Confessions of a chronic lyric-misser

I have a bit of a reputation.

Not for great pitch.

Not for knowing all the words.

But for… confidently singing the wrong lyrics.

For years—years—I thought Forever in Blue Jeans by Neil Diamond was called:

“Reverend Blue Jeans.”

I sang it that way. Loudly. Repeatedly. Usually in the car… windows up, thankfully.

And honestly… it kind of worked.

“Reverend Blue Jeans” sounds like someone you’d trust.

Not flashy. Not polished. Just… present.

A pastor who shows up in denim.

John 20:24-29

This morning, I woke up with a kind of hope I didn’t have before.

I had a hard time pinpointing just what it was because it was coming from a different place...a different source.

This hope didn't come from what was happening out there:

the news reports, the election results,

or whether or not our leaders will somehow get it together and make peace.

This hope was quieter. It came from something closer.

Pastor Brook's sermon from April 19

Next week, when you walk into the sanctuary…

you’re going to see shoes.

One hundred sixty-eight pairs.

But here’s the thing—

they won’t just be placed there.

They will be brought.

Luke 24:13–35 (The Road to Emmaus)

Easter people—-

There’s something about coming through Good Friday into Easter that never quite gets old.

I’ve walked that road more times than I can count now.

The shadows. The silence. The questions that hang in the air like fog.

And then…

the light.

The name spoken.

The surprise of life where we thought there was only loss.

This year felt different.

Join Pastor Brook as he navigates the ups and downs of the Easter story. Also, Sasquatch.

The parade is only the start...

Opening Day always does something to me.

There’s a crack of the bat, the smell of the grass, the feeling that maybe—just maybe—this is the year everything comes together.

And when it does? When the ball clears the fence?

That’s my kind of joy.

Touchdown joy.

Home run joy.

The kind that shows up when the result goes your way.

I’ve lived a lot of my life there.

And then there’s Julio Rodriguez.