It feels like the Restaurant at the End of the Universe around here.  

Looking out the glass window I can see the girls drowned by a flash flood while they were at a summer camp,

hundreds of thousands who will die because we stopped supporting USAID,

those wrongfully imprisoned by our government in other countries

and ridiculously evil prisons cropping up overnight here in our own country,

but at this point I can still comfortably observe while

being served a creme brûlée.

Plus there’s taking care of my mom

mourning my father

trying to keep my husband happy

and my kids from fighting with each other.

It’s a good thing I’m on summer vacation

and I don’t also have to worry about teaching.

What to do?

There is protesting and lobbying and

intercession

but I’m just plain tired.

All of a sudden

into the restaurant stalks

Nick Fury.

He comes to my table and says,

”You’d better take your dessert to go.

Until such a time as the world ends,

we will act as though it intends to spin on.”

Carry on.

On March 15, three planes touched down in El Salvador from the U.S., carrying Venezuelans the Trump Administration had designated as gang members and deported without due process.  

Jesus spoke to those who had come–high priests, Temple police, religion leaders:  “What is this, jumping me with swords and clubs as if I were a dangerous criminal?”

I was there to document their arrival.

Peter followed, but at a safe distance.  

The intake began with slaps.  One young man sobbed when a guard pushed him to the floor.

The men in charge of Jesus began poking fun at him, slapping him around.  

He said, “I’m not a gang member.  I’m gay.  I’m a barber.”

They put a blindfold on him and taunted, “Who hit you that time?”

The man asked for his mother, then buried his face in his chained hands and cried as he was slapped again.  

The soldiers joined in taunting and jeering.  

After being shaved, the detainees were stripped naked.

When they got to the place called Skull Hill, they crucified him.

More of them began to whimper.  They entered their cells, 80 men per cell.

Printed over him was a sign:  THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS.

For these Venezuelans, it was not just a prison they arrived at.  It was exile to another world, a place so cold and far from home, they might as well have been sent into space, nameless and forgotten.

The whole earth became dark, the darkness lasting three hours–a total blackout.  The temple curtain split right down the middle.  Jesus called loudly, “Father I place my life in your hands!”  

Then he breathed his last.  

Holsinger, Phillip, “The Venezuelans deported to El Salvador.”  Time Magazine, April 14, 2025.

Peterson, Eugene, “The Message:  Luke 23.”  Navpress 2004.

I give you three possible endings:

1. The Harry Potter ending, where Dumbledore shows Trump the pathetic wounded baby that is his soul and says, “Try for some remorse.”

2. The Great Divorce ending, where Trump keeps building himself golf course mansions farther and farther away from everyone else muttering, “It was Ivanka’s fault . .   It was Elon’s fault . . .  It was Melania’s fault . . .”.

3. The Great Banquet ending, where Trump actually visits heaven but leaves when he sees those he deported being given the best seats at the table.  

Letter to intercessors:

December 28, 2015

Friends, thank you so much for praying for our Christmas Eve Party!  It was wonderful, better than I could ask or imagine.  Almost everyone who said they would come showed up, and it was glorious to introduce church friends to neighbors to family to school friends.  We ate, we sang Christmas carols, I told the Christmas story, people lit tea lights to symbolize the light that the darkness cannot overcome, and then everyone made Christmas cards for Refugee families.  It worked as a worship service and a Christmas party!

This was the story as I told it on Christmas Eve, and it provided a great entry point to making cards to welcome refugee families to Portland:

During Advent of 2015

I was thinking about where the story of Jesus’s birth

could be located

and I came across a picture of refugees from Syria

being welcomed in Germany.

There were German soldiers

helping people off of trains

as they arrived

and all of a sudden it occurred to me:

”This is how a nation can be redeemed.”

And if Germany can do it

then so can we.

Germany was also lost in a sea of 

demagoguery

told their enemies were

a variety of people, all different

ship them away 

lock them up

put them to death.

The soldiers were forcing people onto trains

then.

Then Angela Merkel said:

 “Wir schaffen das”

We can do it.

We can manage.

We can handle this.

Germany, in 2016

gave 1 million Syrians

refuge 

asylum

help

a home.

Does it change history?

Does it right a wrong?

Does it wipe out red from a ledger?

Who am I to say,

but I see soldiers welcoming 

instead of expelling.

I see that a country can seek redemption 

can open their borders

spend their money

use political power.

So I hold out hope for us.