAA Tournament and dramatically upset a #4 seed in the first round. We got to go on an Amtrak adventure and visit Canada. EA had a quilt go viral on Instagram. I got to laugh around tables with family and some friends.

Dec 16
Dec 16 The Perilous Pursuit of Peace

Chris Cox

There is no peace along the way of safety. For peace must be dared. It is itself the great venture and can never be safe. Peace is the opposite of security. To demand guarantees is to want to protect oneself. Peace means giving oneself completely to God’s commandment. - Dietrich Bonhoeffer

When we’re hurt, we have to decide to make our lives bigger than the pain we were caused….But it’s a choice we’ll have to make over and over. We’ll have to scream it, cry it, whisper it, say it boldly. And when we have said it enough times to enough people who love us it will get easier - Jason VanRuler, Get Past Your Past

We’ve got a few hours left in this second week of Advent in which our watchword is peace. Given what is happening in the Middle East, it is a difficult notion to talk about with any sort of confidence. And honestly it feels wrong to make special exception for this year because peace is always an elusive quality around the holidays. There are always wars within the nations and within our hearts.

Part of what makes this all difficult is that we typically think of peace as one side of a binary. On one end there is war or conflict and on the other there is peace. Thus anytime there is any sort of struggle, our instinct is to think that peace has left the building. Even the pop Christianity can unwittingly play into this idea. I cannot tell you how many t-shirts or bumper stickers that I have seen with the slogan “Know Jesus, Know Peace; No Jesus, No Peace.” The idea is that peace is something that you possess or you don’t.

Dec 3
Dec 3 The Edges of What We Can Hope For

Chris Cox

I spent most of this First Sunday of Advent traveling back home after spending about 30 hours in South Carolina to hang out with my family/watch our collective alma mater punch their ticket to the Division 1 FCS Quarterfinals for the first time in nearly two decades. The trip was more than worth it despite the travel and little sleep. Yet I felt bad that I was missing church on this first day of what is probably my favorite liturgical season. So I tried to church as best I could solo, which is most certainly not the optimal way to church. Yet sometimes one has to make do with podcasts and journaling at taco joints on the road.

As I nibbled on the complimentary, shockingly tasty friend chick peas and waited for my tacos, I scribbled a little in my journal about hope. Advent exists in this weird, timey-wimey place of anticipating the several millennia-old birth of Jesus that we celebrate at Christmas and the event of Christ making everything right that is arriving and has yet to arrive. Advent is a season in limbo so the Church has traditionally decided that hope is a good place to start.

The stories that have most resonated with me over the years are one in which hope is a foregrounded theme. The shield that Superman wears on his suit is the Kryptonian symbol for hope.My favorite movie series is Star Wars, which famously began with an episode entitled A New Hope* and the series constantly highlights the value of staunch hope in the face of adversity. I’m reminded of how even in my favorite modern installments of the series—The Last Jedi and Rogue One—we witness characters wrestling with what to do when circumstances, the powerful, and their own haunted past cause them to lose hope.

Nov 5
Nov 5 The Sounds of Saints

Chris Cox

Weekly Lectionary

This first dark evening, EA and I drove back to church for All Saints Choral Evensong. St. B’s had been hyping this service for some time. And by hyping, I mean Episcopalian hyping which is basically just letting us know that it was going to be a beautiful and meaningful service. It was indeed both of those things.

I don’t want to be reductive but All Saints Day is a day of heartache and hope. We remember those who have gone before us. Many churches remember those who had passed on in the previous year. It is also a day where we look forward to the time when everything will be made right and we all will be saints in the presence of God.

Within this gorgeous service of music, meditation, and readings of scripture, we took part in a liturgy that I had never experienced before. Everyone was invited to come to the altar rail to light a candle in remembrance of the departed. Then all along the front were chimes of different notes. Each person was invited to ring a chime in remembrance of someone who was no longer here with us. Each ring was for another person. Some would kneel at the front and ring their chime three or four or five times.

I can only describe for you what it was like for 10 or 15 minutes to hear all of these notes ringing out. As they echoed through the sanctuary, you realize that each note is representative of a life. Not just of a life, but also love that perseveres despite time and distance and a stubborn hope that death is not the end of all this. It was good and holy and also heartbreaking. Yet it is the kind of cathartic heartbreak that we need but all too rarely allow in our lives.

Oct 30
Oct 30 The Priesthood of All

Chris Cox

I have a weird relationship with ordination. On one hand, I was ordained into the ministry seven years ago and it was one of the most meaningful days of my life. It was a moment where a calling, passion, and years of work came into bloom. I truly hope to find my way to a place where I can serve in a church again because there is so much that I love about it.

On the other hand, I have this very stubborn, very Baptist conviction that every Christian is a minister and that creating a separate class of “professional ministers” is antithetical to what Jesus taught. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that anyone who walks off the street should start running a church. The education and testing that occurs in seminary, ordination councils, and ongoing accountability are critical to the health of a minister and the communities they lead.

Yet the idea when you go into a church that one person is a minister and one person isn’t creates what I believe is a false dichotomy that one person’s vocation is sacred while the other person’s is not. For me to serve as a youth minister is no more “holy” than another person serving as a teacher, accountant, nurse, caregiver, artist, or whatever else. We often refer to it as the Priesthood of All Believers. If you are trying to follow Jesus and want to see me get animated quickly, tell me you are not a minister. Every interaction that we have with others in this world has the potential to give the ministry of love, grace, joy, light to the world around us.

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.