I recently met a woman who had grown up her whole life, well into her early 40’s, not knowing who her father was. Her mother didn’t even know. So when the technology came along for DNA testing and lineage tracing, she was an early adopter. For over a decade she waited for a hit.

Then, one day, an email landed in her inbox saying that a DNA match had been found: a cousin. The two ladies connected online and eventually met in person. As they talked, and as more family extended family members did DNA tests, the picture became more clear. All genetic signs pointed to two brothers: one of them was her uncle, and one of them was her father.

Then came an opportunity to meet one of them. Unsurprisingly, there was clearly a family resemblance. I saw it with my own eyes. Same mouth. Same eyes. Same skin tone. Sort of the same nose. Direct paternity had not been confirmed. But dang. In my opinion the science would only confirm what was obvious to everyone.

Are what amount to living a full life. Show me someone who is aimless, and I’ll show you someone not living their best life. Show me someone who thinks they know the goal, but is lost or else accidentally heading in the wrong direction, and I’ll show you someone frustrated with their life.

Well, at least in our goal-oriented, success-driven society, that feels rather true. And maybe that’s all well and good, as far as it goes. Two thumbs up for goals and plans. It’s just that no goal or plan ever survived in the wild, open air of reality.

The life of faith that Jesus invites us into accounts for this wildness. 

Wide. Expansive. Open. Warm. Welcoming. Limitless in guest capacity.

That can be difficult to grasp, given our human limitations. Even the most hospitable people I know have their limits.

To be honest, hospitality is not my strong suit. If hospitality is a virtue that can be practiced and learned, I much rather opt out and lean into some easier spiritual discipline like—I don’t know—fasting or poverty. I’ll give up food and material goods so long as I can still be alone and undisturbed! My heart only has so much space for extra people being in the middle of my daily life.

Sometimes folks are a little overzealous. I know I have been at times. Being zealous about something is a good thing most of the time. But if someone puts over in front of zealous, don’t take it as a compliment. Take it as a friendly warning.

Slow down. Ease up. Back off. Hit the brakes. Relax.

The so-called Golden Rule is a good one: “Do to others what you would have them do to you.”

Even many who have no faith buy into this one. Whether or not it came from the mouth of Jesus is irrelevant. It makes good sense and resonates with anyone intent on simply being a good human.

This measure of treatment is self-referential. Which is not a bad place to begin. Would you like others to be kind to you? Be kind to others. Would you be grateful if someone was generous to you? Be generous to someone else. Would you love to receive compliments and encouragement? Give away compliments and encouragement. Treating others the way you want to be treated is solid advice.

No matter how hard you look. It’s a crushingly lonely and disorienting feeling. One minute he is there, and then—poof!—the next minute he is gone.

This happened literally to the disciples. One night dinner; the next night death. He warned them of this, of course. His imminent absence. He also gave them a heads up that it would only be temporary, that he would not leave them alone forever. But that either didn’t quite sink in, or else just wasn’t enough to dull the shock of losing him so quickly and with so much violence.

What an odd thing to say as your betrayer walks out of the building to go do his betraying: “Here comes the glory!”

This is more than a positive spin on a bad situation. Lest his point be missed, Jesus repeats “glory” words five times in two brief sentences. Here’s the math: Now I am glorified, and my Father is glorified with me. When Father is glorified, he shares that glory with me. And all this shared glory is happening now. Immediately. It’s automatic.

People will come to their own conclusions. Heck, sometimes even with a decent amount of clarity, people will still often think whatever they fancy.

Sometimes people will assume the best, even when the worst is the truth. When I really reflect, I think most people fall into this category most of the time. As humans, something in us really does want to believe the best of other people. There’s got to be something divine in that.

One of the most painful realities of leadership, (yes, even Christian leadership), is that betrayal will happen. At some time. On some scale. At the hands of someone we trusted. At the hands of someone with whom we shared life and love and ministry.

John 6 records Jesus’ lengthy and rich “I am the Bread of Life” discourse. After which many of his followers, on the basis of being offended by what sounded like cannibalism, left him in the dust.

Bread and betrayal.

You can certainly just ask it. Sometimes some of us could benefit from a little more boldness.

Or, sometimes it could also be a good idea to ask someone else to ask. Someone else with a little more

Take Peter, sitting around the table at the last Passover they would spend with Jesus. I don’t know whether to be annoyed at his timidity, or impressed with his cleverness. Why couldn’t he just ask Jesus himself for the identity of the betrayer? On the other hand, since betrayal is such a touchy subject that’s already got Jesus a little distraught, why not punt it to his closest disciple?