Hope. What is it? How do I catch it? Will it find me or must I go looking?
Love. What is it? How do I catch it? Will it find me or must I go looking?
Faith. What is it? How do I catch it? Will it find me or must I go looking?
Is the faith I have authentic? Or have I conjured it up in order to please? Conjured it up in order to have something to hold on to when I am scared, something to blame when things go wrong?
Do the big questions ever get answered? Do the big hurts get healed? Do we help each other in the end, or do we just keep causing each other pain?
Does the goodwill of the church outweigh the mistakes? Do the good deeds outweigh the abuse? Do those who have left because of abuse really need to come back? Can we blame them for not feeling safe? How do we make amends?
Is there a 12-step program for power addiction? “Hello, my name is the church.”
Will we always be this dysfunctional or is it true what they say, that the blind shall see and the captive set free?
Will we ever stop needing one another? Will God’s grace ever dry up? Will holding a baby in the church nursery ever seem any less miraculous?
Will Christ’s own tears ever stop wailing in my body? Is it possible to escape the throb of compassion? Would I want to?
Is it worth it, this broken dance of our communion? The fumbles, the cover-ups, the eventual apologies, the practicing forgiveness over and over?
Does it matter? This throwing our tiny efforts at the mountain of injustice and expecting it to crumble?
Does it work? This thing we call prayer?
Am I the only one who asks questions? Would we all feel less alone if we told the truth?
When we say, “I felt your prayers,” does it mean, “I felt your care, and so did God”? Have I remembered to be grateful for beauty?
Have I said thank you to the ones who taught me love by showing me? To the stranger in our midst, have I remembered your name and welcomed you home?
Is it just me, or does life take us by surprise again and again? Have you ever woken up to a new mercy? When you open your eyes, do you see the gifts?
Does practicing gratitude ever feel like a game of “Where’s Waldo,” hunting for the good in the midst of chaos? Have you noticed there’s a Waldo on every page, even when you’re convinced there isn’t?
Does God hide on purpose? Or do we keep looking in the wrong direction?
Have you ever prayed without realizing you were praying? Have you ever found among God’s people the promise of companionship?
If we weren’t so attached to cynicism, would we experience more of life as miracle? If we knew how to laugh, would God show up to listen and clap his hands in delight?
If we weren’t so afraid all the time, what marvelous things might happen?