Five years ago I moved to the South. And though I’ve lived here for half a decade already, my understanding of the region and its culture haven’t deepened much. So, this summer, I have decided to immerse myself in southern culture–meet the people, eat the food, dance to the music, learn the plant names, partake in the pastimes, read the literature, etc.–as much as I am able. My hope is to compile a list of possible experiences I might have that would give me a comprehensive experience of the South without playing to stereotype or caricature. In my mind, this summer must include a range of experience from the rural life of farmers to the lifestyle of the so-called old money aristocracy. I plan to record my experiences and thoughts, together with photos, and produce a meaningful essay or memoir of some kind.

So, my southern friends, what should make the list?

For those of you who expressed interest in my interview with the Innocence Mission, you can now read it in the latest issue of Relevant Magazine. The initial assignment was for their sister publication, Radiant, but was reallocated for whatever reason. They also had to expand my story to make it work for Relevant, and added a few quotes from another writer’s interview. I’m sure he’s a fine chap, though I haven’t met him. Enjoy, should you get the chance to read.

A reflection on Holy Saturday published at InTouch.org.

The Lord is in His holy temple.
Let all the earth be silent before Him. –Habakkuk 2:20

With a sigh and an earthquake, Jesus took His last breath. Slowly the Friday crowd that had gathered to witness His execution dispersed, taking with them insults, casual and unconcerned conversation and weeping. Silence enveloped the hill as soldiers removed Jesus’ pierced body from the cross. The Sabbath was upon Jerusalem and preparations needed to be made.

At sundown the plot of Caiaphas the priest and his followers to kill Jesus was finished. They closed their economy of murder and betrayal with a final purchase, a field for peasant graves, using the blood money that paid for Judas’s kiss. He had returned it to them in shame. Joseph the Pharisee prepared Jesus’ body for burial and laid Him to rest, asleep in a tomb, and Judas the Betrayer rested from his conscience, hanging from a noose tied to a tree limb. The next day all would be still throughout the city in observance of God’s command to cease labor.

Just as Jesus once rested in the stern of a boat through a raging storm, so He now rested as storms raged within His disciples. Fear kept them from attending meetings at the temple. The rest of the city would be there and so would the Pharisees, their watchful eyes still burning with murder. Instead the disciples hid in their disgrace. Having abandoned their friend and Lord, they had left Him to die alone.

Only a day after Jesus’ death, intense fear, doubt and unquenchable grief circled through the disciples’ minds. Memories of their lives with Jesus played there too: how it felt to stand upon a rolling sea; to feed thousands with a few loaves of bread; to see Lazarus’ burial clothes in a heap in the dirt as he walked, ate and laughed with them. No doubt their hearts grew sick as they contemplated these things in the mournful repose of a tainted Sabbath.

Trusting Jesus lost viability with each passing question and doubt. These men who had left everything to follow Jesus were now left without purpose or a road to follow. Their association with Jesus, and the education they received from Him, others would now consider worthless and incriminating. Without the power of the living Christ, a life of ministry was no longer a possibility, let alone the kingdom they expected to rule with Jesus. Perhaps their minds turned homeward to their pasts. How would they face family, former careers and the ridicule of their communities? They couldn’t hide forever. Something would have to be done.

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