Keep Moving, You Can do This.

Today’s Readngs - AM Psalm 93, 98; Exod. 12:14-27; 1 Cor. 15:1-11; Mark 16:1-8

The very first sermon I preached was on Easter Monday, a day much like today. It was while I was in seminary. I had preached in our homiletics class but not for the community Eucharist. This was for the entire seminary, all the students and all the professors. I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared or intimidated. The room that we used as our chapel was an old lecture auditorium that was lower in the front and the rows of seats were like a sports auditorium. It was affectionately nicknamed the “Pit”, and it did feel like you were in a pit, with all the most learned people I knew staring down at you scrutinizing your every word. Of course, now I realize the expectations for new preachers was very low so if we didn’t completely blow the entire thing we were congratulated, and we could walk out of the “Pit” with a huge sigh of relief, grateful to know we had survived our first trial by fire. But that fear, that sense of dread was palatable.

Everyone would tell you “Don’t be afraid, we’ve all been there” or “You’ll do great,” but no matter how much encouragement was offered it was incredibly hard not to be afraid. We’ve all been in that place where no matter how hard we try, no matter how much we know that worrying doesn’t help, we just can’t put it out of our mind, we’re scared, and it doesn’t feel like anyone, or anything can change that. Whatever it may be, a diagnosis, a potential job loss or death, even a loss of status or reputation. Whatever it is it’s a real fear and can’t be pushed aside.

Some say that the phrase “Do not be afraid” or a similar phrase appears 365 times in the bible. Spoiler alert - it actually doesn’t. It’s closer to 103 times. Regardless, it may be the most repeated phrase in the Bible, and we certainly are reassured throughout the scriptures that we are God’s and that nothing can ever separate us from the love of God.  In today’s gospel, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome have gone to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body. When they arrive, the stone has been rolled away and a young man is sitting where their Lord’s body should be. He greets them and says, “Do not be afraid, . . . Jesus of Nazareth has been raised, he is not here.” Their initial reaction is not relief or joy but fear, they are seized by terror. We know as the morning progresses into days and weeks, their fear is transformed into relief and joy. But that initial shock and fear was paralyzing.

You’ve been there, haven’t you? I know I have. So, what helps us take that first step? What gets us out of bed in the morning? What helps us get on with our lives? Our belief in the risen Christ, in the Holy Trinity tells us that we are never alone. That we are beloved children of God. It may not always feel like it, but we are never going to be separated from the love of God. Once we can catch our breath, walking out of the tomb looking towards the day ahead, the Holy Spirit, takes us by the hand and walks with us. Our faith in the love of God and Jesus Christ gets us out of bed. God is love, and perfect love drives out fear. Allow yourself to be fully embraced by that love, remind yourself that whatever is ahead or behind, whatever is frightening is only one part of your world, we are so much more, there is so much more in our lives for which to be grateful. So listen, listen to that small quiet voice from God that tells us, “Keep moving, you can do this.”

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - What is it that you are most afraid of? How do you deal with the uncertainty? Have you taken it to God?

Our Culture of Violence - April 1

One of my favorite new ministries emerging at Saint Stephen’s is the supper that follows the Celtic service. Most Sundays, we share a meal and sit around the table talking about the sermon, theology, and life. It’s a simple but meaningful way to build community and offer formation for our 5:00 p.m. community.

Last Sunday, we had a fascinating conversation about atonement theology. Someone shared that they didn’t think Jesus had to die—as if it were something God required. That question has stayed with me. Lately, I’ve come to see Jesus’s death not as something demanded by God, but as the natural and tragic consequence of the escalation of human violence.

We can’t seem to help ourselves. We go to war in order to bring about peace. We justify harm in the name of order. Is it any surprise, then, that an innocent son of a carpenter—one who disrupted systems, challenged power, and reoriented people toward love—would be crucified in an effort to keep things “peaceful”?

I think Holy Week invites us to wrestle honestly with this part of our human nature and our deep and persistent tendency to use violence to solve our problems. Not much has changed in 2,000 years.

Mark’s Gospel for today, the parable of the vineyard, speaks directly into this reality. The landowner keeps sending servants, and they are beaten, rejected, and killed. And then finally, the beloved son is sent and he too is killed. If we pause long enough, we might ask: Where is the outrage? Why aren’t we more shocked?

Perhaps it’s because, deep down, we recognize the pattern. We expect it. We understand, even if we don’t want to admit it, the primal, violent impulses that live within humanity and within ourselves.

And yet, this is not the end of the story. Because it is into this very world that Jesus enters. It is in the midst of our violence, our fear, our need to control, that Christ takes on death itself and transforms it.

And so Holy Week is not just something we remember. It is something we enter that changes how we are to live and be in this world. Whom do we follow and whom do we emulate? May it be the one who has shown us the way of the Lord.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where does your own life intersect with our culture of violence?

Why Do We Pray?

Readings for Today -  Psalm 51:1-18(19-20); Lam. 1:1-2,6-12; 2 Cor. 1:1-7; Mark 11:12-25

Have you ever wondered why we pray? One of the most meaningful reasons I’ve ever heard is that prayer is a personal response to God’s presence. Sure, sometimes I know we pray because we need something from God. It may be that we need healing for ourselves or someone else, or we desire safe passage or guidance in decision making. The list is endless. But why do we really pray? If God is all knowing then God already knows what we need, what our utmost heart’s desire is. If the desire to pray, is in fact placed within us by God as many believe it is, then God is already reaching out and in prayer we are responding. We are responding to God’s call, to God’s presence that is already in our hearts.

Prayer has always been a way for me to feel closer and more connected to God. It also helps remind me that I’m utterly and completely dependent on God. In the same way I begin missing a close friend after we’ve gone a while without talking, I miss God if I haven’t taken time to stop and be quiet, to allow myself the time to be present to God. If God is always present, then we must be the one who drifts away.  

In today’s gospel, Jesus tells his disciples, “. . . whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received*it, and it will be yours.” Here’s where the waters get muddy for me: in James’s letter, 4:2, the author writes, “You do not have because you do not ask.” So, is our “having” partly dependent on our asking? The message here is not that we will be given our hearts desire every time we ask, the message rather is that we should ask with utter and complete faith and trust in God’s ability to provide. Not provide just anything. That may be where the trust on our part comes into play.

That may be a taller order than we’re prepared to follow. What does it require of us to have total faith and trust in God? Are we willing to give up control? Are we willing to allow that we don’t always know what is best and that asking for God’s will to be done is what in fact is best?  

Let’s go back to my original question, “Why do we pray?” There have been many times when what I prayed for did not come to pass, at least not as I envisioned it. However, even if I didn’t see it or realize it, I was changed. Prayer can be a bit like spiritual exercise. It strengthens our connection to God, it guides our understanding of God’s presence in our lives, and it deepens our relationship and trust in God. Prayer is more important than we realize, and it changes us more than we may recognize. So, maybe that’s the reason why we pray. Even if we think our prayers aren’t answered, never doubt that they aren’t heard.

Faithfully,

Sally+

 Questions for Reflection and Challenge – Do you have a regular prayer time each day? It’s never too late to begin and it can be quite simple. Starting is the hard part.

Frequently Underrated Qualities

Today’s Readings -  Psalm 31; Exod. 4:10-20(21-26)27-31; 1 Cor. 14:1-19; Mark 9:30-41

Gratitude, humility, empathy – these emotions all come out of the realization that we are not the master of our fate. True humility is a stance in life that knows we do not create out of nothingness, we create out of beautiful resources and imaginations that are God given and we do it with wisdom from brains that were created and gifted to us by God. We do not build community or family or establish amazing relationships or jobs by ourselves. None of us lives in a way that is not in some form dependent on the help of someone else. Most of us exist solely because we have been helped multitudes of times, even when we weren’t aware of it and definitely when we thought we didn’t need it.

Some of us have had experiences that grant us a lens which provides true empathy for others in similar or even worse circumstances. And then there’s gratitude. Some of the happiest, most content, most joyful people I know are those who are continuously aware of how fortunate they are, and they live in such a way that expresses their gratitude. Not constantly wishing for more, or better but content in a way that creates a smile when no one else can understand why.

It shouldn’t be surprising then that when we as humans forget who we are, forget we are connected in infinite ways to the universe, to other humans, to God, that humility, empathy and gratitude seem to be the first to fly out the window. Unfortunately, this happens more times than we’d like to admit. We see it in our friends, our communities, and in ourselves. And maybe if we can be objective and look at it realistically these traits are as human as anything else we can name.

In today’s gospel from Mark, Jesus sees in his disciples their most human side, that of pride, selfishness and arrogance. And what does he do? He sits down and with the gentleness of a loving parent, he teaches his children. He picks up a child and holding it in his arms makes the point that so many of us still seem to miss. Jesus doesn’t expect us to be perfect, to be knowledgeable in all things or to be super achievers. Jesus expects us to be open hearted, humble, and receive all we are given and all who come to us with love, tenderness and compassion.

Gratitude, humility and empathy are never signs of weakness or lack of agency but rather they are qualities that though quite frequently underrated are some of the most attractive, grace-filled, lovely qualities anyone can possess. Jesus loves us into being better humans and forgives us for simply being just that, human. And maybe when we realize it’s okay to be imperfect, embracing our imperfections, then we can learn to forgive ourselves, striving to be more Christ like. Perhaps then, we come closest to knowing God. Afterall, God was once human like us.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - Where do you see humility, gratitude and empathy playing roles in your daily life? Which of the three is your strongest character trait? Which is your least strong character trait?

Never Far from God’s Heart

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 95, 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; Exod. 2:1-22; 1 Cor. 12:27-13:3; Mark 9:2-13

As I write this reflection, my daughter is preparing for an out-of-state trip with her high school choral group. They are starting Spring Break a little early, catching a flight, seeing sights, and having great experiences as teenagers. While there are teachers, school administrators, and parents going along as chaperones, neither Sam nor I are attending. I am feeling a touch of worry and sadness as she prepares for departure…and I understand this is one of many times she will be fledging in healthy ways. How hard it is to let our young ones go!

The Hebrew scripture appointed for Friday is Exodus 2, the telling of Moses’ birth. Yesterday’s reading (Exodus 1:6-22) reminds us of the intolerant mood toward the Hebrew people at that time in Egypt: “The king of Egypt said to the Hebrew midwives, one of whom was named Shiphrah and the other Puah, ‘When you act as midwives to the Hebrew women, and see them on the birthstool, if it is a boy, kill him; but if it is a girl, she shall live.’ But the midwives feared God; they did not do as the king of Egypt commanded them, but they let the boys live…And because the midwives feared God, he gave them families. Then Pharaoh commanded all his people, ‘Every boy that is born to the Hebrews you shall throw into the Nile, but you shall let every girl live.’” (v. 15-17, 21-22)

What a dangerous era, and what peril Moses’ parents faced in his birth. When his mother could no longer conceal her male baby, she reinforced a basket and placed him in it among the reeds at the river. His older sister, Miriam, hung back to keep an eye on him. Oddly enough, Pharaoh’s daughter came to that very river to bathe and she spied the basket. And inside was a crying baby boy. She was moved to compassion for him and surmised he was a Hebrew child. Miriam piped up, wisely offering to get a Hebrew woman to nurse him. They struck an arrangement: Pharaoh’s daughter would claim Moses as her son, but she compensated Jochebed – the biological mother of Moses who had given him up – to raise the child and bring him to her when he was older.

Parents find many ways to worry about their kids. The hardship upon Moses’ parents feels immense as I reflect on their family dynamic. And, Moses’ father, Amram, was a Levite – a servant of the Temple. He knew what it meant to serve God in faithfulness, even when it was hard. No matter how far Moses roamed from home, he was never far from God’s heart. I posit the same is for you and me, as children of God. We may travel and wander and stumble, and we are never far from our Lord, who is forever calling us to come home, reminding to make others feel at home, and challenging us to expand our hearts to love one another as God loves us.

Lenten blessings to you,

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

Sit with having a home with God, though that physical home may not be as concrete. Reflect on where you feel challenged and inspired in this concept. How is God building up your faith today in this tension? How will you respond?

Yeast of the Pharisees and Herod - March 18

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144; Gen. 50:15-26; 1 Cor. 12:1-11; Mark 8:11-26

I’m not really that surprised by the exchange with the disciples. As I grow in my faith, I have plenty of moments where I experience the miraculous love of God through others and can rest with confidence in the hope of Christ. If you have been following my journey with the Catechism in the Book of Common Prayer, this would be the last section:

Q. What is Christian hope? A. The Christian hope is to live with confidence in newness and fullness of life, and to await the coming of Christ in glory, and the completion of God's purpose for the world. – page 861

I’m telling you—the catechism is theological gold.

And then, I have moments where I pivot, read something, or just witness humanity at its absolute finest (I’m being sarcastic), and I forget that hope, or at least I don’t let it define what I’m seeing. Kind of like the disciples in this reading, who once again are worried that they don’t have bread, even though the passage just before this is Jesus feeding 4,000 people with seven loaves.

Why don’t they trust in God’s abundance?

And if I’m honest, the better question is: why don’t I?

Because I have seen it. I have experienced it. I write about it, preach about it, teach about it, and hope to embody it. And yet, it doesn’t take much for me to slip back into doubt—to start worrying about what I don’t have or what is beyond my control.

Those words hit hard today: “Do you still not perceive or understand? Are your hearts hardened? Do you have eyes, and fail to see?”

Maybe the yeast of the Pharisees and Herod isn’t just something out there.  Maybe it’s that slow, subtle way of seeing the world that forgets grace, or assumes scarcity, or makes us doubt that God is working to make all things whole, not just in our lives but all of it.

And the invitation of Jesus is not just to believe more, but to see differently. We are called to remember this truth.  Certainly, our faith helps us to recognize that love is the most powerful force in this world, that the way to life is through the giving of ourselves, and that God is present in those very moments, inviting us into the radical way of Jesus Christ.

Christian hope is choosing, again and again, to trust that the God who fed the thousands is still at work.  God is still providing, still multiplying, still bringing life out of what feels like it can’t possibly be hopeful.  This is the miracle of Jesus Christ.

John+ 

Wielding a Plastic Sword

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 95 [for the Invitatory] 88; PM Psalm 91, 92; Gen. 47:1-26; 1 Cor. 9:16-27; Mark 6:47-56

Yesterday there was a communication breakdown at carpool for our 4th grade son. He was supposed toride home with a friend but did not get the message. The friend’s mom called me to say she did not have Robinson and would head to my house, a mere 500 yards from the school. Two minutes after the phone call, she texted me: “He was at y’all’s house. We are getting him now.” The next message humorously reported he was “non-traumatized by his 5 solo minutes”. It was good for him to have a tiny adventure – that was not even an issue for him. He relished having a house to himself, not to mention the Oreos on top of the fridge!

The mom sent one more text that I did not see until later: “Also he answered the door with his plastic sword.” I laughed heartily at the mental image of my son wielding his shiny foil from a Halloween costume as a tool of self-defense when answering the door. When I picked him up, I asked what his afternoon coming home from school was like. Characteristically brief, he said it was fine and easy. He was happy to be home and independent. Then, I asked about the sword. He reported that he could not find his aluminum bat, so the sword was the next best thing as he responded to the knocking at the door. I asked if he was afraid and he assented. Hence the weapon. There was a blend of joy and trepidation in those few minutes for Robinson – and I did not appreciate the component of fear until I talked with him about the experience.

Joy and trepidation are a funny mix, aren’t they? We have a similar shift in Psalm 95, appointed in its entirety each Friday in Lent as the first psalm prayed in Morning Prayer. In the first seven verses of this festival psalm, there are words of praise, entreating the faithful “we” to sing and shout to God as the Rock and the great King above all gods. The Lord’s role in creation is lauded, and for that we bow down to give thanks. We are “the people of his pasture and the sheep of his hand”.

In Lent, we include the last four verses – not printed within the Morning Prayer liturgy – that bring a very different tone. Moving from a “we” – with arms outstretched in inclusion – to a “you” – with a hand pointing in my direction or yours – the psalmist reminds us of our shortcomings. We quarrel (like the Israelites at Meribah) and test and doubt God’s presence (like the Israelites at Massah). We have wayward hearts and forget the ways God has called us to live. In that mindset, we are restless and apart from the rest the Lord offers. It is a sad, salty turn after the joyous praise that united us a few verses before. Rolf Jacobson from Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN, offered context of this psalm, sharing that festival worship in ancient Israel during Passover, Pentecost (Festival of Weeks), and Sukkot (harvest time) embodied integrated spaces of celebration and penitence. In Christianity, we often break those pieces into distinct liturgical seasons. For example, Lenten repentance brings us into a low, humble posture so that we are lifted up in resurrection hope and joy at Easter.

Perhaps the whole of Psalm 95 can remind us this Lent that we are messy and complicated, equipped with joy and a plastic sword. God is big enough to welcome us when we are praiseworthy and when we are penitential. God loves us and longs for us to be rejoined with our siblings in faith. The Lord who made the seas and molded the dry land is calling you and me to be reconnected and recentered upon God. In spite of all the pain and chaos, shall we try again today?

With God’s help,

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

Sit with how celebration and regret can be co-mingled. Spend a few moments reflecting on where you feel challenged and inspired. How is God building up your faith today in this tension? How will you respond?

Herod and the Power to Say No - March 11

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82; Gen. 45:16-28; 1 Cor. 8:1-13; Mark 6:13-29

One of the trends I am seeing in my own leadership style is that I get myself in trouble often trying to say “yes” to too many things. I’m probably a pleaser (I’m not sure if that is part of my Myers-Briggs score, Enneagram, or something else entirely). In some ways, it probably contributes to some of the excitement of our community. We have lots of programs and ministries and small groups. But it’s not always done in a systemic way that protects time, and it’s a real growing edge for me.

Saying yes to too many things is a pretty light thing that is easy enough to address. But it’s not hard to see how that same impulse, how wanting to please, wanting to keep everyone happy, wanting to avoid disappointing people, can lead to much heavier consequences.

In today’s Gospel, King Herod finds himself in that exact place.

At a birthday banquet, caught up in the moment and in front of a room full of powerful guests, he makes a sweeping promise: “Ask me for whatever you wish, and I will give it.” It sounds generous, maybe even noble. But it is also careless. It is a promise made more out of pride and pressure than wisdom.

The request is for the head of John the Baptist.  Herod knows it is wrong. Mark even tells us that Herod was “deeply grieved.” Yet because of his oath and the eyes of everyone watching, he goes through with it.

Herod’s story is a sobering reminder of how dangerous it can be when our desire to please people becomes stronger than our commitment to what is right.  Sometimes faithfulness means disappointing the room or saying ‘no’ to a friend. 

I think there is real wisdom in learning how to say no. And sometimes the most faithful leadership begins with the courage to pause before making promises we cannot faithfully keep.   

John+

Question for Self-reflection:
Where in your life might the desire to please others be pulling you away from what you know is right or faithful?

Crowding in Our Lives - March 4

Today’s Readings:AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; Gen. 42:18-28; 1 Cor. 5:9-6:8; Mark 4:1-20

One of the most life-giving projects at Saint Stephen’s began last fall in the Carpenter living room. Every Monday afternoon, I would stroll in with my New Oxford Annotated Bible and sit down with Doug Carpenter. We would open to the Gospel according to Mark, one of us would read a chapter aloud, press record on the phone, and then we would simply talk about it. (You can listen to those conversations here.)

The idea came from Doug, who had shared that he was currently reading the Bible chapter by chapter with one of his godchildren. What a beautiful way to be a godparent, even in one’s 90s!

Most weeks, we had each read ahead and jotted a few thoughts, but not much more than that. The practice itself was the point, that we are returning again and again to the soil of scripture. What I noticed was how often we could see ourselves in the story, or recognize our world reflected in Mark’s Gospel.

I write this because, as that weekly rhythm has paused—simply because of too many pressing commitments—I realize how much I miss the grounding of it. I still read scripture and pray with it, but there was something about those Mondays that fed my spiritual life in a way that was steady and sustaining.

I think that is at the heart of Jesus’ parable in Mark 4:1–20. The sower scatters seed everywhere. Sowed on the path, on rocky ground, among thorns, and on good soil. The seed is the same in every case. The difference is not the generosity of God, but the condition of the soil that receives it.

And Jesus is honest about the thorns. The seed that falls among them is choked by “the cares of the world, the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things.” That line always lands close to home. Not because any of those things are inherently evil, but because they quietly crowd out the spaciousness needed for God’s word to take root.

I can feel that tension in my own life right now. The commitments themselves are meaningful and good. Yet when they multiply, they can become the very thorns Jesus names. Those Monday conversations were, for me, a small act of tending the soil. They created space for the word to sink deeper, to nourish faith, to shape hope. And their absence reminds me that good soil does not happen by accident. It is cultivated through attention, relationship, and time given to God.

The invitation of this parable is not guilt but awareness: to notice what is growing in us, and what may be crowding out life. Because the sower is still scattering. How are you tending the soil of your very life?

Faithfully,

John+

Self-reflection question:
What “thorns” in my life, good commitments or necessary cares, might be crowding out the space where God’s word can take deeper root in me right now?

Ash Wednesday and Self-Awareness

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 95 [for the invitatory] & 32, 143; PM Psalm 102, 130; Amos 5:6-15; Heb. 12:1-14; Luke 18:9-14

Today is Ash Wednesday, and I hope many of you who are reading this reflection will be moved to attend worship somewhere today, wherever that may be. At some point during the liturgy, ashes will be placed on your forehead in the sign of the cross with the words, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” It is a powerful moment—one that reminds us both of our mortality and of the God who lovingly created us from the dust of the earth.

If you were to look in the Book of Common Prayer, the order of the Ash Wednesday liturgy is interesting. We gather for the Liturgy of the Word, hear the readings and sermon, and only then are people invited to receive ashes. The appointed Gospel is always from Matthew 6:1–6, 16–21, where Jesus says, “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.”

Back in 2018, we invited the Rev. Dr. Jim Turrell—then a liturgy professor and now Dean of Sewanee’s School of Theology—to give a lecture on the Prayer Book. He pointed out that this order creates a kind of tension: we are marked publicly with ashes and then immediately hear Jesus warn against public displays of piety. Since then, we have made a pastoral shift at Saint Stephen’s. We impose ashes at the beginning of the service and then hear the Gospel, so that the scripture can interpret the action—reminding us of what this is truly about and guarding us from turning it into a performance.

Today’s Gospel for Morning Prayer carries a similar theme. In Luke 18:9–14, Jesus tells the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector. The Pharisee stands apart, praying about himself, rehearsing his righteousness and thanking God he is not like other people. The tax collector, by contrast, stands at a distance, unable even to lift his eyes, beating his breast and praying simply, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” Jesus points to the tax collector as the model for who we are to be.  We are freed from having to get it all right.  Thanks be to God!  But we are called to be self-aware.

This is Ash Wednesday. The ashes remind us of who we are: mortal, fragile, dependent, and in need of mercy. And in that truth, there is something profoundly unifying. Every human being is marked by the same dust. Every forehead bears the same cross. The whole Church is invited into the same season of repentance.  All of us are complex and messy people in need of grace. 

And what God is always seeking is not our performance but our hearts. The ashes do not change God’s love for us; they change us. At some level, they soften us and make us look inward, something that is always desperately needed.

So come, if you can. Receive the ashes. Hear again the ancient words. And let God do the quiet work of reshaping your heart in mercy and truth.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: Where is God calling you to be more self-aware?

The Longest Distance - February 10

Today’s Readings - Psalm 80; Gen. 25:19-34; Heb. 13:1-16; John 7:37-52

A week ago, this past Sunday the gospel was the Sermon on the Mount or what we know as the Beatitudes. The Beatitudes are not a measuring stick Jesus is using to highlight our shortcomings but rather an introduction to the disciples and to us on how to be a disciple. They also reveal the character of God and who we can expect God to be in our lives. None of the Beatitudes are prescriptive but rather they describe opportunities, choices we can make as we live out our lives. 

Doing the right thing, making the right choice, is not always the easiest thing to do. As a matter of fact, sometimes it’s the hardest, most painful thing to do. I officiated at a funeral last week for a man whose family described him as the kind of friend who told you the truth even if it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. That’s hard. I once told a friend the truth about something she had said that offended me and that one statement ended our friendship. It was a painful decision but a necessary one. 

As a first century Jew, telling the truth or doing the right thing could cost you your standing in the Temple or worse. In the gospel for today, Nicodemus questions the Temple authorities concerning their desire to condemn Jesus without a trial, to arrest him without any concrete accusations. Bishop-elect The Very Rev. Richard Lawson, preached at the opening Eucharist for the 195th Diocesan Convention. He spoke of how Jesus was moved with compassion for those by whom he was surrounded. He also quoted Bp.Furman Charles "Bill" Stowe, the eighth bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Alabama, as having once said that the longest distance you’ll ever travel is 18” – the distance from your head to your heart.

Doing the right thing, speaking up when it’s hard, speaking your truth to power – all of this is more than an intellectual endeavor. It takes knowing what the right thing is and then having a heart filled with compassion for justice, truth and respect for other human beings as children of God. However, most of all, it takes having faith in the transforming power of the Holy Spirit and in Christ. Trusting Jesus is what empowered the disciples to choose to follow him and then to live their lives in such a way that they were constantly forced to make choices.

We face situations every day where we have choices. No one can tell someone else what is right for them however, choosing to trust Jesus seems to be a no brainer. Those 18” can feel like a mile if we let them, but if we allow the Holy Spirit to transform us, if we trust in the teachings of Jesus, they can feel like no distance at all. 

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - What would you do if there were no repercussions to fear? If you could speak up for whatever it is that’s important to you, that you believe is right without fear of reprisal or losing someone’s respect or friendship? Is it possible to speak our truth so that it’s  heard in a grace-filled non-offensive manner?

The Good News Disrupts and Upends - October 17, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 16, 17; PM Psalm 22; Jer. 38:14-28; 1 Cor. 15:1-11; Matt. 11:1-6

In today’s gospel, Jesus is exchanging messages with John the Baptist. Incarcerated for speaking out against the wicked ruler Herod Antipas, John heard from his friends and followers who spoke of Jesus’ actions. This news got the prophet thinking, as he had time for that in jail.

The prophets of old – like Isaiah – had prophesied about the Messiah. John knew to watch the signs. As a prophet, he practiced listening to God and noted the movements and motifs of people. I imagine that he monitored and measured faithfulness. Attuned to the Spirit and God’s people, John sensed change coming. And so, he sent word to Jesus, asking “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

Jesus responded to his jailed cousin. He told John’s disciples to testify to what they witnessed in his actions. He gave examples of what they could point to, for Jesus healed obvious brokenness in people –sight, gait, skin maladies, hearing, and those at the point of death. And the poor – the ignored and easily-manipulated – “have good news brought to them”.

Something new occurred to me: Jesus put the power back into the hands of the vulnerable, both through healing and through the way he named the healings. He did not give himself the credit, saying “I restored sight to the blind and I healed the lame.” Jesus said, “the blind receive their sight, the lame walk”. Those healed were at the center; their personhood was restored. The downtrodden were empowered to stand upright.

As a prophet, the change and challenge Jesus brought was considerable. He offered new hope those whose voices were once squelched and disregarded. By doing so, he made things messier for those in positions of power, because God sent the Son to bring freedom in a divine way to all. The Good News of God’s faithfulness lifts us in new ways, and it calls us to let go of what holds us back.

How is the humble prophet and Son of God bringing truth, healing, and freedom into your life today?

With God’s help.

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

Sit with Matthew 11:1-6 today. Where is Jesus' message of healing and hope calling you to pay attention? What part of the Good News will you share with those around you?

The Greatest of These is Love - October 13

Today’s Readings - Psalm 1, 2, 3; Jer. 36:11-26; 1 Cor. 13:(1-3)4-13; Matt. 10:5-15

When asked what the greatest commandment is Jesus replies,” You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, . . . soul, and . . .mind, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But what does it mean to love God? God loved us first so we know what the most pristine, supremely sacrificial love looks like but how on earth could we ever return that kind of love?

Frederich Buechner in his book The Remarkable Ordinary, asks this very same question. His response is this, pay attention, love the way we might love anyone else. So, for example, think of your best friend. You take time to notice what’s happening to her. You watch, knowing that things change, life happens, and we can’t always predict what will happen next so it’s important to pay attention. And we wait, remaining present, waiting for whatever may come.

As with our best friend, with God we pay attention, we watch for all the ways God is made manifest in the world around us, for all the open windows of possibility God provides.  Paul Tillich said that the first duty of love is to listen. And so, we wait, listening for that still small voice, being mindful that God speaks to us through unfamiliar and sometimes unlikely paths. If we aren’t watching, waiting - paying attention - we may miss God. This is how we love others and how we love God - we see them with eyes of compassion, patience and sometimes curiosity. We see with the eyes of wonder and possibility, and we give thanks and glory to the ways God has showered us with God’s outpouring love.

To love God is to see God in all the wonderful and messy, perfect, gorgeous and hideous ways that creation manifests itself, surrounding us with evidence of God’s creative genius and sometimes humor. To love our neighbor is to see in each person a reflection of God, and even to see God in our own not always so attractive, loveable image; to love ourselves on the days we say hurtful things to those we love or on those days we wish we could go back to bed and start again. It means to love others even when we don’t agree, or we’re afraid of the differences the other person presents. It means looking for some “unexpected beauty, or pain or need” (F. Buechner, Secrets in the Dark, p. 99) in those we know well and maybe especially in those we rarely take time to notice.

Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth spells out what love is better than has ever been said before or since. In the end how we live out our faith, is an expression of how we love others and God and how we show gratitude for all that we have received from God. This is what really matters, to try in our imperfect way to love God and to love our neighbors, to see God’s reflection in the world and in all of those we meet. As Frederich Buechner has said, “They are all God’s peculiar treasures,” and God loves each and every one of us. No one is an exception, no one a mistake.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Reflection and Challenge – Seeing and loving all of God’s creation is an impossible task. How might we approach this so that each day we accomplish a little more than the day before?

Step Outside Yourself - October 6

Today’s Readings -  Psalm 106:1-18; 2 Kings 21:1-18; 1 Cor. 10:14-11:1; Matt. 8:-34

In a sermon a couple of weeks ago I shared a story written by Marlane Ainsworth. She describes her father as a man of few words; however, she recalls one night at dinner when he said something that she never forgot. She said he cleared his throat, put down his knife and fork and said, “It’s a good idea every now and then to step outside yourself and watch yourself walk by.” Several people commented that they had never thought about that concept. I said it seemed like a healthy exercise for us all. There’s the possibly it could increase our self-awareness which is always valuable.

 I thought about the number of times I’ve walked past a window and caught a glimpse of my reflection and was surprised and thought “do I really look like that?” What’s even more revealing however is to recall conversations or discussions and with that bird’s eye view “critique” my responses or comments. I realized that in far too many situations when I feel my opinion may not be welcome, that I hold my tongue, my silence becoming nothing more than culpability. There have also been times when I wish I had held my tongue, not having been as thoughtful or as gracious or tactful as I could have been.

 In today’s gospel Jesus is confronted by two demoniacs. When Jesus approaches, they initially demand to know what he wants from them. Why does he torment them? Jesus gives them what they ask for – he sends their demons into a herd of swine. They somehow saw who they were and asked for what they needed rather than what they initially wanted.

 What if we all were more self-aware and recognized those times we needed to step back and be more self-critical, more aware of what we need rather than always focused on what we want. It’s a perspective that gives us the ability to see our everyday behaviors and if we’re willing, to make some constructive changes. In the midst of growing divisions, heated disagreements and discussions it appears we’ve forgotten how to respect the other’s point of view. it seems this could be a much needed, welcome change. With the presence of Christ as our guide we can gain the perspective we need and hopefully we won’t need to be cast into the closest herd of swine, even though sometimes, maybe we should.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Reflection and Challenge - When was the last time you stepped outside of yourself and took an honest once over, asking Jesus for what you need rather than what you think you want?

The Porch - October 3, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; 2 Kings 19:1-20; 1 Cor. 9:16-27; Matt. 8:1-17 

Sitting on the porch is one of my favorite pastimes. I remember spending time on the screened porch at my childhood home in Montgomery, perched on the wicker furniture. I could hear birds flitting about, smell the fresh rain, and take in the array of green hues – from azaleas to St. Augustine grass to the ferns in the shade garden. This morning, my son moved into that familiar rhythm as he sat on the back porch of his childhood home in Bluff Park, enjoying the cool, fall air and listening to birds. Sam joined him and activated the Merlin app to help them identify the chirping conversations going on among the feathered neighbors. Their shared time – boy, man, and birds – on the porch was a way to prepare for this day’s challenges and invitations.

We humans need to rest and take a breath. And pay attention. There is a line in the 1986 film “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” in which the title character Ferris says, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Jesus often models the importance of balancing the exhaustion of ministry with the spiritual nurture that comes from rest and prayer. In today’s gospel (Matthew 8:1-17), he moves pretty fast. Jesus concludes the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5-7), and upon coming down from the mountain, great crowds surround him, seeking healing and hope. Responding to the immense need, he heals a man with a skin disease, saying “I do choose. Be made clean!” Jesus heals the servant of a Roman centurion, even at a distance, for the centurion’s faith and humility are great. Then, Jesus enters Peter’s house, finding his mother-in-law afflicted with a fever. He touches her hand and the fever departs her body. She is restored to health and resumes daily tasks immediately! That evening, people bring many others weighed down by evil spirits, and Jesus cures all who are sick.

As I take a day of rest to catch my breath, I am humbled by Jesus’ stamina. I am inspired by his unwavering heart for bringing reconciliation and peace to a hurting world. The apostle Paul writes to the church in Corinth, advising them about Christian living. He reminds them that proclamation of the Good News is a responsibility and an exercise in humility each day. It is not a message to serve self, but to empty oneself for God’s glory. This discipline requires us to be ready. We need rest. We need encouragement. We need the reconnection that comes through being with our loved ones and in nature. We need to receive the reassurance of God who created us and loves us, so that we can face all that is ahead for us today. We do not do this hard and holy work alone. We engage with the courage of the Holy Spirit, the grace of our Lord, and the compassion of Jesus. Join me in this endeavor…I’ll be on the porch.

With God’s help,

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

How are you tending spaces of spiritual rest for yourself? If you have patterns and places already, fantastic! If not, no worries! I invite you to listen for where you are nourished, and talk to others who experience good "spiritual hygiene".

Simplicity as the Narrow Gate

Today's Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144; 2 Kings 18:9-25; 1 Cor. 8:1-13; Matt. 7:13-21

As you read this email, a group of pilgrims from Saint Stephen’s will be having their farewell dinner in Santiago and beginning a 4,000-mile journey back home. Walking the Camino de Santiago again has been an extraordinary gift for me, and honestly, it has been such a beautiful reminder of the simplicity of life. We have walked, shared, laughed, broken bread, made friends, and even played a few rounds of Mahjongg. That is not a typo.

One of the metaphors of the Camino is the simplicity of helping each other along the way. On one wooded path, a man stood playing a simple percussion instrument, much like steel drums, offering joy to all who passed by. One of our pilgrims asked if she could try, and soon Jennye was playing the mallets, filling the forest with unexpected music, delighting everyone around. That’s the way of the Camino: someone offers what they have, another joins in, and joy is multiplied. We carried one another’s packs, shared blister pads, offered encouragement on steep climbs, and reminded each other to slow down and notice the beauty around us. The Camino is not about getting ahead; it is about walking together.

Jesus once told his disciples, “Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction” (Matthew 7:13). We often assume the “narrow gate” means the harder path, the more complicated way. But maybe it is also the obvious one—the way of simplicity, of caring for each other, of sharing what we have, of helping one another along the road. We have made life too complicated. Jesus points us back to what matters most: not what we build up, but how we love and support each other on the journey.

Maybe its narrow because it is so easy to not trust each other, to make enemies out of our friends and out of our strangers, or to believe that there is not enough, that we must hoard all that we can. Maybe that is why things have gotten so out of control in our daily lives.

The Camino is a profound reminder of this truth. Day after day, you carry only what you need. You rely on the kindness of strangers, and you learn that joy comes not from possessions or accomplishments, but from the gift of walking with others. And perhaps that is the invitation for all of us—to live our daily lives as if we are on the Camino, trusting that with God’s help, and each other’s, that this journey of life and faith is something we do with our human family, a profoundly sacred journey. 

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: What burdens or complications in your daily life might you lay down so that you can walk more simply, trusting God and others along the way?

The Ultimate Cure - September 29

Today’s Readings - Psalm 89:1-18; 2 Kings 17:24-41; 1 Cor. 7:25-31; Matt. 6:25-34

The statistics on the number of people in the United States who have been diagnosed with anxiety is astounding. My mother’s anxiety, and accompanying depression  controlled her life from as early as I can remember. As a very young child I was aware that I worried more than most other children my age. Just the sound of an ambulance could send me into a tailspin.

 Dr. Edith Eger in her book The Choice describes her own personality and the issues that she has faced as a survivor of Auschwitz. She writes that as humans we all have unpleasant experiences, we all make mistakes, and we all end up being the object of circumstances beyond our control. What she realized after years of self- analysis and study was that when we experience mistakes, discomfort or tragedy, that the feelings that result signal something about our own self-worth. Unfortunately, in that vulnerable state we convince ourselves that the awful circumstances or results we end up with are all we deserve. When that could not be further from the truth.

Today’s gospel reading is one that I have almost memorized because I’ve focused on it so often. Does Jesus not know how many drug companies make their fortunes dependent on people being anxious? Of course he does. That must be why the advice “Do not fear” is repeated so many times in the Bible, more than any other adage and is the least obeyed. Anxiety is often fueled by the feeling that we’re not enough, not good enough, not strong enough, not smart enough, not popular enough. The thing is even though we’re all imperfect, broken and flawed we’re just enough. Jesus still loves us as if we’re the apple of his eye. The problem seems to be that we are unable to accept this outlandish wonderful idea. We can’t seem to accept ourselves just as we are, broken, overweight, too short, too old, too thin, too tall. We’re just never going to be exactly who we think we want or need to be. In the end the goal isn’t merely to lessen our anxiety, but to better align ourselves with God as our creator, a God who makes no mistakes and ultimately to give less power to this master we call “anxiety”.  That would be the ultimate cure-all prescription.

Can you imagine being anyone more perfect than the perfect creature God created? This is where you smile and with a big sigh of relief thank God that you are exactly who you were created to be.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Challenge and Reflection - Can you change the object of your current struggle by worrying?  What constructive steps can you take? Prayer is always at the top of my list, but God empowers us to act, so make a list, an appointment with a therapist, a nutritionist, whatever reroutes your energy from worrying. Don’t let worrying steal the joy God intended for your life.

Never Gonna Give You Up – September 26, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 88; PM Psalm 91, 92; 2 Kings 9:17-37; 1 Cor. 7:1-9; Matt. 6:7-15

This week, my time in Spain has been on my mind, as my colleague John Burruss is walking the same 72-mile path along the Camino de Santiago that I took this summer. My journey was alongside 20 teenagers and 4 other adults; John is with 18 other adults. With fondness and joy during Sunday morning’s Christian formation forum, I listened to reflections from 9 youth pilgrims and one of our adult chaperones. What beautiful stories of growth and hope they shared! I cherished the rhythm of our days, as we walked and ate, laughed and prayed.

In the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew, Jesus advised his listeners to avoid “practicing piety before others in order to be seen by them;” and to avoid praying “at the street corners” but “go into your room and shut the door”. In truth, for 25 pilgrims to pray together, we required a space bigger than what was available in our hotels. So, we often gathered in a courtyard, park, or other outdoor venue. To Jesus’ point, we did not seek others’ attention when we prayed in public, but to find stillness and time for reflection, alone together.

One evening, as we sought a place to pray in the bustling ancient courtyards around the cathedral in Santiago, chaperone Michael McGovern suggested an open space that surely would be obliging at that late hour – as it was just getting dark around 10:30 p.m. Upon walking down the stairs, we realized that, while there was ample room for us to assemble on the temperate summer evening, there was another impediment: loud music. The outdoor café had tables full of people and a man playing guitar and singing Rick Astley’s 1987 worldwide hit, “Never Gonna Give You Up”. With its sticky tune and simple refrain, we recognized it on the spot. We chaperones began laughing, for our efforts at worship had been “rick-rolled” – a term associated with this song popping unexpectedly into another experience. A harmless prank in the internet spheres manifested in real life for us in Santiago! The lyrics of this song ring true for our pilgrimage: regardless of where we are, God is “never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you…”

Jesus taught the listeners at the Sermon on the Mount that prayer need not be ornate. Simplicity and heartfelt are hallmarks of how we can connect with the Lord. The simple words we read in Matthew 6:9-13 – known as the Lord’s Prayer – are just that. We acknowledge God’s name and ask that God’s will become our own will. We ask for enough nourishment for today. And then, we ask for forgiveness and protection. God yearns for each of us to turn our attention and intentions to the Divine – no matter the background music, setting, or hardship upon us. God knows us, and desires that we pay attention to offer our lives to the glory of the Lord.

Join me in praying today. Simply. Humbly. And with God’s help.

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

If praying is hard for you, why is that? Do you struggle with what to ask? Or wondering if the words are right? If these are concerns for you, sit with The Lord's Prayer. Rewrite those words Jesus taught, and craft them in a way that reflects your prayer to God. There is no right or wrong way to pray, when the focus is connection with our Lord.

Changing the Rules - September 24

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82; 2 Kings 6:1-23; 1 Cor. 5:9-6:8; Matt. 5:38-48

We were about ten minutes into a pretty fast-paced soccer game last Sunday. My son is a center back and he found himself in a dead sprint with a striker barreling toward his own goal. He has far exceeded any speed I could hold these days and, in a flash, trying to position himself, the striker tumbled down. Out came his first card of the season—a red card. Seventy more minutes of his team playing down a player and a suspension in the next league game were both the results. He was shaken, feeling like he let his team down, especially since he has a reputation of being a really good sport (he once knelt down years ago and tied an opposing player’s shoe, which is very much in character for him).

I love sports because they give us a healthy outlet for competition, but they also reveal something about us. Our human drive to win, to protect, to get ahead, is deeply ingrained—it’s part of our nature. Left unchecked, those instincts can lead us to lash out, to retaliate, to strike back when we feel wronged, or maybe just let the game get the best of us.  Maybe that’s what happened on Sunday. Which is why rules and referees are so important. Without them, things can spiral out of control quickly just by our human nature alone.

But in Matthew 5, Jesus calls his disciples to a different way. “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you, do not resist an evildoer… Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” In other words, Jesus acknowledges our natural instincts—but then he points us beyond them.  He is setting new ground rules that are different than what we might expect and fundamentally change the game we are playing.  He says the Christian life is not about meeting violence with violence or insult with insult. It is about choosing a different path, one that looks foolish to the world but mirrors the heart of God.

That doesn’t mean we abandon justice or pretend that wrong doesn’t exist. But it does mean we are called to respond in ways that disrupt the cycle of retribution. We are called to live in such a way that when others see us, they see something different.  This is why I’m so troubled when a Christian response is retribution and it feels like this point may be worth underscoring today.  The lectionary readings seem especially timely. 

So much of our world runs on red cards, on rules and penalties, on “you did this, so I’ll do that.” Jesus calls us to something more. He calls us to live differently. To choose love where retaliation would be easier or to pray where anger would be natural.  We do this so that we might show grace where judgment is expected, modeling the radical love of Christ Jesus.

That, he says, is the mark of the children of God and what all of us should aspire to model. 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  When have I let my natural instinct to retaliate or defend myself get the better of me—and what would it have looked like to respond with Christ’s way of love instead?  In what areas of my life am I still playing by “the world’s rules” of retribution and fairness, rather than by the radical grace Jesus calls us to model?

Being “Family” - September 22

Today’s Readings - Psalm 80; 2 Kings 5:1-19; 1 Cor. 4:8-21; Matt. 5:21-26

When I was in the first grade my best friend had several siblings, all close in age with a huge house and yard – great for making forts and playing pretend. They also had a station wagon with fake wood paneling on the sides. I was convinced if you had a station wagon and lots of children to fill it up, life would be grand.

Our house was very quiet in comparison. I had one sibling, a brother ten years older. Once he graduated from college, he never wanted to come home. I missed him terribly but there was something that kept him away.

My mother had four siblings. They all lived in Georgia except for one who lived in California. One Christmas we all met at my grandmother’s house in Gainesville, Georgia. I loved it. I had cousins to play with and I helped my grandmother and aunts as they cooked, listening to family stories. With the exception of a couple of funerals, I don’t think we ever got together again. My mother had a falling out with a few of them. Most of it seemed trivial to me, but it was enough for her to cut them out of her life. As I grew older our family became smaller and gradually the church was where I found my family.

Today’s gospel reading reminds me of all the times I wish my mom had been willing to reconcile her differences with her family. It also reminds me of how easy it is to be unwilling to take the first step in admitting our part in whatever is separating us from those we care about.

Our world is complicated beyond words these days, with divisions everywhere you look. God doesn’t see our world as a dichotomy of good and evil, saved and unsaved. However somehow, we’ve managed to do just that. God created all things for good, and yet somehow, we’ve created a world in which the culture encourages seeing differences first and then only allowing grace and respect for those we decide is deserving. How did it get this way? Or has it always been this way and I’ve been too naive to see it?  

I’m so grateful to have a vocation, where I am tasked to spread Jesus’ message of salvation and reconciliation, to spend time striving to find ways to bring people together rather than apart. But what about those people who can’t see past the divisions? In today’s gospel reading Jesus doesn’t say wait until your accuser comes to you, he says, “if you remember that your brother or sister* has something against you, . . first be reconciled to your brother or sister, . . .* Jesus puts the responsibility back on us to make peace, to end divisions – even when someone has something against us rather than the other way around.

How do we address something so huge, so out of control? It requires God’s help. Mary Bea shared a quote with some of us from Northminster Baptist church in Jackson, Ms., that I’d like to share with you:

"We agree to differ. We resolve to love. We unite to serve. If we cannot agree to differ, we have no freedom. If we do not resolve to love, we have no Christianity. If we do not unite to serve, the kingdom of God and the world will suffer.”

 Pray that God enlightens us to embrace these sentiments. Let’s find a way to be ‘family.’”

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection – What is the worst thing that could happen if you approached someone who looks at the world differently from you and ask, “Can we talk? I’d like to understand your point of view.” To quote John Burrus, “Respecting the dignity of every human being must also include how we value and listen to those with whom we disagree.”