In the Shadow of God's Wings - September 1

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 26, 28; PM Psalm 36, 39; Job 12:1,13:3-17,21-27; Acts 12:1-17; John 8:33-47

Today’s Reflection

How priceless is your love, O God! your people take refuge under the shadow of your wings.

—Psalm 36:7

September 1 is a very important day in our family because on that day in 2003 (which was Labor Day that year), our oldest daughter was born. At the time, we lived in Bryan, Texas, where I was finishing grad school at Texas A&M. When my obstetrician told me in July that she thought I was likely to have my baby a few weeks ahead of my due date (which was September 2), my most pressing question for her was: Do you think I can make it until the middle of August—because that is when I told my dissertation advisor that I will turn in the full-length draft of my dissertation? Looking back, it seems funny that this was my main concern. But I was 29 years old, and up until that point much of my life had revolved around achieving my own goals.

I felt ready to rise to the challenge of being a parent, of building my world around raising a child and not just presenting the next conference paper or earning the next degree. While those things remained important, to me it seemed more important to pour myself into shaping the life of another human being by being a mother. And so, as 2003 unfolded, while I was pushing myself to keep making progress on writing my dissertation chapters, I was also focused on debating potential baby names, deciding whether we should go with a Clifford the Big Red Dog theme for baby decor, and reading all of the Dr. Sears attachment parenting books that we could get our hands on at Barnes & Noble.

On September 1, 2003, everything changed. Olivia entered the world and we became parents. Life simultaneously became so much harder and so much better. And my faith changed, because now I began to have a different experience of how God sees us and cares for us as his dearly loved children.

In the Psalms appointed both for this morning and this afternoon, we hear repeated this theme of God caring for us, helping us, being a refuge for us—many of the things that we are called on to do and be as parents. In Psalm 28: 7-11, we see a glimpse of the psalmist’s sense of this parent-child type relationship with God:

Blessed is the Lord! For he has heard the voice of my prayer. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I have been helped; therefore my heart dances for joy, and in my song will I praise him. The Lord is the strength of his people, a safe refuge for his anointed. Save your people and bless your inheritance; shepherd them and carry them for ever.

Just as parents with their children, God shows his love to us as he hears us and responds to us when we cry out to him (a key principle in attachment parenting). When we learn that God will come to help us when we cry out, we learn that we can trust him—just as our children learn to trust us each time we hear them, respond to them, and provide what they need in that moment. Just as God gives us strength by providing a safe refuge for us under the shadow of his wings, so too do we give our children a sense of security by creating a home where they feel safe to dance with joy and be their most true selves.

Reflecting on the past 17 years, I see how I have learned not only about myself and my children, but also about what the never-failing love of God for us is like. No matter how challenging things may seem in a difficult moment or phase, I know that I am called to keep shepherding and carrying each child—for ever. Just as God shepherds and carries me—and each one of us—for ever. As a parent, I know that I need God’s shepherding and refuge now more than ever. I am grateful that God hears my prayers and that I can find my strength through believing in his loving care.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

• When have you experienced God hiding you under the shelter of his wings?

• In what ways do you think of God as being your refuge?

• What is a time in your life when you can remember God shepherding you and carrying you

Daily Challenge

• Take the time to write a note of thanks to someone who has been a refuge or shepherd in your life.

The Truth Will Set You Free - August 31

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 25; PM Psalm 9, 15; Job 12:1-6,13-25; Acts 11:19-30; John 8:21-32

Today’s Reflection

A friend I met my sophomore year in high school had just moved to our town from another town a couple hours away, where he had been part of a church youth group called Aletheia. He really missed his old youth group, so he’d often wear his Aletheia T-shirt to school. On the back of the T-shirt, under the Aletheia logo there was a Bible verse, “And you will know the truth and the truth will set you free.  –John 8:32.”

So, whenever I see this verse, I think of Marc and his T-shirt. Aletheia, by the way, is a Greek word that translates as “truth” or “unconcealedness.” It’s a cool name for a youth group—a place where you can connect with God’s truth, a place where you can be your true self, where you don’t need to hide the truth of who you are.

But as I look back on it now, I don’t agree with the way John 8:32 was used on the back of the T-shirt because we’re only getting half of the story. Reading verse 32 by itself, it sounds like magical thinking: “and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” But as someone who is apt to ask questions, my mind wonders: How can we know this truth? And how can knowing this truth make me free?

If we go back just one verse, though, and read verses 31 and 32 together, the mysteriousness falls away and it becomes very clear how we can know this truth that makes us free. It’s a classic if-then statement, with the “then” part clearly implied: If you continue in my word, [then] you are truly my disciples; and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.

So, while both verses would have been too long to be the tag line on that vintage 1988 youth group tee, it’s necessary to read them together in order to grasp the message Jesus had for his disciples then and for us now. Jesus himself is telling us how important it is to continue in his word. In order to be a disciple, or a follower of the Way of Jesus, continuing to spend time with God’s words is essential.

It’s important to keep in mind that these two verses about how to be a disciple follow a dialogue in which Jesus is beginning to prepare his friends for the fact that he will not always be walking amongst them: “Again he said to them, ‘I am going away… Where I am going, you cannot come’” (8:21).

So, when Jesus tells them to “continue in my word” so that they will “truly [be] my disciples” he is answering a concern that they have: How can we keep being your disciples if you are not here with us, in person? Jesus, as their pastor and teacher, is reassuring them by giving them a simple plan for how they can stay connected with him, even when he is no longer physically present with them. Continue in my word.

We have never been in Jesus’ physical presence, but we know him and are truly his disciples when we continue in his word. Likewise, these past several months, we haven’t even been able to be in one another’s physical presence at the church—and yet we have still found ways to be the church together every day as we come together for Morning Prayer, Noonday Prayer, and Sunday worship. And each time we do this, we are continuing together in God’s word as we pray the Psalms, read aloud from the Hebrew scriptures, the Epistles, and the Gospel, and share these daily lectionary reflections.

Though we’ve been imprisoned by the pandemic these past several months, we’ve also, strangely enough, found a way to continue in God’s word so that we will continue to know the truth and, in so doing, to be set free.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection:

• At what moments of your day do you feel most free?

• What do you notice you are doing when you have those “a-ha moments” of connecting with the truth of who Jesus is in your life?

• How does participating in daily prayer and weekly worship change your sense of who God is, and of who you are in relationship to God and other Christians?

Daily Challenge:

• Invite a friend or family member to join you for Morning Prayer or Noonday Prayer today or even for this whole week.

• How does it change your relationship to share this time with another person in this way?

Remember Who You Are - August 29

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 20, 21:1-7(8-14); PM Psalm 110:1-5(6-7), 116, 117; Job 9:1,10:1-9,16-22; Acts 11:1-18; John 8:12-20

In my sixth-grade year, I was a student at a small Episcopal private school. There were less than thirty in my class, so we were all eager to make friends with people at other schools. The dances at the all-girls’ schools were especially exciting as my class what was about 75% boys. And, as you might imagine with a small school, we all wanted to make a name for ourselves and sure enough, there was a run of especially poor decision making.

The headmaster brought the whole middle school together and he had a pretty simple piece of advice. “Remember who you are and who you represent.” I can still hear those words and the power of the simple idea. If we know who we are, and if we know the people that have made us who we are, we have the power and freedom to make the best choices. While I suspect he didn’t want us to further tarnish the name of the school, I also believe he was giving us a tool to face the world with the grounding of our moral, philosophical, and religious education.

Maybe our headmaster (he was an Episcopal priest) was drawing from the wisdom offered in the Gospel of John when Jesus is testifying and says, “my testimony is valid because I know where I have come from and where I am going, but you do not know where I come from or where I am going.” There is a weightiness behind Jesus’s words. He can stand there with authority, grounded in who he is, and face those who seek to undermine him. Later in the story, he can even face the most daunting challenge of all, the great mystery of our faith, his death, and crucifixion. He can face this because he knows who he is and where he comes from.

The beautiful cosmic truth of our human condition in light of the teaching of the church is that each one of us, by being human, is also a beloved child of God. We come from God, God is with us in life, and in death, we return to God. Why then is it so difficult to make good decisions, to strive for justice and peace, to respect the dignity of every human being, to give of ourselves in a sacrificial way by modeling love in this world? Maybe it is because we have forgotten where we have come from and where we are headed.

The good news is a simple reminder can help us get back on track. So remember who you are and who you represent.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: What does it mean to you to come from God? How can remembering this truth impact your life from day to day?

Daily Challenge: Are there any heavy decision that you are making in your life at this time? In consider the dilemma you are facing, spend time reflecting on who you are, and the moral person that you are trying to become and see how that impacts your decision-making process.

The Problem with Internet Quizzes - August 28

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 16, 17; PM Psalm 22; Job 9:1-15,32-35; Acts 10:34-48; John 7:37-52

I’m not usually a sucker for internet quizzes. I would much rather be skeptical that they are mining for information or believe I am too busy with important tasks to waste my time (I know this is ridiculous). Actually, I just think they are silly and can’t possibly be helpful so I usually ignore them. I saw one on Facebook this week: What denomination of Christian are you really? The religious focus lured me into the trap. “It must be able to discern my faith for I’m a priest!”

Some of the questions were easy such as “Do you believe the Lord’s Supper to be the Flesh and Blood of Jesus, the real presence of God, or just a symbolic gift?” And then the questions got harder, not because I didn’t understand what they were asking, but my answers have become too nuanced and skeptical of those dogmatic statements. Then, I come across the question “What do you think about speaking in tongues?” I almost yelled it out loud – “Oh I know. This is easy. Absolutely ridiculous and nothing to do with God!”

Then the questions got too limiting and I quit the quiz before being announced some kind of heretic (or maybe an Episcopalian). I wouldn’t confess this judgmental side, but in the story of Acts, Peter proclaims that people who are different from him (Gentiles and he is Jewish) are speaking in tongues and extolling God. “Oh, I know about those people. I was just making fun of them!” And I become a little more providential in my faith believing God is pushing me to remember that I am not quite as open-minded as I think I am.

The other thing that Peter confesses that is important in this story – God is Lord of all. Not just some, not just the people that think like me, or act like me, or pray like me. Lord of all. And maybe we too easily want to share that burden with God as judge and arbitrator.

I keep wondering if our judging of other people, the ones where we limit or fail to see the image of God in another person, is the most destructive act we can do. Our judgments allow us to do things like vilify a victim or suppress anger and sorrow for a father being unjustly shot and paralyzed. It’s our judgments that suppress probably the most important virtue that we can manifest – that is compassion.

I’m not sure there is a right way to pray or the perfect denomination. With some flexibility, I am not sure there is an absolute right or wrong thing to believe (at least not if it bends your life to the self-sacrificing way of love, a truth we Christians see manifest in the life of Jesus). So how can we limit our judgment to mold us to be more compassionate? Maybe like Peter, it’s to trust that the Holy Spirit is doing something much larger than we can ever imagine.

-John+
Questions for Self-Reflection: What faith traditions do you think have missed the mark? Is that based on what they believe or the traditions they hold? What of your own traditions may be missing the mark?

Daily Challenge: Catch yourself in an act of judgment today. Ask yourself “how would more compassion change the outcome of what I am feeling?”

God's on a Bicycle with a Big Light - August 27

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 18:1-20; PM Psalm 18:21-50; Job 8:1-10, 20-22; Acts 10:17-33; John 7:14-36

One of the healthier habits I have picked up during this pandemic (I wish I could say they were all positive) has been cycling.  A few months ago, I was introduced to riding with small groups and it has become something I really look forward to each week.  One of the rides I have enjoyed is on Wednesday nights and the first group ride I joined, I was totally expecting for the ride to be finished during daylight.  In fact, by my calculations and looking at the route that was shared, I was sure we would be finished.  It never even occurred to me that I wouldn’t have everything that I needed.  Remember, I am a newbie. 

Ten to fifteen miles in, a rainstorm came and stopped our group for a good twenty minutes.  We all gathered under the porch of an abandoned store in Bessemer, delaying our ride.   Sure enough, by the last push home, it was pretty dark, and I was pretty nervous recognizing just how dangerous the situation was. 

One of the riders with a big spotlight on the front of his bike and an obnoxious and equally desirable flashing light on the rear took his place behind me.  (Please note, I now have an equally obnoxious flashing light and radar on the rear of my bike ).  I think he sensed my worry and I was doing everything in my power not to be last. 

On the second to last road, as we were climbing a hill, I hear this shout from behind, “Holes” just as his light covered a pothole in front of my bike.  With a clear call and the assisting beam of light, the hole was not a threat and I easily maneuvered around it.

Here’s the thing.  There are holes everywhere.  And riders help each other avoid them.  And when this rider (I still have no idea who he is) was behind me, I really had nothing to worry about, unless I refused to pay attention of course.  Listen to the Psalmist in the second half of Psalm 18.  “You, O Lord, are my lamp, my God, you make my darkness bright.”  The darkness is there.  It is with us.  But God makes it bright.

I am struck with the words that God “make(s) my darkness bright.” There is an implication that there is a shadow side not only to everyone we encounter but ourselves as well.  Isn’t this true?  Think of all the energy and effort we spend covering up all that stuff we don’t want others to know about.  We post pictures that make us look accomplished.  Or we share articles and ideas and stories because we are scared our prejudices might be exposed.  At the very least we are worried we won’t measure up to what we believe others expect of us.

But why are we scared?  What are we afraid of?  A pandemic?  An election? That our sinful broken selves won’t compare to the story we have painted on social media and to our friends and families?  God offers us an alternative.  A light to make our darkness bright.  Maybe God is riding right behind with a big spotlight saying that hole is nothing to worry about.

-John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:

What truths about yourself would you not want others to know about?  What is the worst thing that could happen if someone found out?  

Daily Challenge:

Pray about what you are naming.  I invite you to consider making an appointment with one of our clergy for the Sacrament of Confession and Reconciliation.  This powerful gift and sacrament can be a liberating gift in our lives.

It is ok to eat an ant - August 26

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:1-24; PM Psalm 12, 13, 14; Job 6:1,7:1-21; Acts 10:1-16; John 7:1-13

“What God has made clean, you must not call profane.”  

My first summer away at Boy Scout camp was quite memorable for a number of reasons.  I have already written about my face being painted red and blue while being told the 50 reasons I was a horrible person, all while having my footlocker paddled out to the floating dock in the middle of the lake in the middle of the night (hazing at its finest).  Another memory is of Jeremy, a fellow ginger a few years my senior, who was raw and rough and pushed the boundaries of rule-following behavior. We all admired him greatly.  We were sitting one day under the green canvas tarp that smelled like outdoors, campfire, and mildew perfectly commingled.  There was a wooden picnic table, and Jeremy had straddled the board at the end.  I am not sure why we were gathered, although maybe just one of those conversations that take place after a meal and has no purpose but to help you make light of boredom.

Jeremy had a crooked look in his eye and a bottle of Tabasco sauce.   He was a few years older and probably a little more open about his Tabasco sauce than his Marlboro Lights, both things that were mysterious and intriguing to us first-year scouts.  “I am going to eat this ant!” Jeremy proclaimed.  We were all shocked.  He then pulled out the Tabasco Sauce, put a few dabs on his pocketknife, and with the ant, took a bite.  

“You can’t eat ants!” someone screamed.  Another person had to announce to everyone how gross but cool Jeremy really was.  And then he did it again.  “All protein is good for the body,” Jeremy offered.  We were dumbstruck.  I asked how it tasted to which he responded, “everything tastes better with a little Tabasco.” He was way ahead of his time for a fifteen-year-old.

In the reading from Acts, Peter is praying on a roof and he has a vision.   There is a feast with all sorts of animals, and Peter, having been steeped in the Jewish faith and so he knows there are all sorts of things he shouldn’t eat.  Remember, there are Jewish laws around pork, because pigs have a cloven hoof, and there are laws about shellfish.  Let’s just say that a devout Jew would never eat a cheeseburger.  An ant is certainly not kosher (oddly, a locust is the only kosher insect). And then Peter hears this voice, that tells him to get up and eat. “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.”  

Now, I don’t really care what you eat (well I do hope it is ethically sourced and responsibly grown), and I don’t own any stock in Tabasco, but I think there is a tremendous amount of hope and possibility packed into those little words offered by the mystical voice. They might be some of the most important words in all of the Bible. Think about it.  God creates. And that creation is made new (clean) in Jesus Christ.  And not only do we not call it profane, but should name the hope and possibility that is made manifest through Christ. 

A birth.  A baptism.  An adoption. A marriage of two people.  A story of repentance and forgiveness.  A gift of grace.  A person who is different.  As Christians, we get to name beauty and hope and possibility!  How wonderful! 

If you turn on the news or have a Facebook feed filled with fear and anger, it might seem like we humans are in the business of naming the profane.  But our Scripture today reminds us to go somewhere else.  Instead, we should be looking for what is possible, what God is up to, even if it crosses our comfort zone or stretches our faith.  I mean, isn’t all protein good for the body? Where do you see hope and possibility and God doing something new?

 - John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: What are some of the things you think are profane?  How might you think about those things differently?  Are there things you used to think were profane that you now think are God’s blessing?

Daily Challenge:  Open your social media feed.  Find one thing that drives you crazy.  Now, find one way of seeing that story as offering something of hope.  It might be difficult, but there should be some perspective, or way it is written that can offer some good news.  Naming it can help us learn to be more open.

Go, and Make Your Bed - August 25

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 5, 6; PM Psalm 10, 11; Job 6:1-4,8-15,21; Acts 9:32-43; John 6:60-71

Confession: I am not good at making the bed.  Or I just don’t do it very often.  Anne does.  And if it’s a lazy Saturday and I want to take my time getting out of bed, and she has already gotten up, she will wait not so patiently for the moment when I get up for some reason to pounce on the cleanliness opportunity.  Within moments, the bed will be made perfectly, and the fifty-seven pillows will be restored to their righteous glory.  The bed will then look really appealing and will be beckoning me to sit down and read a book or browse the news on my phone, which will only lead to an exasperated release of air and a head shake, and a smile from me, that says, “but it looks so comfortable.”  And we will have a conversation about why the bed needs to be made every day, first thing in the morning. It has almost become a playful game in our household. 

I thought of our little game when I stumbled across the story of Aeneas in the book of Acts.  Peter finds a man named Aeneas who has been bedridden for eight years.  The Scripture is sure to point out that he was paralyzed.  Peter heals Aeneas in the name of Christ, but instead of asking him to get up and go forth into the world, he orders him to make his bed!  In the next passage, Peter heals Tabitha who was known to have become ill and died.  He raises her from the dead and leads her out into the community to show off this great miracle.  But not Aeneas. He is off cleaning his room. 

The best I can gather, the writer of Acts, likely Luke who was probably also a physician, is drawing focus on Aeneas being able to do something that he hadn’t been able to do for many years.  It strikes me as odd, and yet only someone who had lain in a bed for eight years would miss being able to make it.  Would Aeneas find life and joy and purpose in the making of his bed?   Luke thought so.  So did Peter.

I think it is easy to find ourselves overwhelmed by the day to day tasks of our lives.  The cleaning of a house, making school lunches, mowing the yard, caring for an aging parent or loved one.  But Peter reminds us that there is some beauty in the ordinary moments of life.  For many, the stresses of pandemic make life extraordinary challenging, but there is some wisdom in the reading of Acts, part of living the resurrected life is to treasure each moment, every task at hand.  Finding a way to appreciate each opportunity might help us recognize an even greater gift in this life we have been called into.  Go, and make your bed!

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What tasks are especially difficult to accomplish these days?  What do you not do, that you should?

Daily Challenge:  Find something you have been putting off.  Complete the task, all while giving thanks for the opportunity to do just that.

Seersucker or Vulnerability - August 24

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 1, 2, 3; PM Psalm 4, 7; Job 4:1,5:1-11,17-21,26-27; Acts 9:19b-31; John 6:52-59

Five months and almost to the day that we moved our services to be online only, we gathered not once, but twice at Saint Stephen’s.  This Sunday, we had our first early morning outdoor worship service spoken on the back patio.  Later in the day, we gathered with a small group to give thanks and bless the outdoor meditation garden built by a future Eagle Scout and her troop and fellow scouts.  And I saw something that surprised me and filled me with joy and hope at both services that I had not expected to see: seersucker clothing.

 Yep.  The joys of living in the south in the summertime!  Oddly, on Saturday as I was trying to take my son, Jack, to a run a few errands, it took much longer to get started because of a reluctance to get dressed.  “I don’t want to put on clothes!  It’s the weekend!”  He has yet to be indoctrinated with that wonderful sense of southern culture where every outing is a chance to show off our very best.   And it hit me Sunday morning. Since churches haven’t been meeting and weddings have been postponed, I haven’t marveled at the wavy and crinkled beauty of seersucker and linen.  The pastel colors of Lily Pulitzer lie in the doldrums of everyone’s closets.  I think this Sunday I even spied some white bucks (dress shoes that should only be worn from Memorial Day to Labor Day and fashionably without socks).   

I love the tradition of dressing up, and will welcome that back into our congregation as we find ways of gathering again, but isn’t it an odd practice?  Almost as if we need to convince our peers that we have it all together.  Intellectually, we know this is rarely true, but we seem to put a whole lot of effort to convince friends and neighbors, otherwise.

Paul is one of the most interesting characters we encounter in Scripture.  He is the author of at least seven of the books of the Bible and another seven are attributed to him.  We hear about him today in the story of Acts by his previous name, Saul.  He was known as Saul when he was persecuting Christians and after a mystical experience on a dusty road, he temporarily goes blind.  Our reading in Acts follows this experience where he is still known as Saul but is going around professing the good news of Jesus Christ.  

Imagine this: the person who has been killing your brothers and sisters walks into your life to offer you the hope and peace of God.  It wouldn’t make any sense   No wonder the Jewish leaders want him killed!  I am left wondering how Saul would have felt walking into those communities where he had brought such pain and suffering.  He couldn’t have covered up who he was with seersucker or pastel shorts.  How would he have convinced others he could be trusted?  

I am not a social scientist or a psychologist, but I have an educated guess and it’s one word: vulnerability.  How else could the violent persecutor named Saul become the foundational teacher of our faith?  Remember when he tells people about how he is weak (2nd Corinthians 11). 

I can’t wait to be greeted in seersucker and pastel colors (unless it’s after Labor Day because that’s just wrong) but I wonder how much more powerful it would be to don our true vulnerability in who we are and in who God has created.  Maybe we will help others come to know Christ just as Paul has shaped our faith.  And that’s a lot better than anything we will find in our wardrobe. 

 - John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  

Do you find it difficult to share your weaknesses and imperfections within your faith community?  Why?  Are there ways that you intentionally cover these up or is it more accidental or cultural?

Daily Challenge

Share with a friend from church one thing that you are struggling with.  Invite them to pray for you. 

Friends: Holy Partners in Compassion -- August 22

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 137:1-6(7-9), 144; PM Psalm 104; Job 3:1-26; Acts 9:10-19a; John 6:41-51

They sat with him on the ground for seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.   - Job 2:13

In elementary school, music class was a big part of our weekly activities. There was the washboard band, studying George Bizet’s Carmen, and every parent’s favorite: recorders. I learned how to care for and clean that highly annoying ecru plastic instrument, but it didn’t take long for my parents to send me outside to practice. Individual musical preparation was one challenge; coordinating with others in the class was quite a different feat. I remember feeling the pressure to stay in sync with my friends and being so happy at the sounds we made in concert together. (Notice I hesitate to call it “music”!) It was one of those formative bonding experiences, fusing friendships during an awkward phase of life.

Some of those classmates continue as my dearest and longest friendships. They sat with my sisters and me in a time of grief and suffering. Ali flew to Birmingham from New York City to be with me in the last of my mom’s days. Catherine bought the Bruce Springsteen concert tickets my sister couldn’t use, due to our mom’s illness…and her mom Diane scrubbed our kitchen floor, so that we had a fresh and hospitable space to host people checking on us. Katherine (another one) made an appointment and took me to get my hair done the day before my mom’s funeral. Each of these friends, and many others, heard of our troubles and came to console and comfort us. They saw that our suffering was great and remained present with us. Nearly 18 years later, I cannot remember many of the words spoken, but I remember their physical presence and compassion.

The presence of friends in the midst of trouble is so crucial, and the excerpt from our Old Testament reading demonstrates this. Job erupts in mourning and deep lament. He voices his pain because he was able to sit for seven days supported by his friends Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar. They do not try to solve his problems and painful sores. They mourn his troubles and simply sit with him in the misery, saying nothing. The three friends are embodied reminders to Job that he is not alone, and that he is loved. And surrounded by that certainty, Job expresses a deluge of despair and pain.

The dynamic at play in Job is one of the reasons this time of physical distance is so painful and disruptive. We humans are made for relationship and connection. Whether your cultural context is from the southeastern United States, or another place of community and care, experiencing the losses and fears that surround us in isolation is not normal! We are grieving and we long for our friends to be near, for they are our partners in compassion. When the planes flew into the Twin Towers and thousands of people died on September 11, 2001, my friend Rose Ann called me and said, “We are going to church to pray. Meet us there at 6 o’clock.” When my friend’s sister died suddenly, our priest called several of us and said, “We are going to Andrea’s to sit. Meet me there.” This is our routine: we gather. We sit. We support. And so, living into limitations on in-person gatherings is so hard, even when they are in the best interest for public health.

But wait -- here’s the good news: we can do hard things (with God’s help)! Job endured deep pain and felt forsaken, yet he did not abandon his faith…and God did not leave Job behind. We, like Job, can do hard things, even though we may not have our friends nearby to offer comfort and consolation. Keep the faith and give thanks to God for friends!

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Who has been a friend alongside you in a dark time? What helps you be a partner in compassion? What keeps you from sitting in silence with someone’s deep pain?

Daily Challenge

Let the ministry of presence offered by Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar to inspire you. Who might need your presence today? Pray about it and reach out.

Reading the Signs - August 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 140, 142; PM Psalm 141, 143:1-11(12); Job 2:1-13; Acts 9:1-9; John 6:27-40 

My family lives, for the time being, near the bottom of a dead-end street. It wasn’t like that when we moved here. Traffic cutting through to other parts of Hoover would go quickly down the hill and past our house, unfettered by stop signs, speed bumps, or police radar. One day in July (they all run together), while walking across the quaint covered bridge a few houses down from us, we noted a hole about 2 feet in diameter at the edge of the road. Our nine-year-old walked over and touched her toe to the area. Dirt and sand crumbled and fell below. Looking tentatively into the hole, we saw rocks, and the creek bed far below. We stepped back and avoided further excitement.

And so, that covered bridge over the culvert and creek is now closed. Metal barriers are chained all the way across, so that even pedestrians cannot cross. The neighborhood gossip is that the bridge could collapse at any moment. As with many projects involving roadways, these repairs take time. There are survey marks on the ground, but no trucks or equipment are on site. There are some metal signs around the neighborhood to warn people that the road is closed with an arrow directing people vaguely in another direction for detours, but it is not specified that the bridge is out. Many vehicles have driven down the street, only to be surprised by the orange cones and reflective indicators ahead. Amazon delivery truck, ambulance, and a teenager on a motorcycle – each turns around, having missed the signs on their way. The detour is not clear. Confusion ensues.  

Signs are helpful, if we can just understand them. In John’s gospel, we hear about Jesus talking with a crowd of people. They ask what they can do to have the ability to perform the works and signs of God. I hear in their question a nod to less than righteous motivations: how can we wield power and miracles like you, so that we can be admired and influential? Jesus replies, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” In other words, the proof of God working is transformed lives -- those who interact with Jesus believe in him as the Son of God, recognizing divinity and humanity mingled in love, sent to walk upon the earth. I know that is a lot to believe. It’s quite fantastic.

The examination continues. The people in the crowd push Jesus further, asking, “What sign are you going to give us then, so that we may see it and believe you? What work are you performing?” A few verses later, Jesus says, “I said to you that you have seen me and yet do not believe.” The crowd just cannot see the sign, or open their souls to believe. It’s a big thing to believe. Seeing is believing…that’s a slogan we hear in culture. But in this gospel account, seeing Jesus and experiencing his miracles and teaching is not enough to win everyone over to believe who he is. It’s not enough today, either. Friends, believing is hard…even when there are signs around.

So, what are we to do when we’re a bit lost or confused in our faith in God? Let’s take a lesson from the story of Paul’s conversion experience on the road to Damascus: let go of leveraging power and instead, seek humility. Next, we can get on our knees and pray that God will open our eyes and ears in new ways to the signs and blessings that surround us. And we can draw near to the stories of people of faith – from long ago in Holy Scriptures, and from contemporary witnesses of God’s love. We do all these things so that we may pay attention to the signs and believe, and in doing so, perhaps God will shape us more closely into the image of Christ.  

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Jesus talks about being the bread of life. What about receiving the consecrated bread and wine in Eucharist deepens your belief in Jesus? What other experiences help you believe?

Daily Challenge

Ponder what signs draw you to believe more deeply in Christ. Journal for five minutes about what comes up for you. If you are missing Eucharist, consider signing up to receive communion in your own home.

Keep Paddling - August 20

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 131, 132, [133]; PM Psalm 134, 135; Job 1:1-22; Acts 8:26-40; John 6:16-27

I saw a GIF this week that made me chuckle: two kids in lifejackets are up to their necks in a river, paddling as possible, with a swamped canoe completely submerged beneath them. To be sure, I’ve had my share of canoe gaffes…and I find that this scenario resonates with a wide range of lived experiences, especially in 2020: though you’re not alone, the job ahead of you is heading quickly toward the zone known as “complete and utter failure”. Do you ever feel like that? What are we to do in such quagmires? Various responses come to mind (and this is far from an exhaustive list): Jump out of the boat. Laugh. Cry. Panic. Drop your paddle. Freeze in disbelief. Watch your cooler float away. Blame someone. While some options may yield resolution faster than others, there is no perfect or easy answer, is there? It is a messy situation, any way you cut it. Perhaps the best to be done is simply the next right choice for you, and for those in your sinking canoe.

The disciples are in a tenuous boat situation in today’s gospel reading. They are going across a lake, and it is nighttime. Several miles from shore, the winds pick up and the waters grow choppy. Maybe a couple of the disciples are turning “green around the gills,” seasick from being tossed about on the waves. I imagine puddles pooling in the bottom of the boat and tensions beginning to escalate. And then, we are told they see Jesus milling about, walking on the rough waters in the black night…and he heads toward their tossed-about vessel. If they are not unsettled by the mighty winds, they are now totally petrified by Jesus approaching the boat.

What happens next? Jesus acts first, saying, “It’s me, friends! Don’t be so fearful!” I wonder how effective his calming words are, for his friends clamor to the edge and try to pull him into the boat with them. And then, within a blink of an eye, the vessel reaches the shore of their destination. In the chaos of this aquatic adventure, calm and stability comes when Jesus is in charge. He doesn’t get into the boat, as the disciples suggest. Neither does he simply stop the tumultuous waters. Rather, Jesus shows God’s overwhelming generosity by immediately moving them to safety at the shore. I recall from Wednesday’s gospel how Andrew the disciple doubts that the five loaves and two fish are enough to feed the large crowd gathered. Jesus does not heed the caution – and feeds the people. He responds in a more generous way than expected, feeding thousands and yielding 12 baskets of leftovers. Humbling, huh?

I’ll highlight two points: first, Jesus is present with us in the face of our caution, uncertainty, and fears. He holds space for that discomfort. Second, God’s generosity surpasses what we could hope for ourselves. Just as the disciples could not pull Jesus into their boat, we cannot put God into a neat and tidy box. Neither scenario allows for the movement of the Holy Spirit to swirl around us, move our hearts and minds, and empower us to experience the sacred.

So, pray big and often, knowing that God will be with us in the quagmire. Trust that the work of the Holy Spirit will surprise and overwhelm us. Remember that Jesus will calm our fears, whispering, “It is I; do not be afraid.” And finally, keep paddling!

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What have you learned from a failure recently? How might you be more generous to yourself and others when the next failure arises?

Daily Challenge

Take time to call a person you trust and invite them into an experiment. Talk about a failure you’ve experienced or a fear you have. Ask them to listen and be with you in that vulnerable space. No guidance or problem-solving is needed…just sharing space in the “sinking canoe”.

Reconnecting the Remnant - August 19

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 119:145-176; PM Psalm 128, 129, 130; Judges 18:16-31; Acts 8:14-25; John 6:1-15 

As the book of Acts opens, the author sets the stage, reminding readers and hearers about the forty days after Jesus’ resurrection and the words Jesus imparted to his chosen apostles. When asked if this is when Zion will be restored, Jesus answers:

“It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses to Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

And then, as he finished speaking those words, Jesus is lifted up and a cloud covers him and takes him out of sight.

I sit here, wondering in awe about the Ascension of Jesus. My mind wanders to the excerpt from Acts 8 that is appointed for today, where we find the apostles John and Peter in Samaria. Philip has been in the region of the Samaritans proclaiming the Good News of Jesus, too. I wonder, do the apostles remember that they are fulfilling the instruction Jesus gave to them, that they would bear witness all over the place – including Samaria? While the Ascension is key to who Jesus is, those in abject suffering are clamoring for visceral transformation – healing of body and peace of mind.

I am acutely aware that there is also a protracted history of tension and difference between the people of Samaria and others across Judea. In the Exodus (700ish years before Jesus’ time), the educated, wealthy, and influential Israelites are captured and taken to Babylon. The people of the land and the poorer classes of Israelites are left behind. So, the Samaritans are descended from the remnants of the people of Israel. While they, too, believed in Yahweh, their experience of being people of God included the fabric of their identity being torn and left on the ground to be trodden upon by many peoples and beliefs for hundreds of years. Samaritans were shaped by being left behind, while the Israelites who lived through the Babylonian captivity were formed by imprisonment and wandering lost in the desert. In that separation in space and time, the divide deepened. Those who lived as captives in a foreign land began committing their ancient stories to scrolls. They heard prophecies. They doubted God and were reminded of God’s faithfulness.

But the story we don’t hear as often, or in great detail, is the story of the remnant…those left behind and left out. These people were also formed by the invasion of the Assyrians and other conquerors. These people also went through times of doubting God, and were missing the stabilization of the religious leaders and the storytellers who recounted the history of their relationship with the Lord. The ways they practiced their faith evolved differently, too.

And so, today, we read that those in Samaria have accepted the Good News of Jesus. Hallelujah! God is doing greater things than we can hope for or imagine, by gathering all of us up – from various experiences, political perspectives, and in spite of the tensions that run deeply among us. And God does more than gather – for the gift given in the gathering is the Holy Spirit.

May the Holy Spirit swirl around you today, wiping away the hurts of being left out, left behind, or misunderstood. May the Holy Spirit embolden you to pray for those with whom you feel hurt. May the Holy Spirit welcome and reconnect you to God, others, and yourself.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

When have you felt “left out” recently? Who has invited you back in? Conversely, when have you left someone else out?

Daily Challenge

Sometimes reconciliation happens in times of shock and change. Pray for someone with whom you hope to be reconciled. Listen for how you can invite that person back into relationship.

I'm wide awake and I'm in pain - August 18

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm [120], 121, 122, 123; PM Psalm 124, 125, 126, [127]; Judges 18:1-15; Acts 8:1-13; John 5:30-47

Sam and I did yardwork over the weekend. The kids were helping. It was a beautiful day and we got so much accomplished. And yet, I still felt a pang of being discomforted, in the midst of creating straight lines in the green lawn. I put in my headphones as I kept mowed the grass. I heard a song by Jason Isbell that hit me hard, naming what I sometimes feel. He and his wife Amanda Shires penned these words, “Anxiety / why do you always get the best of me?” They tell of feelings of conflict, even though life around them is idyllic. Jason sings of his desire to be strong and reliable, while naming that he actually feels weak and small. And the song ends with the repetition of a gut-wrenching line – “I’m wide awake and I’m in pain.”

I’ve had this album for a while, and the truth resonating in this song hits me differently during this season of physical distance, uncertainty about COVID-19, and divisions that surround us. Anxiety is on the rise. In a report I read a few days ago, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention announced that adults are reporting increased struggles with mental health and substance abuse. At the end of June 2020, 31% of respondents to a survey reported anxiety or depression, 13% reported increased or new substance use, and 11% reported seriously considering suicide. This is an exhausting and hard time for many people. It is an exhausting and hard time for me…though much of my proximate life is beautiful. How about you?

That is why I love the psalms. As a teen, I would play “Bible roulette”, thumbing through the pages of the Bible searching for words of comfort or affirmation from God. The psalms are a likely source for meeting the resonance we seek. Today, the words of Psalm 121 offer reassurance and recentering:

The Lord himself watches over you;
the Lord is your shade at your right hand,
So that the sun shall not strike you by day,
nor the moon by night.
The Lord shall preserve you from all evil;
it is he who shall keep you safe.
The Lord shall watch over your going out and your coming in,
from this time forth for evermore.

I need these words to slow me down, and to remind me that I am not at the center of this chaos, and I alone cannot calm this storm. All the burden is not on my shoulders. It is God who watches over me – it is God who watches over you, too. The Lord offers protection and comfort. And being grounded in that, I find Jesus’ words from John’s gospel to wash over me anew: “I can do nothing on my own. As I hear, I judge; and my judgement is just, because I seek to do not my own will but the will of him who sent me.”

As Jesus was restating for his followers that his power and ministry were rooted in God, he reminds me today that I must pray the brazen prayer for the Holy Spirit to empower me to do God’s will and overwhelm my own. And when I start from that posture, then I get to ask Jesus to walk alongside me to be my strength when I feel weak and lost.

Friends, if you are struggling today, and find yourself slipping into protracted darkness, substance use, or self-harm, please reach out for help. Call the church. Call a mental health professional. Don’t just lie in the darkness, wide awake and in pain. You are not alone, and you are loved.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Have you felt protracted sadness of late? Who have you talked to about this? If you’ve not talked about it, who can you share these feeling with?

Daily Challenge

Write down one word or phrase from the psalms appointed for today that brings you peace. Put that phrase in a place you’ll see for the rest of the week. Use those words as an opening to pray to God.

Micah and the Silver Shekels - August 17

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 106:1-18; PM Psalm 106:19-48; Judges 17:1-13; Acts 7:44-8:1a; John 5:19-29

I hear in today’s readings an invitation and challenge to speak and receive truth with generosity. In Acts, the soon-to-be-martyred Stephen speaks honestly about the repeated refusal of the Hebrew people to submit to the power and law of God. (Spoiler alert: it doesn’t go well.) In the reading from John, Jesus repeats the phrase “very truly, I tell you” multiple times, signaling his audience to pay attention to truth his hearers need to receive. (The ending here is evolving, as Jesus keeps calling each of us to listen and believe.) And then, there is the reading from Judges.

In this ancient story from the 17th chapter of Judges, a man named Micah confesses to his mother: he has stolen 1,100 pieces of silver from her and now is returning them. We don’t get a lot of other context here to understand Micah’s genesis, except for, “There was a man in the hill country of Ephraim…”. So, I find myself wondering, how did Micah start that conversation with his mom? Coming clean about a wrongdoing, egregious or not, does not come easily. Did he agonize over the words to say? Was he paralyzed with fear? What possible responses did he expect from his mother?

As my mind is spinning about their relationship dynamics, I am reminded of story: A school-aged child took a toy from the church and passed it off as her own, until the truth came out. When confronted, she lied…because, let’s face it: coming clean about a wrongdoing does not come easily. Her parents brought her to see the minister, to tell the truth and return the trinket. Tears running down her cheeks and eyes downcast, the girl was quaking as she handed over the doll and stammered through a confession. The priest looked only at the girl (not her parents), receiving her truth with grace and generosity. There was no shaming, no chastising. After a moment of silence, the minister thanked the girl for her honesty and told her she had done a hard and right thing. Down the road, there could be other temptations that had bigger, life-altering consequences, and so the priest invited her to remember the feeling of being honest in that moment…to hold onto that. Just when the conversation was about to end, the priest said this: “Virginia, you have told the truth, and you are forgiven. Now you get to forgive yourself.”

In today’s odd and somewhat obscure story in Judges, Micah’s mother receives the 28 pounds of silver (and his confession) with a similar level of gratitude and generosity. She responds, “May my son be blessed by the LORD!” as he returns the stolen goods. While we do not hear more of their exchange, what stands out for me is this: Micah’s honest revelation of truth – albeit hard – is met with forgiveness and reconciliation. (And yes, I did note the remainder of the passage which talks about an idol being cast out of the returned silver…the Bible is wonderfully complicated, isn’t it!?)

Today, let us take these lessons from Micah and his mother: speak honestly when we have wronged another and accept truth with generosity.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

How are you at sharing truth? How are you at hearing or receiving truth from someone else? Do you do one better than the other?

Daily Challenge

Think of a truth you've been keeping to yourself, whether burdensome or enlightening. Pray about entrusting that truth with someone who will receive it generously. Make a plan to share it.

Changing Dry Land into Springs - August 15

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 107:33-43, 108:1-6(7-13); PM Psalm 33; Judges 16:1-14; Acts 7:30-43; John 5:1-18

Today’s Reflection

The Earth is in constant flux. Environmental conditions, climate changes, and human use of the land, can change a place that once was lush pastures into a desert or what was once a verdant forest into a treeless wasteland.

But the reverse is also possible. Lands that have been over farmed can be brought back into fruitfulness when the people who live there begin to interact with the environment differently. As we read in Psalm 107: 33-38, “He changed deserts into pools of water and dry land into water-springs. He settled the hungry there, and they founded a city to dwell in. They sowed fields, and planted vineyards, and brought in a fruitful harvest. He blessed them, so that they increased greatly; he did not let their herds decrease.”

These verses from Psalm 107 remind me of a very short (10-minute) film I watched earlier this year, The Church Forests of Ethiopia: A Mystical Geography. Vast swaths of Ethiopia that once were forested are now dry, dusty wastelands that sound much like “the fruitful land that became salt flats.” But what one discovers by looking down on the terrain from above are islands of forest scattered amidst the wasteland.

Why are there trees growing in these circular pockets? Because these are where the Ethiopian Orthodox churches are found. Around each church, the neighboring farms did not encroach onto the church’s land because a wall is built around each church to demarcate its sacred land. This observation caused forest ecologists Alemayehu Wassie and Meg Lowman to propose a partnership with these churches. They have worked together to ask the clergy and people of each church community to consider moving their church walls further outward, extending the protective, sacred space around each church outward—allowing the existing trees to flourish and new growth to emerge on the margins of each island of trees.

Psalm 107 also reminds me of a non-profit, founded by a former colleague of mine, which seeks to spark both environmental and economic renewal. The Alliance for International Reforestation (AIR) was founded by Anne Hallum, a political science professor emerita, bringing together her Christian ethics (she was an elder in the Presbyterian church across from campus) with her concerns for improving the health of the earth and the well-being of its people.

Focusing their efforts in Guatemala, AIR’s work includes teaching regenerative farming, planting trees that fertilize the soil and help prevent mudslides, helping people start new tree nurseries that positively impact the local economy, and building more efficient brick stoves that both improve air quality and decrease the trees being cut down for fuel. Over the almost 30 years since AIR’s founding, 5,000 rural families have been trained in their own communities, 5.5 million trees have been planted, and 875 stoves have been constructed. But the Guatemalan communities are not the only ones who are changed. Hallum describes the story of how she volunteered to lead a student trip to Guatemala on whim, then returned with the inspiration to found AIR: “God rescued me in Guatemala, and I found his purpose for my life.”

As Robert Alter, a scholar of the Hebrew scriptures, observes, “God’s awesome powers of transformation work in both directions: He can turn desolation into lush fecundity… and he can also turn fruitful places into desert.” As we ponder how we are called to care for creation in our own context, consider how resurrection is revealed in these stories of repairing and renewing creation.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Is there an area of your life that was once verdant and fruitful that now feels more like a wasteland? What is one thing could you possibly change that would breathe life and health back into this part of your life?

Daily Challenge

If you’re interested in learning more of the Church Forests of Ethiopia, or watching the short film, you can do so here: https://emergencemagazine.org/story/the-church-forests-of-ethiopia/

If you want to read more of AIR’s continuing work, you can find out more here: https://www.airguatemala.org/about.php.

Let Justice Roll Down Like Waters - August 14

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 102 PM Psalm 85:7-13  Amos 5:18-24 Acts 7:17-29 Luke 1:46-55

Today’s Reflection

Quite likely, some of you have visited the Civil Rights Memorial at the Southern Poverty Law Center in Montgomery, since it’s less than two hours down I-65 from here. When I taught my Visual Communication course, my students and I would always discuss the symbolism of this memorial’s design.

Designed by architect Maya Lin, the memorial features two components, both formed of black granite. The first part is a curved wall that acts as the backdrop for the second component, which is a round, table-like structure. Both the wall and the table have water flowing over them.

Etched onto the wall are the words, “…until justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream,” with an attribution of the words to Martin Luther King, Jr., because this is a phrase King used both at the beginning of the Montgomery bus boycott as well as in his “I Have a Dream” speech at the March on Washington in 1963: “There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, ‘When will you be satisfied?’ … No, no, we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

But King did not come up with this phrase—he was quoting scripture. The words on the wall of the Civil Rights Memorial in Montgomery are a quote from the Book of Amos. Maya Lin recalls how these words inspired her design: “The minute I hit that quote I knew that the whole piece had to be about water. I realized that I wanted to create a timeline: a chronological listing of the Movement’s major events and its individual deaths, which together would show how people’s lives influenced history and how their deaths made things better.”

The second component of the Civil Rights Memorial, out in front of the wall, is a round, table-like structure, onto which are etched the names of 40 people who were killed during the years 1954-1968, killed either because of their race or because of their civil rights activism.

I’ve always thought was the most powerful design element of this memorial is that visitors can place their fingers or even their whole hands into the water flowing over the surface of the timeline—which both changes the course of how the water flows down, and allows them to make their own mark in the timeline of history, as they pay respect to these civil rights martyrs.

One of the names included in this timeline is Jonathan Myrick Daniels, with the date August 20, 1965, the day he was killed in Hayneville. Daniels was a seminary student at the Episcopal Divinity School in Massachusetts. That March, he had come to Alabama with a classmate to participate in the march from Selma to Montgomery. But they didn’t think it was right to come protest for just a few days; they wanted to make a longer-term commitment to the cause. So, Daniels asked for permission from EDS to stay on in Alabama for the rest of the spring to keep working for civil rights, returned to the seminary for exams, and then was back in Alabama in July and August.

On August 14, he was arrested in Fort Deposit for protesting at three businesses there. Released from the county jail in Hayneville on August 20, he tried to enter a local shop with a group of other activists, black and white, in search of a cold drink. There they encountered an armed, off-duty deputy, who pointed his gun toward 17-year-old Ruby Sales. Daniels pushed Sales out of the way, taking the fatal shot intended for her.

Each year, we set aside August 14—the day of Daniels’ arrest—to remember this seminary student, civil rights activist, and martyr. The readings for our Morning Prayer and Noonday Prayer today connect with Daniels, allowing us to reflect on the ways in which he gave his gifts and his life to “let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

• What can we learn from the decisions Jonathan Daniels made in the last several months of his life?

• What are some tangible ways we can help “justice to roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” in our world today?

Daily Challenge

The Diocese of Alabama sponsors an annual Jonathan Daniels Pilgrimage. Because of the pandemic, this year’s pilgrimage will be held online this Saturday, August 15, from 11:00-1:00. If you would like to remember Daniels’ and others’ sacrifices for civil rights, you can find links to connect here: https://www.dioala.org/digital_faith/events/3184074

Following in Stephen’s Footsteps - August 13

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 105:1-22; PM Psalm 105:23-45 Judges 14:1-19; Acts 6:15-7:16; John 4:27-42

In this, my second week working here at St. Stephen’s, I find myself especially interested in our readings from Acts 6 and 7, in which we begin to hear the story of our church’s namesake, Stephen. One of the first deacons, and ultimately a martyr, we have much to learn from his life as a servant leader.

In Acts 6 (which we read yesterday), we learn that there were some unmet needs in the community. As the early church was growing, the apostles realized that they could not do it all. Important responsibilities, like distributing food to the widows, were falling through the cracks. And so, the apostles ordained seven people, “of good standing, full of faith and the Holy Spirit,” whose chief responsibility would be to ensure that the needs of the community, especially the needs of the most vulnerable, were being met. Stephen, the oldest of the seven, was considered their leader, the archdeacon.

Not only was Stephen a servant leader, but Luke describes how Stephen was “full of grace and power” and “did great wonders and signs among the people.” Stephen, because he was called to care for the tangible, day-to-day needs of the community, became the focus of criticism from those whose faith was more centered on Temple worship. They began to start arguments with Stephen, “But they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he spoke.” This, not surprisingly, ruffled some feathers, and Stephen was “seized… and brought before the council.”

Defending himself before the council is where we find Stephen as we begin today’s passage, Acts 6:15-7:16. Stephen is facing charges before the high council. At issue was whether Stephen is trying to turn people against the traditions of Judaism. We hear Stephen making the case for how his faith is consistent with the faith of Abraham and Joseph. And as he appeared in this highly contentious situation, defending his work as a servant leader in the early church, the light of Christ shone in and through him—even those sitting in judgment of him could see this: “And all who sat in the council looked intently at him, and they saw that his face was like the face of an angel.”

As I begin to get to know you, the people who comprise St. Stephen’s church here in Birmingham, I am seeing how much this church is carrying on Stephen’s legacy by serving the needs of the most vulnerable in our community. One of my responsibilities is to be a liaison to the Outreach Committee, keeping the important work of community outreach at the forefront of our parish’s attention and priorities. Sitting in on the Outreach Committee’s meeting this week, I had the chance to begin to learn more about the many tangible ways that St. Stephen’s members are the hands and feet of Christ in our community, such as through Avondale Outreach, Family Promise, Laundry Love, Grace Episcopal Food Pantry, and a new pop-up market in North Birmingham.

In these times of social distancing—working and worshipping from home—we may find ourselves focused mainly on just getting through another day, which can make it harder to keep the needs of others on our radar. However, as we hear Jesus telling his disciples in today’s Gospel passage: “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. Do you not say, ‘Four months more, then comes the harvest’? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting” (John 4:34-35).

While we should be sure to take care of ourselves during this time of pandemic, Jesus is also calling us to continue doing God’s work—not putting it off for another day, but seeing the work that remains to be done in our community today. When we look not just to our own needs, but also to the needs of others, we continue the legacy not only of our church’s namesake, Stephen, but also of 47 years of our church looking out for our neighbors throughout Birmingham.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Why is it important for churches and church people to be involved in community outreach?

What gifts or resources do you or your family have that might be a blessing to someone else in our Birmingham community?

Daily Challenge

Make a point to talk with someone you know who is involved in an outreach ministry. What specific tasks does it entail? How does being involved allow them to use their gifts? Consider committing to get involved just one time to find out if this ministry could be one you continue to be involved with.

Moments of Recognition - August 12

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144 Judges 13:15-24; Acts 6:1-15; John 4:1-26 

The story of Jesus and the woman at the well is a rich text through which can we learn more about Jesus and the woman—and about ourselves.

First, let’s look more closely at Jesus and what we learn about him and from him in this story. When Jesus meets a Samaritan woman at the well, asking her to give him a drink, he was defying social conventions in that, first, a man from outside her family group was talking with her, a woman, in a time and place in which that was just not done. And, just as significant, Jesus as a Jew is defying social convention by interacting with a Samaritan.

As we hear of this woman’s interaction with Jesus, we also learn that she experiences Jesus as all-knowing, or as she declares him, a prophet. However, the important take-away we learn about Jesus is not so much that he knows things. Rather, what is most important to notice here is what Jesus does with that knowledge. Jesus reveals that he already knows all about it—and that he is asking her for water and having a conversation with her despite all that… or, I would argue, maybe even because of all that.

Next, let’s move into looking at what we learn about this woman through this story. As mentioned, we learn that this woman has some personal baggage. However, we also learn that this woman has religious knowledge; she is keenly aware of the differences between the Jews and the Samaritans. And then, in response to Jesus’ discussion of “true worshipers,” the woman shares another thing that she knows: “I know that Messiah is coming… When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.” It is then that Jesus reveals that he, “the one who is speaking to you,” is the Messiah.

And so, what did the woman do next? “She left her water jar and went back to the city.” And when she returned to the city, she shared the Good News of Jesus: “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” While she still has some doubts, her sense of wonderment that Jesus “told her everything she has ever done” triumphs over those questions. She shares her testimony, even though by sharing it she is reminding her community of things she would rather not remind them of. What we learn about this woman is that she chose to share the news of the Messiah, the Christ, despite these very real, very personal repercussions.

Finally, what do we learn about ourselves when we hear the story of Jesus and the woman at the well? First, we learn that Jesus already knows all about us—and he still wants to talk with us and be with us anyway. There’s nothing we have thought about, nothing that we have done (or left undone), that God doesn’t already know. There’s no need for artifice. God already knows all about it. And yet Jesus still loves me—and he still loves you. Nothing we have done, or ever will do, can ever scare Jesus away from us.

Second, we learn about moments of recognition—that moment when Jesus showed he knew who the Samaritan woman really is, and that moment when the woman realized who he is (a prophet, and not only that, but the Messiah). Just as Jesus and the woman at the well had that moment of mutual recognition, so, too, do we have our own moments when we recognize who Jesus is to us, and when we realize (again and again) how fully we are known and loved by God. These moments of recognition will hopefully inspire us to go out, leave behind our own jars of water, and go back to the people in our lives to share our own testimonies of meeting Jesus at the well—wherever that place of encounter with God may be for each of us.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What aspects of yourself and your life do you wish that others could look beyond in order to recognize you for who you really are?

What do you learn from Jesus in this story that inspires you to get to know people who are different than you on some level?

Daily Challenge

Think of someone who you have made some assumptions about but who, on second thought, maybe you do not really know all that well. Commit to reaching out to that person this week to have a conversation in which you learn something new about them—and in which you share something of yourself with them.

The Courage to Take a Stand - August 11

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 97, 99, [100]; PM Psalm 94, [95] Judges 13:1-15; Acts 5:27-42; John 3:22-36

Four years ago, in Fall 2016, a crisis was intensifying at the Standing Rock Indian Reservation in North Dakota, 1,300 miles from where I was beginning seminary in Austin, Texas. The dispute involved a disagreement between the Lakota Sioux and an energy company who wanted to build a crude oil pipeline across Sioux land. The people of Standing Rock were opposed to the pipeline as they believed it to be a threat to their water supply and to the sacredness of the land.

People around the country sympathetic with their cause began lifting their voices in support of the Lakota Sioux Water Protectors. By early November, Presiding Bishop Michael Curry called Episcopalians to pray for the Water Protectors. A small group of my classmates at the Seminary of the Southwest were inspired to sacrifice their time, comfort, and even safety by traveling to North Dakota over Thanksgiving break to “Stand with Standing Rock.”

Besides undergoing the discomforts of the long journey, the intense cold of North Dakota in November, and sleeping on the floor of a poorly insulated church building, my friends also put their lives at risk to stand up for what they believed was right. While I was enjoying Thanksgiving with family and friends in sunny Florida, I watched (via videos, photos, and narratives shared through social media) as Radha, Lauren, Joe, Jonathan, Christine, Matt, and Michelangelo volunteered side by side with Lakota Sioux and local clergy including the Rev. John Floberg, an Episcopal priest of three churches at Standing Rock. The situation became intense at times, as water hoses, flares, and other means were used by local authorities seeking to end the protests.

As I reflect on today’s passage from Acts 5, I am reminded of these classmates and how they set aside their own comfort and safety to stand up for what they believe. When Peter and the apostles were brought before the council, they had to answer for continuing to preach about Jesus, though they had been given strict orders to cease: “But Peter and the apostles answered, ‘We must obey God rather than any human authority. The God of our ancestors raised up Jesus, whom you had killed by hanging him on a tree. … And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him’” (Acts 5:28-30, 32). After the apostles made the above statement, the majority of those seated on the council “were enraged and wanted to kill them” (5:33). Enter Gamaliel.

Gamaliel is only mentioned by name twice in all of Scripture. However, while he may not be well known to us today, he was, according to one commentary, “the most prominent rabbi of his day and [later] the teacher of Paul. He belonged to the Pharisaic minority on the Sanhedrin but had considerable influence” (ESV Study Bible).

Gamaliel could have just sat quietly and gone along with the will of the majority—and it would have been easier for him to do so. Instead, Gamaliel, “a teacher of the law, respected by all the people, stood up and ordered the men to be put outside for a short time. Then he said to them, ‘Fellow Israelites, consider carefully what you propose to do to these men. … because if this plan or undertaking is of human origin, it will fail; but if it is of God, you will not be able to overthrow them—in that case you may even be found fighting against God!’” (Acts 5:33-39).

Because Gamaliel was willing to speak out for what he thought was right, and to stand up for people with less power and influence, he changed the course of not only the apostles’ lives, but in turn of everyone whose lives over the centuries were impacted by those apostles and their continued ministry of spreading the good news of Christ.

Questions for Self-Reflection

• Think of a time when you found yourself disagreeing with the majority. How did it feel? How did you handle the situation?

• Has anyone ever stood up for you in a situation in which you were the one with less power? How has your life been changed as a result?

Daily Challenge

• Ask God to place on your heart an individual or a cause who needs an advocate. Prayerfully open your mind to finding some tangible way that you could stand up for this person or cause.

Drawn to the Light - August 10

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 89:1-18; PM Psalm 89:19-52 Judges 12:1-7; Acts 5:12-26; John 3:1-21

“But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen

that their deeds have been done in God.” –John 3:21

Light attracts us.

Think of the proverbial moth being drawn to a flame. Whenever we leave our back porch light on, inevitably moths and other flying bugs come close, frenetically buzzing around its warm glow.

In our backyard here in Birmingham, we have fireflies. Whenever I start to see them flickering at dusk, my instinct is to keep watching for them in the darkness. I want to see where they will light up next. While growing up, when I would go to my grandparents’ farm in Kentucky for a week or two each summer, I was fascinated by the lightning bugs, since we didn’t have them back home in Florida. My cousin Leslie and I would go out into the yard with empty jam jars to put fireflies in when we caught them, so we could see them light up the jar like a lantern—and then we’d release them back into the darkness when it was time for us to go inside for the night.

We also have a creek the runs behind our backyard here. I have found a special spot with a rock that I can sit on underneath the trees. I listen to the peaceful sounds of the water running over the rocks and watch the current as it carries leaves and sweet pea blooms down the creek. I’ve noticed that around midday, shafts of sunlight shine down into one corner of the creek. And when that light shines down, it illuminates every detail of that part of the creek. Suddenly, the shape of each individual rock is made distinct and energetic little minnows are revealed that I can see only when that shaft of light breaking through the trees makes everything beneath the water’s surface crystal clear.

Nicodemus, a Pharisee, came to visit Jesus under the cover of darkness. Perhaps he did this because he was afraid of what others would think of him conversing with Jesus. Whatever Nicodemus’ reasons, what is clear is that he was drawn to Jesus. He wanted to know more of him. Though he had some questions for Jesus, Nicodemus said that he knew that Jesus was “a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God” (John 3:2). Nicodemus recognized that Jesus’ teaching and healing were bringing light into the darkness of the world—and he, like so many, was drawn to the light of Christ.

Jesus answers Nicodemus’ questions very straight-forwardly, and then poses some questions to him in return. Ultimately, Jesus offers Nicodemus—and all of us—the reassurance that “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” When we allow the light of Christ to shine into our lives, that light is then reflected back out into the world around us: “But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God” (John 3:21).

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

• In what other Scripture passages have you noticed this imagery of God’s light shining in the darkness?

• How does this idea of the light of Christ show up in our Episcopal liturgy?

• What is one specific memory you have of experiencing the light of Christ shining into your life through the life of another?

Daily Challenge

• Think of at least one tangible way in which you can pass the light of Christ on to another person in your life today—and then try to carry that out.