And Jesus said to them, "Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of his [accomplishments]." And he told them a parable, saying, "The [mind] of a rich [wo]man produced plentifully, and [s]he thought to [her]self, 'What shall I do, for I have nowhere to store my [thoughts]?' And [s]he said, 'I will do this: I will tear down my [blog] and build [a more accomplished one], and there I will store all my [thoughts] and my [writings]. And I will say to my soul, Soul, you have ample [publications and a great reputation]; relax, eat, drink, be merry.' But God said to [her], 'Fool! This night your soul is required of you, and the things you have prepared, whose will they be?' So is the one who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God."

Friday, December 2, 2011


Four weeks ago, a drug dealer shot and killed the son of a woman who attends my church. He was seventeen. The woman had been absent from our congregation for months, but I am told she arrived at church the Sunday following his death with a group of young women, all mothers themselves, who had been relatives and friends of her son.

I am twenty-three, childless and ill-equipped to console the woman who carries a framed photo of her dead child on the bus and through the streets, who allows herself to be rocked by sobs in the midst of a prayer, whose grief is bold, disarming and public.

She -- who unabashedly despairs, who carries her loss where she goes, who grieves the injustice of sin and death -- manifests a strength-without-reservations that I fear, if I examined myself truthfully, I would lack. This too is a thing worth lamenting.

What can I say for you? With what can I compare you, O Daughter of Jerusalem? To what can I liken you, that I may comfort you, O Virgin Daughter of Zion? Your wound is as deep as the sea. Who can heal you?