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some stuff i've written about Good Friday

Jesus Dies on the Cross

It’s Good Friday and I’m standing barefoot in my driveway with a sledge hammer and a fistful of nails. Scattered around me on the ground are broken pieces of an old church pew, a shattered portrait of Jesus, the small leather Bible I read every single day many lifetimes ago (when I was a good Christian).

God is Dead

God is dead, and we killed Him. With politics and religion, with rage and fear, with wood and nails and fists we tore apart the body of the God and left Him to hang alone covered in blood and spit and shame.

the God who Bleeds

The God Who Bleeds

I’m haunted by the mystery that Jesus was God in human form. Not an ambassador from God, not one part of the Whole, but the entire fullness of the Godhead clothed in flesh. The Creator walking among the Created. We…