Evil Ploys Lose; God Wins! - September 12

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 55; PM Psalm 138, 139:1-17(18-23); Job 38:1-17; Acts 15:22-35; John 11:45-54

This summer, as COVID-19 put many things on hold, our family began having more movie nights. There was no live baseball to watch or listen to on the radio, so we pulled out “The Natural”, with Robert Redford, Robert Duvall, Glenn Close, Kim Basinger, Wilford Brimley…a knock-out cast. At first our kids only monitored the movie, as the scenes on the field held common sounds: cracks of the bat, cheers of the crowd, and players rounding bases. However, the drama in the owner’s suite above the baseball field grabbed my nine year old’s attention. She was drawn in by the use of darkness and shadows, adding tension and mystery to the nefarious plot: the New York Knights’ owner bets against his team and bribes players to lose in the final game of the season. (Spoiler alert: the evil ploy fails.)

The dynamic of shady backroom scheming also applied to part of our gospel reading from John 11 today. This piece of Holy Scripture is not generally read during Sunday worship, so it may not sound familiar. People were still reeling from Jesus’ miraculous healing of Lazarus, called out from the tomb after several days. Witnessing this action was a conversion moment for some, and a trigger for fear in others. Threatened, the Sanhedrin gathered to figure out what they would do next. Ignoring Jesus could lead to the council’s diminishing religious power, social unrest, and more intervention from Roman soldiers. Caiaphas proposed a solution to the dilemma: “You do not understand that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.” (11:50) Saying these words was not just a cunning idea on Caiaphas’ part; he was inspired by God to voice this prophecy, for God knew that his Son was not long for this world. Those in power were plotting Jesus’ death.

We know that the story doesn’t end in death. That is simply a turn in the path, as Jesus rounds the bases. Death does come first, followed by resurrection, and ascension to Heaven. Jesus’ journey, like his ministry, was not focused on glorifying himself – rather, it was outwardly focused to include all people. In dying, even more told the stories of God’s healing and hope. Jesus, the Good Shepherd, gathered not just one nation, but all “dispersed children of God” (11:52). Yet another miracle was performed: what was broken was drawn together and healed, so that we might believe and proclaim the Good News through words and deeds.

Today, turn your back upon darkness and look to the light of Christ…and maybe watch a baseball game!

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

• What aspects of our 21st century culture highlight the divide between good and evil for you?

• When offered a proposition for advancement, how have you weighed the costs and the promises?

Daily Challenge

Write down three ways that fear motivates you. Note the positive and negative outcomes. Reflect on where God is calling you to grow, repent, and live more deeply in grace.

Why Can't We Live Together - September 11

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 40, 54; PM Psalm 51; Job 29:1,31:24-40; Acts 15:12-21; John 11:30-44

During a diocesan webinar yesterday with Dr. Catherine Meeks, Executive Director of the Absalom Jones Center for Racial Healing, I was reminded of a raw film from 2012, Beasts of the Southern Wild. The protagonist is a six-year-old girl named Hushpuppy who roams around the wilds of Louisiana’s bayous, drawn to listen to the heartbeat of every living thing, for we all have hungry hearts. I thought about Hushpuppy’s gift for naming the things that connect us, rather than perpetuating division, when I read the excerpt today from Acts.

As we follow the ministry of the apostles of Jesus, we see deep and surprising healing in the struggle to find common ground and shared faith. Paul, Barnabas, Peter, and others have been preaching to the churches across the ancient Near East about the Good News to people of all faiths and exposures. There was this movement of two steps forward, one step back. People were hearing and accepting the messages of love, healing, and hope about the Lord God, though when they looked around to see who else would be a part of this community of believers, they began to back up and draw divisions and qualifications of participation.

We read “that a great number of both Jews and Greeks became believers. But the unbelieving Jews stirred up the Gentiles and poisoned their minds against the brothers.” (14:1b-2) We keep hearing this us-versus-them paradigm through the Holy Scriptures, don’t we? There was this tension between the Jewish people, who identify with the Israelites, and those called Gentiles, who fell into the “everything else” bucket.

As some of the apostles appealed to the elders in Jerusalem, Peter spoke up, clarifying the tension at play: “We believe that we [the Jews] will be saved through the grace of the Lord Jesus, just as they [the Gentiles] will.” (15:11) He set no condition to mandate circumcision among all males, though this marker of Jewish identity was the custom that had been put into place back to Abraham. This struggle of identity continued, though these people of faith wanted to move forward.

In the assembly, Paul and Barnabas took their turn, testifying to the signs and wonders God had worked through them among the Gentiles. There was not grumbling or unrest as they shared their story. The audience was quiet – and listening. James, brother of Jesus, spoke up, “…we should not trouble those Gentiles who are turning to God” (15:19) and advise abstaining from things that will pollute the soul or body, like idolatry, fornication, and non-kosher meals. The audience did not respond by muttering, anger or dissent. They came together, assenting to act on this common ground for how people with differences could live together with mutual respect and love for God.

This model of finding ways to live together draws from the teachings of the prophets and the life of Jesus. The early Christians, and we today, are called to tell the truth, proclaim the dream that God has for us, mend the divisions between us, and practice following the Way. It is no easy work to become the Beloved Community. It has risks. It has great rewards. And if we listen and work to love one another as God has loved us, who knows what remarkable healing can come among our relationships with our family, neighbors, and ourselves.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

·       When you hear a challenging message, one that goes against what you believe, what is your reaction?

·       When have you been a voice of hope and togetherness?

Daily Challenge

Listen to yourself in conversation and internal monologue today. Who is in the we/us category for you? Who is in the they/them category? Pray about where God is calling you to find common ground and live in unity, rather than division?

Sing to the Lord a New Song – September 10

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 50; PM Psalms 93, 96; Job 29:1,31:1-23; Acts 15:1-11; John 11:17-29

In July 2019, the 50th anniversary of the first lunar landing was celebrated. Apollo 11 burst forth from the Earth’s atmosphere and traveled for four days before landing on a region of the moon called the Sea of Tranquility on July 20, 1969. Many hours and years of planning and testing went into the “space race” around the world. The city of Huntsville, Alabama, has played a pivotal role in advancing the field of aerospace engineering.

When we moved to Huntsville after seminary, the U.S. Space and Rocket Center was one of the first tourist stops we wanted to explore. My husband Sam grew up with a deep fascination about space exploration, reading voraciously about the spacecrafts, missions, and technology. Visiting this amazing venue was special, as we got to introduce our kids to the wonders of outer space.

To commemorate the 50th anniversary of the lunar landing, there were events at the Space and Rocket Center, from weekly conversations with rocket scientists, to a Guinness World Record launch of 5,000 model rockets. My parish at that time, St. Thomas, had a strong contingent of parishioners involved with the engineering, design, and technology that support space exploration. We planned a Eucharist to celebrate the lunar landing, using space-themed readings, hymns, and the “Star Wars” Eucharistic Prayer (“…the vast expanse of interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses…”).

Today, the first line of Psalm 96 grabs me and the hymn “Earth and All Stars” runs through my head. “Sing to the Lord a new song!” is repeated twice in each stanza, honoring the many aspects of life for which we lift our voices to say thank you to God. Penned in the 1960s as technology was booming and President John F. Kennedy vowed the US would lead the way to the moon, this hymn names some loud things around us: rushing planets, clashing cymbals, hammers and workers, boiling test tubes, praying members. In all these noises and advances, we sing out the refrain, “God has done marvelous things. I, too, sing praises with a new song.”

As you pray through Psalm 96, accept the invitation to accept a posture of gratitude. Listen for how God is stirring your heart to declare God’s glory and share what of God’s creation reveals joy and wonder. Whether observing a sunset, hearing the crash of waves, or touching the bark of a tree in the woods, join me in singing praises with a new song.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

For what aspects of life do you give thanks today?

What hymn or song from church do you miss? What tunes have been going through your head?

Daily Challenge

Call or write a friend. Share with a friend one of the aspects of your life that sings a song of praise and makes a joyful noise to the Lord.

Tales from the Holy Hike Trail - September 9

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:49-72; PM Psalm 49, [53]; Job 29:1,30:1-2,16-31; Acts 14:19-28; John 11:1-16

Over Labor Day weekend, a group of about 40 people from Saint Stephen’s assembled at Camp McDowell to embark on a Saturday morning Holy Hike. Rocks, brambles, broadleaf magnolias, and angry yellow jackets escorted us on our adventure. Equipped with face coverings, water bottles, and walking sticks, we set out as a jubilant crew, ranging in age from young to young-at-heart. We crossed the swinging bridge and began the trek up to the large white cross overlooking the not-so-clear Clear Creek.

We stopped first at a rocky site to read the gospel appointed for the day. We heard the Good News that Jesus is the Good Shepherd, and that the flock knows their shepherd’s voice. We continued our hike up to the top of the bluff and gathered at the base of the tall stone cross, looking out over the creek. At that pinnacle, hikers offered their prayers for the Church, concerns of the world, and the God-given gifts that surround us. Filled with prayer, the group meandered down toward the metal ladder – the quick way to get back across the creek, where lunch was soon to be served.

Our plans, however, were thwarted by forces of nature. Footsteps and general exuberance disturbed a community of yellow jackets in subterranean residence at the top of the 12’ ladder bolted into the rockface. A handful of kids and two adults made it down the rungs of the ladder before the attack began. Howling cries rang out as my nine year old was stung on the leg. Moments later, my four year old shrieked and held his hand tightly to his body. Four more, two adults and two kids, were stung in the chaos. Tears of pain and fears for safety clouded our next steps.

Would we push ahead upon the shorter route, risking more injuries? Turn back and retrace our hike over the bluff? Wait for the yellow jackets to simmer down, and try again? Were those with us allergic to wasp stings and at greater risk?

The group moved back, gathered people and thoughts, assessed the risks – and found another way. An older path guided us through brambles, away from pugnacious bugs, and ultimately to our destination.

As I sit with our readings for today’s Daily Office, I am struck by reactions we share when pain ails us. We share in Job’s lament of the pain that racks his bones and the gnawing agony that does not stop (30:17). His inward parts are in turmoil (30:27), and in comparison and self-pity he asks, “Didn’t I show compassion to those who were struggling? Why am I suffering now?” (30:25).

As in John when Lazarus is ill, we share with Mary and Martha in the discomfort of watching our loved one slip away. We wait and pray that God will help us. The waiting drags on. While we are assured of God’s love, will the Lord offer the help we’ve prayed to see?

As in Acts when Paul has been stoned and thought dead, we circle around those who are injured or suffering. We surround them with prayer, presence, and encouragement. And sometimes, they bounce right back and continue proclaiming the greatness of God’s glory through words and deeds.

Whether on a Holy Hike or the path through human existence, sometimes we slip and fall, and though it really hurts, we can choose to keep going. Sometimes people we love are stung by yellow jackets, and all we can offer are words of comfort and a hug – because we cannot take away the pain. And sometimes, the trail is obscured, and we can rely on fellow travelers on the journey to walk alongside us, making the way more apparent.

May the Good Shepherd guide your steps today, wherever you wander.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Think of a time you were lost, either physically or metaphorically. How did you react? Who did you call upon to help you? When have you retold that story to others?

Daily Challenge

Ponder what words of encouragement can help you persevere when facing something challenging. It can be a piece of scripture, song lyrics, or the Holy Spirit inspiring your own words. Write those words down, marked with today’s date. Set it aside and come back to that bit of encouragement when you are ailing and tired.

Stay faithful, my friends. - September 8

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 45; PM Psalm 47, 48; Job 29:1-20; Acts 14:1-18; John 10:31-42

In John 10, Jesus is preaching and teaching among the people from Judea and some of the Hebrew people are disturbed by his words. Division and disagreement are bubbling up and spilling over into threats of physical violence against Jesus. The crowds want to know who he is, and the answers they hear are unsettling. Jesus tells his listeners that he is the good shepherd: tending his own flock, caring for all, and going to extremes to gather those lost. Continuing the metaphor, there are other sheep who will be incorporated into the one flock, under the protection and care of one shepherd. Then, he states that he is that shepherd.

In the same breath of naming his role as the Good Shepherd, leader and protector, he speaks to his willingness to die for the love that God has imbued in him. The ministry of Jesus isn’t just a martyr situation, because, as John writes it, Jesus is willing to sacrifice his life in order to gain new life. Even more stunning, Jesus has agency over what happens: “I lay [my life] down of my own accord…and I have power to take it up again.”

Other traveling faith healers may operate by sleight of hand deception, yet the source of Jesus’ life and ministry is grounded in God’s own power, for “The Father and I are one.” This becomes the boiling point: blasphemy. Jesus is seen as human and not divine, so to claim that he is God is sacrilegious. The punishment for blasphemy is death, according to Leviticus 24:16 - “One who blasphemes the name of the Lord shall be put to death; the whole congregation shall stone the blasphemer.”

In the face of substantial doubt and angry opposition, Jesus responds that his actions are not profaning, but glorifying the Lord: “If I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe in me. But if I do them, even though you do not believe in me, believe the works, so that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father.” And then, Jesus evades arrest and retreats across the Jordan to continue ministry with a different, more receptive audience.

Folks, this is all very intense. By retelling the life and ministry of Jesus, the goal of John’s gospel is for all who hear those words to believe that Jesus is the divine Messiah, Son of God. What becomes apparent to me is that hearing a different point of view – though honest and true – is a hard voice to listen to and understand. As the conflict unfolds, Jesus is proposing the grace and care of God in hope; the synthesis and fulfillment of the legacy created by of the Law and the Prophets. This new thing – while amazing – is upending. The Judeans, and we today, have moments of crises when our faith is shaky and we don’t know where to go next. And so, Jesus asks all who listen to be non-reactive and simply exist in the discomfort of His divine truth. He asks us to stay connected, keep praying, keep watching…for in watching the actions, the law, love and power of God will burst forth. Jesus is a testament to that – his works of healing and compassion point to the love of God. Isn’t that what Presiding Bishop Michael Curry says? If it’s not about love, then it’s not about God. Is it easy? No. Is it possible? Yes. Stay faithful, my friends.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What about John 10 is challenging to you? Where do you find yourself saying yes, and where are you hesitating?

Daily Challenge

• Take time in prayer today. Pray about a space of discomfort and sit in it. Ask God to lead you to others who can be an example of hope in the face of division.

Jesus is calling. Are you listening? - September 7

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 41, 52; PM Psalm 44; Job 32:1-10,19-33:1,19-28; Acts 13:44-52; John 10:19-30

My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.  (John 10:27)

My uncle Roger was a farmer for many years. He had the life I dreamed of – living on the farm, riding horses whenever he pleased, caring for livestock. These idealized vignettes were part of how, as a child, I saw myself finding deep joy in life. The summer that New Coke was announced and I turned nine years old, my mom’s brother Roger and his family invited me to spend a week with them in North Alabama. I rode along in the truck each morning to check on fences and cattle, move fallen limbs, and then we headed to the country store to pick up lunch: bologna and cheese sandwiches, chips, and cans of Sundrop for my cousins who were “hired help”, spraying the fields of cotton to repel bugs and kill weeds.

After tending to farm business, it was time to saddle up the horses. My uncle walked up to the metal fence and bellowed, “Come OOOONNNNN!” in a sustained tone that echoed through the valley. Again he cried, “Come on!” We waited in silence. Then, one horse emerged from the trees, head high and trotting eagerly toward us. The retired jumping horse ambled around the bend in the pasture, taking his time. The pony named Flash reluctantly followed his fellow grazers. They came when they heard the voice of my uncle, the one who fed them, tended them, and trained them. The horses came because they had a rapport with him; they knew what to expect. My uncle knew them, too. It was not a surprise the young mare was first to the gate and that the pony – who would later throw me – brought up the rear.  

I am reminded of my uncle’s call to his livestock when reading this portion of John’s gospel as Jesus preached, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” Jesus was surrounded by the people of Judea, many of whom knew the stories foretelling the coming of the Messiah. People came to hear his message. Yet, some in the crowd were so disturbed by Jesus’ words that they said he was possessed by a demon or out of his mind.

What was it that had them so incensed? Earlier in John 10, Jesus alluded to other cornerstone shepherds (Moses, David, and God), and set himself among them. He said that he was the good shepherd, tending his own flock, caring for all, and going to extremes to gather those lost. He also had other sheep who would be incorporated into the one flock, under the protection of one shepherd - Jesus. He said that the hired hands were not protecting the flock, and that in the role of the good shepherd, no one could take away his life or power, as it was grounded in the love of God the Father.

Jesus stirred the wrath of his listeners because he touched on deep truths. Perhaps they realized they were like the hired hands, not protecting the flock. Perhaps they felt threatened that there were others included that were outsiders, differing from their societal norms. Perhaps they refused to see Jesus in the same league as Moses or David – much less as the Messiah. Or, hearing that they could not silence the divine message or power of Jesus, they felt afraid.

Whatever the reason people pushed back against the Good News of God’s love, healing, and faithfulness, Jesus kept calling out across the valley, summoning his flock to the stillness of the waters and to the hope of eternal life. Jesus still calls the one flock. He knows you, and you can follow his voice. Are you listening?

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

How do you imagine the Good Shepherd calling your name? Of whose voice does it remind you?

When have you pushed back against heeding God calling for you? When have you followed?

Daily Challenge

Think about how you react when you resist hearing the truth. Take five minutes to journal, writing all that is in your head. Invite God to guide your exploration of resistance. Listen for the ways you can turn "no" into "yes" in your walk with God.

The Sheep Know His Voice - September 5

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 30, 32; PM Psalm 42, 43; Job 22:1-4,21-23:7; Acts 13:26-43; John 10:1-18 

Today’s Reflection

Every Sunday, in our service of Morning Prayer, we say together the Jubilate, which is Psalm 100. I love every word of it, but this line always makes me pause and take comfort: “Know this: The Lord himself is God; he himself has made us, and we are his; we are his people and the sheep of his pasture.”

When it comes down to it, this line from the Jubilate sums up everything we need to know: God is God (which implies, of course, that we are not.) God created us, so we belong to God. And since we are God’s people, we should understand ourselves as the sheep of his pasture—which is to say, since we belong to God, God takes care of us—God is watching over us, and God is giving us all that we need to live and thrive.

In the Gospel of John appointed for today, we hear Jesus declare, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” A shepherd does not leave his sheep to find their own path, but he knows and cares for each one, and makes sure that they will each find their way home. And he can only do that if he keeps us, his sheep, near to him.

But it is not just that God, our good shepherd, holds us close. At times, we may find that we have turned away from God, like a sheep who has wandered away from the shepherd and from the rest of the flock (as we hear in another version of the Good Shepherd narrative, in Matthew 18). We may turn away for just a moment, or we may turn away for years, but at any moment we can always turn back toward God.

God wants to be in relationship with each of us. As Jesus tells us in John 10, “He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice.” Each one of us is God’s dearly loved child. God cares about you. God wants to know you. In fact, God already knows you even better than you know yourself. And, because God knows all about us, he wants to continue his relationship with us. As a loving God extends us his mercy—the mercy of a parent who, though he knows all that we have done and left undone, wants us to come back home and tell him all about it anyway.

As Anne Lamott reflects in her book Hallelujah Anyway: Rediscovering Mercy: “My parents, teachers, and the culture I grew up in showed me a drawer in which to stuff my merciful nature, because mercy made me look vulnerable and foolish, and it made me less productive. It was distracting to focus worried eyes on others instead of on homework, and on poor Dad, after all he had done for us, and on the prize of making the whole family look good. So I put it away, and I got it out only when it wouldn't threaten my grades, my safety, my parents' self-esteem, my child's life, or mine.”

But Anne Lamott, when she allowed herself to take mercy back out of the drawer as an adult, learned that “Mercy means compassion, empathy, a heart for someone’s troubles. It’s not something you do – it is something in you, accessed, revealed, or cultivated through use, like a muscle.” This mercy is what God calls us to extend to one another—and to ourselves. Mercy is how we can show the love of God to one another, as God’s imperfect yet perfectly loved children.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Remember a time when someone extended mercy to you. What did that look like? How did that make you feel about yourself and about them? How did it change the relationship between you and that person?

Daily Challenge

Jesus tells us that “The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep,” and that he lays it down of his own accord. Think of way that you can sacrifice something, whether tangible or intangible, for a fellow sheep of Christ’s fold and try to put that into action in the days ahead.

Nevertheless, You Heard Me - September 4

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 31; PM Psalm 35; Job 19:1-7,14-27; Acts 13:13-25; John 9:18-41

Today’s Reflection

In the Psalm appointed for this morning, Psalm 31, we hear the Psalmist alternating between naming the ways in which God has provided protection and strength with naming the ways in which the psalmist is continuing to experience troubles of many kinds. This psalm gives us a realistic view of what the life of faith is like. We find ourselves being pulled back and forth between moments of great sureness that God is there for us, loves us, protects us, and cares for us: “Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe, for you are my crag and my stronghold; for the sake of your Name, lead me and guide me” (31:3). And then we also feel, maybe even on the same day, moments of feeling utterly overwhelmed by life’s demands, besieged by people who would seek to bring us down, and alone amidst these challenges and pressures: “Have mercy on me, O Lord, for I am in trouble; my eye is consumed with sorrow, and also my throat and my belly. For my life is wasted with grief, and my years with sighing; my strength fails me because of affliction, and my bones are consumed” (31:9-10).

This is what I find most comforting about the psalms, though, this realistic depiction of what the life of faith is like—and the fact that the psalmist has this honesty in his rapport with the God to whom these psalms are addressed. As described in Psalm 31, God is not put off by the psalmist’s lamenting and venting: “Yet I said in my alarm, ‘I have been cut off from the sight of your eyes.’ Nevertheless, you heard the sound of my entreaty when I cried out to you” (31:22). In a moment of stress, the psalmist accused God of not seeing him, of not wanting to see him. And then we hear a beautiful word that changes everything: Nevertheless. I didn’t think you were there for me, God. Nevertheless, you heard me. You were still there listening for me, even when I just accused you of abandoning me in my time of need.

I was reading an essay this week, “A (Low-Anthropology) Guide to Quarantine Prayer and ‘Loud’ Time,” by Sarah Woodard on the Mockingbird blog, in which she questions that paradigm of Christian piety, the “quiet time” with God. Rather, Woodard, like the psalmist, is encouraging us to take a more honest, realistic approach in our time of prayer:

Lamott eloquently stated that “prayer is taking a chance that against all odds and past history, we are loved and chosen, and do not have to get it together before we show up.” We can even show up angry — Lamott assures us that “God can handle honesty, and prayer begins an honest conversation.” Even if your prayer is “I don’t like You at all right now,” God can handle it, and it may be the most honest prayer you’ve prayed in a while.

We can show up disheveled, disorderly, and maybe even disinterested, and God will meet us there. God can meet us at the traffic line as we pray for patience for the old woman driving slower than the speed limit in front of us, or in the stillness of early morning light. He is there when we are wiping runny noses, walking dogs, and trying to keep our sanity while cooped up in quarantine. He will accept our own words or someone else’s, our “quiet time” and our “loud time.” 

As we continue in this time of pandemic, frustrated that life just isn’t getting back to normal when we had hoped that it would, frustrated that there are not enough hours in the day to supervise the remote learning, keep up with the laundry and dishes, and manage to keep working at the same level of perfection that we normally expect from ourselves (feel free to insert your own list of frustrations and disappointments here!), it’s important to remember that God already knows all about it. God knows we are frustrated at times and pulled in too many directions and wondering when this time of pandemic and political unrest will ever get better. Nevertheless, God still hears us, and wants to keep hearing from us. Even when we aren’t feeling extra hopeful and positive—and maybe especially then.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

How honest do you feel you can be in prayer with God?

Do you ever feel like you must be more positive in prayer than you actually feel?

What would it be like to tell God you feel like God is not hearing you?

Daily Challenge

Take time, whether in writing or out loud or in silence, to be honest with God about something you have been holding back about in your prayer life.

I Once Was Blind, But Now I See - September 3

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 37:1-18; PM Psalm 37:19-42; Job 16:16-22,17:1,13-16; Acts 13:1-12; John 9:1-17

Today’s Reflection

In today’s readings, we hear two stories that revolve around blindness and sightedness. In John 9, we read of Jesus’ encounter with a man who was born blind but who then receives sight after Jesus anoints his eyes with a salve of mud and saliva. When Jesus told him to go wash at the pool of Siloam, “he went and washed and came back able to see.” Then, in Acts 13, we read of an encounter between Barnabas and Paul and two men they meet in Cyprus: a magician, Elymas, as well as a proconsul named Sergius Paulus, who “wanted to hear the word of God” from Barnabas and Saul—but Elymas “opposed them and tried to turn the proconsul away from the faith.” Paul looked at Elymas, and said, “the hand of the Lord is against you, and you will be blind for a while, unable to see the sun.” But Sergius Paulus, as he saw all of this unfold, “believed, for he was astonished at the teaching about the Lord.”

Seeing is believing. Oftentimes, we humans need to experience something firsthand in order to believe it and understand its importance. During World War II, a young Texan named John Howard Griffin, who had been studying in Paris, got swept up in the French Resistance. He had to flee after his name was put on a Nazi death list due to helping Jewish children flee. He returned home, where he joined the Army Air Corps, serving in the Pacific. Toward the end of the war, Griffin was injured by shrapnel and lost his sight. For the next decade he learned to live without sight, and then this was compounded when he was paralyzed for a time. But as Griffin lived through all this, he deepened in his Catholic faith. While he had lost his physical sight, he gained in spiritual insight.

Suddenly, Griffin regained his sight around the same time he began to regain his ability to walk. When Griffin regained his abilities to see and to move, he embarked on a career as a journalist—and the spiritual insights he gained when he lacked physical sight changed the way he perceived the world. It was the 1950s, racial segregation was widespread throughout the United States, and the civil rights movement was building momentum. African American authors and journalists, as well as activists, were writing of what it was like to experience racism and to live in such a deeply segregated society. And yet, many whites would not take their perspectives seriously. They had seen racism and lived beneath its crushing weight. But many whites could not see it or feel its weight, and so they did not believe racism was a real problem in our nation.

John Howard Griffin, a white journalist who had lived for 10 years without being able to see the color of people’s skin, had an idea. He proposed to write a series of articles (and ultimately a book, Black Like Me) from the perspective of a white journalist who, for several months in 1959 and 1960, passed for a black man as he traveled throughout the South, from Louisiana into Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia, and then back to his home state of Texas.

His experience of physical blindness played a role in giving him such a strong sense of empathy and holy curiosity that he felt called to take on this dangerous project. After his undercover mission was complete and his reporting was published, Griffin and his family faced death threats to the point that they had to leave the country for a time. And some believe that Griffin’s death, years later, from skin cancer was related to the strong medicines he had used to change his skin tone for this project.

The stories we encounter in John and Acts today, as well as John Howard Griffin’s life story, teach us how God can use blindness to help us see more clearly. If we are open to it, God can use our blindness—whether physical or spiritual—to teach us to learn to see our world, ourselves, and one another with new eyes.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Has there ever been something you just could not see that someone else has been able to see very clearly? How do you account for these different ways of seeing the same thing?

Daily Challenge

Read something written by someone—or listen to a podcast by someone—whose way of seeing things seems quite different than your own. Give yourself some time to reflect on or write about your response to this person’s different perspective. How did you respond to their viewpoint? And why?

For There is Hope for a Tree - September 2

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 38; PM Psalm 119:25-48; Job 12:1,14:1-22; Acts 12:18-25; John 8:47-59

Today’s Reflection

For there is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, that it will sprout again, and that its shoots will not cease. Though its root grows old in the earth, and its stump dies in the ground, yet at the scent of water it will bud and put forth branches like a young plant.  –Job 14:7-9

Have you ever had a plant that stopped thriving, and eventually you look at it in its pot or its place in the ground and you think to yourself, this plant’s time is done? Each year, there are usually one or two plants on our porch that look like they have no life left in them. But then, when I go over to take a closer look, there is still the tiniest green shoot or a section of stem that still has some life left in it. At that point, what needs to be done is to cut off all the dead stems and leaves—and sometimes, that leaves very little plant left.

Sometimes, when examining one of these struggling plants, I wonder: Is this plant really worth saving? But then, if I prune the plant in time, a bit more new growth begins to come out of those tiny green remnants. Within just a few weeks’ time, lo and behold we can have what looks like a whole new plant that is growing and flourishing where just a short time before it seemed ready to be discarded altogether.

Or, have you ever observed how in a place where there has been a forest fire, how quickly the signs of new growth begin to emerge from the charred landscape? In some woodlands, like the longleaf pine forests that flourish where I am from in Florida, naturally occurring wildfires are good for the ecosystem. The soil can be enriched by the ashes, and the heat of the fire can help new seeds to be released from their cones and begin to grow.

Something you may have seen growing on live oak trees here in Alabama, and elsewhere in the Southeast, are resurrection ferns. When we’ve been going through a dry spell, you can look up and see these brown, withered looking ferns growing on the branches of the oak trees. But then, as soon as a rainstorm comes through, you can look up at that same tree and see those very same resurrection ferns are suddenly looking very lush and green once again. They are called resurrection ferns because they appear to be dead, but then as soon as they are touched by raindrops, they begin to unfurl again, full of life.

All these observations from nature keep pointing us back toward Christ and his resurrection—and today’s passage from Job foreshadows this. We are reminded by these instances of resurrection in nature of the resurrection we experience in our own lives. We go through periods of not taking care of ourselves so well—or perhaps we are feeling not so cared for as we would like to be by others in our lives. And so, we can find ourselves beginning to feel like we are drying out and withering up. There are no signs of new growth in us.

But then, before all is lost, something helps us begin to flourish once more. We feel a bit of refreshing water start to trickle down through the soil we’re planted in, and when it reaches our roots, we begin to grow again. Like the plant we neglected to take care of for too long, the pine forest after the fire, or the resurrection fern after a rain, it doesn’t take much water and nutrients to begin to turn things around for us. A little water at just the right moment helps the cycle of life to begin unfolding again—in the nature that surrounds us, and in our own lives.

And all this points us back toward Christ—his life, death, and resurrection giving us the hope of experiencing resurrection in our own lives, and in the lives of those we encounter along our way.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

• What does a dry period in life look and feel like for you?

• Have you noticed any patterns of when you tend to experience these dry periods in your life?

• Have you noticed what changes, small or large, allow you to begin to experience flourishing and new growth again?

Daily Challenge

• Reflect on an aspect of your life that seems at the moment to be withering in some way. Think of one small thing you could change in your daily pattern of life that could bring new life back to this struggling area.

• Commit to doing this one small thing each day for the rest of the week to see what happens.

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.