More from Dave Coverly can be found here.

As a guy who takes walks on a university campus, I see this pose a lot.

Easter is a season. Keep the risen Christ before you.

When someone steps in on a Sunday to preach a sermon, this is described as “filling the pulpit.”

It has also been observed that a high percentage of ministers are overweight.

Feel free to look up the studies.

Considering some are more literal in their mode of interpretation than others, this may be an instance of a metaphor being missed. In their effort to match their frame to the sizableness of their pulpit, the minister may become prone to excess at the congregational potluck, not because they wish to be a glutton, but rather a grand pulpiteer.

With regard to preaching, pastors want to rise to the occasion. If filling a pulpit, these pastors expand for the exhortation. People pleasers that they are, if they need to fill their bellies to more fully fill a pulpit, whether they eat or drink or whatever they do, they’ll do so to the glory of God.

Instead of inviting someone to fill the pulpit, perhaps we should be more direct, ask our preacher to “preach the Word,” in season or out of season, in whatever shape, and at whatever size, they may so be.

These babies will never go out of style, just like Chuck.

One evening many years ago, a retreat guest who was staying in Black Bluff (that 7 room-building that hangs over the Frio River) wanted to chill a bottle of wine. He secured the bottle to the end of a string and carefully lowered it down the side of the building into the water below. Pleased with himself, he made his way to the Great Hall for the evening session.

The session came and went. Our guest, with a spring in his step, returned to his room and quietly hoisted the bottle up from the dark water. To his bewilderment, the bottle was empty, except for a handwritten note that read:

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.

From a Laity Lodge newsletter, “Lighten Up“

I say to people, quite often really, “It is good to see you.”

And a few of my friends return their customary greeting, “It’s good to be seen.”

Most of those friends are older. They might add, “I’d rather be seen than be viewed.” In their stage of life, they go to their share of visitations and funerals. They’re happy to count one more day as a gift.

But there is another way this riposte could be interpreted. Not everyone feels seen. Some people feel isolated, alone.

A greeting, offered in kindness, could then be a salve, a healing balm, a reminder to another human being that they are valued, loved, welcomed, and included.

It’s good to see people.

And it’s good to be seen.