A Commonplace · MMXXVI
And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us.
John i. 14
Slow essays,
patient theology.
Long-form pieces written by hand first, then again, then once more — until the sentences begin to mean what I want them to mean.
All essays →Discerning the Body
On what actually happens at the Lord's Supper, why Paul writes about it with something close to fear, and why the Reformers never thought it was just a symbol.
Be Still, and Know
On the psalm that commands stillness in the middle of real chaos, and whether the noise we have engineered for ourselves is a new kind of obstacle to hearing God.
Do You Want to Go Away as Well?
On the sermon in John 6 that emptied a room on purpose, and why Jesus let the crowd leave instead of explaining the saying that offended them.
You Are Always With Me
On the parable of the prodigal son, the brother left standing outside the party, and the ending Scripture refuses to give us.
A private, made public.
- 13 OCT Leave Him Alone I took my son to the skate park, three boys started in on him, and I yelled at them louder than I've yelled at anyone in a long time. I still can't decide whether I did right.
- 09 OCT What About This Man? I've been comparing myself to people lately. Not competing, just looking. But I've been less happy, and I can't tell whether the looking is the cause or my way of trying to climb back out.
- 27 SEP Not This Sunday It was a communion Sunday at my own church, and for the first time I didn't take it, because I've been far from God for a while now and it felt wrong to pretend otherwise.
- 09 AUG Greater Strictness A plain question after Bible study, and a verse that's had me wondering, some nights, whether teaching was ever mine to take up.
- 27 JUL The Kid Who Came Back A kid I hadn't seen in a year came back to church readier to listen, and it got me wondering whether noise is the real thing standing between us and God.
Slow notes,
held lightly.
Not Good
Every other verdict in the garden is good, then very good. This single word breaks the pattern before sin ever does. Solitude, not sin, is the first thing God calls insufficient.
Though the Fig Tree
The harvest hasn't come in yet. Habakkuk decides what he will do with his joy before the evidence arrives, not after.
To Whom Shall We Go
Peter does not claim to understand the hard teaching that just emptied the room. He only says there is nowhere better to carry the confusion.
Where You Go, I Will Go
Naomi has nothing left to offer, not a husband, not a future, not even a homeland Ruth can claim. Ruth binds herself to her anyway. Loyalty that waits for the ledger to balance was never loyalty.
A small inventory of mercies.
What's open on my desk.
A shelf is a kind of self-portrait. These are the books I am living with this season — some patient, some brand-new, some I keep returning to.
Now/ Trinitytide MMXXVI
Bonhoeffer's Life Together, a chapter a week with a pencil. Underlining more than I should.
An essay on Sabbath and the guilt of resting. Three drafts in; the second was better.
The Psalms appointed for the day, morning and evening. Aloud, which still feels strange.
Bach's St Matthew Passion on the long drive. Erbarme dich, mostly, and then silence.
Koine Greek through the Gospel of Mark, one verse at a time. Still badly. Less badly.
Hot takes. The internet at 11pm. Believing my own clever sentences.
Hello — I'm Gee.
I write at the seam of theology and the everyday. This commonplace book holds the things I'm reading, the verses I'm praying, and the quieter convictions that take a long time to put on the page.
I believe the gospel is true, that beauty is one of its arguments, and that a good sentence can be a small act of worship.