I used the Waze app on a recent road trip and was a good “Wazer,” reporting and confirming road hazards along the way. “Vehicle on shoulder ahead,” the digital assistant would announce, sounding to me like she was annoyed. Sometimes there was a vehicle and sometimes it was there no longer, and I would dutifully give a status update by selecting the appropriate button. It was on that road trip that I realized that I needed to have my eyes checked. Sometimes I reported that the vehicle was no longer there when in fact it was. I needed a “whoops, my bad” button.

With the recent death of Pope Francis, the Roman Catholic Church has scheduled a conclave to begin on May 7. As a former Roman Catholic, now a born-again Christian, and a protestant pastor, I am interested in the conclave’s election process, so I decided to watch the 2016 Oscar-winning movie “Conclave.”

One of the required courses in the seminary from which I got my degree was apologetics. For those not familiar with the term, apologetics is not a course in which you learn how to say you are sorry in meaningful ways. The term comes from the Greek word apologia which means “to make a defense” and is found in the Apostle Peter’s first letter to the churches in Asia Minor. He exhorts Christians to turn away from evil and be zealous for what is good, and “in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy.” Knowing that such a life will be noticed in a world that does not honor Christ the Lord as holy nor is typically zealous for what is good, he continues, “always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.” The field of apologetics is engaged in teaching Christians how to defend the Christian faith.

I used to make my living as a professional guitarist, and there is a universally shared experience among guitarists who have played in bands. At some point in your performance, someone is going to shout out, “Freebird! Freebird!” For those who don’t know, Freebird is a song by the southern-rock band Lynyrd Skynyrd, and it features several iconic guitar solos. I have heard that request often and most of my 6-string colleagues have as well. For the many times we’ve been asked to play the song, you’d think that we would take the time to learn it. I never have, and neither have any of my guitar playing friends. Perhaps, deep down, we fear that, were we to play it, we would be disrupting a long-established order of things.

“It’s your favorite day today!” my wife said cheerily to me first thing this morning. “It is!” I responded with equal cheer, “the best day of the week!” What day might that be, some of you are perhaps wondering. Well, it’s trash day!

This Resurrection Sunday – my preferred term for Easter Sunday – I will baptize a man in our congregation. This will be the third year in a row that I have had that privilege. He and I will wade out into Santa Rosa Sound until we come to water deep enough to dunk him. Pray for the tide to be high and the weather warm! When you consider the theology behind baptism, baptizing on the day that we celebrate Christ’s resurrection from the grave is a beautiful thing.

I learned yesterday that a good friend has died. June had not been well for the last several years, nonetheless, her death came as a surprise and has evoked bittersweet emotions.

I was hired for my first ministry position by a pastor with 40 years of experience. “You don’t serve people,” he sagely said to me, “you serve God, and people are served in the process.” He advised against living in a parsonage and instead purchasing a home to build equity. “You will never get rich in ministry,” he counseled, “but God will provide for your needs.” Now, nearing his years of experience, I can attest to the wisdom of his counsel. Nonetheless, there was a financial situation in that ministry that had me scratching my head in amusement.

If you have ever watched the myriad TV shows about antiques, you know that haylofts in unused barns can yield some surprising treasures. Someone in the past places a valuable, unused item in a place that is secure from the elements and out of the way, then forgets it is there. My father-in-law in Indiana had just such a barn.

About 35 years ago, my wife and I purchased a house next to an older, Lebanese couple. One afternoon, after lunch, I was about to head back to the church, when I saw my neighbor. I waved to him. He gently called to me, “Mike, please, come for coffee.” I hesitated, did a quick mental assessment of my busy afternoon schedule, sighed, then answered, “Sure. Thank you.”