When Mercy and Truth Meet Together - September 24

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm [83] or 146, 147; PM Psalm 85, 86; Esther 7:1-10; Acts 19:11-20; Luke 4:14-30

Today’s Reflection   

Over the past month or two, I have been gradually reading Jon Meacham’s latest book, His Truth is Marching On: John Lewis and the Power of Hope. Lewis’ death this summer made me curious to know more of his life, especially the stories of how he, as a very young man, exhibited such courage as he stood up for what he believed was right.

Reading Psalms 85 and 86 appointed for this noonday, brings to mind for me Lewis and the people he worked side by side with, who shared a commitment to using nonviolent means to achieve civil rights for all. As had activists before them, like Rosa Parks, they and other budding civil rights activists traveled to the Highlander Folk School—located on a small farm near Monteagle, Tennessee—to learn more of the nonviolent path from people like Septima Clark, the school’s director of workshops.  

At Highlander, they didn’t just learn about nonviolent activism, but they also experienced a vision of what an integrated society could be like: “Blacks and whites ate together, swam together, square-danced together. The setting was simple and idyllic, with white frame buildings set in a clearing bordered by woods.” As Parks recalled, “At Highlander, I found out for the first time in my adult life that this could be a unified society, that there was such a thing as people of different races and backgrounds meeting together in workshops, and living together in peace and harmony…. It was a place I was reluctant to leave. I gained there the strength to persevere in my work for freedom” (Meacham 65).

Lewis and his coworkers for civil rights found at Highlander a place where they could listen to God and one another, where they could experience a foretaste of what peaceful coexistence could be like. It was a place where, with the psalmist, they could “listen to what the Lord God is saying, for he is speaking peace to his faithful people and to those who turn their hearts to him” (Ps. 85:8). At Highlander, they could see a clear picture of what it looks like when, “Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other. Truth shall spring up from the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven” (Ps. 85:10-11). Their experiences there gave them a strong core of conviction, and a picture of what they were working toward, when they returned to facing the harsh realities of violent resistance to their nonviolent protests.

When Lewis and his fellow activists-in-training returned home to Nashville, their mentor James Lawson helped turn the Gandhian nonviolent principles they had soaked in at Highlander into practical techniques for nonviolent protest. Lewis remembers how Lawson, “showed us how to curl our bodies so that our internal organs would escape direct blows. … It was not enough, he would say, simply to endure a beating, It was not enough to resist the urge to strike back at an assailant. ‘That urge can’t be there,’ he would tell us. ‘You have to do more that just not hit back. You have to have no desire to hit back. You have to love that person who is hitting you’” (Meacham 66).

As he faced angry mobs, blows to the head, and multiple arrests, John Lewis held onto the kind of faith we hear expressed in Psalm 86 today: “Teach me your way, O Lord, and I will walk in your truth; knit my heart to you that I may fear your Name. … The arrogant rise up against me, O God, and a band of violent men seeks my life; they have not set you before their eyes. But you, O Lord, are gracious and full of compassion, slow to anger, and full of kindness and truth. … Show me a sign of your favor, so that those who hate me may see it and be ashamed; because you, O Lord, have helped me and comforted me.”

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

As you look around at all that is happening in our world today, can you imagine a way to bring mercy and truth, righteousness and peace together in the way that you respond to these difficult realities? What might it look like for mercy and truth to meet together, for righteousness and peace to kiss one another, in your own circles of influence?

Daily Challenge

Commit to reading more of someone like John Lewis, Diane Nash, James Lawson, or Septima Clark today, so that you can learn more of what it looks like to embody the spirit of Psalms 85 and 86, even in the most intense conflicts and conditions.

Sweeter than Honey - September 23

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82; Esther 6:1-14 ;  Acts 19:1-10; Luke 4:1-13

Today’s Reflection

“How sweet are your words to my taste! They are sweeter than honey to my mouth.”

—Psalm 119: 103

Throughout August and September, we have enjoyed having a couple of hummingbirds buzzing around our backyard deck. You may have even seen them flying around behind me if you’ve been online when I have livestreamed Morning Prayer or Noonday Prayer from outdoors.

The hummingbirds are drawn to our deck because of the flowers we have had there at the end of the summer. A blue plumbago we brought with us from Texas drew their attention first. And then, once we knew the hummingbirds were stopping by, we bought a couple more plants whose blooms we knew they would like—salvia and porter weed plants with bright red, tubular blooms perfect for those thin, straw-like hummingbird beaks. Hummingbirds are drawn to these blooms’ sweet nectar, giving them the energy they require to keep buzzing around like tiny, silent helicopters.

In two of the Psalms appointed for today, we hear the psalmist using the imagery of honey to talk about how God provides for those he loves. In the portion of Psalm 119 appointed for this morning (vss. 97-120), we read of how much the psalmist loves the law of the Lord: “all the day long it is in my mind” (vs. 97). The psalmist is drawn to God’s words—for the same reason the hummingbird and the honeybee are drawn to the flowers’ nectar. God’s words give sustenance and sweetness as they provide what we and the psalmist need most to keep hovering through each day: wisdom, understanding, and joy (vss. 98-111).

And then, in Psalm 81 appointed for us to read together this afternoon, the psalmist is recounting moments from the story of the people of Israel, especially those moments when God was present with them and provided for them—moments when they had been starting to wonder whether God was still there with them: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt and said, ‘Open your mouth wide, and I will fill it.’ And yet my people did not hear my voice, and Israel would not obey me. So I gave them over to the stubbornness of their hearts, to follow their own devices” (vss. 10-12). God was always there, offering to provide for them, to fill them up with what was needed for the journey, but his people still needed to wander for a while before they would wander back to him. At the end of the psalm, we find God is still waiting, still standing by to sustain them, and not just with the basics, but with what was finest and sweetest: “Israel would I feed with the finest wheat and satisfy him with honey from the rock” (vs. 16).

A vivid memory I have of visiting Saint Stephen’s for the first time this summer, when I was discerning whether I was being called here, is tramping through the white clover to go visit the beehives in Billy’s Lot across the street. I love that we embrace the way of the bees here at Saint Stephen’s, because when we ponder the ways of hummingbirds and honeybees, we can learn a few things about our own journey with God and how we can be sustained by God’s lifegiving sweetness.

These creatures love nectar and they know that they are sustained by it—so they are constantly seeking it out. It is rare that you spot a honeybee that is not either pollinating a flower or buzzing around the hive. What I learn from this, and what I suspect the psalmist knew, is that God’s wisdom, understanding, and joy are there for us—to give us the sweetness and energy that we need to propel us through this life. But first we have to search for it—and then be willing to carry it back and share it with the others who, when we work together with them, will create something sweet that will feed and sustain us all.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

In what ways do you experience God’s sweetness sustaining you in your daily life? How do these moments of sweetness sustain you later, when you are out further afield from the hive?

Daily Challenge

Think of a tangible, specific way you can share some of the sweetness God has given to sustain you with someone in your life this week.

They Took Him Aside and Explained the Way of God - September 22

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 78:1-39; PM Psalm 78:40-72; Esther 5:1-14; Acts 18:12-28; Luke 3:15-22

Today’s Reflection

­Many accounts of Paul’s mission and ministry as he traveled around the Mediterranean and Near East depict him teaching in synagogues or defending himself in the public forum. But even more important to Paul’s mission was the way he invested time in people and, in turn, built ongoing relationships that nurtured them in their faith.

As we read in Acts 18, when the consul Gallio dismissed Paul’s case, Paul didn’t just set off for the next place. Instead, he stayed “for a considerable time,” which scholars tell us was about 18 months. While he said his farewells to all the believers there, two of the believers in whom he had invested his time and care in there, Priscilla and Aquila, decided to travel on with Paul and help him spread the Gospel elsewhere. Once they reached Ephesus, Paul visited the local synagogue to do some teaching amongst those gathered there. But when they asked him to stay, he turned them down, saying that “I will return to you, if God wills,” and he continued on toward Antioch, Galatia, and Phrygia, “strengthening all the disciples.”

But Paul did not leave the believers in Ephesus without support. Priscilla and Aquila stayed on to nurture the Ephesian believers in their shared faith. The time Paul had invested in developing Priscilla and Aquila meant that they were now equipped to encourage others in their faith. And that is exactly what we find them doing in Acts 18: 24-28.

Ephesus, as a crossroads of trade in the ancient world, attracted people from all around the Mediterranean region. Another person who made his way to Ephesus was Apollos, who hailed from Alexandria, Egypt, a major center of learning in the ancient world. Luke describes Apollos as “an eloquent man, well-versed in the Scriptures” who “had been instructed in the Way of the Lord.” Apollos “spoke with burning enthusiasm and taught accurately the things concerning Jesus.”

However, we also learn that, while Apollos was a well-educated man and a gifted orator, his formation was not complete, as he “knew only the baptism of John.” In other words, Apollos’ heart was in the right place and he had learned some important things, but there was still room for growth as Apollos continued to be formed as a believer.

Enter Priscilla and Aquila. As they settled into Ephesus and getting acquainted with the community of believers there, they heard this enthusiastic new believer, Apollos, speaking with great boldness and passion about his faith. And what they recognized is that Apollos needed to grow in his knowledge, so that what he shared with others was not just passionate teaching, but also correct doctrine. Apollos knew some of the story, but Priscilla and Aquila, as believers a bit further along in their learning, saw that Apollos still needed to hear the rest of the story.

But instead of calling Apollos out in public, sparking some kind of contentious public debate about the baptism of John versus the baptism of Jesus, Priscilla and Aquila made a more enlightened move: “they took him aside and explained the Way of God to him more accurately.” And then later, when Apollos felt ready to travel on to Achaia, in Corinth, his fellow believers in Ephesus “encouraged him and wrote to the disciples to welcome him.”

Paul invested his time in building relationships with and teaching the believers in Corinth, among them Priscilla and Aquila—who in turn invested time in building relationships with and teaching believers in Ephesus, including Apollos. And once Apollos was nurtured along to a more mature point in his faith, he continued the cycle—by returning to Achaia, where he, in turn, “greatly helped those who through grace had become believers… showing by the scriptures that the Messiah is Jesus.”

Each time a follower of the Way of God takes time to invest time in another pilgrim on the way, the faith of both will be strengthened. Faith is not something we are meant to experience by ourselves. Faith is something we are meant to experience together, helping to nurture one another as we learn together. Taking someone aside and investing that extra time and care goes a long way toward encouraging them to have a faith that continues to grow—and one that they, too, will want to share with someone else.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Can you recall a time when someone took you aside to check on you or help you learn something new? How did it feel to have someone notice you and take the time to care for you in that moment?

Daily Challenge

Next time you are in a discussion—whether in-person or online—and hear someone saying things you believe are incorrect or unhelpful to others, pause. After the pause, then find a way to connect with the person away from the main discussion forum so that you can have a one-on-one conversation about the points on which you differ.

For Such a Time as This - September 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 80; PM Psalm 77, [79]; Esther 4:4-17; Acts 18:1-11; Luke (1:1-4),3:1-14

Today’s Reflection

I was so excited to find Esther among the scriptures I get to reflect on and write about this week. Back when I used to read a children’s Bible to my daughter at bedtime—and we read through it so many times it began to fall apart—the story she always loved best and would ask me to read again and again was the story of Esther. For little girls, few stories in the Bible include women in such exciting, superhero-like circumstances as does the story of Esther. Because Esther is a young woman, it is easier for some little girls—and grownup women, too—to picture themselves in the story, to imagine what they would do if they were in Esther’s shoes.

Esther is, of course, one of the few instances of a woman in the Bible whose character is more fully developed over the course of a narrative arc. And not only that, but she is depicted as exhibiting great courage, creativity, and grace under pressure. Here is a young woman of the Jewish faith who ended up in the royal court of a Persian king, Ahasuerus (also known as Xerxes I). When the king had a falling out with his queen and decided to make Esther the new queen, she is propelled unexpectedly into a position of great influence.

At first, when Esther was in the king’s court, she had tried to blend in, even taking a second name that would hide her Jewish identity. But when her guardian-kinsman Mordecai learns that the king’s crony Haman is plotting to kill all the Jews in the vicinity, Mordecai challenges Esther to rise to the occasion: “Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for such a time as this” (Esther 4:14).

Esther plotted with Mordecai, using her position of influence to save their people. In that moment of truth, “when the king held out the golden scepter to Esther, Esther rose and stood before the king. And she said, ‘If it please the king… let an order be written to revoke the letters written by Haman… which he wrote to destroy the Jews. … For how can I bear to see the destruction of my kindred?’” (Esther 8: 4-6).

So, too, do we find ourselves and our fellow human beings living under equally dramatic and perilous conditions today. Lives are at risk. Principles are on the line. But especially in this time of global pandemic, climate crises, political turmoil, and societal unrest, God still wants to make his love manifest in and through you and me.

Recently, I heard myself saying (in a conversation about moving and accepting a new ministry call amidst a pandemic), “Well, I wasn’t going to let a pandemic stop me from doing what God wants me to do.” And after I said it and I heard those words hanging in the air, I immediately thought, “Wow, that sounds kind of bold. Maybe too bold.”

As a person who values humility, the thought of coming across too strong struck me as problematic, and so I started to question having said this. But, as I reflected on it, well after the conversation ended, I decided that, in fact, it had not been too bold because I was articulating a good kind of boldness: Boldness in the sense of stepping out in faith, believing that God has opened a path for me—and us—to do something new, even in this time of mask-wearing, physical distancing, and quarantine. A bold belief that God has called and prepared me—and you—to bear God’s light and love in just such a time as this.

God is still working, even when the circumstances seem—at least on the surface—least likely for good things to happen. Over the years, I have found that it is in these difficult times when God’s plans can surprise us most with their boldness. With C.S. Lewis, we, too, may find ourselves “surprised by joy.”

These are tough times. You may find yourself facing difficult choices, moments of decision with potentially life-changing consequences—for you, and perhaps also for the lives of others. But like Esther, God has given you all that you need to live into this moment in history.

And who knows? Perhaps you, too, have been prepared by God to do something bold in a time such as this.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Reflect on a struggle or challenging circumstance you have lived through in the past (maybe the distant past, or maybe recently). What did you learn about yourself by making it through that struggle or challenge? What did you learn about the people in your life? What did you learn about God?

Daily Challenge

Looking around at the challenging circumstances in which we are now living, think of one specific way you can use the gifts God has given you to improve the life of another person (or a group of people) in “such a time as this.”

Christ the Apple Tree - September 19

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 75, 76; PM Psalm 23, 27; Esther 2:5-8,15-23 or Judith 5:1-21; Acts 17:16-34; John 12:44-50

This coming Sunday, two of our choir members will sing a beautiful piece called Christ the Apple Tree.  The text is from a poem from the late 18th century and the music is a Scottish Folk song.  I love the lyrics and here are two verses:

“I’m weary with my former toil, 
Here I will sit and rest awhile: 
Under the shadow I will be 
Of Jesus Christ the apple tree. 

This fruit doth make my soul to thrive, 
It keeps my dying faith alive; 
Which makes my soul in haste to be 
With Jesus Christ the apple tree.”

The author sees the Incarnation as a part of creation.  This is not necessarily a new idea but has been lost for much of Christianity.  We want to make the sacred, simply Jesus, but if God has created everything that is, our faith should compel us to see the sacred in everything.  I read recently that St. Bonaventure (1221-1274) taught that to learn to love God, we begin at the easiest and simplest place and move up.  Richard Rohr suggests a literal practice of this by claiming “Don’t start by trying to love God, or even people; love rocks and elements first, move to trees, then animals, and then humans.  Angels will soon seem like a real possibility, and God is then just a short leap away.”[1]  So there is something beautiful to me about seeing Christ in the Apple Tree and how our faith can be kept alive by the rest and fruit it provides.

In the 17th chapter of Acts, Paul is standing just below the large hill in Athens, Greece, where several statutes of different gods reside.  He gives his famous sermon from Mars Hill where he reminds the people how religious they are and then he points to an altar in the city which is to the unknown God and casts a vision to the Greek people to see in their lives how the God who created the universe is already worshiped in their midst.  He gives language and credence to what is already there and expands the Greek’s understanding of God.  Evangelism 101.

We live in a very religious world, but I wonder sometimes if many who consider themselves ultra-religious lack imagination.  Does Paul invite us to go deeper and look beyond what has been named?  How can we see what many others have missed, and name it as something much more?  Maybe Jesus Christ the apple tree.   How can we be people who proclaim God’s infinite blessing and embeddedness in what others have cast away?

“I’m weary with my former toil, Here I will sit and rest awhile: Under the shadow I will be 
Of Jesus Christ the apple tree.”  Finding rest, finding renewal, finding healing and hope, may be as simple as learning to see God Incarnate all around.  May we follow the way of Paul and put a name to what we see.

-       John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: How do you imagine the Incarnation?  Is it easy to imagine God in another person?  What about an inanimate object?  Why?

Daily Challenge:  Find a quiet place to sit outside for a few minutes. Calm your mind and practice Rohr’s reflection.  Start by considering God in the easiest and simplest and in the words of St. Bonaventure, “move up.”

[1] Rohr, Richard. UNIVERSAL CHRIST: How a Forgotten Reality Can Change Everything We See, Hope for, and Believe. Convergent, 2019, page 57.

Naming the Grief - September 18

Today’s Reflection: AM Psalm 69:1-23(24-30)31-38; PM Psalm 73; Esther 1:1-4,10-19 or Judith 4:1-15; Acts 17:1-15; John 12:36b-43

“While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of the light.”

 For our Tuesday staff meeting, our team read and discussed an article on grief from the Harvard Business Review.  The article was titled That Discomfort You’re Feeling is Grief which suggests that much of what we feel right now is grief and that it is emotionally helpful to name it.  The article is an interview with David Kessler who co-wrote with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief through the Five Stages of Loss.  This book is like the Holy Grail on grief.  He has recently written a book to claim that there is a sixth stage: “finding meaning,” which is what we often have been trying to do through theological reflection and the daily scripture in these reflections. 

Kessler names that “one particularly troubling aspect of the pandemic is the open-endedness of it.”  I find this to be especially true as I am consistently asking when and how all of this will end.  I want to make plans for Easter and Christmas and all the wonderful services and festivities of church.  Kessler claims that just as in naming grief, naming the liminal state of it also helps. This is survivable and it will pass.  “This is a time to overprotect but not overreact.”

Which is why he believes we will find meaning in it.  The Five Stages of Loss ended with acceptance, but Kessler believes that meaning is the ultimate response.  He names that “even now people are realizing they can connect through technology.  They are not as remote as they thought.  They are realizing they can use their phones for long conversations.  They’re appreciating walks.”  I am seeing people reconnect with family, stop being addicted to work, spending more time building something meaningful, and engaging in their faith in profound new ways.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus is trying to prepare his disciples for when he is no longer with them.  He is helping them get ready to handle the grief they will experience.  This passage happens just before the last supper.  And Jesus says, “While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of the light.” This reoccurring theme emerges once again that part of life is walking in the darkness, but finding light and meaning which we often do with the help of God, is the only hopeful way forward.

Kessler’s point is that we should name what we feel.  He states, “the truth is a feeling that moves through us.”  We shouldn’t ignore it, but instead, allow it to empower us.  How do we find the light, believe in the light, and be children of the light? I wonder part of this is learning to find meaning as the result of the grief that we experience.  But first, we have to name it. 

-John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Do you agree with the idea that we are all experiencing grief right now?  What other emotions are you experiencing?

Daily Challenge:  Try naming your grief, specifically what makes you sad.  If it is helpful try vocalizing this with a friend or loved on.

Embrace the Moment for what it is - September 17

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm [70], 71; PM Psalm 74; Job 28:1-28; Acts 16:25-40; John 12:27-36a

I spend a lot of time helping people prepare for marriage.  Planning for a wedding is certainly a stressful time in many people’s lives and that was before the pandemic.  We use the time of stress to talk about life and expectations and setting new norms.  It can be a wonderful chance to reestablish norms and relationships with family members in a way that the couple would like and not the way it has always been.  I hear often, “Oh things will be so much better when we can just get to the other side of this!” 

And maybe there is a smidgen of truth to that premise, but there is also something natural and seductive in looking beyond where we are. We want to see possibility and hope when we can get beyond where we are.  How many of us are waiting for this pandemic to be “over?” Or if I can just get beyond this “one” event, my life will be so much easier and better.   Which we all know is rarely the case.

Paul and Silas are in prison in the story from Acts.  They have caused a little ruckus in town in Western Asia Minor.  Men in the town had been making money of a mystic fortune teller and Paul and Silas have messed up the money-making scheme.  They are beaten and thrown in prison.  I would imagine they would be pretty eager to leave where they are and be ready to get on with their work. 

In the middle of the night, an earthquake comes, and the prison foundation is shaken.  Paul and Silas’s chains become unfastened and the doors are left wide open.  When the jailer wakes, he rushes in terrified that the prisoners have escaped.  Oddly, Paul and Silas are sitting right there.  They have not rushed to freedom but remained in the prison.  In the prison, they have a conversation with the jailer, and he and his family are baptized. 

I find it intriguing that Paul and Silas are not in a rush to escape.  I know I would have been long gone before the sun was up.  Get me out of this mess!  But Paul stays seeing an opportunity to change the life of the guard.  And then he and Silas go on their way, but first they embrace the moment for what it is.  How can we, when we want to get past a moment, learn to see opportunity in the present and not be so focused on what is next?

-       John+

 Questions for Self-Reflection:  Have you had times in your life you were eager to get through?  What parts of those times do you now miss?  What did you learn from those moments?

 Daily Challenge:  Try to figure out who is the jailer to you in this story.

A Game of Telephone - September 16

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; Job 42:1-17; Acts 16:16-24; John 12:20-26

Listen to John: 20:21-23 - They came to Philip, Philip went to Andrew, Andrew and Philip went to Jesus and Jesus gave them an answer. It almost sounds like a game a telephone. You know that game where you tell someone something ridiculous, then they tell the next person until it goes around a circle and at the end, the last person repeats the phrase and usually, something has been lost in translation. A random trivia fact: the longest game of telephone according to the Guinness Book of World Records was played in New Zealand in March of 2017 by 1,792 people. The record was attempted to celebrate Hearing Awareness Week in New Zealand. With nearly 1800 people, I guess the record won’t be broken until after the pandemic succumbs.  

It also sounds like a game of telephone because what Jesus answers back with seems ridiculous. You must lose your life to gain it? What dies bears fruit? Those who hate their life will keep it in eternity? Come on Jesus! What foolishness are you offering us? This makes no sense! 

Which maybe is the point. It has to be so radical to actually change our life. Jesus offers us an alternative way to live and in that, we find the true meaning of life.

There is a documentary out right now called the “The Social Dilemma” just released on Netflix. Some have actually called it a horror film. It is about the design of social media, the origins of Facebook and other platforms, and suggests the shadow side of the way we connect actually harms us. The documentary goes further in suggesting how these apps and our phones are destroying our mental health and maybe even democracy. The irony is social media was created to help us feel connected to one another and find a more meaningful life and yet what we waste so much time on has done quite the opposite. Doesn't it seem counterintuitive?

We are being forced in this time of pandemic to reimagine our lives, and what I keep wanting to know is “When will things get back to normal.”  As I read the Gospel today, I wonder just how foolish my answer really is.  Why should I want things to get back to normal when much of the life we have lived is not the life that I believe Jesus calls me into? It is a life on consumption, acquiring, and constant frustration.  It is a life of making digital connections as opposed to real and personal connections.  A better question might be what is now dying that is also giving me life.  Maybe the life we are losing will help us inherit something much greater. 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What have you lost in the last six months that might be a good thing? 

Daily Challenge:  Instead of wishing for things to return to normal, make a list of three things you not resume doing when you can.  Put your list on your refrigerator or bulletin board.

You can't Handle the Truth! - September 15

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; PM Psalm 64, 65; Job 40:1-24; Acts 15:36-16:5; John 11:55-12:8

When I worked at a Boy Scout camp many years ago, prior to the age of Wi-Fi and cell phones, we would pass the time by memorizing movie lines, and of course, burning things, but that’s for another story.  We would then turn the movie scenes into campfire or flagpole skits making sure we didn’t waste all of that creative time and energy.  One of the movies we committed large chunks to memory was the Tom Cruise and Jack Nicholson blockbuster from 1992, “A Few Good Men.”

The dramatic courtroom scene takes place where Nicolson is on trial for ordering a “code red,” a hazing incident that goes awry, and a private is killed. Cruise is demanding answers from Nicolson who is on the stand. “I want the truth!” demands the young lawyer played by Cruise.

Nicolson shouts, back “You can’t handle the truth!”

He continues, “Son, we live in a world that has walls, and those walls have to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom.” 

Nicolson’s character doesn’t think much of the young lawyer.  It’s a brilliant script.

This dialogue came to mind when thinking of the story in Acts of the growth of the church.  Paul and Timothy are traveling and spreading the Good News throughout all the lands.  They end up in Phrygia and Galatia because the Holy Spirit forbids them to speak the word in Asia (16:6).  Finally, they try to go into Bithynia, but the “Spirit of Jesus did not allow them” (16:7). I guess some people weren’t ready for the truth, or maybe they couldn’t handle it.

The Good News does make it into Asia, just a few chapters in Acts later when Paul makes his third missionary journey to Ephesus.  Paul is reminded that God’s timeline is a little bit different than his own. 

We are people who are obsessed with the truth and often through a theological lens.  It is too easy to dismiss people who disagree with us or do not share our collective truth.  As it applies to God’s truth, maybe a more hopeful way to look at disagreement is to believe that God’s truth will be understood at a later time.  Maybe the Holy Spirit is forbidding us to speak it.  Or maybe others aren’t ready to hear it.  Either way, it’s nothing new, just the Holy Spirit taking her time.  While the truth needs to be made known, how can this period of holding back help us grow in our own understanding of the truth in a way that will help us be ready when the time is to come?

-John

Questions for Self-Reflection:  When have you tried to share a point of view that you believed to be truthful and others have been resistant to listening or hearing? 

Daily Challenge:  When engaged in conversation with others, try clarifying your expectations.  Instead of trying to convince somebody, try to reframe your goals.  Know your intention.  Most of the time, the goal should not be facilitating opinion change.

Well, that didn't turn out how I wanted it to! - September 14

 Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; PM Psalm 64, 65; Job 40:1-24; Acts 15:36-16:5; John 11:55-12:8

Something doesn’t seem right. Have you ever had that feeling deep down that what you are participating in isn’t exactly what you thought it was supposed to be? Maybe the group you have joined has turned into a place for gossip and spreading ill will. Or a church your friend has invited to you seems devoid of hope? Or the party full of nice people turns into something that pushes the boundaries of your comfort zone? I think we walk into what we don’t expect all the time and sometimes it is a little harder to get back out than one might think. Well, that didn’t turn out how I wanted it to!

In the Gospel reading for today, people are going to Jerusalem to prepare for Passover. There is a ritual where the Jewish people would go to the pools to purify themselves as part of the preparation for Passover and a number of other reasons that I will spare you. And it is this background that the Jewish leaders plot to have Jesus arrested. They are using the setting of this day of preparation as a backdrop and chance to illuminate their threat. I bet the people there had no idea what they were getting into!  

At a moment when Jesus would come and be cleansed, if he was to follow this practice, is the same moment that his own religious leaders would condemn him. When people are coming for cleaning, the leaders are looking to set someone up. Maybe the Jewish leaders could have expanded their understanding of compassion and forgiveness just a bit. I mean it was a practice for a chance to start over. The irony! 

If you follow this story a little longer (we will this week in the Daily office) this story leads into Palm Sunday. When people see Jesus entering the town, they put down their cloaks and sing songs of praise. They aren’t running to the Jewish leaders to say, “Hey, I found your man!” What a response to the Jewish leaders wanting to set him up – taking off what was comfortable to usher in the Christ. Maybe it’s a little bit of a stretch, but when the powers to want an arrest, another group takes off their cloaks, to welcome the person who is to be arrested. I wonder if they knew. 

And we find ourselves in situations all the time that don’t make sense and push our level of comfort to new extremes.  And we are invited to push back a little bit when something nefarious is afoot.  Maybe we are encouraged a little bit to bend the rules.  Maybe like these followers outside of Jerusalem who were headed to the baths, we too can have an opportunity to do something different.  I wonder too if we will know.

-       John+

Questions for Reflection: What are some times when we have been a part of something that you hadn’t planned for?  What did you do?  How did you respond?  What could you have done differently?

Daily Challenge:  Being able to respond differently often requires practice.  Spend 5 minutes in quiet meditation considering how to respond differently when you find yourself in an unsuspecting situation. 

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.