The Lavish Love of God - May 26

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 38; PM Psalm 119:25-48; Deut. 4:25-31; 2 Cor. 1:23-2:17; Luke 15:1-2,11-32

There are many lenses through which one can read Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32): reconciliation, the search for Sabbath, family dynamics, idols we follow, grace, forgiveness…perhaps you can offer more. This well-known story from Jesus’ ministry has deep resonance, line by line. I wrestle each time I sit with this scripture, and new avenues of understanding and wonder open.

Today, I wonder about intimacy in this story, understood in the sense of fully knowing one another. If the younger child had felt known and valued, would he have demanded his inheritance and left? Did he strive to build connections with those in his household? Were they receptive and understanding of him? Could he see that the emptiness of “dissolute living” further from himself and from those who loved him?

If the older child had felt known and valued, would he have refused to welcome his brother back home? Would he have gotten to the point of feeling merely tethered to his role, working like a slave, with no freedom or rest? Could he see that by focusing on merit and duty, he was removing himself from relationship and grace, much like his younger brother?

The Old Testament reading from Deuteronomy today speaks to how God will scatter the faithful; the people will follow other idols and then will search for God. They will only find God if they seek with all of their hearts and souls. And then, returning to the Lord, they will listen and follow, “Because the Lord your God is a merciful God, he will neither abandon you nor destroy you” (v. 31a). What a perfect pairing with the parable of the wayward child returning home.

That being said, reading other parts of Deuteronomy (and other parts of sacred scripture), the parental reactions are very different for disobedient and disrespectful offspring. In Deuteronomy 21, sons who do not heed their parents are taken out in public, named for the ills they will not abandon – like gluttonous and drunken – and the men of the town can stone him to death. In Deuteronomy 22, daughters who are not found to be chaste are also seen as disobedient. While we don’t read of young women who are gluttonous and drunken, they are considered disgraceful as they have prostituted themselves to others while living in their parents’ houses.  The consequence: stone her to death outside the entrance of her father’s house. Obedience of parents was a big deal, and perhaps a big problem.

Jesus knows these paradigms of the Deuteronomic law. He knows the shame children can bring upon their parents’ homes, and yet Jesus also knows the pervasive and powerful love of God. The Son knows the compassion that the Lord has for all. And so, the story in Luke concludes as we hope, with more grace than we can imagine, more redemption than we think is possible. The patient parent waits for us to draw near, yearning for rest and trust and welcome, just as we are. That is the intimacy God calls us to…not flash-in-the-pan passion, but sustaining and unshakable love. Prodigal love.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Think of a time when someone showed you compassion when you offended them. What was that like?

What inspires you today about the father’s welcome of both his children?

Daily Challenge

Write a letter to someone you have offended, holding in mind the younger son’s return to his father. Pray for that person, and ask God to build a bridge of reconciling love between you. Say the Confession of Sin, holding in mind that as you confess a wrong, God is welcoming you and bringing wholeness and healing and forgiveness to you.

Open Wide Your Hearts - May 25

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 45; PM Psalm 47, 48; Deut. 12:1-12; 2 Cor. 6:3-13(14-7:1); Luke 17:11-19

Today’s Reflection

We have spoken frankly to you Corinthians; our heart is wide open to you. There is no restriction in our affections, but only in yours. In return—I speak as to children—open wide your hearts also.

 –2 Corinthians 6: 11-12

On most Wednesday nights this past fall and spring, I had the chance to gather with different combinations of people from around Saint Stephen’s to discuss a wide variety of books. Some of the books we read talked about societal and cultural issues, like how Christians have responded to the pandemic (NT Wright’s God and the Pandemic), or the transformative power of social connections on our individual and collective well-being (Vivek Murthy’s Together), or on how we can strive to create unity that flows from an appreciation of our diversity (both Michael Curry’s Love is the Way and Emmanuel Acho’s Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man).

While the overt purpose of a book group is to discuss a book that we have all committed to reading, the more important, underlying purpose of a book group is to share conversations on things that matter and, in so doing, to form (or reinforce) friendships as we get to know one another. And so, because of this, some of the people I have gotten to know best over these first 10 months or so at Saint Stephen’s are the people who have been a part of these Wednesday night conversations.

I would say that some of the books we have had the best discussions around have been the books in which the authors opened up about their personal experiences, which, in turn, gave us opportunities to share our own stories. Sometimes we felt the authors’ experiences really resonated with ours and we saw ourselves in their stories (and in one another’s). And other times, the authors’ experiences seemed very dissimilar and disconnected from our own—and we reflected together on why that was and how we could learn from those stories, too. Reading Anne Lamott’s Dusk Night Dawn, written in her typically vivid, transparent style of life-writing sparked both appreciation and sometimes cringing in response to her open-book approach to sharing about her life. But we all agreed that Lamott sees this honest sharing her life experiences—of addiction, of difficult family relationships, and of other struggles great and small—as her way of sharing the gift of what God has taught her through the book of her life.

Another author who shares very openly about both her challenging and joyous life experiences is Kate Bowler. Back in the fall, we shared conversations about her book Everything Happens for a Reason—and Other Lies I’ve Loved. At age 35, Kate Bowler was “living her best life” (or “Instagram gold,” as she jokes now) with a tenure-track job at Duke Divinity School, an academic book underway (necessary to earn said tenure), and with a much-loved husband and toddler son at home. And then one day, she found out she had stage 4 colon cancer—and everything immediately turned upside down.

She had rushed from the Divinity School campus, where she had been teaching earlier that day, to the Duke University Hospital. They wanted to rush her into surgery that very day. And in that moment, as she waited for her family to arrive, she looked down at what she was wearing and had a moment of realization: “I can’t do anything but sit staring down at my dress, white with bright flowers and flouncy the way I like it. I love this dress. I can’t take it off. I need it for teaching.” Then her good friends arrived with hugs and concern, and she turned to them and said, “I’m going to need for you to burn this. … I can’t see it again. That life is over.” And at that point, she remembered her son Zach, back at home, and “I double over crying. I squeeze my eyes closed and try to shut out the world.” Her friends listened to her and prayed for her, but before they left, Kate put on the hospital gown and as she wrote: “I hand her the dress. She knows what to do.” The book is filled with these very honest moments in which Kate grapples with the most heart-wrenching situations, ones that turn her to equally toward self-deprecating humor and reexamining what she truly believes about God—not just from an academic perspective, as a professor of church history, but from her personal experience of living through this unexpected time of crisis for herself and her family.

In today’s reading from 2 Corinthians 6, Paul shares openly with the Corinthians about the many layers of struggle he and his co-laborers in the Gospel have been going through in their lives. They have been and continue to endure “afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless night, [and] hunger” (6:4). After pouring out his heart—not unlike the ways in which Anne Lamott and Kate Bowler pour out their hearts through their books—Paul comes to this realization: “We have spoken frankly to you, Corinthians; our heart is wide open to you. … In return… open wide your hearts also” (6:11, 13).

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians reminds us that following in the way of Christ has never been easy. Being a Christian does not mean our life will be free of trouble and sorrow—far from it. But one thing we have is the sense of belonging to a community in which we can (if we allow ourselves to be vulnerable) open our hearts to one another—and in so doing while we may sometimes feel, like Paul, that we have nothing, we, in fact, possess everything.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What stories in your life have you found (or do you find) difficult to share with others? When have you shared a painful experience with someone and found healing in doing so? How have you received someone else’s stories when they have showed vulnerability to open wide their hearts to you?

Daily Challenge

Listen (or re-listen) to Brene Brown’s TED Talk on “The Power of Vulnerability” and reflect on how you might live into vulnerability in the relationships and circles in which God has placed you.

God's Story is Our Story - May 24

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 25; PM Psalm 9, 15; Deut. 4:9-14; 2 Cor. 1:1-11; Luke 14:25-35

My mom has a pretty large family, all things considered.   She is the youngest of six who all grew up in a small town in New Hampshire.  We ended up in the south when my mother met my father on her last assignment in the Air Force.  It’s weird to think, she has lived in Tennessee most of her life.   Most of my aunts and uncles and cousins all talk funny, or at least that is how my dad puts it. 

One time as a child, I was having serious questions about Santa Claus.  I was convinced that the bells I heard as I fell asleep on Christmas Eve were really my parents outside or downstairs, and this Santa Claus figure couldn’t be real. I also recognized Santa’s handwriting, and it was eerily familiar.  One evening over Christmas break, there was a knock at the door, and who should be there, but Santa.  “Hello John,” he said as I opened the door.  “I hear, you have questions about me, so I have come to say hello.”  And then Santa gave me a little green pocket kaleidoscope and went on his merry way. 

Santa left, but my mom and dad kept bringing him up.  “Oh, he must be real!  He sounds like he is from the North!”  My dad was adamant that it had to be the ‘real’ Santa because of his ‘Yankee’ accent.  Several years later, the culprit was announced.  It was my Uncle Harold from Hyde Park, Vermont who had traveled over 1300 miles to play the role of Santa for a skeptical child.  What’s even more odd is I don’t remember my Uncle Harold coming to visit.  I really think he only came to play the role of Santa, but he must have spent some time with his sister and brother-in-law?

It’s the stuff legends are made of, the story that we tell and retell.  I think my parents tell the story to show how eccentric my mom’s family can be, but I always thought it conveys a much deeper message of love and commitment towards our family.  We do whatever it takes to love our family, even if it means traveling 1300 miles in a big red suit.  But when we retell the story, it imparts the same ethic on the family: a commitment to love and support our family.  By telling the story, we deepen our commitment to love each other. 

I think that same principle is wrapped up in Deuteronomy as the Israelites are being reminded, “so as neither to forget the things that your eyes have seen nor to let them slip from your mind all the days of your life; make them known to your children and your children’s children.” Stories are important because they pass down values and beliefs in a way that those same values and beliefs can’t stand on their own. 

It's not hard to feel distant from the Biblical narrative.  Much of it happened long ago in a world that can at times feel like another universe and at others, eerily familiar.  But when we commit to wrestling with the story, day in and day out, more than anything, this practice reminds us that God’s story is our story too. It is to connect us to the story by helping us be a part of the story. 

God has a story.  And it’s our story too.   And that is good news indeed.

John+

Questions for Daily Reflection:  What stories have shaped you in your life?  Are there family stories that impacted you profoundly? Where do you see yourself in the stories of our faith?   

Daily Challenge:  Stories are important.  Here is a fun article to read to help you develop your storytelling techniques. 

Courage - May 22

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 107:33-43, 108:1-6; Ezek. 43:1-12; Heb. 9:1-14; Luke 11:14-23 

Now Jesus was casting out a demon that was mute; when the demon had gone out, the one who had been mute spoke, and the crowds were amazed. But some of them said, ‘He casts out demons by Beelzebub, the ruler of the demons.’ Others, to test him, kept demanding from him a sign from heaven. But he knew what they were thinking… (Luke 11:14-17a)

As the end of the school year is upon our household, we have stayed up a little later and have enjoyed a family movie in the evenings. The other night, it was my time to choose; we watched L. Frank Baum’s classic, “The Wizard of Oz”. Sam and I smiled at one another, watching our kids totally captivated by this cinematographic jewel. I stepped away for a moment while Dorothy, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion were meeting with The Great and Powerful Oz…but I came back just in time to behold the Lion racing down the hall in terror at the thought of stealing the broom of the Wicked Witch of the West. So filled with fear, the Lion dove – with impeccable form – through a glass window to avoid the task that felt insurmountable.

When I think of the Lion from the 1939 film version of this tale, I am deeply amused. He is blustering, bold, and a bit brittle. His nervous tail whips around with its own personality. He longs for courage.

I have been wondering about courage, both the external perception and the internal experience. In personal struggles, there is heartache and pain – maybe you can identify with this, too. Sometimes there is no way around the conflict or problem. When experiencing a serious illness, serving as a caregiver for a dying loved one, parenting a child with challenges that are concerning, or some other insurmountable feat, we simply do what we can to address what we have in front of us. It may feel like we stand still until the next right thing becomes abundantly clear. Those around us, watching our behaviors and hearing our stories, share observations like, “You are so courageous,” or “You are so strong.” In the midst of chaos that feels like heaven and hell colliding, do we really feel courageous?

Facing this collision of perception and experience, what is courage anyway? Merriam-Webster defines it as “mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear or difficulty”. The physical aspect of courage means we face hardship of body, even the threat of death. Moral courage includes acting rightly even when facing shame, scandal, opposition, or discouragement. Courage involves the presence of fear, and we continue the arduous task because of love, compassion, or concern. (Note that a close cousin to courage is strength (withstanding great pressure.))

Defining what courage looks like still may not help us fully embrace courage when we are demonstrating it. What the virtue of courage can do for us is embolden us to take initiative to make or accept changes, or even have a spiritual awakening. Courage allows us to let go of old patterns and grow in new ways. Courage allows us to keep sitting alongside our ailing friend, though it is so hard to watch. Courage helps us believe in ourselves and strengthens our connection with others.

Jesus exhibited courage as he cast out the demon of the mute person in Luke 11. He was tested by those around him who doubted the benevolent source of Jesus’ power. People wanted to see more signs. They claimed he was using Beelzebub’s force, tapping into the darkness of the Adversary. Parts of the crowd were turning the narrative of healing into a source of scandal. Jesus stood his ground, the sure foundation of Yahweh. He reasoned and spoke strong truth: “Now if I cast out the demons by Beelzebub, by whom do your exorcists cast them out? …But if it is by the finger of God that I cast out the demons, then the kingdom of God has come to you.” (v. 19, 21)

Jesus’ witness in Luke 11, and in his whole earthly ministry, can be for us a touchstone of courage when we are feeling insecure, trapped, anxious or excluded. We need not flee down a hallway with the Lion from Oz, diving through a plate glass window. We can plant our feet in love and compassion, facing what we must face and speaking the truth of God in love.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection 

When have I been courageous? When have I noted it in others?

Whom do I identify with in the crowd which witnesses Jesus’ miracle? With those who watch in amazed belief? With those who reject him? Or with those who hedge their bets, looking for further signs?

Daily Challenge 

Reflecting on Luke 11, Jesus forces us off the middle ground. We cannot be neutral: we are either with him or against him. What is a “middle ground” that you can no longer dwell in? Pray for the Holy Spirit to bring you courage to face that challenge and choose. Talk to a trusted friend about the struggle.

Who Has Chosen the Better Part? - May 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; Ezek. 34:17-31; Heb. 8:1-13; Luke 10:38-42

Today’s Reflection

Now as they went on their way, he entered a certain village, where a woman named Martha welcomed him into her home. She had a sister named Mary, who sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to what he was saying. But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, ‘Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.’ But the Lord answered her, ‘Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.’  —Luke 10:38-42

It’s a scene that may seem familiar to many of you: Someone arrives, perhaps unexpectedly perhaps not, at your home for dinner. I can recall times when we have had friends or family over for dinner, scurrying around, distracted by my many tasks, like Luke tells us that Martha was, so that my home would be clean and comfortable, and the meal would be warm and delicious for our special guests.

It’s interesting to notice the placement of the story of Jesus’ visit with Martha and Mary in the context of Luke chapter 10. Earlier in Luke 10, we hear Jesus telling the story of the Good Samaritan to explain what it means to love God and to love your neighbor as yourself. And as we continue on to Luke chapter 11, we’ll hear about how Jesus taught his friends to pray—what we know now as the Lord’s Prayer. Therefore, today’s account of Martha and Mary functions as a hinge between a story about loving God through action, as the Good Samaritan did, and a story about loving God through through prayer. This placement of the story of Martha and Mary seems appropriate because theirs is the story about the tension between the need, on the one hand, to be up and doing, as Martha was, by serving with our deeds, and the need, on the other hand, to be listening to what God is trying to teach us, as Mary was by sitting as Jesus’ feet. In this story, Jesus makes it clear that “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.”

While in the story of Martha and Mary we hear Jesus prioritizing the importance of stopping our frenetic busy-ness so that we can better listen to him and focus on what he is saying to us, if we think back to the previous story of the Good Samaritan, we hear Jesus in that parable prioritizing action. Oftentimes in Christian discourse we hear about this debate between action and contemplation, which should we be prioritizing in our daily lives as Christ followers? The message we are getting if we look at all three of these passages in Luke together—the Good Samaritan, Martha and Mary, and the Lord’s Prayer—is that we should be both people of action and people of contemplation.

In this brief encounter with Martha and Mary, we see glimpses of the two sides of a balanced life of servant leadership. As 17th century mystic St. Teresa of Avila put it, “Both Martha and Mary must entertain our Lord and keep Him as their Guest, nor must they be so inhospitable as to offer Him no food. How can Mary do this while she sits at His feet, if her sister does not help her.” Likewise, as St. Aelred of Rievaulx, abbot of a Cistercian monastery in Yorkshire observed in a sermon to his brother monks: “By no means should you neglect Mary for the sake of Martha, nor again Martha for the sake of Mary. For, if you neglect Martha, who will feed Jesus? If you neglect Mary, what benefit will it be to you that Jesus entered your house since you will have tasted nothing of his sweetness? Realize, brothers, that never in this life should these two women be separated.”

While over the years many readers of this passage have argued for the superiority of Martha’s action or the superiority of Mary’s contemplation, in fact, what is needful is to find a unity or a balance between action and contemplation. If we are to follow Christ, then we must continually look back to his example of a life that balances action and contemplation.

We never hear what happened after Jesus told Martha that Mary had chosen the better part. It seems likely that, upon hearing Jesus’ response, Martha had a moment of clarity and took a break to listen and learn at Jesus’ feet. Maybe Martha sat down, alongside her sister Mary to listen. Or perhaps Mary stood up and said to Martha, “Sister, you take my place at Jesus’ feet, I will get up to attend to the needs of our guests.”

May we carry the story of Martha and Mary with us as we each day we commit ourselves anew to follow Christ’s example of a life that balances contemplation with action, as well to a life in which we commit to being in partnership with our fellow Christ followers as give each other the mutual support to live lives of both contemplation and action.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When you hear the story of Mary and Martha, do you find yourself identifying more with Mary or more with Martha? How do you (or could you) blend elements of both action and contemplation within your personal spiritual practices? How does (or could) Saint Stephen’s blend both action and contemplation into our corporate spiritual practices?

Daily Challenge

Richard Rohr says, “Prayer without action … can promote our tendency to self-preoccupation, and without contemplation, even well-intended actions can cause more harm than good.” Take some time today to learn more about the mission and activities of the Center for Contemplation and Action, founded by Rohr. Consider signing up for their emails, listening to their podcasts, or exploring their online course offerings.

Rival Gangs - May 20

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 105:1-22; PM Psalm 105:23-45 ; Ezek. 18:1-4,19-32; Heb. 7:18-28; Luke 10:25-37

For a high school graduating gift, my friend, Logan, had some custom yellow sun visors made which read “Midtown Crew: Vinton Factor.”  We were kind of like a gang and we called ourselves “the MTC.”  There were about ten of us who lived on or around a certain block of Vinton Avenue. In high school, many of us went to different schools and developed new friendships and social groups, but the bond with our neighborhood friends was fierce.  Our group had a certain loyalty and for the most part, the friendships are still there over twenty years later.  The visors lasted a long time and we all thought they carried a certain weight to them, a pride of an incredible gift of brotherhood, and a sort of rugged social status that we all admired. 

But there were other kids in the neighborhood that were not part of the MTC.  Sometimes it felt like a fierce rivalry.  There were rocks thrown, houses egged, lots of names called, and occasionally, a girlfriend who would migrate from one group to other.  For some reason, it seemed like we hated the others. Although looking back over a few decades I have no earthly idea why that disdain existed.  It just did.

I think we humans are conditioned to have on the best days, rivals, and on the worse days, enemies.  It makes us feel like we have something worth fighting for.  It’s the reason sports are so fun.  Several years ago, there was a funny ESPN commercial with two college-age kids making out on a couch.  One was wearing an Ohio State sweatshirt and the other a Michigan sweatshirt.  The narrator then spoke, “Without sports, this wouldn’t be disgusting.” (Imagine Auburn and Alabama for those who ignore the rest of the country).

Today’s Gospel is the very well-known story of the Good Samaritan. This story being so well known has often reduced the Good Samaritan to a person who does something good.  But that is not what is implied by the text.  A person from Samaria was often seen as the enemy of the Jewish people.  On a more generous day, they had as much disgust for each other as a rival gang of teenagers. 

We live in a period of intense polarization. Maybe it feels a little less polarizing than an election season, but the pandemic seems to have exacerbated factions and we have groups of people that we distrust, or worse, think are destroying the wellbeing of our common life.  I know this sounds extreme, but I think it is a part of the fabric that makes up our society today. 

So when the man in the story is helped by the Samaritan, it is not just a person who offers help, but the radical idea that Salvation comes from the enemy (on a bad day), rival (on a good day).  As faithful people, it is easy to see our lives as dependent on Christ for Salvation. Yes, I think that is easy.  Or at least a lot easier than seeing someone who we distrust, or dislike, or think is destroying our wellbeing as necessary for our Salvation.  But Scripture can give us some interesting ways of framing life. 

We need each other.  You. Me.  And everyone in between.  Yes, we need Christ for our Salvation, but it begins by needing each other too.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Who are your rivals in life?  How has your relationship to them changed over the course of your life? 

Daily Challenge:  Think of one group of people who you really don’t like.  It can be any group of people and for any reason.  Now consider one way of helping that group or supporting that group.  Try to do something small.

Breaking the mold - May 19

AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144; Ezek. 11:14-25; Heb. 7:1-17; Luke 10:17-24

“King Melchizedek of Salem, priest of the Most High God, met Abraham as he was returning from defeating the kings…” This is the way Hebrews 7 begins, with an obscure reference from Genesis 14. The writer in Hebrews paraphrases the ancient Genesis text, passing along the story to create context for the phrase “The Order of Melchizedek” – because Jesus was “designated by God a high priest according to the order of Melchizedek” (Hebrews 5:10). We have no written word of the genealogy of Melchizedek – and from whom one was descended was usually detailed in ancient scriptures. One’s lineage became part of who they were in the present. Priests were descended from Levi; to be a high priest, one had to be descended also from Aaron (whose brother Moses ordained him the first high priest). Melchizedek was different… this mysterious and highly honored priest blessed Abraham. THE Abraham, the one God promised to make a great nation from, and about whom we sing the children’s campfire song, “Father Abraham, had seven sons / Seven sons had father Abraham…”

That “order of Melchizedek” did not accumulate lots of ministers into its ranks. It is not some secret society that Jewish rabbis and Christian priests are initiated into in the 21st century. This order of Melchizedek was only populated by its namesake until Jesus came along. Notice what did happen on account of this piece of our story: Melchizedek opened the pathway to a priesthood without pedigree. Jesus was not a Levite, but from Judah. He was not of the pedigree of the priestly order…yet he taught and healed and performed miracles. Jesus’ ministry on earth became just a portion of what he was equipped to do…for he served, and then he sacrificed himself, making the ultimate offering to God. He died, rose again, and ascended to Heaven. We rehearse in our confession of faith that Jesus is seated at the right hand of God. In Hebrews, we read of Jesus as the great high priest even for us now:

Since, then, we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin. Let us therefore approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. (Hebrews 4:14-16)

Can you just imagine Jesus as the priest in the heavens, in God’s divine house of worship, praying for us and singing songs of praise to God?

It is some dense and “inside ball” Bible stuff, I know. And it is important – because Melchizedek and Jesus hold up for us God’s pattern of breaking molds to bring hope and blessing to those in need. We are being broken open to listen to different perspectives and voices - people of color, women, LGBTQ, and others. Even at Saint Stephen’s, we have broken open the mold of where we worship every Sunday, gathering in the back parking lot or outdoor chapel for prayer and song.

Embrace the brokenness today – either within yourself or the molds broken all around you, and approach Jesus – full of grace – and know that as you approach in boldness, you will be met with mercy and help in time of need.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

How do you imagine Jesus in heaven? What does the image of Jesus as High Priest conjure for you? Is that an image that is accessible? Comforting? Something different?

Daily Challenge

To read further about the ancient practices of the Israelites, read a few passages from the Bible: Genesis 14:1-20; Exodus 29:1-9, 29-30; Leviticus 8:12, 16:32. Get curious. Take time to study these ancient pieces of our heritage. And think about how worship today holds fast to these traditions, and where it (and we) has changed.

The Hope Set Before Us - May 18

Today’s Readings:  AM Psalm 97, 99, [100]; PM Psalm 94, [95]; Ezek. 7:10-15,23b-27; Heb. 6:13-20; Luke 10:1-17

Today’s Reflection

In the same way, when God desired to show even more clearly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it by an oath, so that … we who have taken refuge might be strongly encouraged to seize the hope set before us. We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the curtain, where Jesus, a forerunner on our behalf, has entered. —Hebrews 6: 17-20

Last night, I decided that my younger daughter and I needed to find a book to read together a few chapters a time to help us wind down before falling asleep. I used to be very faithful about always reading to my children before bedtime, but as they’ve gotten older and we’ve gotten busier with other things this tradition had fallen aside. As I scanned her bookshelves for a chapter book that we might both enjoy, I came across Kate DiCamillo’s book Because of Winn-Dixie. Now, I had never read the book myself, but my older daughter had, and I knew enough about it to know it’s a hopeful story about a girl and her dog, and that it takes place in Florida where we are from, so those all seemed like good reasons to give the book a try.

Why I thought Because of Winn-Dixie would be a hopeful story, I don’t know—but several chapters in, that is just what it is revealing itself to be. A 10-year-old girl, Opal, and her father, who she calls ‘the preacher’ have recently moved to a small Florida town called Naomi, where he is the pastor of Open Arms Baptist Church of Naomi. It is just the two of them, living together in the Friendly Corners Trailer Park, and as the story opens it seems to be summertime, so Opal hasn’t had the chance to meet anyone yet or to make any friends. One day Opal walks to the local grocery store, Winn-Dixie, to buy a few things for their next meal. When she arrives, she finds a chaotic yet wondrous scene of fruits and vegetables rolling around the produce section, and the manager and employees are up in arms, looking for the dog who somehow got into the store and set off all this chaos. The manager wants to know who let their dog into the store, and that if no one claims the dog and gets him out of there, he will send the dog to the pound.

And in that moment, Opal makes a decision that changes the course of the dog’s life and hers: she steps forward and claims the dog as her own. Not only that, but she gives the skinny, unkempt dog a name, Winn-Dixie, to make it seem more believable that the dog belongs to her. And, amazingly, when she calls Winn-Dixie by name to come to her, he does—and he walks back down the road with her, where she makes the case to her father to let Winn-Dixie join their family.

Before this turning point, Opal and her dad ‘the preacher’ are drifting and alone—the picture DiCamillo paints of their life together before Winn-Dixie arrives on the scene seems kind of hopeless. Opal’s mother left the family when she was just three years old, due to her struggle with alcoholism. Ever since then, Opal has seen her dad as being like a turtle, who occasionally sticks his head out of his shell, only to quickly withdraw back into his shell of being always preoccupied with writing his next sermon. And they’ve just moved to this new town, where Opal doesn’t have a friend—until this day, when Winn-Dixie becomes her furry best friend.

Winn-Dixie brings a sense of hopefulness into Opal’s life. She focuses on getting him cleaned up and making him part of the family as she and her dad sit there together on the couch with their new dog that afternoon. What was a lonely, hopeless situation becomes suddenly a life where there is hope for new adventures and better times for Opal and her dad.

Just as Kate DiCamillo wants her readers to feel a sense of hopefulness about how Opal’s life with Winn-Dixie will unfold, so too does the writer of Hebrews want those reading his letter to be filled with a sense of hope about how their lives with Christ and one another will unfold. “We who have taken refuge” in Christ are “strongly encouraged” in today’s passage from Hebrews 6 “to seize the hope set before us.”

But what is hope—and how is it something we can pick up and take on for ourselves? Maybe seizing hope looks kind of like what Opal does amidst that chaotic scene at the grocery store—she seizes the moment and boldly claims the smiling, homeless, furry creature before her as her own. And when she does, she finds that she has something secure to anchor her life to, another living being whose life is now bound up with her own—and in so doing, they find hope as they walk down the road and make a life together.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When have you found hope in a place or a time where it seemed unexpected? What about that situation helped you turn from a sense of hopelessness to a sense of hopefulness?

Daily Challenge

Spend a few minutes today finding other passages in scripture that point us toward finding hope in Christ. Which ones fill you most with a sense of hopefulness?

Suspended Thirty Feet in Air with Only One Way Forward - May 17

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 89:1-18; PM Psalm 89:19-52; Ezek. 4:1-17; Heb. 6:1-12; Luke 9:51-62

For elementary and middle school, I attended a small Episcopal School.  My eighth grade graduating class was less than thirty people, but our smaller classes afforded us opportunities that were not possible at larger schools.  For our eighth-grade “senior” trip, our class went to the Nantahala Outdoor Center for a week of group and team-building exercises including whitewater rafting, mountain biking, and the all-so-terrifying high ropes course. 

A high ropes course is an intricate system of cables and telephone poles with elements that must be maneuvered about thirty feet in the air.  To complete a course, one must put on a harness, lock into the system, and begin their ascent up some set of obstacles until they reach the height of the course.  Often the accent draws the participants attention up so the person does not recognize how far they are off the ground until they have reached the top of the course, are they are then faced with the reality of being suspended thirty feet in the air.  Then, the person must walk or jump across platforms and steel wires, or swing using ropes and cargo nets until they get to a final point which is almost always a zip line ride back to the ground.

To make things worse, because of the safety protocols, there is often only one person who is attempting the course at a time.  This means that if you are an eighth grader attempting a high ropes course for the very first time, you might have twenty-seven other people staring at you, cheering you on to your glory (or waiting for something traumatic to happen to give you a new nickname, and make fun of you for the remainder of the year).  Once you started, there was no going back.  You had to give it your very best or else face your peers, which was certain to be social suicide. 

Well, I made it to the end of the course, as did most of my class. The course is designed to look more challenging than it is to boost confidence and self-esteem in the people who attempt to complete it.  But what I remember most is the feeling of not being able to go back.  When I arrived at the top of the course, I couldn’t go back down the same way.  I had to face my fears and move forward.

Today’s Gospel is an interesting dialogue with Jesus and some of his followers.  They are adamant that they want to follow him, and Jesus begins to parse how difficult this is going to be.  One of his followers mentions having to go back and bury his father, and Jesus rebukes him.  It’s not the most compassionate response to someone grieving the loss of a beloved family member. 

The point is not about funerals and loving family. It is the reality that following Jesus is always moving us in a new direction.  We must be willing to surrender the past in order to see where God is pushing us next.  “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”  Following Jesus means letting go of what we have done and left undone so that we may live into God’s liberating way. 

This freedom is grace, but it also comes with some responsibilities.  Moving forward once we have reached the top means advocating for love, the radical witness of hospitality, putting love of neighbor and God above our own selfish needs, advocating for justice and care of the marginalized, even how we live in relationship to things we are entrusted with.  When we know what God has done for us, there is no turning back. 

And as hard as it sounds, I have to believe that God’s love nurtures us along the way.  And Just because we are suspended thirty feet in the air, doesn’t mean we can’t put one foot in front of the other.  We might just find it’s easier than it looks.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Are there moments in your life where you realized you could not do things the same way anymore?  What was the catalyst for this change?  How is your life different today? 

Daily Challenge:  Pick one thing you could stop doing today that would make your life more meaningful and hopeful.  Tell a friend or loved one so that they may hold you accountable. 

"I am doing the best that I can!" - May 15

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 87, 90; PM Psalm 136; Ezek. 3:4-17; Heb. 5:7-14; Luke 9:37-50

“I’m doing the best that I can!”

Have you ever said this in an argument or time of conflict? In the middle of frustration and disappointment, has that been your response? Feeling like you’ve hit a wall and can only do so much. I’ve said it a lot this past year. How do you respond when others impart, “I’m doing the best that I can!”?

I read an article this week distributed by the Religion News Service about pastors and partners in ministry who are really struggling after the past year of isolation and conflict. The story explores the rocky road of ministry through pandemic, societal conflict, and general upheaval that has led to some pastors throwing their hands up in exhaustion. What are we to do when we hit that wall and cry out?

Perhaps in listening to ourselves and others when saying these words, “I am doing the best that I can!”, the opening for us is to wonder is where God is helping us grow next. If we truly are functioning as well as we can at present, then perhaps we are in the pangs of growth and learning a new way. It’s hard to see that change up close…it takes us stepping back to reflect on what we’ve accomplished and say, “Wow! I was a part of that? Nice!” It’s encouraging to know that we can do that in the future, and right now, in the middle of growth and change, we are still in the thick of it.

Jesus’ friends are doing their best as followers of this healer and teacher of Nazareth. He’s teaching them how to cast out spirits, heal the lame, and proclaim the Good News…and they are still growing. This oddly assembled group of men are doing the best that they know at the time in Luke 9. A man brings his only son to the disciples for healing; the boy is tormented by an evil spirit. Jesus’ friends are unable to cast out the demon. The father implores Jesus to help. He responds, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear you? Bring your son here.” (Luke 9:41) Jesus rebukes the demon and heals the boy, calming the brokenness of that moment.

We do not get to read all of the dialogue that was exchanged as they reflected on that ministry moment, processing what they saw and felt that day. I imagine that the unsuccessful disciples grumble in frustration to one another and want to explain to Jesus that they tried their best, as hard as they could. Perhaps one disciple pats another on the back and shares a story of failure and frustration, too…or there is gloating over who is the better demon slayer. What we do read in Luke’s account is that Jesus says to his friends, “Let these words sink into your ears: The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands.” (v. 44) Honestly, this message sounds like a non sequitur – it does not follow what just happened. As it is narrated, we are told that the disciples’ understanding is obscured in the moment. Jesus plants this seed, however, to give the disciples a bit of perspective about the bigger picture, so that in time, they can step back and see the importance of his work and their role in it.

Last thing: Jesus brought this overflowing gift of grace to us all. When we feel like we’ve hit the proverbial wall and can go no further, let us remember the grace that Jesus extends to us. Maybe it’s not working harder that Jesus is calling us to do…perhaps it is a call to sit down, change our perspective, ask for help, and rest. And then, work differently. We are not on this journey alone. We have this great high priest in Jesus (as we read in Hebrews 5 today), better and different than any priest ever…and God’s Son brings us salvation, healing, and resolution in surprising ways.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

 What have you done your absolute best in this week? At what can you do differently next week?

 When someone says, "I'm doing the best I can!", what is your opinion?

Daily Challenge 

Work today to accept yourself when you feel that you've done all you can. Take five minutes to pray with God. Allow yourself space for rest and appreciation, and receive the grace God has given to you.

Would You Eat a Scroll? - May 14

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 85, 86; PM Psalm 91, 92; Ezek. 1:28-3:3; Heb. 4:14-5:6; Luke 9:28-36

Today’s Reflection

Paper—it’s not really something we think of as meant for eating. I mean, even teething babies and toddlers don’t usually try to put paper into their mouths—though when my daughters were young I do remember a few of those thick board books getting gnawed on quite on a bit!

So, it strikes me as unexpected to read in Ezekiel today of the voice of God telling Ezekiel to “open your mouth and eat what I give you. I looked, and a hand was stretched out to me, and a written scroll was in it.” And not only that, but he is being told to eat a scroll that was filled, front and back, with “words of lamentation and mourning and woe.” But why? What could be the meaning or purpose in this strange command?

I decided to see what my study Bible’s commentary had to say about the Book of Ezekiel, because frankly we didn’t spend much time on it in seminary beyond the “dry bones” passage that we hear every year as part of the Easter Vigil (another passage with much strange, unexpected imagery). First off, I am reminded by the commentary that “Ezekiel is one of the most complex books in the Bible.” So, on reading this I feel a little relief that it’s not just me who is finding this a difficult read. Then we are told to keep in mind that, “much of the book consists of visionary writing, which transports readers to a world of the imagination where the rules of reality are obviously suspended in favor of highly unusual visions. To understand and relish the book of Ezekiel, readers often need to abandon expectations of realism.” Check—makes total sense after reading today’s Ezekiel passage. Also helpful to keep in mind, according to the notes I read, is that Ezekiel uses something called “symbolic reality, which occurs when a writer consistently transports the reader to a world of visionary experience where the most important ingredients are symbols—symbols like a vine, a boiling pot, or a valley full of dry bones” (ESV Study Bible 1498). To this list we can definitely add today’s “edible scroll.”

So, if we follow the advice of the commentary I read to make sense of Ezekiel, the best thing we can do is to accept “the sheer strangeness of what is presented” and expect “extravagant visions” and a “kaleidoscope of details, always shifting and never in focus for very long.” Returning to Ezekiel and the scroll, this passage can best be understood as a symbolic vision in which Ezekiel is being given a prophetic message from God that he is supposed to internalize (symbolized by eating the scroll) and then he is told to go to the house of Israel and share the message that he has “receive[d] in your heart and hear[d] with your ears … whether they hear or refuse to hear” (3:10-11). So, in this passage, eating the scroll is the vision Ezekiel receives that is meant to convey that he needs to receive God’s word and internalize the message so that he can then speak it with authority to those whom God sends him to declare it.

In a different way, maybe we, too, can think of ourselves as consuming and digesting the Word. Our Holy Scriptures are life-giving in a way not unlike food gives us the energy we need to keep living and keep moving. In a tradition in which Holy Eucharist is given a prime place in our liturgy, we can get so focused on sharing the bread and the wine that we may forget that the Liturgy of the Word is equally a way that God feeds us with “spiritual food” (as we pray in our Post-Communion Prayer). In Holy Eucharist, we are fed first through the Liturgy of the Word: Old Testament scriptures, a Psalm, New Testament scriptures, the Gospel, and a sermon. Only after we share in this feast of God’s Word are we fully prepared to share together the bread and the cup, the Body and Blood of Christ, in Holy Communion.

Beginning last March, though, many churches around the Episcopal Church suddenly stopped sharing Holy Communion together. Some churches decided to still use the Holy Eucharist liturgy, but only the first half, the Liturgy of the Word (my church in Texas went this route). But many more Episcopal churches, including Saint Stephen’s, decided to revert to what was for a very long time the chief service of our Anglican tradition: Morning Prayer.

In Morning Prayer, which we have shared together throughout the week on Facebook and on Sundays in our livestream service, we have a beautiful liturgy whose sole purpose is sharing Holy Scripture and prayer together. As Andy Doyle (bishop of Texas) put it, the pandemic required us to fast from the bread and the cup but also allowed us a time when we could instead “feast on the Word.” And looking back over the past 15 months of feasting on the Word, what a feast it has been! The pandemic has called us to greater devotion to prayer and the study of scripture, a feasting on the Word that has been life-giving and sustaining for many during these most unusual times.

This Sunday’s 11:15 livestream service will be the last one for the time being in which we share Morning Prayer together on a Sunday morning, as the 11:15 livestream service will become a hybrid Holy Eucharist service on Pentecost (May 23). But the good news is that we will continue to feast on God’s Word in our Liturgy of the Word in that service—and we will continue to feast on God’s Word as we continue our Daily Offices of Morning Prayer and Noonday Prayer throughout the week. I pray that we will continue to be fed by the Word and, like Ezekiel, find it to be “as sweet as honey.”

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

How has your experience of corporate worship changed through the experience of sharing Morning Prayer rather than Holy Eucharist together for much of these past 15 months? How has leaning into worship focused solely on scripture and prayer impacted your sense of connection with God and with your fellow Christ-followers?

Daily Challenge

Commit to keep joining us (or start joining us) for Morning Prayer or Noonday Prayer during the week by clicking here (you can also find it through our Facebook page). And consider connecting with us for our last Sunday morning service of Morning Prayer this Sunday.

Who is Going to do your Job Next? - May 13

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 8, 47; PM Psalm 24, 96; Ezek. 1:1-14,24-28b; Heb. 2:5-18; Matt. 28:16-20

From the age of fifteen until twenty-two years old, I spent my summers living in a green canvas wall tent in the Cherokee staff grounds of Kia Kima Scout Reservation.  Every summer, I would head up to Hardy, Arkansas in the foothills of the Ozark Mountains to work at a Boy Scout Camp, but it was really about learning how to grow up.  

My first summer, during the first-year staff tour, we were shown the laundry facilities and it was that weekend that I washed my clothes on my own first the first time in my life.  We had to get up on our own, check in with our supervisors, do different chores for our own living area, maintain decent hygiene, and help the camp get up and running as well.  I learned how to use a posthole digger, plug a flat on tire, pop a clutch on an old stick shift, chew tobacco, and cook about anything on an open fire.  I also learned how to stand up for myself, advocate for my friends, teach ideas and values, and how to make huge mistakes and yet still learn about responsibility, integrity, and leadership. 

My first summer, I worked on the Waterfront staff teaching swimming, canoeing, and lifesaving and by my last summer, I was the program director of the camp.  I can remember sitting on the porch where my boss was living one evening.  We were reflecting on what we had accomplished, and he asked me an interesting question: “Who is going to do your job next year?”  Did Peter know I was about to move on or was I being promoted?  “I don’t know” I responded with a puzzled look.

And Peter shared with me, “What makes this camp great is not about what you can accomplish, but how you raise up the next class of leaders.  If you are not teaching someone to replace you, you are not doing your job!”  It was a shocking statement and it certainly threatened my sense of job security.  But he was right.  The best leaders make everyone else around them a whole lot better. 

Today is the Feast of the Ascension.  This is the moment in the Church year when Jesus leaves the disciples to ascend to heaven.  He tells them that it is their turn to lead.  “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”   Jesus in a way is passing the torch to the disciples.  It is their turn to go out and do the work of healing and proclaiming God’s love and grace.

There is a billboard that you see frequently in rural Alabama and Tennessee.  It is simply, “Jesus Saves.” Of course, I believe this to be true, but we all have been equipped to share in God’s holy work of healing and redemption.  Yes, Jesus saves, but we are the ones who now get to live into that Holy work.  The challenge is to believe that we are equipped.  Each of us has the capacity to love, to give, to heal, to pray, to share, and to be.  And we get to be the hands and feet of Christ. 

Friends, there is Holy work for us to do.  No better time to get started than now. 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Who are the role models who have taught you something valuable?  Who are the people that you have taught and inspired?

Daily Challenge:  Do one thing today to make a difference in someone’s life.  If you need a suggestion here is sign up to volunteer with our ministry in Avondale and another sign up to help with a project on May 22. 

The key is in our response - May 12

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; Baruch 3:24-37; James 5:13-18; Luke 12:22-31; Eve of the Ascension: PM Psalm 68:1-20; 2 Kings 2:1-15; Rev. 5:1-14

 While connecting on the phone with a dear friend late and sharing stories, Dale made the comment that life’s lessons are everywhere, even on a baking show. She’s so right. That is one of the joys that comes from reflecting on lived experiences and those of others – we have “aha” moments that guide and challenge us to respond in different ways. The key is in our response.

The fragment of our epistle from James 5 today holds several tokens of guidance for leading a life of faithfulness, suggesting responses to various scenarios. Suffering? Gotta pray. Cheerful? Gotta sing. Sick? The response is a little longer: get church people to pray over you and put oil on you. And here is what James writes next, “The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. The prayer of the righteous is powerful and effective.” (v. 15-16) James carries us from suffering to joyfulness, to sickness and then to sin.

As we see, our recommended response for sin is a three-step process: confess to one another; pray for one another; and, God will heal us. It is here that I have my own little “aha” moment: I usually think about confession as prayerful requests for my sins to be forgiven. Discharged. Put away so I no longer hang onto them. God’s response is even bigger…bringing about healing. Healing. Wow. That is more generous than I can imagine. When we confess our sins, we are praying that God will slough away that layer of worldly clutter that obscures the sheen of the new life promised in baptism, and then heal our rhythms of accumulating that clutter.

British politician William Wilberforce (1759-1833) was converted to evangelical Christianity in the mid-1780s. This conversion opened his eyes in a new way to how we respond to those around us. Wilberforce helped found a society for the “reformation of manners” or morals – where virtues were extolled and vices (like profanity, alcohol, and immorality) were suppressed.

He is perhaps more widely known for his work to abolish slave trade, and eventually slavery, as a practice. In the House of Commons on May 12, 1789, William Wilberforce rose and offered a speech against Great Britain’s participation in the financially lucrative slave trade. He outlined how the practice generated war, devastation, and discord with Africa, and then peeled back the veneer on slave trade in the West Indies. The tales told were of humane accommodations of the dark-skinned people being transported for sale; Wilberforce said, “if the wretchedness of any one of the many hundred Negroes stowed in each ship could be brought before their view…there is no one among them whose heart would bear it.” Being chained to one another and treated terribly, and then cleaned up in order to be sold for a good price – it is a hard story to read and know. The economics of the system made it hard to stop the process…and British parliament authorized the actions.

In knowing all of this, William Wilberforce responded not in agreeing to the processes in place, but to respond differently. To confess to his colleagues the wrong of slave trade. To confess to his community the devastation caused by their endorsements. He ended his speech in this way, “Having heard all of this, you may choose to look the other way but you can never say again that you did not know.” The abolition of slave trade in Britain ended in 1807; slavery itself was abolished in the British Empire in 1833.

Let us be moved by our convictions like William Wilberforce and cling to the guidance in James 5:16 – “confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed”.

-- Katherine+

Doers of the Word (Not Just Hearers) - May 11

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 78:1-39; PM Psalm 78:40-72; Deut. 8:11-20; James 1:16-27; Luke 11:1-13

Today’s Reflection

But be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves. For if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like. But those who look into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and persevere, being not hearers who forget but doers who act—they will be blessed in their doing.  –James 1: 22-25

Recently, I preached a sermon about the Good Shepherd, and what it means for us to follow in Jesus’ footsteps as good shepherds of one another through sharing in the ministries of pastoral care, community outreach, and care of creation. What I preached on that Sunday came to mind today, when I read in James 1 how we are called to be “not merely hearers of the words,” but also to “be doers of the word.” Every week, so many of you are involved in delivering meals and flowers, making flower arrangements and cards and prayer bracelets, knitting baby blankets and prayer shawls, sharing home communion, calling and visiting those who are sick and homebound, and lifting up one another’s concerns in prayer. Pastoral care here at Saint Stephen’s embodies what we hear today in the Letter of James, that we are called to be “not hearers who forget but doers who act.”

While pastoral care, or caring for one another on a personal level, especially during times of transition or crisis, is one of the ways we can “be doers of the word,” it is not the only way. As many of you are aware, we also do a lot in the way of outreach here at Saint Stephen’s—it’s a central part of who Saint Stephen’s is. What’s important to remember about caring for the community is that, to be done right, it really requires being in community with others. While people in our community appreciate and benefit from material and financial assistance, when we follow in the way of Christ we are called to do something more than that—we need to get know and be in relationship with those we come alongside in the community.

I think of how in Avondale, part of the ministry there is handing out breakfast tacos and sandwiches and snack bags—but just as important is the fact that relationships are being formed. And when we start to get to know people by name, and begin to hear their stories, then we are also in a better position to know and meet their needs. Or I think of Woodlawn, of Deacon Kay Williams, and everyone who works alongside her there through GraceWorks. I think of their commitment to get to know people in their community—whether the people who come to the warming station on freezing winter nights, or the young people who are mentored through their summer programming. Or I think of Laundry Love, another ministry in Woodlawn. Laundry Love is equal parts laundry and love. Yes, it’s about giving people access to washers, dryers, and laundry supplies—but it’s equally loving our neighbors by sharing hospitality and conversation with them while doing their laundry. Again, we see James 1 embodied in this work of caring for our wider community; we are living into our call to be “not hearers who forget but doers who act.”

Just as we live out our faith, putting our beliefs into action, through pastoral care and outreach, we also can be “doers of the word” in our care of creation. God has entrusted us, as a church and as individuals, with the precious gift of our natural world. Just as with pastoral care and community care, care of creation also requires knowing and spending time with that for which we care. So, to care for creation, we first must get to know it. And what I’ve found to be true is that the more time I spend in creation, being outside surrounded by it, the more I am reminded of my responsibility to care for it. This is one of the purposes of our Holy Hikes—when we are outdoors together, worshipping God in nature, we are reminded of our holy responsibility to care for the Earth and all its creatures. Or when we care for our Saint Stephen’s forest, and Billy’s Lot, and our beautiful beehives, or cleaning up the Cahaba River, we are being Good Shepherds of our local habitat. Care of creation is something God has called us to from the very beginning of time. So, as we care for creation, this is another way in which we live into our call to be “not hearers who forget but doers who act.”

So, as we reflect this day on what it means to be people who do not merely hear the word but also act on it, we are reminded of the ways that we can be doers of the good word, the Gospel, here in our Saint Stephen’s and Birmingham communities. We are “doers of the word” through the holy work of pastoral care. We are “doers of the word” through the holy work of community outreach. And we are “doers of the word” through the holy work of creation care. As the Letter of James reminds us today, “Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights” (1:17).

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

In the Letter of James, we read that “if any are hearers of the word and not doers, they are like those who look at themselves in a mirror; for they look at themselves and, on going away, immediately forget what they were like” (1: 23-24). How does acting on your faith, going out and “doing the word,” help you to remember the true meaning of who you are called to be in Christ?

Daily Challenge

Learn about St. Isidore’s food truck ministry, The Abundant Harvest Kitchen (based in Spring, Texas), as one creative example of what it means to be not merely hearers of the word, but doers. You can also check out their website.

You can listen to my sermon from April 25 (excerpted here in today’s reflection) on our Saint Stephen’s sermons playlist.

And Jesus was Praying Alone - May 10

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 80; PM Psalm 77, [79]; Deut. 8:1-10; James 1:1-15; Luke 9:18-27

One of my favorite places to visit is a little Episcopal monastery on the banks of the Charles River in Cambridge, Massachusetts.  In the middle of a busy hub of commerce, education, and life, reside a group of monks who are a part of the Society of Saint John the Evangelist (SSJE).  Their mission is to provide hospitality and retreat and every year people journey to their residence in Cambridge to pray. People who visit can meet with the brothers for spiritual direction, but the time on retreat is meant to spend in silence or in worship. 

The SSJE movement started in 1866 in Oxford, England, and in 1870, a group of brothers came to the United States and founded their house in Cambridge.  The order has an interesting history.  The guest house in Cambridge was built in memory of Isabella Steward Gardener, whose adult home is now a famous art museum and the site of one of the more notable art thefts.  At the brothers’ residence in London, C.S. Lewis would make regular trips for much of his Christian life to meet with one of the brothers for spiritual direction and confession.  Lewis’s time on retreat with the members of SSJE, and a priest named Father Walter Adams, was critical for his growth and faith.

When visiting the monastery in Cambridge, there are two ways to enter the grounds of SSJE.  You can either enter through the nave which usually has a wrought iron fence separating the community gathered for retreat (and the brothers) from the general public gathered for worship.  The other entrance is through the cloister providing a beautiful garden setting for those who want to be on the grounds of the monastery and yet outside.  Everything is designed to protect those visiting and provide a sense of quiet, calm, and solitude.  Silence is required on the grounds, which is in stark contrast to the bustle just outside the walls. 

Thousands of people have a relationship with SSJE and many find it critical for their lives to spend time annually in silence and on retreat to nurture their faith.  Women and men, lay and ordained, from all over the world visit, but the one thing in common is they all come to set aside time to pray.  The brothers even close the retreat center on Mondays for their own day of rest and solitude. 

In today’s Gospel, we hear once again about Jesus stepping away in silence to pray.  It is there that he begins to wrestle with the question of his spiritual identity.  This is not a unique pattern in Scripture as Jesus can often be found retreating after incidents of healing to go and pray.  This is especially common in the Gospels of Luke and Mark. 

We live in a busy world.  Our lives are filled with constant streams of information.  Our phones can too easily become another one of our appendages. In this age of information (or disinformation), we often are seeking answers through our friends, family, and the sources of information we trust must.  A question worth considering: how often do we set aside intentional time in order to trust our own sense of discernment and nurture the still small voice of God within our own lives?

John+

Question for Self-Reflection:  How do you discern God’s call in your life?  How do you nurture your prayer life?  Do you spend time intentionally alone for prayer?

Daily Challenge:  The brothers of SSJE have a “rule” of life that governs how they live.  You can find a copy here.  Read or listen to a few of the rules and consider some practices you might want to adopt too.

All ate and were filled – May 8

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 75, 76; PM Psalm 23, 27; Wisdom 19:1-8,18-22; Rom. 15:1-13; Luke 9:1-17

And taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke them, and gave them to the disciples to set before the crowd. And all ate and were filled. What was left over was gathered up, twelve baskets of broken pieces. (Luke 9:16-17)

In Luke 9, we read of the feeding of the five thousand – found in one version or another in each of the books of the gospels. It is a familiar story to many, and as you may recall, it is referred to in this way because the crowd gathered is described as containing about five thousand men (Greek: andres, male human being). Jesus tells his core group of students – the disciples – to have the crowd sit down, as they would prepare to enjoy a meal, in groups of about fifty. Jesus then takes the breads and fish, blesses, breaks, and gives them to the disciples to hand out. And all were satisfied.

Mathematically speaking, if there were only fifty in each “pod”, there would be 100 clusters of men. Sociologically speaking, the odds of five thousand men gathering on a day without others from their households – women and children – sounds implausible. Surely dads would not go off and leave their daughters alone at home as the sun was setting, either in the ancient Near East or modern day suburban Vestavia Hills. Other accounts in the Bible depict throngs of people, women and men alike, pressing in on Jesus as he walks through the streets, heals the afflicted, and teaches those hungry for wisdom and comfort. If there were 5,000 men present, then the total head count of folks milling about on that holy day when Jesus fed the crowd was much larger.

Can you imagine, though, gathering to share a picnic meal with forty-nine other people right now? After more than a year of sheltering in place, this idea is simultaneously thrilling and overwhelming. Introverts may be thinking, “Oh, please…can we just eat so that no one will ask me a question I am not prepared to answer?” Extroverts may be thinking, “I cannot WAIT to talk with people and ask questions and share stories and see people…”

Indulge me and continue with the imagination exercise for a moment more: in that group of forty-nine(ish) other people in a small group, who do you see in your mind’s eye? Do you see familiar faces? Are your own family members there? Neighbors, peers, kids, older folks, people who look like you, people who differ from you. Who is missing? Who would you bring along, so that they would not miss out on this miraculous experience? Imagine what roles would you take during the gathering: help to pass out food…make space for a latecomer to join…pick up leftovers…introduce yourself to a new person…and so forth.

Now, come back to the present. Think about gathering for Sunday worship, whether in the Nave, outside in the parking lot, or on your digital device to watch the livestream. Prepare your heart and your eyes to gather in that same mindset of community and togetherness, bounty and fulfillment, healing and unity. It feels sacramental. It is sacramental. Invite someone to join you in this experience of the mystery and generosity of the Good News.

See you at church,

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What are you spiritually yearning for today? Who around you is still hungry?

Daily Challenge

Think about the twelve baskets left over from Jesus’ feeding miracle in Luke 9. All that is left is still holy…imagine taking a little “to go” napkin to share with someone who was not there. Pray about how the miracle of the loaves and fishes might multiply and deepen your faith today. Then, think about someone who is homebound and cannot gather with Saint Stephen’s for worship. Call that person on the phone or arrange a visit with them.

Holy Interruptions - May 7

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 106:1-18; PM Psalm 106:19-48; Wisdom 16:15-17:1; Rom. 14:13-23; Luke 8:40-56

Today’s Reflection

Have you ever noticed how busy and in-demand Jesus was? Throughout the Gospels, we hear repeatedly this scenario: Jesus is on the way somewhere, and people along the road are following him, coming up to him, asking him for healing or for answers to tough questions. Or Jesus arrives somewhere, whether by boat or by foot, and a massive crowd has already formed in anticipation of his arrival, thronging all around him just to get a glimpse of his face or to be close enough to hear his words once he begins to teach. (We also hear how Jesus was good about knowing when he needed to break away from this demanding life to recharge, but that is for another reflection.)

But an important thing to notice in these scenarios, when Jesus is going from place to place, crowd to crowd, is that he knows when he needs to stop and pay attention to that one person who in that very moment needs him and his healing love the most. In Luke 8, we read of another one of these days when Jesus is in high demand and yet another crowd has formed, waiting to hear more of his saving, healing message. And in this moment, we hear of how a man named Jairus seeks out Jesus to come heal his only daughter, just 12 years old but about to die. Jesus listens to Jairus and begins to make his way toward Jairus’ house. This is important. Jesus is on the way to heal a beloved daughter and give people a glimpse of God’s love at work in this world.

On the way through the crowd, though, someone else is seeking him out. A woman, who has been suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years, also needs Jesus’ healing touch. She sees Jesus is very busy, maybe she even realizes Jesus is on the way to heal someone else. So, she just brushes up against his cloak, believing that she will be made well even by this simple touch. And Jesus senses even this, noticing “that the power had gone out from me.” Jesus realizes that someone touched him and was healed—without him even saying a word to make it so. He could have left it at that and gone about his way. But Jesus knows that this woman, too, is important: she is a child of God who needs grace and love. She reached out to Jesus in hope and found healing. So, Jesus stops what he’s doing and acknowledges this woman, allowing her to share her story, and affirming her act of reaching out to him: “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace.”

These kinds of stories unfold every day in our own lives. Here’s one example. Just last month in a place called Southend-on-Sea in England, Natalie was out walking with her 5-year-old son Rudy. They get to the point in their walk by the waterfront when it’s time to turn around and walk toward home, but Rudy wants to stay at the park. So Rudy throws himself to the ground and begins melting down. If you’ve ever experienced this with a child, you realize how embarrassing and intense this scenario can be. But then something unexpected changed up how this meltdown was unfolding. A runner, Ian, out training for a 250-mile race, noticed Rudy and Natalie. He stopped running because he recognized what is going on. And Ian knew that this was a moment when a holy interruption was needed.

Ian decided to stop and chat with the boy. And when he learned from Natalie that Rudy has special needs, Ian said to Rudy, “Fine then, why don’t I lie down with you [here on the sidewalk] for a while?”

So, Ian lowered himself down and sprawled out on the sidewalk alongside Rudy, and just engaged with him as if lying there on a sidewalk at the park was just what he had planned. No big deal. Except that it was—and not just for Rudy, but for Natalie, his mum: "To see someone who knows nothing about Rudy just instinctively do this was so surprising and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.” Natalie, who writes about her parenting experiences online, shared this story so that others could learn from Ian’s gift: “I just cannot believe how it has reached so many people that either have special needs in their life and can relate, [or] more importantly those that do not have special needs in their life, being able to see how important it is for us to not be judged and showing others how much it means to us and our children to be accepted for what they are.”

Henri Nouwen once wrote of his realization that what at first seem like interruptions are, in fact, the work to which he and we are truly called. We all encounter, as Jesus did on the way to visit Jairus’ dying daughter, these holy interruptions. And in those moments, we have a choice: We can keep going about our business, what we have planned to do and accomplish today—or we can remain alert for those moments when someone needs us, needs us to stop and pay attention. And if we choose rightly in these moments, this can make all the difference in the life of a fellow human being who needs to feel Christ’s healing touch in their life, too.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When has someone stopped what they were doing to notice you (or someone you love) and offer them the healing gift of acknowledgement and attention? When have you done the same for others?

Daily Challenge

Read the full story of Rudy and Ian here.

The Way things Used to Be - May 6

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm [70], 71; PM Psalm 74; Wisdom 14:27-15:3; Rom. 14:1-12; Luke 8:26-39

When I worked in the Diocese of West Tennessee, my last position was on the diocesan staff, and I would lead retreats with congregations helping them to imagine new ways of doing ministry in their communities and to help them identify their strengths and be emboldened to live into their mission.  I would have gatherings for the whole diocese and then teams from churches would sign up for a six-month long process of learning, sharing, and visioning together.  As one of the two Canons of the diocese, I was available and willing to work with all of our congregations.

It might not surprise you that many of the larger churches felt they were just fine and many of the smaller congregations were eager to jump aboard.  For the churches that would sign up, I would lead retreats often on site of their congregation and then we would meet monthly to begin to put an action plan in place for a new missional ministry.

One of the barriers to the work was often the feelings of loss and nostalgia the were so dominant in the smaller congregations.  As we would create a congregational timeline, inevitably the congregation would always end up talking about the ‘good ole days’ when children’s Sunday school classes were thriving, and the church was full of people.  And then something would happen, a neighborhood would begin to change, a factory would close, or some sort of conflict would take place, and from that point on, people would always wish the church was like it was before. 

Yet, with some truth telling about this reality, time, and a lot of listening and creative dreaming, we could usually come up with more than enough new and life giving, faith-affirming ministries to begin, several of those that still are thriving today.  Our ministries were not about increasing attendance and returning to the past but seeking and serving Christ in the community.  The group just needed to learn or (re)remember that God was still up to something new in their midst. 

I wonder though if many of the people I worked with would have identified with Psalm 74 which begins with the psalmist lamenting that God has cast off their community.  “Remember your congregation that you purchased long ago…the enemy has laid waste everything in your sanctuary.”  Their lives and their faith community was not the same as it used to be and the psalmist is angry. 

But the psalmist also continues to be faithful and to pray.  “Yours is the day, yours also the night, you established the moon and the sun.  You fixed all the boundaries of the earth; you made both summer and winter.”  The psalmist still believes in the creative and life-giving power of the one we know as God Almighty. 

It’s easy to want things to be the way they once were.  Many of us find great comfort in holding onto the ways of the past and the glory of God that we have felt in moments in our lives and the way we have believed the world should be.  I just wonder, if God is Almighty, could God still be doing something new and wonderful in our midst.   And what could that be?

John+

Questions for Daily Reflection:  What do you miss most about the church of your childhood?  Are there things that were better, easier, or more satisfying back then? 

Daily Challenge:  Create a top three list (I figured three was easier than 10) for the three things that God is up to in your life and that you give thanks for.  Share that with someone today.

Raging waves and turbulent waters– May 5

Today’s Readings: Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; Wisdom 13:1-9; Rom 13:1-14; Luke 8:16-25

As a byproduct of the deluge that descended upon this region of the Southeast yesterday, the tiny Huckleberry Creek that runs through our neighborhood swelled more than I have seen it in our 18 months in Bluff Park. Our kids watched with exhilaration as the whitewater rapids raced through the culvert and under the covered bridge, threatening to whisk away any leaf or other living thing that dared to enter the perilous space that is usually a dry creek bed.

This morning, without power due to a toppled tree and downed power lines, the kids and I passed the time before leaving for school and work by walking down to the covered bridge to see the what the water looked like. Josephine noted how the large rocks in the creek were visible again. Robinson paused to hear the roaring of the waterflow beneath the metal sewer cover in the road. While the waters were still noisily pouring along their well-worn pathway, the turbulence of Tuesday’s eventide had calmed. We marveled how quickly the landscape changed.

Reflecting on today’s scripture and the power of rushing water, I can feel the fear in the disciples’ words from Luke 8, “Master, Master, we are perishing!” as the winds whipped fiercely, and the waves violated the integrity of the boat. The threat was significant and their panic was real. Upon Jesus’ word settling the waters, the disciples were amazed. At once, their safety was restored.

I can also connect with the Wisdom of Solomon exploring the awe and wonder in watching the waters of creation flow – and how that can shape how we see God:

If through delight in the beauty of these things people assumed them to be gods,

let them know how much better than these is their Lord,

for the author of beauty created them.

And if people were amazed at their power and working,

let them perceive from them

how much more powerful is the one who formed them.

For from the greatness and beauty of created things

comes a corresponding perception of their Creator. (13:3-5)

Rather than seeing the acts of nature – stars, fire, or wind – as individual gods that combine to rule aspects of the world, the poet points to the way we can perceive these movements as correlations to or indicators of God the Creator, who is full of more beauty and power than we can imagine.

Each day we are called to open our eyes to see God and our hearts to desire God – not only as a savior in times of peril, but also as a light to illumine our lives. If raging waves and turbulent waters have invaded your basement or your spirit lately, listen to Jesus’ question to the disciples: Where is your faith? Asked differently, maybe Jesus is asking us, “In what or to whom are you tethering yourself to restore a sense of calm? Is it helping?”

I’ve seen on a church marquis the message ‘No Jesus, no peace; Know Jesus, know peace.’ It sounds trite, and it also has a ring of truth about it. Here’s my closing prayer for us all: May the peace of Jesus grow in us today, keeping us anchored in the rushing waters and nourished when the creek bed is dry. Amen.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

 What attributes of God are apparent to you in nature?

 How do acts of nature - especially inclement weather - shine a light on how you answer Jesus' question, "Where is your faith?"

Daily Challenge

 Jesus restored a sense of calm to his disciples after they cried out in fear. He stopped the storm and tossing waters. Spend five minutes centering yourself on Jesus’ power to bring calm, while also bringing companionship and confidence to his friends. Once you have tried to get a bit more grounded, pray for someone who needs to have calm restored in their life, too.

A Mother's Prayer - May 4

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 61, 62; PM Psalm 68:1-20(21-23)24-36; Wisdom 10:1-4(5-12)13-21; Rom. 12:1-21; Luke 8:1-15

Today’s Reflection

But as for [the seeds that fell] in the good soil, these are the ones who, when they hear the word, hold it fast in an honest and good heart, and bear fruit with patient endurance. –Luke 8: 15

And now thou didst ​“stretch forth thy hand from above” and didst draw up my soul out of that profound darkness because my mother, thy faithful one, wept to thee on my behalf more than mothers are accustomed to weep for the bodily deaths of their children. For by the light of the faith and spirit which she received from thee, she saw that I was dead. And thou didst hear her, O Lord, thou didst hear her and despised not her tears when, pouring down, they watered the earth under her eyes in every place where she prayed. Thou didst truly hear her. –Augustine of Hippo

In the Episcopal and Anglican tradition, May 4 is the day we honor the life of Saint Monica, a faithful Christian of the early church, who lived between 330-387 in Northern Africa in what today is Tunisia. Though a Christian, her parents arranged for her to marry a man named Patricius, who did not share her faith. Their marriage was a difficult one due to his temper and licentiousness, not to mention his meddling mother. However, he allowed Monica to freely practice her faith, and together they had three children who survived infancy. Though their marriage was difficult, Monica continued to pray for him, that Patricius would come to share her faith, and finally he (and even his mother) became followers of Christ. A year later, though, Patricius died, and Monica was left to parent their three children on her own.

At the time, the oldest of Monica’s children, Augustine, was 17 and had already left their hometown of Thagaste to go study rhetoric in Carthage. At that point, Augustine had not yet come to share his mother’s faith in Christ. He was, as many young people that age do, making his own choices and, in some ways, rebelling against his mother’s values and hopes for him. Once he had finished his education in Carthage, at age 29 Augustine continued on to Rome, where he began to achieve success as a professor of rhetoric and oratory, tutoring influential people and making a name for himself. In his personal life, Augustine was living with a woman to whom he was not married, and they had a child together. Monica was not happy, so she traveled to Rome so she could have more influence on her son. But, by the time Monica arrived in Rome, Augustine had departed for Milan—where Monica finally caught up with him.

Monica had been praying for Augustine over all these years, that somehow, some way, we would finally come to share what for her was a life-giving faith in Christ. The move to Milan was, as it turned out, the move that ultimately turned Augustine toward the path to God. Though he was not yet a Christian, Augustine got to know a fellow intellectual named Ambrose, who happened to be the Bishop of Milan. Monica, too, got to know Ambrose, and he became, in a way, her spiritual director, counseling her to change some of the patterns with which she was interacting with her son—counseling her, perhaps, to push less and trust more. Augustine, writing in his memoir, Confessions, recalls that Ambrose told Monica this: “But let him alone for a time,” he said, ​“only pray God for him. He will of his own accord, by reading, come to discover what an error it is and how great its impiety is.” Monica wasn’t happy with this answer and kept begging Ambrose to intervene. But Ambrose was firm, and Monica ended up accepting his counsel: “Go your way; as you live, it cannot be that the son of these tears should perish.” Augustine remembers that, “As she often told me afterward, she accepted this answer as though it were a voice from heaven.” Monica held onto those wise words from Ambrose, and she stayed on in Milan where she became a leader in the local community of faithful women—and she kept praying for Augustine.

Augustine eventually heard the voice of God—literally, he heard a voice call out to him “Take up and read!” which led him to the Scriptures and to faith in Christ. He became a catechumenate (someone studying to prepare for baptism) under Ambrose, and in 387 was finally baptized a Christian. Later that same year. Monica died—but she died knowing that her prayers for her son had been answered, and that he, too, was now a follower of Christ. Then, in short succession, Augustine answered a call to the priesthood, and shortly after that became Bishop of Hippo, a position through which he exercised not only leadership in the governance of the church, but also became one of the chief doctors of the faith whose writings on theology, education, and rhetoric continue to be influential to this day. And for this we can thank Monica, a person whose commitment to Christ and to praying for her family ended up having a major influence on the future of the church and the world not only in her own time, but for centuries to come.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Who has prayed for you faithfully, and with tears, as Monica prayed for her son Augustine? Who have you prayed for, or continue to pray for, with this kind of hopefulness and devotion?

Daily Challenge

You can read more of Augustine’s story in his memoir Confessions, and you can read more of his words about his mother Monica here.