Hello again, Dive Collective! It has been so long since we’ve seen you, studied with you, sent you any news. So much has happened since we decided to take a break, and we will be telling you a lot about that in an upcoming podcast episode!

We’re coming up on Easter. It was just one Easter ago when Covid struck fear into hearts around the world. All of the sudden toilet paper was gone and we suspected everyone of selfishness and hoarding. We questioned the morality of others based on the number of mask layers they wore—none being the most heinous offense. At the heart of it, we seemed to truly believe that our actions and behaviors could extend or shorten the number of our neighbors’ days. As if we have control over our God-given breaths which are known by Him alone.

For weeks, I’ve been praying for more of Jesus’ love—to experience it, to be filled with it, to overflow with it toward others. For weeks, we’ve been studying Jesus in the Gospel of Mark and I’m amazed that the crucifixion was only part of Jesus’ suffering. The flesh of Jesus endured constant jostling by the smelliest, dirtiest, nastiest people in the land (so much so that he didn’t know he was touched by a woman who had been vaginally bleeding for 12 years); suddenly, I realize how much I hate to be touched! I don’t even like to be bumped around by people I married and gave birth to and who have showered every day! And I’m claustrophobic!

Paul’s entire mission in writing the letter to the Galatians was to plead with them to understand that for those of us who believe the gospel of Jesus Christ, we are as Christian as we will ever get. Redeemed. Paid for by the blood of the Son of the Living God. Period. We can’t do anything to be more righteous. There are no customs we can follow, no actions we can take to make us more qualified to come before God. Jesus Christ alone qualifies us for everything.

When I was twenty-four years old and knee-deep in my doctoral degree in nineteenth-century literature, I thought that the desire of my heart was accomplishing my Ten Year Plan. Academics had been my comfort zone and, up until that point, I had successfully hit all the professional wickets with scholarships and fellowships paving the way. However, in the middle of completing my doctoral coursework, I felt utterly unmoored, unsatisfied and disillusioned by the cut-throat academic environment and struggling with the darkest depression of my life. I kept wondering why God wasn’t strengthening me to withstand this environment. I was supposed to be the light-bearer in this relatively godless world of academia—why was I failing?

It’s clear now that my thoughts were providentially interrupted. I pushed back against the wall of the plane and watched this woman strategize what to do next. In the meantime, I was performing my own mental calculations—a cost/benefit analysis. Hoping that the staff of the plane had some miracle solution for vomit everywhere, I told myself over and over that I was not going to participate in clean-up but the deep down parts of me revolted. I knew what was coming; I had just spent the last few hours considering Christ… who He is and what He’s done; how to live faithful in times when all is out of my control. And the Holy Spirit whispered, “This is how you’ll keep your eyes unwaveringly fixed on Me. Serve.”

I tried to think of easy conversation to break the tension. She and I both were on the verge of retching. Will her name be on the list? Will she belong? Hannah had worked all summer on her volleyball skills. Two months ago, we had only slept in our brand-new, still-empty home two days before Hannah bravely accepted an emailed invitation to play volleyball with a slew of girls she didn’t know. My eyes grew wide when she agreed to go.