We end our deep dive into the first of two creation stories in Genesis.

We continue our last episode's work on Genesis 1. What in this episode surprised you or made you wonder?

We're back with season 2 of our podcast with topics of our own creation! This season's theme is "Not Your Grandparent's Bible" where we engage with texts on a deeper level, using critical thinking, text criticism, pop culture, and current events. This episode, we dive into Genesis 1.

Siblings in Christ, this is Not Your Grandparent's Bible.

According to Mark, on the first day of the week, the women rise with the sun and buy spices to anoint Jesus’ body. They are shocked to find the tomb empty, and leave in fear and terror. Mark’s resurrection story is less triumphant than the other Gospel testimonies (as scholars believe the remainder of Mark’s gospel was a later addition). In Mark’s version, we are reminded that Easter comes to us, again and again, even if we don’t know what to make of God’s resurrection ways. Again and again, the sun rises. And some days, that is enough. Our devotion this week features “Light,” a poem by Rev. Sarah Are, a commentary by T. Denise Anderson, and an artist’s statement on her piece “The Promise” by Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity, all focused on Mark 16:1-8.

Again and again, we find ourselves at the foot of the cross, at the pit of despair, in the face of death, in the grip of state-sanctioned violence. “Here” is an emotional place. “Here” is grief. “Here” is the reality of sin and brokenness. On Good Friday, we are called to sit in the silence of death, knowing that God is here. This week centers around John 19: 1-30 with a poem by Rev. Sarah Are, a commentary by Rev. T. Denise Anderson, and a reflection on her piece “Status Quo” from Hannah Garrity.

Footwashing is a practice of radical vulnerability, of being seen and known. Jesus loved the disciples “to the end.” In this act, we remember that God holds all of our pain, vulnerability, doubts, and sufferings. As we venture toward the cross, we can lean into God’s everlasting arms, knowing we are held. This week features a “Until That Day,” a poem by Rev. Sarah Are, a reflection on her piece entitled “You, Too, Must” by Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity, and a reflection from Rev. T. Denise Anderson, all centered on John 13:1-17, 31b-35.

From A Sanctified Art: On Palm Sunday, we remember that Jesus' entry into Jerusalem was not a risk-free, palm party. It was a protest parade--a protest against those in power, a parade to prepare the way for a different kind of king. And this was all happening with plots to kill Lazarus (and Jesus) building in the background. We're reminded that the crowds were brave to show up that day, and that Jesus drew on courage to face his journey to the cross. The root of courage is cour, meaning 'heart.' Courage is deep within us; we often find it when we most neet it, when everything else has been stripped away.

Formed and reformed. Change is a hard thing, and it always means the death of something else. We desire for God to write on our hearts so that God's law can re-shape and re-form us from the inside out. Reformation is a journey of letting the old fall away for something new to emerge, of returning to God's words over and over, of being drawn into the heart of God. This is the process of justification and sanctification; transformation must be internal and external.

After inviting Nicodemus to be born anew, Jesus tells him in John 3 that God so loved the world that God sent God's son to restore it. Therefore, when we read John 3:16, we remember that Jesus is speaking in metaphor and poetry. Ultimately, love is where God begins and ends. This love, like grace, is a gift we do nothing to deserve. Again and Again, love is our refrain. Before we act, think, or believe, can love be first for us, too?

We read John 3:14-21 and discuss T. Denise Anderson's commentary, gaze in wonder on Lisle Gwynn Garrity's piece 'Light Wave,' and pray Sarah Are's poem 'Hold.'

According to John, Jesus begins his ministry by showing more than telling. In the temple, Jesus disrupts and overturns the systems of corruption and profiteering taking place, but ultimately points us to the promise of restoration. Paul reminds the Corinthians (and us) that God's wisdom is more expansive than we can imagine. We are shown the way, even if God's "was" feels foolish, counter-cultural, disruptive, or uncomfortable.

Join us as we contemplate the commentary by Rev. T. Denise Anderson, art by Rev. Lisle Gywnn Garrity, and pray the poem by Rev. Sarah Are from A Sanctified Art's Lenten Devotional Again & Again: A Lenten Refrain