Ditches - June 30

Today’s Readings - Psalm [120], 121, 122, 123; Num. 22:21-38; Rom. 7:1-12; Matt. 21:23-32

Not too long ago I was having a hard time deciding about something that was very important to me. Someone who had heard my deliberations said, “Let your yes be yes and your no be no.“ I didn’t quite know how to take that. I’ve never considered myself as someone who sits on the fence. I typically know what the right decision is, but I realized in that moment I was hesitant to act on it because of the possible ramifications. I was going to make some people mad, and I knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant.

A few years ago, the national Episcopal Church made some decisions that some have labeled as divisive. That’s not new. The history of the church is full of decisions that needed to be made that weren’t popular. From as far back 325 AD at the Council of Nicaea and earlier the church has been deliberating about the will of God and how to interpret the scriptures as they apply to humanity. I believe that those who have been involved, prayerfully made a good faith effort to the best of their ability to make the right decisions. However, there are few decisions that come without cost, at least not the difficult ones. The cost may be minimal, or it can be devastating.

When I was growing up my mother had a saying that has always stuck with me, “Not all ditches are worth dying in.” She’d follow that with, “But when your justice gets stepped on you may find yourself getting muddy.” She had cleaned a lot of mud off her shoes in her lifetime and even if I didn’t always agree with her, I respected her for that.

In today’s gospel Jesus asks the chief priests and the elders a straightforward question which did not have a simple answer. The difficulty lay in the fact that regardless of which answer they gave there would be problems to face. They couldn’t risk either, so they decided to sit on the fence. We’ve all found ourselves in similar situations. Someone asks our opinion about something that has occurred, or someone says or does something offensive, and we remain silent, choosing not to confront or appear disagreeable.

There’s an art to surviving these situations while still leaving with our ethics and our conscience in tack. Over time I’ve become more adept at expressing my truth so that I don’t leave the other feeling as though I’ve kicked sand in their eyes. But at times I still hesitate, dreading what will come afterwards. Jesus was the master of this party trick. He’ll have left the room before the other person realizes that they’ve just been dealt a crushing blow.  

The one thing I’m convinced of is that there is no right way to remain silent in the face of injustice. Each one of us is a vessel for God’s love. We are shaped by that love and with God’s guidance we can address these dilemmas with compassion, and grace. It may not be fun and there may be a price to pay – there often is – but at least when we walk away, we’ll know that we can live with ourselves and the decision we’ve made.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - Think back, can you remember an incident when you chose to remain silent even though feeling very strongly about it? You wanted to speak up but were afraid of the aftermath? How might you have handled the situation differently? What do you think the fallout might have been if you had spoken honestly.

Family Systems - June 25

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 105:1-22; PM Psalm 105:23-45; Num. 17:1-11; Rom. 5:1-11; Matt. 20:17-28

Today’s Gospel passage includes a detail that Matthew preserves which gives the story a very human feel. It is not James and John who approach Jesus asking for places of honor in his kingdom, like it is in Mark. It is their mother. She kneels before Jesus and asks that her sons be seated at his right hand and his left. The request does not go over well. Matthew tells us that when the other ten disciples heard about it, they became angry with the brothers.

I once heard a therapist describe a dysfunctional family as a redundant statement. Every family has its tensions, rivalries, misunderstandings, and old wounds. In this case a mother advocating for her children in a way that causes the children to be resented by their new community.  It is both loving and natural, and it exposes how the experiences of our family can cause pain and resentment in our larger communities.  The same is true of churches, workplaces, and communities. Wherever people gather, there will be moments when someone feels overlooked, someone wants recognition, and someone else resents it. The disciples are no exception!  (I think this is really good news by the way).

What strikes me is that Jesus does not spend much time sorting out who is most at fault. Instead, he redirects the entire conversation. The disciples are arguing about greatness, but Jesus wants them to understand that greatness in the kingdom of God looks very different than greatness in the world. "Whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant." While the world encourages us to seek the best seat at the table, Jesus invites us to consider how we might serve those around us. In the end, the measure of a faithful life is not the recognition we receive, but the love we give.

I haven’t sorted out yet what all this means for our families other than God’s got work for us to do and an acknowledgement that life is messy. Maybe it helps to know this so we can let go of their very human responses to life and family and trust in God’s favor to each of us.

Faithfully,

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where is God inviting you to let go of competition or resentment in your own life?

What if . . .? June 23

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 97, 99, [100]; Num. 16:20-35; Rom. 4:1-12; Matt. 19:23-30

There were times when my children were small that I wish I had recorded some of our conversations. They were masters at “what-iffing” a situation. No matter what the request, if they didn’t like my first answer the come back was always, “But, what if . . .?” For example, if I told them they couldn’t have ice cream before bedtime they’d reply, “What if we promise never to ask for ice cream before bed ever again,” or “What if we clean our rooms better than we ever have?” Sometimes their proposed scenarios were so creative I would give in just to reward their creativity. I knew better than to believe their rooms would get cleaned!

I had an ethics professor in seminary who taught us that “what-iffing” was never helpful, one leads to another, and then another. It seems to be the quickest way to get lost chasing something that in most circumstances can’t be anticipated or expected. In a sense it’s a feeble comeback to an answer we’d rather not have received. The disciples were well practiced at “what-iffing.” But then again so are we. So often, Jesus’ answer is not the answer someone might want to hear. “What do you mean, a rich man can’t get into heaven? What if I have money but I’m generous with it,” or “What if I worked hard for my money and I’m just very careful with it?”

In today’s gospel, when the disciples hear Jesus say that it will be impossible for a rich man to enter heaven, they respond by saying, ”’Then who can be saved?’ More often than not the answer to these questions lies in the reality that nothing is possible without God: “For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” The point is not that we need to die penniless. What we need to let go of and give to God are not so much those materiel items we care about as those things that in the end are the most valuable of all our possessions, the ones we hold closest to our heart: our love, our trust, our faith as well as our need for control along with our belief that we can do all things well by ourselves and for ourselves. Don’t get me wrong, God does intend for us to be generous with the gifts we’ve received but it’s not the possession of wealth that’s the issue, rather it’s our attitude surrounding our use of that wealth.

I know I stay on the verge of frustration most days because I haven’t accomplished what I set out to finish, or I finish a task only to wish that I had done something a bit better or said something more carefully or acted more thoughtfully. How many times do I begin by asking God to be present, asking God to help me listen and to guide me? I’m embarrassed to admit not often. Instead, I charge into a task, without pausing to say a silent prayer. That small pause can often be all I need. We live flying by our wits and a gasp, rushing through our day rarely remembering God is closer than our breath, willing and able to be present. What-iffing may be one solution but “what if” asking for God’s guidance is a better approach?

 Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge – What if we began each day with a silent prayer asking for God’s presence as we make our decisions, as we consider our interactions with co-workers or family? What difference do you think it would make?

Living Intentionally - June 18

Today’ Readings: AM Psalm [83] or 34; PM Psalm 85, 86; Num. 12:1-16; Rom. 2:12-24; Matt. 18:10-20

Today I crossed the halfway mark of my time in Sewanee. I've been reading a great deal of Augustine, Basil, Origen, and Chrysostom, along with a steady stream of journal articles exploring the Old Testament texts from the Revised Common Lectionary. If you've been reading these reflections for a while, you can probably see where this is headed. Whether in these daily reflections or in my preaching, you'll likely hear more voices from the early Church in the months ahead. In fact, Augustine even makes an appearance in my sermon this Sunday.

Toward the end of his life, Augustine gathered the clergy who lived with him in the monastery at Hippo (Sermon 355, for those who want to look it up). One of the expectations he placed on those joining the monastery was that they sell their possessions and either give the proceeds to the poor or entrust them to the church for the care of the poor. Augustine believed this was part of the vocation to the monastic life. His guiding principle came from St. Paul: "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ" (1 Corinthians 11:1).

As it happened, one of the clerics, a man named Januarius, died, and his will was discovered. When he entered the monastery, Januarius had told Augustine that he had given part of his estate to his children, something Augustine considered both wise and appropriate. But the will revealed that he had later taken that inheritance away from his children, who were now fighting over it, and instead left everything to the church.

Augustine was furious.

"I don't want these gifts," he said. "I don't like the taste of such bitter fruit."

For Augustine, the issue was never the money. It was integrity. He wanted people's lives to reflect the commitments they claimed to have made.

Near the end of the sermon he writes, "I don't want to have any hypocrites. It is bad—who would deny it?—to fall away from one's commitment; but it is worse to pretend to have such a commitment."

If we're honest, all of us are hypocrites at some level. The work of the spiritual life is to allow our actions to become more closely aligned with what we profess to believe. Selling everything and entering a monastery is not the calling most of us have received, but each of us is called to greater integrity, allowing our lives to reflect more faithfully the love of Christ.

As I read today's Gospel from Matthew, I think this is one place we can begin. How often do we complain about friends, loved ones, church members, coworkers, or bosses instead of speaking directly and lovingly to them? Jesus' instruction is given specifically to the Church, but it offers an ethic that is worthy of all our relationships.

Perhaps we are all hypocrites. But perhaps, by God's grace and with one another's encouragement, we can become a little less so each day, until the Kingdom comes and our lives more fully reflect the love, mercy, and truth of Christ.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where is there a gap between what I profess to believe and the way I am living today—and what small step might God be inviting me to take toward greater integrity?

They became Like Fools - June 16

Today’s Readings - Psalm 78:1-39; Num. 11:1-23; Rom. 1:16-25; Matt. 17:22-27

I once knew a goodhearted man who had been promoted to a position that seemed way over his head so far as his knowledge that the position required. Those who knew him however commented that he had surrounded himself with smart experienced people, people he knew he could trust and who would advise him well. They’d remark, “He’s smart enough to know that he doesn’t know everything.”

How many times have you come across someone who is so certain they’re right that they never entertain the idea that they might be wrong? Even when the facts are staring them in the face, they refuse to give up the ship, insisting that they’re not sinking even though the water is lapping at their ears.

One of the most effective teachers I had in seminary was wise enough to allow his students the opportunity to prove their case, knowing there was a possibility they might prove him wrong. Stumbling over their own arrogance some students would set out to humiliate our teacher all the while it was clear that it wasn’t the truth they cared to reveal as much as portraying themselves as right and our teacher wrong. They placed more value on their ego than the actual process of well-intentioned healthy debate. They exchanged the good-will intentions of our teacher for the possibility of claiming to be smarter than someone with lightyears more experience, knowledge and character.

In today’s reading from Romans, Paul describes such a person; someone who would trade the glory of God, even their relationship with God for something of no actual worth: “for though they knew God, they did not honour him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened. Claiming to be wise, they became fools.” It’s an easy trap to fall into, especially in leadership positions or even as parents. It may feel that respect from others relies on proving your point every time, dismissing other’s opinions, as if unimportant.

Our son is working in upper state New York this summer and from our conversations it seems one of the things he has valued most about his job so far is that his bosses treat him like an adult. His opinion is valued, his experience though limited is respected and he’s been given the opportunity to execute decisions with the knowledge he might be wrong.

Humility was something that Christ modeled in so many ways, and even though he probably was right 99.9% of the time he also was willing to admit when he was wrong.  Humility is defined as a total absence of self-focus and a whole-hearted submission to God. Rather than thinking less of yourself, it puts the emphasis on valuing others. When we practice humility we recognize our spiritual dependence on God, and replace pride of self with service, acknowledging our dependence on God. All this with the knowledge that we can take no credit for our skills but rather that they are gifts from God.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - What do you tend to take credit for without considering its source? Do you catch yourself in conversations getting caught up in the need to be right rather than stepping back and allowing the possibility that you could be wrong? How might your relationships with others improve if you were more generous and less ego-driven?

If Only . . . - June 9

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 61, 62; Eccles. 8:14-9:10; Gal. 4:21-31; Matt. 15:29-39 

it seems that the world is torn between seeing the scarcity that surrounds us or the possibilities that exist. I remember when my children were small, babysitters were a crucial item in your survival toolbox. My parents lived in town, so I wasn’t as desperate as many of my friends. However, a good babysitter was like gold and several of my friends were very hesitant to share the names of the ones they especially liked. It seemed so strange to me. There were so many ways if we collaborated that we could all benefit.

At the root of this attitude, I’ve come to realize is a difference in mindsets. Not necessarily optimism versus negativity but abundance versus scarcity. Some people find themselves trapped in a corner seeing their circumstances as a zero-sum affair, constantly wishing, “If only . . .”. Others by their nature view life as a vast reservoir of opportunities. Where one person sees no hope for change or growth, health or prosperity, another sees the possibilities of fruitful outcomes and fresh new ways to approach challenges and difficult dilemmas.

A scarcity mindset guards and holds on tightly to whatever they value. And it isn’t always material goods, sometimes it’s love or compassion, forgiveness or grace. I remember once looking at my first born feeling as though I could never love another child as much as I loved her. But the instant I felt my second child move in my womb the love that I had been so worried wouldn’t be enough for another child exploded into enough love for ten.

Today’s gospel is a wonderful example of the disciples’ lack of faith in the abundance of grace and compassion that Jesus brought into the world. There are times where they couldn’t imagine sharing his gift of healing with others, when they couldn’t wrap their minds around the concept of gifts such as healing and compassion multiplying when given with love and goodwill. The tangible need for food they are faced with in today’s narrative could just as easily have been the need for grace or mercy. Jesus entered a culture where grace and compassion were scarce, where mercy was deemed to be something earned not freely given. Jesus’ entire ministry focused on sharing as much love, as much compassion as there was need for, all the while teaching about a place he knew as the Kingdom of God where mercy and forgiveness could not be earned.

The real gift that can be found in seeing the possibilities that we’re surrounded by is that it opens up our world in a way that increases our ability to see those around us; to see their gifts, their attributes, their needs and their dreams. But best of all it enables us to see how we might enter into those places becoming one who sees opportunities and possibilities, sharing our gifts and becoming richer for it.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - How is it that we can become so focused on not enough rather than the possibilities that hope and grace instill? How might we shift our mindset away from the fear of scarcity to sharing those gifts we’ve been so generously given?

Some Thoughts from St. Basil - June 4

Today's Reading: Mat. 14:13-21

It is a common interpretation of the miracle of the loaves and fishes: Did Jesus multiply the loaves and fish, or did the crowd, moved by the generosity of others, begin sharing what they had been holding back for their own security? Either way, it would be miraculous. We often struggle to let go of what we think we need, and yet that struggle lies at the heart of the spiritual life.

I have gotten a jump start on my summer reading, and the book that first grabbed my attention was On Social Justice by St. Basil the Great. Of course, that title was given by a translator to this collection of sermons, but it is striking that such a title could describe the writings of someone who lived in the middle of the fourth century. Basil served as Bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia, in what is now modern-day Turkey. He is often considered the father of Eastern monasticism and is perhaps best known for theological writings that helped shape the Church's understanding of the Trinity.

St. Basil believed that wealth carried a responsibility toward those in need. Here are some excerpts that have been challenging my own understanding of wealth:

“Yet you say, ‘I will enjoy all these things during my life, but after my death I will leave my goods to the poor, making them beneficiaries of my will and granting them all my possessions.’ When you are no longer among your fellow human beings, then you will become a philanthropist!... You deserve great thanks for your magnanimity, since you became so generous and noble-hearted after you were laid in the grave and your body had dissolved in the earth.”

In another sermon, Basil writes:

“‘I will pull down my barns and build larger ones.’ But if you fill these larger ones, what do you intend to do next? Will you tear them down yet again only to build them up once more? What could be more ridiculous than this incessant toil, laboring to build and then laboring to tear down again? If you want storehouses, you have them in the stomachs of the poor. Lay up for yourself treasure in heaven. The things deposited there are not devoured by moths, nor are they spoiled by corruption, nor do thieves break in and steal them. But you reply, ‘I will give to the needy when I have filled the second set of barns.’ You are so sure that the years of your life will be many; beware, lest death the pursuer catch up to you sooner than you expect!”

I wonder how St. Basil's sermons would be received from the pulpit of an Episcopal church. His words seem as relevant today as they were sixteen centuries ago. It is no surprise that during a famine he sold family property to feed the hungry and establish charitable institutions for those in need.

Most of us have good intentions about the full trajectory of our lives. We plan to be generous. We plan to give back. We plan to make a difference. Yet deep down, most of us know that generosity is not merely a decision to be made someday. It is a spiritual practice to be lived today.

Perhaps it would have been an even greater miracle if the crowds had shared what they most cherished and believed they needed for themselves. Maybe that is part of the miracle after all—not simply that bread multiplied, but that hearts were opened. And perhaps that remains the invitation before us today.

John+

Self-Reflection Question:
What am I holding onto out of fear or security that God may be inviting me to share, offer, or trust into the hands of others?

The Faith Behind our Beliefs - Tuesday, June 2

 Today’s Readings - Psalm 45;Eccles. 2:16-26; Gal. 1:18-2:10; Matt. 13:53-58

Throughout the gospels we hear Jesus declare, “Your faith has made you well.” He doesn’t say, your status in the community, your wealth or your intelligence, and never you’ve earned this because you have done many wonderful deeds. More often than not the ones who are healed are the ones who seem least likely to be seen as faithful. They are those who have not been believers or have been seen as sinners by their community.

Belief supported by an underlying faith is not something that is always obvious nor should it be. There was a woman at the church we went to when Stan and I first got married. She was definitely not friendly and God forbid you should try to pass her the peace or sit in her seat on “her” pew. After she died, at her funeral the priest talked about all the many things that she did that no one ever knew about. He described how dependable she was, the faithful way she was always present and the hours she spent washing and ironing the sacristy linens so that every Sunday they were perfect and ready to be used for the services. No one, not even most of the altar guild, knew she had been doing this. I learned so much about her but mostly I learned how deep her belief in the love of God ran, that she was quietly faithful in ways that never drew attention or even a word of thanks. She clearly loved her God and her church, and she showed it in ways that never brought her attention but in ways that gratified her and that she knew were pleasing to her God. That was all that mattered to her.

Jesus’ healing powers were not magic. They were a gift from God to those who believed, who had faith in their hearts. We recently celebrated the giving of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost Sunday. The Spirit gives us the reassurance that we are not alone, that Jesus remains with us even though we can no longer see him. The power of the Holy Spirit surrounds us without visible clues but then isn’t faith “the conviction of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen?” (Hebrews11:1.)

Healing happens in many ways, physically, emotionally and spiritually. Sometimes it is faith that gives us the courage to endeavor, to keep trying when nothing else seems to help. It is belief with faith that gives us hope which in turn fuels our joy.  Joy in turn can change an otherwise difficult situation into one that shines light into the darkest of times or places and brings possibilities, opportunities for the “infinite possibilities born of faith.”

Faithfully,

Sally+

Quesetions for Reflection and Challenge - What are some unexpected unconventional ways that faith has made you well? What are some ways you can encourage others to see and seek this healing power born of faith?

A Different Schedule - May 29

Today’s Reading: Matt. 14:22-36

We have arrived at summer, or at least at Saint Stephen’s version of summer. From a programming standpoint, our office hours are condensed, and the Rev. Katherine Harper is now on sabbatical.

This means you will receive a reflection twice a week instead of three times a week (when we are able to write) until she returns in September. Sally and I had hoped to continue writing on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but as always, plans can change. That's the rhythm we hope for this summer.

We have been writing on the same days for a few years now—long enough that I sometimes find myself revisiting themes, and the very same readings from two and four years ago that I have written about before. In some ways, it is refreshing to embrace a different pace.   So changing the days is a welcomed and fun change.

As I read today's Gospel, I am struck by where Jesus is and what he is doing. Before he walks on water, before he calms the fears of the disciples, before he continues teaching and healing, he goes up the mountain by himself to pray. In the midst of a demanding ministry, Jesus creates space for silence, solitude, and renewal.

Perhaps that is a reminder for us as well.

Our culture often celebrates constant productivity. We can begin to believe that every moment must be filled, every problem solved, every opportunity seized. Yet Jesus seems to understand something we often forget: rest is not the opposite of faithful work. Rest is part of faithful work. Time spent reconnecting with God, with ourselves, and with those we love is not wasted time. It is often the very thing that allows us to return to the world with clarity, compassion, and courage.  In this coming Sunday’s Old Testament reading (from the story of Creation), God rests on the seventh day.  That is a part of the cycle of creation. 

Summer invites many of us into a different rhythm. Vacations, slower schedules, time outdoors, evenings on the porch, meals with friends and these moments may seem ordinary, but they can become sacred if we receive them as gifts.

So as our parish enters a slightly slower season, my prayer is that each of us might follow Jesus up the mountain for a little while. Not to escape the world, but to return to it renewed.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection:
Where in your life might God be inviting you to slow down, rest, and reconnect so that you can return to your work and relationships with renewed strength and joy?

The Hazards of Speech - May 26

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 26, 28; PM Psalm 36, 39 Prov. 15:16-33; 1 Tim. 1:18-2:8; Matt. 12:33-42

There are two well-known Augustine’s associated with the Church: Augustine of Hippo and Augustine of Canterbury. The Augustine remembered on the church calendar today is the lesser known of the two - Augustine of Canterbury. Augustine along with a group of monks were sent as missionaries to England by the Bishop of Rome in the sixth century. They settled in Kent and their preaching won over the hearts and souls of the locals, converting thousands, including the King who was baptized in 601. Soon thereafter, Augustine was consecrated bishop and established himself in Canterbury. Since that time there has been an unbroken succession of Archbishops of Canterbury.  Later, after his unwillingness to make accommodations to the Christian congregations who had been there long before he arrived, a group of English bishops requested a meeting. Before their meeting they consulted with a man known for his wisdom as to how they should deal with the bishop. He told them “If he remains seated (when you enter the room), then he is arrogant and unfit to lead, and you ought to reject him." It was more than six decades after that meeting before the division was healed.

In today’s gospel from Matthew Jesus warns the Pharisees, “35The good person brings good things out of a good treasure, and the evil person brings evil things out of an evil treasure. 36I tell you, on the day of judgement you will have to give an account for every careless word you utter; 37for by your words you will be justified, and by your words you will be condemned.’

My stepfather loved to tease me. One of his favorite things he’d say was that I only opened my mouth to change feet. He wasn’t all that wrong! We all say things from time to time without thinking. We also do things that we regret, wishing we could go back and do them again, different the second time around. Where do these mistakes come from?

Jesus tells the Pharisees evil comes from evil. I’m sure it does but I also believe that much of what I observe in today’s world comes less from pure evil and more from selfish attitudes, and self-centered, careless actions. Is it evil when we’re careless or strike out because we’ve been hurt? I’m not sure. Or, is it more possible that in our human weakness we fail to call on Christ for strength? For wise council?

I know with my own regrets, it’s often as much about not thinking first of how deep the ramifications may run or simply not thinking at all – reacting rather than acting. I’d love to believe that the divisions in our world could be solved as easily as apologizing to my spouse when I’ve been hurtful or unkind. However, realistically I know better. So what’s the solution?

It seems those English bishops may have thought Augustine of Canterbury was arrogant. Have I been arrogant or careless with my words? Sure, I have. I know I’m not always as careful as I should be, but am I evil? I suppose that’s God’s place to decide. I believe that most of the time we do the best we can, with the best of intentions. Perhaps on this day on which the church remembers Augustine of Canterbury we might take a lesson from history. Try to listen more carefully, think before we speak, act thoughtfully and with grace and when we fail, ask for forgiveness, and grace will abound.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - Think back on moments when you may have offended someone unintentionally by something you said. How do you think it happened? How might you have handled it differently? What did you do to repair the damage? What can you do to prevent this in future?

Grumpy Pharisees

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; Jer. 31:27-34; Eph. 5:1-20; Matt. 9:9-17

 In our gospel reading appointed for today, we meet Jesus among tax-collectors and sinners. And there is grumbling among the Pharisees, who do what they can to distance themselves from these people who are despised ... because they are living outside of the laws of the Lord. And yet, the parables and exchanges Jesus shares with the Pharisees show us that they, too, are missing the mark of holy living. The tax-collectors like Matthew and other sinners draw near to Jesus. They know they are broken and spurned. Jesus nurtures these seekers all the same, and he calls them to change their lives. He invites them to live mercifully and honestly.

Then we have the Pharisees, who do not see their own limitations, though they see and name others' shortcomings readily. Jesus tells the Pharisees to understand the phrase, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice" - a quote from the prophet Hosea. They have work to do on themselves, as the letter of the law is tripping them up from living into God's heart of the Law.

I wonder why the Pharisees were so snippy and particular? What if they were just hot, hungry, and tired? I wonder if they needed a rest. Did they even have the words to name that they were worn out? One day of sabbath time per week is not always sufficient to recover.

I find that when I am tired, I am more likely to be nit-picky, especially when what is around me does not match my internal expectations. Coming home after a messy day, I do not want to clean off the dining room table of backpacks and dirty track clothes, only to trip over baseball pants on the floor. I long for things to be neat and orderly. And my family hears about it as I correct issue after issue - even things that are not problems in the first placce. They come away feeling beleaguered, rather than loved. And my actions do not reflect how I truly feel about them.

So, maybe the Pharisees were tired. I get it. When life is messy, sometimes rest is the answer, rather than clamping down and working harder. Let us remember the counsel of the prophet Hosea and the wisdom of Jesus, that God desires mercy, not sacrifice. God's amazing grace and mercy welcome us when we name our limitations...and we are called to be nourished by the salvific care of Christ Jesus - the greatest gift.

Beginning today, I am stepping away to take a sabbatical for deep rest and rejuvenation. Thank you for your prayers and support during my time away. I will return to Saint Stephen's at the end of August and look forward to resume writing, working, and praising God alongside you.

With God's help and grace,

Katherine+

Connections in Your Life

What ways of rest are you embracing this week? Is there something you need to take a break from doing, so that you can return with a brighter outlook or rested muscles? Pray about what rest in our Lord can look like in the week ahead.

Repentance - May 20

Today’s Reading: Matt. 8:28-34

I’ve been reading The Barn: The Secret History of a Murder in Mississippi by Wright Thompson. It’s a fascinating and painful history of the Mississippi Delta, the cotton industry, and the forces that shaped the culture of the American South. I grew up in Memphis, a city deeply connected to the cotton trade, so the story feels personal as well.

At the center of the book is the lynching of Emmett Till, but Thompson widens the lens far beyond a single event. He explores how economics, race, power, violence, and memory all became intertwined over generations. The book exposes the ways systems and stories can shape human behavior, almost creating a sort of destiny, sometimes in deeply destructive ways.

I believe it is important to remember our history honestly, both the beauty and the brokenness, instead of hiding the painful parts to make ourselves more comfortable. Scripture does this too. One of the very first stories in the Bible is a brother killing another brother. The Bible rarely sanitizes humanity. Instead, it tells the truth about us and our capacity to do both good and bad.  That honesty matters because healing cannot begin until what is hidden is brought into the light.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus encounters a man overwhelmed by forces he cannot control. The man is isolated, tormented, and cut off from community. However we understand the demons in this story, the deeper truth is clear: Christ confronts whatever distorts the image of God in a human life.  This is why we call the Gospel transformational.

There are things within us and around us that wound, divide, and diminish human dignity: fear, resentment, shame, addiction, hatred, violence, pride, and what the Barn so beautifully names, greed. Some are deeply personal, and some are woven into families, communities, and histories much larger than ourselves. Yet Jesus moves toward the suffering man, to call out what corrupts and destroys his inner self to make him whole.  Restoration begins when truth is faced honestly in the presence of God.

Repentance is not about humiliation. It is about freedom. It is the courageous act of trusting that God can heal what we are unable to heal ourselves. The love of Christ allows us to name what is broken so that the image of God within us might shine more clearly again.

John+

Reflection Question:
What truth about yourself, your relationships, or even your community might God be inviting you to face honestly so that healing and restoration can begin?

What Will You Choose? May 18

Today’s Readings -  Psalm 89:1-18;  Joshua 1:1-9; Eph. 3:1-13; Matt. 8:5-17

In today’s gospel reading from Matthew, we hear two examples of Jesus healing those in need. There are many examples in the bible of Jesus’ healing acts, of his being present. However, we don’t know about the times when he needed to refuse to heal people, there must have been occasions when this occurred. There had to be times when he was too pressed for time, too tired or when there were so many people, he simply couldn’t get to them all. 

As someone who has been in two serving vocations, social work and the priesthood, both in which I am called on to help, to be present, to listen, to serve, all on a daily basis, I know there are days when I feel as though I can’t emotionally or physically handle one more need, one more request. That may sound weak or selfish, but it’s true. I’ve also tried to realize that when I get overstretched or try to be too much for too many, I pay the price and those who I work and live with do as well. To be honest, anyone comes within my orbit is apt to pay the price!

Jesus had to feel this way at times. He was after all human just like us, and of course there was that divine side of him too. So, he did have that going for him, but he was still susceptible to his human needs and weaknesses. Need for time alone, for fulfilling relationships, for being loved as well as loving others, all of which we share with him.

In a sermon Bp. Mariann Budde delivered in 2020, entitled, “Time to be of a New Mind: Healers,” she writes, our first responsibility must be to ourselves, “for the one life with which we have been uniquely entrusted.” No one else can live our lives for us, . . .we can and must choose our response to life.” She goes on to say that with each new day we are faced with the choice of how we will show up for one another, how will we follow Christ, how will we be true to the vows we made at our baptism, how will we care for those in need, for ourselves, for those we love.

Discerning how and where God is calling us, what God is calling us to do is easier said than done. However, if we’re patient, the Holy Spirit will speak, will guide us in and through the maze of life’s choices, pitfalls, and victories. Be patient and remember Jesus’ words to the disciples, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - What are some choices you have faced? Did you feel good about your decisions? If you had the chance to go back and do it again, would you make the same choice or would you do something different?

When going on a bear hunt, you’re going to need some grace

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 85, 86; PM Psalm 91, 92; 1 Sam. 2:1-10; Eph. 2:1-10; Matt. 7:22-27

Do you ever have a “heavy” day? I’m not thinking of the times when your pants are too tight, rather those days when life feels hard. And you are dragging, and maybe your words and presence drag others down, too. I’ve been there myself and I’ve been around others in that space.

As I think about how we manage those days that are difficult, the children’s book "We're Going on a Bear Hunt" comes to mind. When facing a big obstacle, we can’t just climb over the heavy day, and we can’t dig under it…we simply get to go through it to get to the other side. Avoiding the hard parts of life or faith does not bring resolution or growth. Going through the heavy days and hard conversations is what brings us deeper connection…and we do not go through these spaces of muck and challenge alone. God is here, knowing us, creating us, and continuing to weave us together in a community, and there are people who love us and pray for us.

In the apostle Paul’s letter to the church in Ephesus, he writes, “But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ…” These words inspire me this morning. Our Lord, overflowing in care and love, does not leave us in these heavy and hard times, even when we feel beyond hope because of our own choices or the circumstances around us. God extends life and hope to us in Christ…we are rescued from the heaviness. Paul says, “by grace you have been saved”. My friends, we are saved by Jesus.

I want to pause for a moment with the word “saved”. Those of us raised in the Episcopal church may not always use the word “saved”, unless the conversation slips to money put aside for vacation, children, or retirement. I fall into this category. Do you often talk about Paul’s claim that by God’s grace you and I are saved?

I wonder - what would heavy days be like if we were reminded that we are grounded in the assurance of our faith in God? Ponder that image of seeing your feet upon the strong foundation that you are saved, rescued, protected, and revived by God’s grace. I can imagine that if I allowed myself to pause from the mire of grouching, this message of rootedness could help me get through a few more steps of the heavy day.

Our reading from Ephesians 2 has a bit more that we need to carry with us: this grace is not because we have earned it. It is not our own doing. It is the gift of God and not the result of works. We cannot earn more of it and we cannot lose it, either. It is a gift from God. And what do we do with this grace? This grace is a gift to pick us up from the floor when all is lost and we are completely aware of our brokenness. It is the gift that lifts our eyes up to the heavens for praise, for guidance, for hopefulness. It is the gift that nourishes us so that we may show generosity and care for others. It is a gift for building the goodness of God’s creation.

Paul reminds us that we are what God has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which is the way of life that shows our faithfulness. We are shaped to do those good works. And it is God’s grace which forms our hearts and minds and bonds of community so that we live into those good works that shape the lives of others. For just as one person’s heaviness is palpable and contagious in a room of others, so is God’s goodness.

My friends, we cannot avoid the heavy days. We must go through them, and know that  even when we feel low and flummoxed with everyone, God continues to make us alive together in Christ. God keeps nourishing the bonds of connection and wholeness.

Blessings in Eastertide,
Katherine+

Connections in Your Life

Spend a bit of time re-reading Ephesians 2 this weekend. How is Jesus calling you to grow in this scripture? Ponder what “being saved” means to you in this phase of your life. Journal about this. Pray about it. Talk with a trusted friend or member of clergy.

Holy Silence - May 13

Today’s Readings: Matthew: 22:41-46

I’m digging for something in this reading from Matthew.  Today’s Gospel is just a few short verses.  What fascinates me most is the ending. “No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone dare to ask him any more questions.” The religious leaders are left in silence.  And the reading makes it feel like the silence isn’t going to be broken anytime soon. 

And maybe that silence is not failure, but a gift.

I’m in the chapter of my life where my children are especially intuitive and creative.  Both of my children (ages 12 and 14) have created pretty nuanced arguments about why their parents should let them have social media. Anne and I feel strongly about waiting as long as we can, hopefully holding out until 16.  When I argue back, the conversations usually snowball into some resentment from my children and frustration on my part.  Sometimes answers don’t actually make the situation better. 

If you are reading this reflection, my guess is you are someone attuned to the rhythm of the liturgical calendar, to the way scripture shapes our days and slowly forms our hearts in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We are now nearing the end of the Easter season, and tomorrow the Church celebrates the Feast of the Ascension, when Christ ascends into heaven forty days after Easter.

There is something fitting about reading this Gospel on the eve of the Ascension. Jesus leaves his listeners speechless. Tomorrow, he will leave his disciples staring into the clouds. In both moments, people encounter a reality larger than their understanding.  And they are left without answers, on their own to figure it out, and to write the next chapter. 

Maybe there is something holy in the silence, in the wondering, in trying to make sense of it all. Personally, I am beginning to suspect that this is one of the ways faith is formed. Not by having every answer neatly resolved, but by learning to remain open in the presence of mystery.

The disciples will soon discover that the Ascension is not abandonment. Christ’s absence will become another kind of presence. But first comes the waiting, the silence, the looking upward without certainty about what comes next.

Maybe that is true for us too. Some seasons of life cannot be argued through or solved with the right words. Sometimes we are simply invited to trust that God is still at work, even in the silence, even in the unanswered questions, even in the space where we are learning what it means to walk by faith.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: When have you discovered that silence, listening, or presence was more healing than having the right answer?

See it, Say it, Sorted - May 11

Today’s Readings - Psalm 80; Lev. 25:35-55; Col. 1:9-14; Matt. 13:1-16

For a preacher, this morning’s gospel is one that is more of a joy than a conundrum. It’s incredibly rich with visual imagery, lending itself to many avenues a preacher can take. I’ve always loved the garden imagery. Weeds are something I have an up-close and personal relationship with, as anyone who has seen my yard can attest.

However, as I re-read this passage, I was struck by something else - the frequency of the word, “listen.” Listen or words that pertain to listening appear six times in just 16 verses. It’s as if God is saying, “Pay attention, this is important”

While I was in seminary I did a chaplaincy at Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis. When we met with patients we weren’t allowed to take notes, however, we were expected to present a verbatim account of the conversation later in our group meetings, so careful listening was crucial.

Listening and being present are two priceless gifts we can give one another. Being wholly tuned into whomever we’re spending time with matters. It not only does a disservice to our companion, but it undermines our potential to be who we need to be to one another, when we’re only partially present. Listening doesn’t always pertain to the spoken word. Sometimes we need to listen with more than our ears, perhaps with our instincts, with our heart. Many times, I’ve noticed that when someone is struggling to say something it’s not what they say as much as what they don’t say. How their body conveys their inner need for expression. Sometimes it’s with their eyes, other times with their gestures. I would often have patients during my chaplaincy who were intubated, making it impossible for them to talk. I can promise you, though, those were some of the richest conversations I had that summer.

In Jesus’ dialogue with the disciples, he echoes Isaiah’s lost hope for those who fail “to see” or “hear.” He describes those who will never understand because they do not pay attention, they do not see because they have shut their eyes, nor do they hear, or perceive because their hearts have grown dull. His command to listen falls on deaf ears much like the seeds which fall on rocky soil. Those who do not see or hear have no foundation in which the seeds of wisdom and truth Jesus shares can take root. Without a sure foundation, our faith when life presents stressors, when one’s faith is confronted or challenged will wilt and fail to produce good fruit.  

While we were in England there was an announcement we heard every time we took the tube that I just loved: “See it, say it, sorted.” In other words, stay alert, be present to your surroundings, listen and tell someone if something seems off. It seems to me Jesus is saying pretty much the same thing: See it – be present to those around you; Say it – if you’re concerned or worried, if you think you can help with something make an offer, let the other person know you care; and always trust Christ and the Holy Spirit to know what we need before we ask and that it will be “sorted!”

 Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - How often do you catch yourself only partly listening to a friend or even a loved one? How often do you feel only partly heard when you’re earnestly trying to confide in someone or ask for help? How often do you feel invisible, unseen? Consider what that feels like and then consider how might you change your own habits? How might you be more present to others, to Christ.

Whole-hearted integrity is hard

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 106:1-18; PM Psalm 106:19-48; Lev. 23:1-22; 2 Thess. 2:1-17; Matt. 7:1-12

Each day this week in the Daily Office, we have been hearing bits of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. Yesterday his message was to stop the worrying. (Easier said than done!) “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” (Matthew 6:25) How does he suggest ceasing the whirling minds of those trying to keep their children and themselves nourished? Jesus calls the crowd to slow down and enter into a contemplative posture, to “consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin”. He then goes to comparison: the grandeur of the flowers in the wild rivals the regal attire of the famed King Solomon. I appreciate that his words of guidance do not disparage those who wear nice clothes; rather, he instructs the listeners to get their priorities aligned in choices around living and praying: “strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” (v. 33)

Today Jesus continues sharing wisdom and inspiration as he addresses our inclinations to judge the people around us. The teacher and rabbi says, “Do not judge, so that you may not be judged. For with the judgement you make you will be judged, and the measure you give will be the measure you get” (Matthew 7:1-2). In essence, you get what you put in – heading right back at you! As I sit with Matthew’s gospel for today, a piece of music comes to mind. A version of this paradigm is contained in the lyrics of The Beatles’ song “The End”. Paul McCartney sings, “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make…” Maybe they were not pointing to the Golden Rule, but Jesus is, for he wraps up this portion of his sermon in this way: “In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets.” (v. 12)

Again and again, Jesus calls us to find balance. To adjust our expectations. And to live with integrity, walking the walking and talking the talk of faith in God. Jesus’ teachings point us toward living whole-heartedly. And none of us are whole when we are comparing and complaining, missing the goodness and potential for growth that is within us. I wonder, as you revisit these portions of the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 6-7), what sticks out for you? What spiritual goodness is God calling you to cultivate in the week ahead?

Blessings in Eastertide,
Katherine+

Connections in Your Life

Spend a bit of time this weekend re-reading Jesus' Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7).

What creative expressions come to mind as you ponder the nuggets of wisdom? Do you think of songs or art or slogans? Tap into your own creative inspiration.

An Ethic for Today - May 6

Over the past seven years, the Rev. Fleming Rutledge has been caregiving for her husband and largely absent from the pulpit. She is an evangelical voice in our tradition, a titan in the preaching world, and someone who stirs my own faith to proclaim the hope of Jesus Christ more boldly. For the past two seasons of Advent, I have read her collection of sermons and essays Advent: The Once & Future Coming of Jesus Christ for my own formation and spiritual growth.

This past week, she posted her first Substack essay, Preaching in the Trump Era, which you can read here. If you are someone responsible for preaching, you might find this exceptionally helpful. In her essay, she suggests that perhaps one of the greatest threats to democracy is the way we have siloed ourselves into parties and lost the ability to care for, listen to, and engage with one another.

She explores the polarization among Iranian expats, quoting a New York Times article: “Friendships and business relationships have broken down… vicious insults have been exchanged online… ‘People are kind of scared of clearly explaining their point of view,’ says an Iranian-born academic.”  She believes we have reached a “time when public expression of contempt for those who are on the other side politically has reached an extreme never before seen in American public life.”  I think she rightly asserts our universal connection to social media is the engine for this.

If you’re curious about her response and don’t have time to read the full article, she believes the preacher’s task is to gather narratives that serve as illustrations—stories that show people how to love and embody the truth of the Christian faith, and that help us avoid the catastrophic divisions within communities that the church is struggling to address as opposed to the typical exhortation that produces either shame or agreement.

While I don’t have a compelling illustration to offer here—and may be slipping into exhortation in this reflection—today’s Epistle from Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians offers a powerful example. Today’s reading comes at the end of the letter. Paul appeals to the Christian community to be at peace among themselves. He encourages them to admonish those who have stopped working because they believe the second coming of Christ is imminent, and to encourage the fainthearted. Paul urges them to help the weak, to be patient with all, and to repay no one evil for evil. He calls the community to rejoice always, to pray without ceasing, and to give thanks in all circumstances.

What strikes me is how practical and how demanding this vision really is. Paul is describing a way of life that resists the very fractures we see all around us. In a world that rewards outrage, fear, and division, this kind of community stands out. It takes discipline to rejoice when anxiety feels more natural, to pray when we would rather react, and to give thanks when the world feels unsteady. It takes courage to refuse to repay evil for evil.

And yet, this is exactly the kind of life that can begin to heal what is broken among us. It is small but transformative acts of faithfulness that we are called to live out.  This is how the Church becomes a witness to a different way of being human.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection:
Where in your life are you being invited to resist division and instead practice the quiet, faithful work of peace?

Sharing Our Faith - May 4

Today’s Readings -  Psalm 56, 57, [58]; Lev. 16:1-19; 1 Thess. 4:13-18; Matt. 6:1-6,16-18

When I was in the sixth grade my mom sent a note to school to say that I wouldn’t be eating lunch. It was Ash Wednesday, and my family fasted on the first day of Lent. My teacher was not the kindest of people. Rather than quietly allowing me to sit in the library during lunch she found the idea of fasting ridiculous and made sure all my classmates knew how she felt, ridiculing me in front of everyone. The attention was painful. I can only imagine what she would have done if I had come to school that morning after having received my ashes. I wasn’t seeking attention, it wasn’t even my idea to fast, it was at my mother’s insistence that our family fast on certain holy days, but I took the brunt of it. 

 As an adult after receiving my ashes, people will occasionally ask if I know I have a dirty smudge on my forehead. Or they may ask what it means. As a sixth grader I wasn’t savvy enough to explain the importance of religious practices but as an adult their questions give me an opportunity to explain my faith and why the practice is meaningful to me. I’ve come to understand that there’s a fine line between bragging and living into our faith; between demonstrating our piety in order to impress others or living boldly without fear of retribution or ridicule, not considering the attention it might garner. 

 People all over the world are punished, and some put to death because of their religious practices. We are fortunate to have religious freedoms that many live without. Pious practices can reveal our faith, and they can also bring us deep, lasting joy that can be hard to achieve in this world. Our world is a place that easily induces fear and anxiety. There are wars, climate change, prices are going up on everything, rental rates have surpassed what many who have a minimum wage job can afford and the violence that we hear about on the news seems to grow worse everyday. People are lonelier now than ever before and it feels as though some of us are losing hope and losing a sense of joy in the world. 

 I believe joy and hope are two of our most precious commodities. Joy bubbles up from our deepest places. Unlike happiness we can experience deep joy in the midst of pain, grief, even tragedy. Hope may be hard to come by.  When we lose hope something inside us dies and in a way, we quit living to our fullest. 

 Perhaps what Christ is trying to say in today's gospel is that those who abuse the practices of piety need to understand that we don’t do them for others. We do them for the joy they bring, to honor God, to bring us closer to God and to our true selves, not for anyone else’s benefit, not to impress others, or to elevate ourselves in other’s opinions. They are for us and for God alone.

 So, practice your piety but do so with the joy that comes from knowing Christ, from having a reason to hope for life eternal, and share why your piety is important. You never know who you might inspire – impressing them for all the right reasons. 

 Faithfully,

 Sally+

 Questions for Reflection and Challenge - How do you practice your piety? What are some ways you can bring yourself closer to God? How might you share your piety so that you might draw others closer to God?

40

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 40, 54; PM Psalm 51; Exod. 34:18-35; 1 Thess. 3:1-13; Matt. 5:27-37

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I tried to write this reflection last night, matching up the reiteration of the law in Exodus 34 with Jesus’ exposition of the law and its practical applications in Matthew 5. While there are ways to weave these two pieces of scripture together, today’s reflection will not be able to encompass that. I find my heart and creative energies leading me to grow in faithfulness within the prayers of Psalm 40, which begins:

I waited patiently upon the Lord; he stooped to me and heard my cry.

He lifted me out of the desolate pit, out of the mire and clay; he set my feet upon a high cliff and made my footing sure.

He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; many shall see, and stand in awe, and put their trust in the Lord.

Happy are they who trust in the Lord! they do not resort to evil spirits or turn to false gods.

As I re-read these words this morning, I hear them anew. I think about how I waited patiently on the side of the road yesterday, just able to pull out of traffic onto a quiet residential street before my radiator overheated. I turned off the car just as the warning light went on. A wide puff of steam billowed from underneath my car. And I said, “Oh no.” (I really don’t think I cussed…and if you know me, that is a miracle in itself!) God stooped to me and heard my cry.

I waited for my husband to come with coolant. I felt a surge of adrenaline and unrest in my gut as I sat, but I did not feel sucked into the mire and clay. It was a holy moment. Now, I did worry a little – but I was not deeply fearful. The psalmist says God made their footing sure upon that high cliff, above the chaos; my experience reflects a similar feeling of steadiness, with joy intact.

I believe that the Lord put a new song in my mouth – a song of wholeness and peace. Sam arrived in minutes. I felt gratitude for his presence and for the full-circle moment. You see, Sam and I met on a rural roadside in 2005 when my sister’s radiator exploded. That February afternoon began a chapter that changed both of our lives for the better, and I give thanks to God for that.

The psalmist observes that many will see and it will shape their lives…I cannot speak to exactly how many people observed my roadside quandary. (I imagine many were grateful they were not in a similar situation!) And yet, a dear friend saw us from the slow-moving traffic, calling from her window, “Katherine! Sam! Do you need help?” She took Robinson to his baseball game while we navigated handling my car. I called another friend who offered their extra vehicle in the meantime.

The psalmist exclaims, “Happy are they who trust in the Lord!” for they do not get sucked into negative and destructive thoughts and attitudes. While I was not happy about my stalled car, I choose to see my roadside delay as a space of practicing the mindset of blessing and gratitude. Faith in God brought me resilience to endure waiting (and waiting) for a tow truck. Faith in God brought me clarity of thought and kept me present in the now, rather than slipping into the lament of inconvenience and unknown expense. Faith in God kept me grateful for the timing of the radiator’s demise and for the kindness of Trevor who towed my car to the mechanic last night.

Faith in God does not keep us from experiencing disappointment. Faith in God can recenter our hearts and eyes so that challenges do not dislodge us from the foundation of love and goodness that connects to one another and to our Lord. When we walk in faith, we are more likely to act faithfully. I pray that you can rejoice in God this Friday, for you are loved and not alone; God is ever our helper and deliverer (v. 19).

Blessings in Eastertide,
Katherine+

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Connections in Your Life

Did you know that U2 wrote a song based on Psalm 40? Take a listen to their reflection on this ancient psalm from a 1983 concert at Red Rocks.

How does Psalm 40 resonate with your life today?