There are moments in the Christian life that do not fall neatly into the calendar. They are not Christmas or Easter, not even Lent or Pentecost. They are quieter, more ordinary occasions: when grief lingers longer than we expected, when joy seems to fade, when injustice leaves us weary, when gratitude wells up unbidden.
The church has words for high holy days. But what about the days in between? What about the fragile, unplanned occasions that shape us just as much as Christmas morning or Easter dawn?
This new series will be my attempt to write for those moments. Each entry will be a brief homily and a prayer—not long enough to be a sermon, not short enough to be a tweet. Something you can carry with you, read aloud, or pray in silence.
My hope is simple:
To offer words when words are hard to find.
To name the realities of our lives—joy, grief, restlessness, hope—with honesty before God.
To encourage Christians who are thoughtful, well-read, and longing for faith that can carry them through both the feast days and the ordinary Tuesdays.
I do not write these as prescriptions but as gifts, small attempts at putting language to what many of us feel. You may use them in prayer, in conversation, or simply as a reminder that you are not alone in whatever occasion you are facing.
The first entry in this series will be a homily and prayer for those who no longer enjoy things as much as they used to. It will drop tomorrow. Perhaps you know that feeling. Perhaps someone you love is living it right now. I invite you to join me as we discover that even in faded seasons, God’s joy is not lost but quietly at work.