THE WONDERFUL SEASON of Easter surrenders each year to what might feel like a dull doctrinal thud: the triple threat of Pentecost, Trinity, and Corpus Christi.

GOD IS the ultimate math problem. One plus one plus one equals . . . one. If we try to solve the problem with arithmetic, we're bound to fail. The logic of God isn't mathematical but theological.

IT MAY SEEM a faint expression if we compare the Feast of Pentecost to an old country song made popular by Olivia Newton-John. But what gives country music its immense and enthusiastic audience is its capacity to speak plain truths in plain ways.

HOW MANY TIMES have you seen the sign in a vacant shop window or posted on an empty lot? "Coming soon!" it bravely announces.

After the departure of a loved one, what's left is often an assortment of odd things that become surprisingly meaningful. Whether the person in question has gone to war, moved away, or joined "those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith," their parting gifts are precious.

IF YOU HAD your life to live over, what would you do differently? This question is only a parlor game, of course: None of us gets a do-over from birth on out.

So let's talk frankly about the vocation crisis. We all know why we're having this problem, though public rhetoric imparts the blame to this group or that one.

Christ is the head of his body, the church. No matter who was responsible for writing Colossians 1:18, we Christians can agree on this statement. But who should mind the store until Jesus comes again in glory is a different subject entirely.

The gospel isn't words to put in a sacred book, saved for holy times and places. Scripture is a toolbox, or the glove compartment, or a backpack in which we keep the things we truly need on hand, every day.

Artists often make the best theologians. Since ancient times they've also been some of the most effective ones.