R. Grove

The disciples don't know what to do after Easter. They know that Jesus rose from the dead. They know that he is on the loose. He came and ate a meal with them. He let Thomas stick his dirty fingers into his side. But now life is back to normal. It’s back to the grind. So the beginning of our story starts with them doing the only thing they know: they go fishing. They spend all night fishing, and they do not catch a single fish. They are tired, frustrated, and ready to go home. But a stranger on ...

A few months ago, a friend of mine, who is a youth pastor, told me, "I'm glad you feel called to that work, I could never do it." By 'that work', he was referring to ministry among an elderly population. At first, his words poked with a patronizing jab, but then I began to question. What does it mean to feel 'called' to a particular demographic of Christ's Church? Are we called to serve particular groups of people, based upon markers like age, race, orientation, or political affiliation? Does th...

My earliest church memories are of Easter Sundays.We didn’t go to church. Ever. Well hardly ever. We went once a year. The guilt would finally get to my mom and she would drag me to an Easter service. A different church every year. And I cared about a single thing. Every service was followed by an egg hunt. But, as we all know, churches are cruel; they made you earn that egg hunt. You had to sit still for an eternity. Through bright lights, loud music, and confusing celebration. But above all, y...

I love hearing about high school jobs. It's a strange time in life where you will do just about anything for almost nothing. I had several fairly entertaining, tortuous summer jobs. But I have a friend who tops them all. He was an assistant gravedigger for a summer. His job was to wait around during funerals, and then when all of the mourners had departed, he would use the winches to lower the casket down into the hole. Then he would help the backhoe driver cover over the grave. At the beginning...