Maundy Thursday/ Good Friday

I wish I had a super spiritual reason for not posting yesterday. But I don’t. Thursday is date night and my primary ministry is to this man and his crazy kids. So when he said he needed to get out of the house, I put my shoes on, and we got out of the house.

In his first miracle, he blessed the people at the wedding at Cana. And every miracle after that was directed towards specific people. Jesus served the people around him. As he walked out his life, heaven put people in his path to serve. HE healed the sick. He raised the dead…but he also served people in other ways. He talked to the woman at the well. He showed mercy to the woman caught in adultery, and he washed the disciples feet. While I can’t perform the miraculous, I can do mundane tasks to honor the dignity of the people God has placed in my path.

So while Thursday was spent serving specific people, Jesus’ death on Friday was for all people. There is nothing I can do that can compare to that. But I can serve God, by telling as many people as possible that salvation is available to them. I don’t have the ability to save the world, but I can point to the one who has all power in His hands.

So today I am thinking about service. How can I serve my family, my friends, and my community better? In what way can I be of service to you, because if you found yourself on my little cozy corner of the internet, you are now a part of my community, and I want to serve you, too.

Spy Wednesday 2026: Their Eyes Were Watching God

Tonight, I explained what Passover was to my youngest child. She actually asked me about it, and that gave me great joy. I love when these kids express their curiosity. Anyway, as I explained the plague of the firstborn, she became greatly concerned, as she thought I either put actual blood on our doorposts, or that her siblings might be in danger. I explained that neither was true.

I am thinking of Jesus who was trying to make preparations for Passover, while Judas was off on a side-quest. After Judas had collected his coins, the Bible says Judas watched for an opportunity to betray Jesus. This bothers me, because for years Judas had been walking with Jesus for a while at that point. He had been watching him the entire time. This reminds me that not everybody in the audience for the same reasons.

Some people are watching just to see. They have no interest in your success or failure. It doesn’t matter to them either way. They are watching simply because you are in front of them.

Some people are watching to cheer you on. They cannot wait to see what you do next. They are excited about your progress and are invested in your journey.

And some people are watching to see how they can trip you up. They are noticing your patterns and vulnerabilities. They are looking to see how they can take advantage of you. This was Judas.

The thing is, you don’t always know who is looking, and what their reasons are for watching. The people in the crowd all look the same. Even worse, those same people could be watching for different reasons at different points. I believe that when Judas first started watching Jesus, his heart was in the right place. But by the time we get to Spy Wednesday, his motives had changed.

Jesus, however, had not changed. He kept being who he was, and doing what he was called to do. It didn’t matter to him who was watching. It didn’t matter to him why they were watching. He kept his eye on God. That’s what we’re supposed to do.

The funny thing was that Judas also had his eye on God…He just didn’t know it.

Holy Tuesday 2026: Woe Unto You

Everybody hates Mondays, but I have grown to dislike Tuesdays as well. Holy Week is no exception. Today’s scripture readings are hard. There’s Jesus pronouncing woes on the Pharisees. There’s the widow offering up all she had to give, and then there are these daggum disciples asking for signs.

Now I wish I could talk about the woman offering up her two cents, because at this point, I ain’t offering up much either. I really want to write about the disciples, because I too, have been asking for a sign, and wondering how long it’s going to be. In this season, I am a whole lot more like the disciples than I am the poor widow. I have more questions than offerings.

But there are a couple of these “Woe” statement that made me clutch my pearls. Matthew 23: 13 -15 was so upsetting to me that I had to read it in a couple of translations just to make sure I wasn’t overreacting. Jesus told the Pharisees, that not only were they not getting into heaven, but they were blocking the way for others. He restated in verse 15 with even harsher language. He said (I’m paraphrasing) ” Y’all will travel across land and sea to make disciples, then turn them into twice as much of a hellion as you yourselves, are.

One of my many fears as a parent is that I’m leading my children astray, or that they will take on the worst of my traits. The idea that I would be the reason my babies wouldn’t make it into heaven is devastating.

So today, I’m grateful for the ones who came before me, who lead me in a path that will lead to life everlasting. And I pray for anybody who finds themselves following behind me. Help me to walk in a way that not only opens doors, but that I have the good sense to hold the doors open for generations to come.

Holy Monday 2026

This is my favorite of all the Holy Week scripture readings.

I can;t always relate to Jesus’ words and actions. Lord knows that I am far from a miracle worker. I don’t always think, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.” But walking into a sanctuary and immediately wanting to knock everything over…That I can identify with. And while I would love to spend my devotional time talking about Thieves in the Temple, I think that’s low hanging fruit.

But I do want to talk about fruit, however. The cursing of the fig tree bothers me. The Bible says Jesus was hungry (another aspect of Jesus which I can easily relate to), and so he looks to this fig tree for fruit, and finding none, he cursed the tree to never bear fruit again. This seems harsh to me. First, it wasn’t even fig season. Why is Jesus looking for fruit where there wouldn’t normally be fruit? A preacher might tell you that Jesus was foreshadowing the scripture be ready in and out of season. That’s a fair assessment. I think there is more here. I think this is Jesus demonstrating his full humanity. As humans sometimes our physical needs outweigh our other sensibilities.

Remember those Snickers commercials, “You’re not you, when you’re hungry?” This picture of Jesus is an early version of that. When you’re hungry, sick, tired, heart-broken depressed, angry, anxious, too hot, too cold,etc., you don’t necessarily have your wits about you. We often make rash decisions when we are in less than ideal conditions. See Philippians 3:19.

Jesus, who had already turned water to wine, who had already healed people and raised them from the dead doesn’t use his miracle working power to manifest bread for himself. Instead, he curses the thing that he felt should have brought him food.

Today, I ask myself, what things in my life have I cursed, not necessarily because they were fruitless, but because I was demanding fruit in the wrong season? What things or people have I condemned for not helping me, when I clearly could have helped myself? In what ways have I caused destruction, when I simply could have said nothing?

Today, I’m praying for forgiveness. Lord, knows I need it. But I’m also praying that the Lord does not find me to be fruitless when the time comes.

Palm Sunday 2026

Holy Week is one of my favorite times of the year. During this week, we get the Triumphal Entry, my beloved table-flipping Jesus, the Via Dolorosa, Calvary’s Cross, The Seven Last Words, the crucifixion and the resurrection. Though I failed to complete my Lenten Devotional reading, and my fasting was non-existent, there is something about the week leading up to Easter that stirs my soul.

I was a wreck last Easter, and for good reason. People who know me in real life know that I am still in a season of profound grief. In spite of that, on Saturday night, I started singing hymns. I willed myself to an 11:00am Sunday service at a Baptist church and I stayed until benediction. I was a little bothered that nobody said Hosanna today, but I made sure that I did before I left the sanctuary.

This Palm Sunday, instead of focusing on the crowd or even the chorus (Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!), my heart is drawn to the colt. The colt was minding its own business, not bothering anybody, when out of nowhere, Jesus called. This is a major disruption. This is not what the colt has been trained for. This is not what the colt had planned to do with its life…and yet. What can you say when you hear the words, “The Lord hath need of him (or her).” I believe Jesus believed in equal opportunity.

So many of God’s preachers and prophets were just like that colt. They were out in the world doing their own thing, when they were called into ministry. They resisted. Folks around them objected. Yet, not even the wiliest of them could escape God’s call, and when it was all over, it was their job to carry Jesus into the city/church house/mission field.

I wonder about the people who threw their cloaks and palm leaves on the road. They had heard a great prophet, and a conquering hero was coming to town. Instead, of a prince on his Royal steed, they got a carpenter on a colt. HE wasn’t what they were expecting. He was, however, what they needed.

The road to Jerusalem was rocky. The terrain was uneven, and yet the colt marched steadily onward. I’d like to believe that the cloaks and the palms made the road a little softer under its hooves, and I wonder what we can do to make the path a little bit smoother for those in our own lives who are tasked with carrying the weight of God’s word into the city? What can I personally put down to make their job a little less hard?

That’s my question for all of us on Palm Sunday. What can we do to make it easier for our spiritual leaders? Are there old attitudes and bitterness we need to toss aside? Should we lay down some of our expectations? Should we do as the Lord commanded, ” Loose them and let them go?” Could we take some of the weight off their shoulders and carry it ourselves? (Surely the pastors and priests aren’t the only ones who ought to be carrying Jesus into the city. I’m a Baptist after all, and I believe in the priesthood of all believers.)

What if the day is not just about waving palms, but actually using what’s in the palms of our hands to make life easier for someone else? I wonder as I wander.

Somebody

I met Rev. Jesse Jackson once. I was an aspiring young journalist at an HBCU, and Rev. Jackson was doing a tour of college campuses, warning young college students to “Stay out of the Bushes!” prior to the 2000 election. Even in the late 1990s, he was still coming up with catchy phrases for us to repeat. (Nothing will ever top “I am Somebody) He was an impressive figure, even then. His appearance was striking and his voice was strong. Standing next to him, I felt small. (Granted, I was probably only a hundred pounds and barely over 5 feet tall.)

This weekend, they buried the civil rights icon, and I didn’t watch for multiple reasons. First, I didn’t have 10 hours of free time this weekend. Those funerals were entirely too long. Yes, Rev. Jackson was a legendary figure who deserved all the accolades, but two days is too much. Second, I did not want to watch his children grieve. Yes, this was a tremendous loss for our community. But the Jackson children weren’t burying a presidential candidate and cultural critic. They were burying their father. I could bear witness to and acknowledge that grief, without watching it on TV.

I heard three presidents spoke, and songstress Kim Burrell remixed Tamela Mann’s “Take Me to the King.” I heard everybody went over their time limit. I heard that Jesse Jackson, Jr. berated the musicians for trying to rush one of his sisters through her portion of the program. But the thing I have heard the most about is President Obama not acknowledging Rev. Jeremiah Wright who was sitting in the front row.

As a Black Baptist, I have become familiar with pulpit etiquette. You acknowledge God, who is the head of your life, the pastor and other ministers on the roster, clergy in the pews, deacons, elders, officers, members and friends. In some places, you also acknowledge their wives. (I’m Black and Baptist. All of the church officers and every person in the pulpit is usually a man.) I’m pretty sure President Obama knows black church etiquette, too. And I don’t know if he did it on purpose or not. I can’t imagine he would purposely not acknowledge his former pastor. I don’t even like most of my former pastors, and even I would acknowledge them if I was behind the lectern. (The LORD does not allow me behind a lectern for a reason!)

Here’s what I know. Pastor Jeremiah Wright was a powerhouse preacher in the Chicago area. He was there paying his respects as we laid one of his contemporaries to rest. He was not supposed to be the story. Neither was Barack Obama. The fact that nearly every commentary I’ve read about the funeral talked about the two of them is insane.

Do I think Rev. Jeremiah Wright deserves to hear accolades while he is alive, especially from the people he directly impacted? Absolutely. But to make that all we’re talking about after 10 hours of a memorial is too much. We focused on the wrong thing.

The church is guilty of this on so many fronts. We focus on protocol over praise. Some of the best gospel artists in the industry sang at those funerals, and other than a parody of Kim Burrell’s remix, I haven’t heard a single word about it. We focus on possible grievances over an actual grieving family.

I hope the purpose of these services was to memorialize a man who worked to make the world a better place. I hope we aimed to honor his service and his sacrifice. I hope we wanted to offer comfort to a family who lost their patriarch. And I hope we wanted to thank God for the gift that was Jesse Jackson.

He was somebody, for sure. And he reminded us all, that we were, too. That should have been the story.

The Shadow Docket (Purim 2026)

If you’re unfamiliar with the term, it is shorthand for when the US Supreme Court issues rulings or procedural motions without a full hearing of arguments. Shadow docket cases do not receive written opinions or a vote from the full court. But the shadow docket often reveals clues about how the court is leaning. This is not about the Roberts’ Court. While I certainly would love to write about some of the court’s decisions in the last few years, that is not how I use this space.

This isn’t about politics at all, really. It’s about me. It’s about all of us, and the Jewish festival of Purim. I love the book of Esther. It’s one of my favorite stories to rehash, and Purim gives me the excuse to go through it again. To make a long story short, an unlikely heroine emerges. She saves her people and reveals the wicked plot of the villain, that wicked Haman (boo, hiss!), who is hanged on the very gallows he had set up to hang one of Esther’s relatives.

I was listening to a rabbi give her meditation, and she said the festival of Purim is about revealing what was hidden. She said the purpose of the costumes people often wear during the Purim festivities often reveal their shadowed selves. This particular rabbi was thinking of dressing up as a barely-clothed waitress from a famous restaurant chain, supposedly famous for their wings. I laughed, but then I started thinking, ‘what does my shadow self look like and what does that reveal about me?’

The scariest part for me was that I don’t believe my shadow-self looks any different than the everyday version of me. She is still a natural-haired hot mess with color changing eyes and a not-so sunny disposition. Shadow me is mean on purpose. Everyday me is just not approachable. Shadow me does all the good work that everyday me never gets around to actually doing. She also wants everybody to know about it. Everyday me prays Nehemiah’s prayer in secret. “Remember me for this”! Shadow me won’t ever let you forget what she did for you.

Unlike SCOTUS, I do not pretend the shadow docket doesn’t exist. I am fully aware of the darkness that lurks within. But I am also fully aware that the shadow only exists because of the light that dwells within. Shadows don’t exist in complete darkness.

So if the church is supposed to be a shining city on a hill, I wonder what it’s shadow self looks like.

Instead of a public hospital, does it become an exclusive country club, where membership has it’s privileges, but we damn everyone else to life outside the gates?

Instead of being a place for honest introspection, reflection, and change does it become an echo chamber of ideas we already espouse?

Instead of being a place where people come to be recharged, is it a place that is sucking the life out of people?

This Purim, as I think about hidden things being revealed, I can’t help but think about what is happening in this country and the world. I think about a school being bombed abroad, and school shootings here at home. I think about hatred and fear. I think about the uptick in depression and anxiety and am almost crippled by my own since of overwhelm and grief.

Then I remember, the only reason I can even recognize the darkness, is because I have been called into the marvelous light. My heart breaks for those who only know the darkness. Shadow work is hard and heavy, but is a privilege to be able to do it.

Usually at Purim, they will retell the story. They will eat, drink and be merry. They will laugh at the appropriate points in the story. (You see what I did there?)They will jeer and make noise whenever the villain’s name is said. I don’t know what Purim will look like this year, as a result of recent events.

But I would hope that we all could take a few moments to consider the idea of heroes and villains, and think about which one we want to be…and which one our actions are most closely aligned with.

Do not go gentle into that good night – Dylan Thomas

You Can’t be Serious!

For more than two weeks, I saw y’all post 101 commentaries about that lady’s dress. Some of y’all even wrote commentaries about the commentary. Somebody went viral for his derogatory comments about the dress from the pulpit. (For the record, I thought the dress was beautiful. I wish I could pull it off and that ‘pastor’ was way out of line.”)

And now those same people are providing discourse on Druski’s megachurch skit. This is the first Druski skit I ever watched in full, and while I chuckled a few times, I didn’t think it was that funny. I’ve seen way more hilarious things happen in actual churches. For instance, this one time at our last church home, this lady charged the pulpit, and in trying to wrangle her away, one of the deacons accidentally knocked the lady’s wig off. Then they tried to put it back on her, but they did it backwards. Fifteen years later, the deacons are still arguing about who was the guilty party. I am laughing now just thinking about it.

Which one of us as a kid didn’t reenact something funny we saw at church? Who among us hasn’t laughed at what is supposed to have been a sacred moment? The church can be a place where funny things happen. So no, I wasn’t offended by Druski’s Louboutin loafers.

What I am offended by is the silence of our churches as armed men smash in doors and car windows, and disappear people off our streets. I am upset the church hasn’t publicly wrapped their arms around Renee Good’s widow and children. I am upset that we are not calling for both justice and peace.

How could Dr. Turner-Bryant’s dress have been more offensive than extrajudicial murders carried out by government agents? How could a comedy skit rile us up more than what is actually happening to our neighbors? I want all those people talking about Christian modesty and “Holiness is right” to talk about issues that actually matter. I think targeting Illusion fabric and a comedian who wears designers whose first names happen to be Christian are safe and easy targets.

It’s harder to address injustice and persecution. It’s even harder to admit that the church has not only been complicit in said injustices, but that we have often perpetuated those injustices against our own members.

But until the church is able to do that, it will be harder for some people to ever take us serious.

Photo Credit: Nappy via Pexels.com

Such A Time As This

You know I stay critiquing our churches. It’s one of my favorite things to do. I do so out of love and profound respect for the institution. My goal has always to make the church be its best self. Every now and then I get a glimpse of that and it does my soul good.

Yesterday, I had the privilege of attending a revival hosted by the Kaw Valley District’s Congress of Christian Education. The revival, entitled “Stepping Out in Such a Time Like This.” The book of Esther is one of those stories I like to revisit. I usually read through Esther during the annual festival of Purim. But also, whenever I am considering a fast, the Esther text is my preferred reading. (I do the Daniel fast sometimes, but Esther’s fast is only three days, and I am much more likely to have a successful completion of the shorter fast.)

Anyway, I thought it was important that I be there last night, not just because the title resonated, and not just because I am related to the featured speaker of the night. But our fairly conservative little local conference hosted a revival with three women speakers. That might not seem like a big deal to you. But I know for a fact that there are churches in this district where those gifted women who stood in the pulpit this week would have to speak from a podium for the floor, if they were invited to speak at all. The moderator pretty much confirmed this in his remarks last night, acknowledging that he had taken a few lumps for having this revival.

I’m choosing to celebrate the positive steps that the Kaw Valley District made last night to being more progressive and inclusive. Last night, my aunt talked about the little girl who had served in multiple ministries of the church, from serving on the back door as an usher to serving upfront as a worship leader and choir director, and every ministry in between, but being told she should never even get near the pulpit. She was that little girl. So was I. And I’m guessing there were a few more of us in the pews last night. There are hundreds of thousands of us in the pews every Sunday…and many of us are still hearing that same message.

As someone who is seriously considering trying to go back to church, this is a struggle for me. Many of the churches that I love, the ones who have the infrastructure I need to support my family, still are clinging to those patriarchal norms. But I can not, in good conscience, take my children to a church that teaches them that the calling of God on their lives is dependent on their genitals. That’s a crazy thing to type. It’s a crazy thing to teach, and yet so many of our churches are still doing exactly that.

But last night, my aunt stood behind the sacred desk, and she preached. She didn’t evangelize (though there was an evangelical appeal.) She wasn’t giving a missionary report like it’s 5th Sunday, but she was on mission. And she wasn’t just leading worship, though she did that, too. She preached, and I was glad that I got to see it. Tonight, another woman will do the same, and I can only pray that each of these women will get the opportunity do it again soon. Who knows if they have come to their positions for such a time as this?

So yes, I love talking about what our churches are doing wrong. But I also not-so secretly love it when I see our churches are doing something right, and at least for the last few nights, the Kaw Valley District did something right. There is hope, after all.

That’s what advent is all about.

Admin vs Ministry: The Milk (baby formula) of the Word

A couple of weeks ago, Nikalie Monroe, decided to do an informal social experiment. She called places of worship asking for help with purchasing formula for a newborn. Less than a quarter of the churches she contacted said yes. The yes category included a Buddhist temple, a black church, a mosque, and a Hispanic church. Monroe did not have much luck with the mega churches. The social media posts went viral and she now has more than a million followers.

I’ve been chewing on this story for a couple of weeks. As someone who loves research, I have a couple of problems with her methods, but this is not an academic study, so I can let that slide. As someone who has received help from various churches, I was excited about every yes. I love that the Buddhists and the Muslim places that were contacted gave freely. But as a person who has worked in several administrative capacities at a Christian church, I am torn. What do you do when generosity and good governance are at odds?

Most churches that I know, and certainly the ones I grew up in, took up a benevolence fund offering. I never knew what the fund was used for. I just knew that’s where I usually put my dollars because I didn’t have an income to tithe, and I wasn’t about to put a dime in the building fund. (The church I grew up in looks exactly the same as it did when I was a teenager except now they added two TV monitors. Maybe I should have put my coins in the building fund.)

But as an adult, I learned that the benevolence fund was to help those less fortunate, though I wasn’t quite sure what less fortunate meant, since almost everybody in the church was struggling in some way or another. Most of us had more month than money. Most of us were living paycheck to paycheck, and very few, if any of us, were not in some kind of debt. When I started working as the church secretary and gained access to things that ordinary pew members don’t get to see, I learned a few things. Then, when I joined the finance committee, I learned a few more things.

I learned that in that particular church, in order to request benevolent funds, you had to complete an application. I think I may have even had to help create a new application at some point. Once the application was completed, it was submitted to the finance committee for a vote. Preference was given to members who paid tithes. If approved, the application was forwarded to the people who were authorized to write checks, and then sent to the people who could actually sign those checks. Two signatures were required on every check. At our church,the committee, which consisted of 5-7 people, generally only met once or twice a month. The people who signed the checks were not on the committee, and sometimes the people who wrote the checks were not on the committee either.

There are multiple problems with this structure. First, if you had an emergent need, there is a very high likelihood that you would not receive a response in time. This lady claimed to have needed money to feed her hungry child. It might have been four weeks before we even responded to her request. Second, at this point, a whole lot of people know your business. In a church with maybe 300 on the church roll, and about 150 in average attendance, ten or so have had to touch your request. They knew you didn’t have money for your light bill, or as in this case, couldn’t afford to feed your baby. This is not ideal. America already shames people for being poor. We’re on the verge of criminalizing it.

I am completely on the side of churches crossing every T and dotting every I. I think churches ought to set the standard for good business practices. We should be models of good governance. I believe our churches should be able to account for every dollar spent, and that a lot of that money should be spent on actual ministry. I just don’t know how to do that well.

There are churches that are doing it successfully. Wheeler Avenue in Houston just paid off 55 million dollars in five years. That’s incredibly impressive. I’m sure there are others with fantastic stewardship models. But churches like the ones I grew up in, and the one I was last a member of, are struggling to pay their own monthly bills. I remember a pastor asking for a raise one time, and I had to look that man in his eyes as I voted not to pay him more. We couldn’t afford to pay him the salary he was already receiving. I don’t know how some of these churches are managing to serve their local communities, and pay their bills, especially since attendance and giving are down across the nation.

But I do know how the people that are members of those churches are serving. A Kentucky pastor bypassed the whole process. He asked what the name of the formula was and where he could buy it. He said he was a grandfather and that he’d buy the formula himself so that the child wouldn’t go hungry. He reminds me that we, the people, are the church. We have been called to be the hands and feet of Jesus. And we are the ones who will have to minister to our neighbors in these tough times.

When the current president was elected, I posted that I hoped that our churches were prepared in this moment to minister to people that they have never had to serve before. I think I want to revise that statement. The church is now going to have to prepare its people to minister to those it had never served before. You may have government workers who used to bring in six figures standing in food lines. You may encounter folks seeking refuge in your sanctuary who don’t even speak the same language you do. You may encounter “Tik-Tok” stars and Instagram models who are using your ministry for a social experiment. And you, I mean, we have to be ready for any and all of it.

Our people are the churches’ greatest asset. The people can nimbly go into spaces where our clunky organizational structures just won’t fit. When administration butts heads with actual ministry, may our hearts lean into ministry every single time. That’s the winning formula.