Slow Change - June 11

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; Deut. 31:30-32:14; 2 Cor. 11:21b-33; Luke 19:11-27

I just walked out of my first class on liturgical structure at Sewanee, where we’re studying how Christian worship has taken shape over the past two thousand years—especially the rites of Baptism and Eucharist. We’ll be reading early texts that reach all the way back to the 2nd and 3rd centuries. It’s a chance to dive deep into areas I couldn’t fully explore in seminary.

What strikes me most so far is how slowly and patiently our liturgies have evolved. Our prayers, our songs, and our sacraments weren’t born in a single moment; they unfolded over generations. Change, I’m learning, rarely happens all at once. It takes years, decades—sometimes a lifetime.

At the same time, I’m paying attention to how rapidly the world around us is changing—often faster than we can absorb. We’re living through a season of profound uncertainty and transformation, and we won’t fully understand the meaning of these days for decades to come.

Those two truths: one of slow formation, the other of fast-moving change. Both shape how I hear today’s Gospel.

In Luke 19, Jesus tells a story about a nobleman who entrusts his servants with resources while he travels. Some take risks and invest what they’ve been given. One buries it in fear. When the nobleman returns, he doesn’t reward flashiness—he honors faithfulness.

We live in a world obsessed with immediacy: instant results, instant impact. But God’s kingdom grows differently. It grows through steady, hidden, courageous work, the kind of work that often goes unnoticed but leaves deep roots.

So I wonder: Where is God calling you to be faithful, even when you can’t see results right away? What gifts have you been given, not to protect, but to offer with courage and trust?

Sometimes the holiest work is the slowest: raising a child with love, leading a group, community, or workplace with quiet integrity, planting a seed that won’t bloom for years, praying to forgive someone who has wronged you. 

May we be found faithful, not just in the dramatic moments, but in the small, sacred acts that shape a lifetime.

John+