It is not lost on me that Holy Week of 2020 is the week the scientists and experts say may be our hardest week of this Pandemic, perhaps the darkest days Americans have seen for generations. Holy Week of 2019 was the hardest week of my life. (1/4)

I’ve grown wary of asking with any sense of entitlement for the theatrical miracle, the poignant Easter resurrection you think will show the world whose really in control. I’ve learned to always show up with burial spices. Death is part of life in this world. (2/4)

But I’ve also learned to look for the understated signs & wonders. The guy you thought was a graveyard gardener may be God Himself. I’ve learned to listen to the rumors of women who swore they saw angels. I’ve learned God cooks fish for you on the shore after all seems lost. (3/4

Hope persists after expectations have been devastated. Hope is a calling. It’s a way of life. It’s a way of being. It’s the humility of knowing we see in a mirror dimly, that we only know in part. It’s faith in the face to face to come. (4/4)