Jumping to Conclusions - July 29

Today’s Readings AM Psalm [70], 71; PM Psalm 74; 2 Samuel 4:1-12; Acts 16:25-40; Mark 7:1-23:

Many years ago, I had the gift to lead the youth group where I was working on two different pilgrimages to Greece.  Both groups were following in the footsteps of Paul and so we visited not only the communities that Paul wrote letters, but the places he visited and the accounts that we hear so much about in Acts.  Sometimes when I read the stories of Acts, I am transported back into those trips and I see the places that we read about, and I can visualize the setting and the story.

Today is one of those days.  On our 2005 trip, we visited Philippi and stood where we think the prison written about in today’s story from Acts existed.  I remember well the tour guide sure pointing to my left.  “Now this is where the jail cell of Paul and Silas was.”  And then he pointed to my right and showed us where the prison guard was sitting on that evening when the earth shook and the cell doors were unlocked.   

I was transferred back into the story as I read it, imagining Paul and Silas standing just to my left and picturing the guard just to my right.  And I could hear the guard talking to himself as he is threatening his own existence and I found myself shouting out, “don’t do it, Paul and Silas are still here.”  And then the words come from Paul and Silas themselves, and the guard talks himself down from the exceptionally drastic decision he was about to make.   In some ways, it is a story about how easy it is for humans to jump to extreme conclusions before the story is finished. 

Over the past several months, it seems like we live in a period where we too jump to conclusions easily.  Like the prison guard, we assume the absolute worst.  A colleague sends an email that strikes a nerve, a friend or neighbor pushes against your values, a sibling is short the last few times you have called.  We think the absolute worse, apparently something that has been happening for two thousand years. 

And Paul and Silas are still there.  And to sweeten the deal the guard has a conversion experience finding a radically new way of living, now as a person of faith.  Today’s story could be a reminder to be a little more patient when we are caught off guard, to let the story unfold before jumping to conclusions.  Who knows, our lives could be radically changed too.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  When have you jumped to conclusions recently?  When have expected the worse to be surprised in a good way?

Daily Challenge:  Today’s reading could be a reminder of the power of optimism.  Consider ways to be more optimistic today. 

Adverse Waters - July 28

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; 2 Samuel 3:22-39; Acts 16:16-24; Mark 6:47-56

These past few weeks have filled me with joy and gratitude.  As I stood before our congregation making announcements this past week, I said something to the tune of “never taking this opportunity to gather in person for granted again.” Even with meeting in person, we have maintained a steady online presence. While we are more spread out due to keeping four different services each Sunday, our in-person attendance (not including online) almost reached our pre-pandemic summer numbers last Sunday and far exceeded it when including online.  There are new faces, new ministries, and an excitement for how to engage with each other which has been palpable. 

For those reasons, I think subconsciously I have been refusing to acknowledge the public health crisis that is brewing as the number of COVID hospitalizations and deaths begins to spike again.  I optimistically wanted to believe we were on the tail end of the pandemic. Maybe we still are much closer to the end, but I am worried that the waters will be rough for many this fall. 

I also had three pastoral conversations yesterday centered around grief. I am also grateful for these conversations, sacred moments that I treasure more than any meeting or decision that has to be made.  Pandemic or not, people’s lives can reflect the stormy seas where our boats are rocked, and we become much more in tune with uncertainty and survival.  And I am grateful that many in our community will reach out to the church when this happens.

Today’s Gospel has disciples in their own storm, straining their oars against an adverse wind.   That could be its own metaphor for our common life together.  It seems odd that when they see Jesus, they don’t recognize him.  The disciples actually think they see a ghost and instead of being comforted, are terrified.  More of the story takes place before the disciples are at peace.  The wind ceases and yet I wonder why Mark tells us their hearts were hardened.  Had they yet to recognize God in the storm? 

Storms come and go.  For many of us, this pandemic might be the most challenging storm we ever face.  For others it is the loss of a loved one, the challenges of depression and mental illness and raising a family, or the loss of identity and focus.  Life is full of storms. 

But the storms will cease.  And hopefully more often than not, the water will be calm.  One of the profound gifts of our faith is the knowledge that it is God who not only calms the storm, but is there with us in the midst of it.  We, like the disciples, struggle sometimes to see God at work around us.  It’s why we need the reminder in Mark’s Gospel today.  May it open our eyes to recognize God when we struggle the most.  No matter what we are to face in the coming months, I rest better with the reminder that God is with us no matter what.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Where are you in this cycle of storm and calm waters?  When have you struggled to see God in your midst? Did something change your perspective?  How?  Why?

Daily Challenge:  Find a quiet space and spend three minutes breathing deeply. If you need a prayer, say “Lord Jesus Christ” as you breath in, and “Have, mercy on me.” as you breath out. Think of this as a tool remember God in the storms of life.

Opening Our Hearts to Listening - July 27

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 61, 62; PM Psalm 68:1-20(21-23)24-36; 2 Samuel 3:6-21; Acts 16:6-15; Mark 6:30-46

Today’s Reflection

I’ve written before about the birds who frequent my backyard, especially those who have formed a community that I like to think of as the bird church (since our feeder is shaped like a church, complete with steeple and arched, clear glass windows a lot like the ones we have at Saint Stephen’s). But it’s not just about spending time bird watching—it’s also about spending time bird listening. As those of you who tune in when I lead online Morning Prayer from my backyard deck well know, the birds are joining us for Morning Prayer, too. It’s not so much that people can see the birds in the background, though sometimes one will flit through the scene behind me. Rather, it’s that people can hear the birds’ songs as we read scriptures and pray together, since the birds are especially active at that time of the morning.

Just yesterday, I was reading an article in the New York Times about the joys to be found not only from bird listening, but also in what we learn by using technology to help us know which birds we are listening to. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology, the premiere center for the study of birds, has just released a new version of its Merlin app, which allows you to not only visually identify the birds you see, but also to aurally identify the birds you hear. You download a sound catalog for your region of the country, then press record. The app creates a spectrogram, or a visual record of the different sound patterns. When the app matches this with one of the bird calls in the database, the name and picture of the bird will pop up—and if it hears more than one, a list begins to form of all the bird songs you’re hearing at any given time. When I tried this out yesterday, I realized I was listening to Carolina wrens, American robins, American crows, and Eastern towhees—all just in a one- to two-minute snatch of time. And each time the bird calls again, the name on the list flashes—which begins to teach you which bird call is which. Soon, if I keep listening and spending some time using the app as I listen, I will be able to listen better to the birds around me. I will know whose calls I am hearing—even when I cannot see them to identify them by the colors of their feathers or by the sizes and shapes of their bodies.

In today’s passage from the Acts of the Apostles, listening is an important theme. Listening to the Spirit, Paul and his companions knew that they were not supposed to go to Bithynia. But where were they to go instead? That night, as Paul slept, he dreamt that, “there stood a man of Macedonia pleading with him and saying, ‘Come over to Macedonia and help us.’” The Scripture describes this as a vision. However, this was not just a vision that Paul saw, it was also a vision that required Paul to listen to what God was telling him. And Paul did listen—taking what he saw and heard in his dream so seriously that when he awoke, Paul and his companions “immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them.” Because Paul was well practiced in listening to the voice of God, Paul could recognize God’s voice when it called to him, even when it came to him unexpectedly in visions or dreams.

Paul and company journeyed to Macedonia, traveling through the cities of Samothrace and Neopolis before reaching Philippi. Knowing that God wanted them to declare his message among the Philippians, they tried to think of where the people who would be open to hearing them might be gathered. On the Sabbath, they went to a place by the river that “they supposed to be a place of prayer.” Among the women gathered there was “a certain woman named Lydia, a worshipper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul.”

Because Paul listened to God, he knew that he was supposed to go share the Good News of Christ with the people of Macedonia—including the women gathered for prayer at the river that day. And because Lydia listened eagerly when God brought Paul and his companions there to the river, not only she but her whole household decided to seal their belief in God through being baptized together. And, continuing to listen to the stirring of the spirit in her, Lydia invited Paul and his friends to come stay with her at her home.

We don’t know from this passage anything about what message Paul shared by the river that day—but what we do know is that Lydia listened, and that as a result of that holy listening she and her whole household made a commitment to live faithfully in Christ. Thanks be to God!

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What is the difference between hearing and listening? What does it take for you to move from hearing something or someone to listening more deeply for the meaning in what you are hearing? How do you know when what you are listening to is something God wants you to be listening to?

Daily Challenge

You can learn more about the Cornell Lab of Ornithology here and you learn about the Cornell Lab’s free Merlin app (and download it) here.

Dark Stories and Holding on to Hope - July 26

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; PM Psalm 64, 65; 2 Samuel 2:1-11; Acts 15:36-16:5; Mark 6:14-29

Today’s Gospel reading was also read a few weeks ago on a Sunday morning at church.  More than the words of the reading, I can remember the audible gasp from a gentleman on the third row, Celebrant side.  He turned to the person he was worshiping with and said something to the tune of: “Wow, that was dark.”  Or at least that was the gist.  It was loud enough that I could hear from where I sat.  I am sure others heard as well.  And he was right, and said what I think many of us were thinking, at least if we were paying attention. 

I remember hearing Walter Brueggemann speak to a group of clergy several years ago and he shockingly questioned us Episcopal priests asking how we could so easily say, “the Word of the Lord” and just expect people to respond, “thanks be to God” as if the message was always easy and made sense.  Sometimes there are stories like todays that are startling to hear, and we should probably be more surprised when they pop up, or maybe we aren’t paying that close of attention.

Today’s story is tough.  Herod’s wife manipulates her daughter to demand the assassination of John the Baptist.  Because Herod’s ego is significantly larger than his ethical compass, we end up with the head of John the Baptist being brought to Herod’s daughter on a platter.  It sounds like a scene from The Godfather or Game of Thrones.  You probably wouldn’t be surprised that we used the Old Testament lesson for Children’s Chapel on that Sunday.

Today might be an important reminder that we gather on as Christian community because we know the end of the story.  We are caught up in this life-giving way because we know God’s love is bigger than anything else.  God’s love is bigger than pain, loss, grief, death, and defeat.  But this doesn’t free us from going through difficult and painful moments, especially when motivated by human egos with a lack of an ethical compass.  Sometimes horrible things happen prompting the question, “Where is God in this story or event?”

The story of the beheading of John the Baptist is one such encounter.  Maybe it is stories such as these within the overarching stories of our faith that remind us that the story is not yet finished.  Sometimes the moments are dark but that is not the totality of what we are to experience.  We just have to stick with the story a little longer and God will always shine redemption, hope, and resurrection.  

John+ 

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What are the hardest stories for you to read in the Bible?  What stories do you still struggle with today?  What have been especially challenging moments in your life? 

Daily Challenge:   If you find yourself in an especially challenging period in your life, try journaling about some of your hopes and dreams for what is next.   Write those down on a piece and place in an envelope with instructions to open and read in a year.

Outside the City Gate – July 24

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 55; PM Psalm 138, 139:1-17(18-23); 2 Samuel 1:1-16; Acts 15:22-35; Mark 6:1-13

I am in a Bible study at Saint Stephen’s. This year, we began reading Hebrews in January, and this week, we wrapped up that magnificent letter in the Bible. It has been a joyous journey, delving into the words written as a rousing sermon to ministers in the early days of the Christian church. The crescendo of Hebrews – to me – is found here:

We have an altar from which those who officiate in the tent have no right to eat. For the bodies of those animals whose blood is brought into the sanctuary by the high priest as a sacrifice for sin are burned outside the camp. Therefore Jesus also suffered outside the city gate in order to sanctify the people by his own blood. Let us then go to him outside the camp and bear the abuse he endured. For here we have no lasting city, but we are looking for the city that is to come. (Hebrews 13:10-14)

In this pep talk to ministers of this new worshiping body – many of whom used to be Jewish priests – they are being prepared in an odd way. Here’s what I mean: they are being told not just to make sacrifices at the altar and keep laws of the great and living God. There is more: they are called to take those gifts that are offered at the altar and carry them out into the hinterlands, outside of the safety of the walls of the city...away from routines and comfortable spaces. They are to do ministry in places that are foreign and uncertain and perhaps likely to reject the messages imparted.

The early Christian priests are called to go outside the city gate because that is what Jesus did. Jesus ministered inside the walls of the camp, inside the social structures of temples and communities, sharing meals and healing those in need. And then, he went into the far-flung places, where he was less welcome. Where he was seen as a disturbance. Where he was judged as a wing-nut prophet and blasphemer.

Jesus went outside the city gate and was crucified upon a hill. His death was an offering to reconcile us to God. Hebrews 13 states this doctrine of atonement: people are reconciled to God through the sacrificial death of Jesus. Said another way, the Son of God removed the obstacles between us and God. Either way, I feel conflicted by the benevolence and the brutality.

Jesus’ giving of his own blood to the point of death to save others sounds so brutal, doesn’t it? And friends, we can be brutal to one another, too. In our judgements against those who differ from us in creed, culture, or credit line. In our insistence upon our own concept of liberty, love, or livelihood. This insensitivity to one another is not new. It may be increasing in intensity or vigor, yet it is not a new thing. The letter to the Hebrews calls those in ministry to go to Jesus “outside the camp and bear the abuse he endured.” And why? Because as we are God’s, our eyes are to be set upon the city that is to come…and not to place our faith in the city we have right now.

Jesus prepared his friends for ministry in a similar way. He gave them directions as he sent them out in pairs. He told them how to equip themselves and gave them marching orders for when they faced refusal and rejection: “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” (Mark 6:10-11)

The act of shaking off the dust is a symbolic action and a cultural statement of removing all association with someone. Not even a speck of dirt will weigh down the disciples as they move along, proclaiming repentance, casting out demons, and anointing the sick with oil.

I will continue to proclaim God’s love – and I hope you will join me in this effort, as all are invited into the proclamation of the Good News. I hope you will also join me in encouraging all people to show compassion and love for their neighbors in all manners of ways. In getting vaccinated against COVID-19. In wearing a mask in places where large numbers of people gather indoors. In being kind and welcoming to listen to all voices. In caring for those who are ill and ailing. Sometimes we will face refusal and rejection. That will not stop us from sharing the mutual love of God.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Which of your views to which you hold tightly feel like you are going outside of the city gate? Upon what are those views founded? How does that wilderness experience affect those convictions – either diminishing your will or reinforcing it? Where is Jesus for you in this moment?

Daily Challenge

Take a few minutes to read about atonement theology – and do your own research, too! What are you intrigued to learn about? What challenges you? Take a moment to write down some insights, then sit in prayer, meditating about what atonement means for you.

Reaching Out for Jesus - July 23

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 40, 54; PM Psalm 51; 1 Samuel 31:1-13; Acts 15:12-21; Mark 5:21-43

Today’s Reflection

One of my favorite writers and podcasters, Kate Bowler, always signs off by saying, “Have a beautiful, terrible day.” Recently someone asked her:

Why do you keep asking us to have a beautiful, terrible day? WHY TERRIBLE? Why not JUST beautiful?

Well. It came from the thought I kept having when I first got sick: that somehow I could see more, feel more, appreciate more of the wide spectrum of life. And it turns out that there's this perfect quote from pastor and writer, Frederick Buechner, who said: “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid.”

Life can be both wonderful and terrible, gorgeous and tragic. These opposites do not cancel each other out.

In theory, I love this Buechner quote—and I love that Kate Bowler is always wishing us a beautiful, terrible day. But in practice, in the moment, it is extremely hard to hold onto this truth: “Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Do not be afraid.” I feel like it’s easier to see the beauty intertwined with the terrible when we look back, with the perspective of not being right in the middle of the beautiful, terrible moment.

As it happens, today’s Gospel passage is also about a beautiful, terrible day. In this passage from Mark 5, we find two intertwined stories of grief and compassion. The passage opens with Jairus asking for Jesus to come quickly to heal his only daughter, a 12-year-old who seems on the verge of dying. Jesus stops what he is doing and starts heading to Jairus’ house. But, as often happens when Jesus is on the way somewhere, Jesus gets interrupted, and he ends up having an encounter with a woman who was seeking healing for herself as someone who had been bleeding continuously for 12 years.

For Jairus and his daughter, the day began as a terrible one with the prospect of a young life, full of promise, being cut short—and the prospect of parents and relatives and friends grieving her loss. The day was also beautiful in the way that Jesus showed compassion on them by coming to them, giving the family dignity in their difficult moment, then tenderly saying, “Little girl, get up!” and then making sure she was fed and that their privacy would be maintained by asking that no one share the details of what had happened.

But in between the bookends of the story of Jairus’ daughter, we also find the story of the woman who was hemorrhaging. This, too, was a beautiful, terrible day for her. It was a terrible day because it was yet another day that this woman had woken up in pain and discomfort and fear, just as she had for 12 years. The bleeding just wouldn’t stop. Nothing she had tried had taken it away. Nevertheless, she held onto the hope that all would take to be healed was to just touch Jesus. She didn’t mean for him to know—and how could he? After all, Jesus was making his way through a crowd, bumping against and being bumped into by all sorts of people as he made his way to Jairus’ house.

But somehow, Jesus felt the healing power go out from him—and he stopped to find out just who had touched him not on accident—but who had touched him because she was hoping for healing And it was a beautiful day because not only did she reach out in faith to Jesus, but it was beautiful because Jesus did not reject her because of this act of faith—rather he turned to her and said, “Your faith has made you well.”

Frederick Buechner was right. In our world, beautiful and terrible things will happen. And when they do, and even when we feel afraid, God will show us compassion—which, we in turn, can share with others.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

How do you respond when someone close to you is having a terrible day? How do hope others will respond to you when you are in the midst of your own terrible days? What do we learn from how Jesus responds to those seeking his help and healing in Mark 5?

Daily Challenge

Today’s reflection is drawn from June 27 sermon, in which I reflected on both Lamentations 3 and Mark 5. You can listen to the full sermon here on the Saint Stephen’s YouTube Channel, where you can find an archive of all our sermons from the past year.

If you’re curious to read more from Kate Bowler, or to listen to her podcast, you find much good food for thought and reflection through her website.

Hospitality and Humanity - July 22

Three good friends were sitting around a campfire and arguing about their faith.  As the night went on, the argument became more heated and each one became convinced that their faith was the best.  Of course, a wager was born.  The bet was who could convert a bear.  Well, the first gentleman wandered off into the woods and returned an hour later.  He came limping back, returning with a few scraps and a big grin.  “My friends, I have found a bear, we had a nice conversation, a little pushing and prodding, but I got him down to a stream and I sprinkled him with water.  I am proud to say, that bear is now an Episcopalian!”

The next friend wandered off into the woods to return an hour later.  However, he came hobbling back, somehow supported by two crutches, his arm was in a sling, his head had a bandage, and he was sporting an even larger grin.  “Peace my friends.  I found that bear, and we took a long walk to the lake.   We wrestled for a little while and it took some effort to fully submerge him, but that bear came out of the lake praising Jesus. I am proud to announce that bear is now a Baptist.

The last friend left to find the bear. After a few hours, the other two became worried.  When they can’t find their friend in the woods, one called the hospital to find that their friend had just been admitted.  The doctor encouraged them to come as quickly as possible.  They rushed over warned that they could only see their friend for a moment as he only had the strength to say a few words.  They wandered in, and their friend, with all of his strength and energy let out with a gasp, ”Shalom my friends, the bear is now Jewish.” (I first told this joke in the seminary chapel for my senior sermon in October of 2012.  In fairness, I learned it from a Rabbi of the largest synagogue in my hometown.

I spend a lot of time reflecting on our customs and practices and how people feel welcomed in Christian community. Our staff listened to a podcast interview this week with entrepreneur Danny Meyer about hospitality and humanity. We care about hospitality and our conversation prompted reflection on a couple who was visiting church last Sunday and one of them was overheard saying, “Am I doing this right?”  We worry about boundaries and norms of communities and the potential for people to be seen as outsiders. If you have been around the Episcopal Church for a while, you have probably either heard someone refer to themselves or others as a cradle Episcopalian (or maybe you have referred to yourself this way) as if our longevity in a tradition is a badge of honor.  Don’t worry, I’ve done it too.  The argument about what it means to be a member of the faith is an age-old conversation that still seems so relevant today.  It was certainly relevant in Acts, which shares the story of people coming down to Judea telling Christians they can’t be saved unless there are also circumcised.  (Yes, that’s what I was suggesting happened to the bear if you missed it.) 

We take a lot of pride in our tradition.  I certainly do.  But it might be a helpful reminder to know that the Body of Christ is not the Episcopal Church.  All Christians are in this together.  Really, all of humanity is in this common life together.  Each week, as more and more begin to gather for worship, a reminder of what binds us together might be necessary.  And the Acts of the Apostles remind us that it’s the Holy Spirit.  And we all have it, even the two new people who have no idea about the Book of Common Prayer, or the person who stopped to come in because the church was pretty.   No one is better than the other.  And we all get to use our gift of hospitality to remind each other of that truth. 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  When have you felt like an outsider in a church community? What made that change?  How has that shaped your own practice of hospitality?

Daily Challenge: Listen to the Podcast about Humanity and Hospitality or just read the notes if you don’t have the time.  Spend time reflecting on your own practice of hospitality.

Faith and the end-times – July 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:49-72; PM Psalm 49, [53]; 1 Samuel 25:23-44; Acts 14:19-28; Mark 4:35-41

On Sunday after church, I went to the hospital to administer the consecrated bread and wine from Eucharist to a parishioner. While waiting for authorization to make a pastoral visit, several other people trickled into the waiting area. A couple came into the vestibule. The man and I exchanged pleasantries and then he said something that surprised me: “These sure are the last days…the end times are upon us.”

That phraseology is not in my vernacular. I did not know what to do with that statement and even now, I do not even recall how I responded. As I sit here remembering that encounter, I feel curious and have questions. I wish I had asked him more about that. About what in our time serve as signals to the end of days. And, how he lives differently because of the signs around him. And what he wants younger generations to know and understand. If this man is willing to proclaim that truth to a stranger in a hospital lobby, perhaps he has stories that are compelling and rousing, pointing to God’s movement in his life and the world. It is the sharing of those stories that helps strengthen us in hard times. It is the sharing of those tales of risk, loss, and adversity that help us rely more upon God’s guidance than our own human impulses. It is in sharing stories of faith that we can see God’s faithfulness, even when all is lost.

In Acts 14, the disciples are being persecuted. Paul has been stoned and dragged outside of the city Lystra. Jesus’ followers surround the beaten apostle and he got up again, though the attackers left him for dead. They moved on to the next hamlet to share the Good News. The writer of Acts gives us this detail: “There they strengthened the souls of the disciples and encouraged them to continue in the faith, saying, ‘It is through many persecutions that we must enter the kingdom of God.’” (Acts 14:22) Through the disciples’ witness around the shores of the Mediterranean and Aegean Seas, churches were built up and strengthened. Those trying to follow Jesus were encouraged. In Luke 21:12-19, Jesus had warned his friends that suffering would be a precursor to the kingdom of God. This message was not far off the prophetic, apocalyptic messages in Daniel 11:32-35, in which violence and suffering would accompany the end-time.

Maybe as our eyes are opened through hardship, we realize what is really important and we can name where our convictions lie. We can say with blessed assurance that our hope rests upon God. Not everyone gets to that point, or stays there. There are so many who are downtrodden and have lost hope. So, keep sharing your stories of faith. Keep praying for those who feel left behind by God. And stay curious and connected with those around you.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What do you think of when you hear about the end-times? Does it feel like something real to you? How do you respond?

Daily Challenge

 If talking about the end-times makes you wriggle and writhe, sit in that discomfort. Journal for ten minutes about what comes up for you...what you know, what you don't know, why you push back against it. Then pray for God to be with you in the discomfort, guiding you to insights about what trusting God means in light of the end-times.

The Greatest of All Shrubs - July 20

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 45; PM Psalm 47, 48; 1 Samuel 25:1-22; Acts 14:1-18; Mark 4:21-34

Today’s Reflection

He also said, ‘With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.’ –Mark 4: 30-32

Did you know that mustard plants are considered by many to be weeds? This is because they are plants that, by virtue of their tiny seeds, can spring up easily and spread to places where we may not have planned for them to grow. And when they grow, they really grow. Because of this, many gardeners would say that mustard seeds, and the plants they become, do not belong in the garden. But even the seed of a weed can flourish and become life-giving: a safe place for birds to find food, shade, and a place to nest. In the kingdom of God, boundaries are crossed. Categories come into question. The tiny seed of a weed becomes “the greatest of all shrubs.”

And yet, for an audience steeped in images from the Hebrew scriptures of the great cedars of Lebanon, a mustard shrub evokes a much less grand vision of God’s plans and promises. Perhaps, as scholar Pheme Perkins points out: “Jesus has pulled a swap. God’s creative presence can still provide abundantly for all creatures even in a region without mighty trees. For people who expect God's reign to show itself in mighty deeds, transforming nature and nations, the mustard bush is hardly an appropriate sign. It is just an annual plant, after all, not a great tree sought by pharaohs and kings to adorn palaces and temples.” And yet, because of its smaller scale and more humble reputation, the mustard seed is the most appropriate sign of what it means for us to grow into a kingdom for God.

However, as Jesus well knew, the mustard plant is not great because of its size but rather because of what its branches can provide: shelter and shade. The mustard seed grows from the tiny seed of an often-unwanted plant into a bush whose expansive branches provide for others.

God's economy is based on reversals or incongruities. The weak become strong. The poor become rich. A little child shall lead them. So, it makes sense that when God tells us about how we can expand his kingdom on earth, that he tells us to go about it in a different way than many earthly leaders would. It’s not about making earthly empires great and gaining power over other people. Rather, growing from a tiny seed into “the greatest of all shrubs” is about growing into a plant--or a church, or a community, or a culture—that is in fact an ecosystem, one which provides sustenance and shelter to a diversity of living things. As scholar Suzanne Henderson observes, “Where the seeds of God’s kingdom do take root, they grow with abandon even alongside the plants that wither or seeds that disappear. Like the mustard bush, the kingdom will overtake its surroundings (4:30–32), but it does so organically and offers hospitable shade to ‘the birds of the air.’”

So, how can we build God’s kingdom now? Growth and new life require changes in state. A seed ruptures open whenever a new plant begins to germinate. A tall plant or tree requires pruning. A plant cutting must first form its own new roots in water before it can be transplanted into the soil and begin to grow. The question we must consider is this: Are we willing to be tiny mustard seeds with the determination to grow into the greatest of shrubs—even when we grow within the boundaries of a garden in which we may at first be seen as just another weed? 

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

In what kinds of circumstances or situations do you feel (or have you felt) especially small? Have you ever experienced a time when you entered a situation (be it a room, an event, a task, or a role) feeling very small but over time ended up growing into it?

Daily Challenge

You can read more about mustard plants in the context of the ancient Near East in this article on the Old Dominion University Bible Plants web site, where you can also read up on all other sorts of plants mentioned in Scripture.

Parable of the Sower - July 19

Today’s Lessons: AM Psalm 41, 52; PM Psalm 44; 1 Samuel 24:1-22; Acts 13:44-52; Mark 4:1-20

Just last week, I was commenting about how it finally felt like summer and now we are accelerating way too fast towards the fullness of the fall.  Our family is planning to put a large calendar on the left side of our refrigerator to help us keep up with everyone’s schedules.  I’m guessing we are making up for last year filling the school year with cello and banjo lessons, travel soccer, ballet, girl scouts, cheer, and choir.  I seriously wonder how it is all going to work.

In today’s Gospel lesson, we hear the familiar parable of the sower.  One image is of grain that falls among the thorns and the thorns sprout up and choke the grain, keeping it from growing.  One of the more provocative ideas I have heard in reference to this Scripture was a sermon fifteen years ago or so from a priest in East Tennessee that suggested that thorns might be all the really good stuff that we fill our schedules with each year.  The preacher was talking about the same dilemma I am cautiously considering.  Funny how things haven’t really changed.

Over the past year and a half, many have commented how the forced opportunity to slow down has been a gift in their own life. Activities were postponed, camps canceled, and soccer games were missed.  We wouldn’t have asked for it in a million years, and I am grateful for those moments of enjoying a family meal that would have been a practice, of working on a few more puzzles, of knowing my neighbors better than I could have imagined. 

I’m not sure how to navigate parenting, how to say no to some of the things that my family has been looking forward to doing.  I’m guessing we are going to go back to pre-pandemic participation in the smorgasbord of child development.  But today’s reading is a reminder to focus on what really matters.  A relationship is more important than making all of the soccer practices.   Cultivating fertile soil for our spiritual growth is not doing more, but instead the quality and intentionality of what we set out to learn and do. There is a big difference.  And I have some work to do.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What are the most meaningful practices in your life?  What are the activities that fill you with joy and purpose? 

Daily Challenge: Is your calendar overbooked?  If it is, open your calendar and find one thing that you can let go of that can help provide some relief in your day-to-day life?  If your calendar is more open, find one thing to add that is meaningful and life-giving.  Some ideas could include scheduling a trip to the Birmingham Art Museum or Botanical Gardens, attending one of the formation opportunities at Saint Stephen’s, or going to lunch with a friend. 

Jesus and the melee - July 17

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 30, 32; PM Psalm 42, 43; 1 Samuel 22:1-23; Acts 13:26-43; Mark 3:19b-35

He writes, “No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness.” He describes it as a kind of suspense—so many habits, so many outcomes, are stopped in mid-air. Made impossible now, because of what has changed—is changing. – Kate Bowler, writing about C.S. Lewis’ book A Grief Observed

My colleague Becky is the first who brought up Kate Bowler to me. I cannot recall exactly what she told me about the author, speaker, and Duke Divinity School professor, but it was enough to encourage me to learn more. During the pandemic Lent of 2021, Bowler put out a livestream video many mornings of Lenten reflections and life’s musings. Watching her speak in vulnerability and of struggle reminded me of the choppy waters of openness the inimitable Brene Brown explores in her works. And so, I now find myself on the “Kate Bowler train” of curiosity into spaces of hardship from which we yearn to flee, yet when times are hard, what we must do is bear it. In Psalm 30 today, the psalmist writes, “Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning.” (v. 6) While I really want to get to the joy of the morning, sometimes I must spend the night in tears. I have to feel it and get through it … whatever the hard “it” is.

My eye caught this graphic earlier in the week and it really hit home for me: “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” C.S. Lewis wrote these words in his book A Grief Observed. I have never thought about grief in these terms, and yet I totally get it. There is the dread of experiencing the loss…and the fear of a similar loss happening again. We can find ourselves suspended, restrained, in limbo – all because of our grief and fear. Those are big, big feelings.

I wonder what big feelings Jesus’ friends and family were having in Mark 3, appointed for today. After he has called the twelve disciples to follow him, Jesus goes home and the throngs who have been following him are back. It is so crowded that they cannot even sit down together and eat. We read that Jesus’ family heard – either they got a report about the commotion, or they actually heard the sounds of the gathering. Their response is to restrain Jesus – to retain him and remove him out of the chaos of the crowd. But it gets more complicated than that, for we hear that people are saying Jesus is insane. Astounded. Out of his mind. Then the scribes get their hacks in, asserting that Jesus is possessed by Beelzebub, and through the power of evil, he is casting out the evil in others (as we read about in Mark 3:11).

So, this is more than just a melee…could it be that those closest to Jesus are having a type of intervention with him? What an experience of grief and fear, because of what has changed and what is still changing in their landscape. I wonder how afraid and uneasy Jesus’ followers and family feel in times like this. I wonder, too, how Jesus feels; does he grieve the hard heartedness of the scribes, who are blaspheming the Holy Spirit? Does he understand the intentions of his friends trying to intercede for him?

While C.S. Lewis wrote to illuminate a framework of the grief happening within himself and around him, Jesus does not do that for us. He is in the thick of ministry. He interprets in the moment what needs to be addressed. What we hear from Jesus is a dismissal of the false assertions of his possession by an unclean spirit. We hear a few parables about Satan’s weakness and Jesus’ strength.

Sometimes to get through a hard time, we must cling to the things that are reliable, when the rest of the world is shifting under our feet. Jesus is the strong one, who cannot be taken down. He is with us in our times of being surrounded by a melee, grieving and fearful, knowing that God’s joy and peace, which passes all understanding, will come in the morning.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

“No one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear.”

How does this statement strike you? What thoughts does it elicit from your experience? Who else might need to hear this bit of insight?

Daily Challenge

Take a few minutes to read as Kate Bowler explores grief and C.S. Lewis’ book A Grief Observed in this link. If you are looking to delve deeper into what grief means through Lewis’ eyes and reflect on your own experiences, I commend this Lewis book and the book study questions to you.

Jesus and the Get-Away Boat - July 16

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 31; PM Psalm 35; 1 Samuel 21:1-15, Acts 13:13-25; Mark 3:7-19a

Today’s Reflection

“Jesus is a character with many and varied traits. What Jesus ‘does’ reveals primarily the extent and nature of his authority from God. What Jesus ‘says’ discloses his understanding of himself as agent of God and his purposes. Both what Jesus does and what he says expresses his values and show his integrity in living up to those values.”

–David Rhoads, Joanna Dewey, and Donald Michie in Mark as Story (Fortress Press, 2012)

Of the four Gospel accounts, two of them (Matthew and Luke) ease into the life of Christ by first telling us of his origins—his ancestors, his birth and childhood—before beginning to detail his baptism and the events of his three years of public ministry. The other two Gospels, Mark and John, immediately bring us into Jesus’ story at the prime of his earthly life, telling us of his baptism upfront and then taking us right into an up-close and personal viewpoint on the intensity of Jesus’ daily work of teaching, preaching, healing, and casting out unclean spirits.

In Mark 3: 7-19, we find Jesus desperately seeking a well-deserved break from this constant whirlwind of activity and attention. Everywhere he goes, people are flocking to him because they have heard the news about what he did or said at his last stop along the way. And critics like the Pharisees and Herodians were taking note of his words and deeds, adding to the pressure building upon Jesus and his disciples, as we saw earlier in Mark 3 after Jesus entered the synagogue and healed the man with the withered hand.

Feeling the weight of this building pressure, Jesus’ instinct (a very good one) was to withdraw with his disciples to the sea. This reminds me of when you or I decide to talk a walk or a run or drive to go get some fresh air, some space to breathe and think and pray in the midst of our own busy lives and stressful situations. But still, even when he tried to take a breather, the crowds continued to follow Jesus—so he told the disciples “to have a boat ready for him because of the crowd, so that they would not crush him” (3:9). Doesn’t it sound like Jesus was having the disciples arrange for a get-away car (or in this, a get-away boat) to help whisk them away from all the crowds and the craziness?

From there, Jesus went up the mountain and “called to them those whom he wanted.” Yes, Jesus took the get-away boat so he could go on a mountain retreat with some trusted friends. And not only that, but Jesus decided to do another very smart thing to deal with the mounting pressure of his public life and ministry: He delegated authority so these companions could begin to share with him some of the responsibilities of ministry, specifically the work of preaching and casting out demons. And once Jesus had assembled this team of co-laborers, at the end of the day he did one more, very wise thing: “Then he went home” (3:19).

It can be easy to trick ourselves into believing, even with the best of intentions, that we are what we do and say. But it’s also important to remember that we are more than the sum of our actions, words, or reputations. As Jesus models so well in today’s passage from Mark 3, we are also formed by what decide not to do—moments when we say no to the culture of accomplishment, achievement, and productivity.

In other words, Jesus was able to step away from the whirlwind of activity and attention to find moments to rest, refocus, and just be. Even the Son of God, equally divine and human, needed to arrange for the get-away boat, a retreat up the mountain, and then, when all was said and done, just go home. If we are to follow more faithfully in the footsteps of Jesus, we must remind ourselves (and one another) that sometimes the best thing to do is get in the boat, go up the mountain, and then head home to recharge our souls and reconnect with the people who love us regardless of what things (be they magnificent or mediocre) we may have said or done that day.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What helps you to recharge and refocus? Where are the happy places or quiet places you choose to go to get away from the craziness and business of daily life? Who are the people you turn to share responsibilities or listen as you process the stress and pressure you may encounter along the way?

Daily Challenge

Commit to carving out a full hour (or two, or three) so that, like Jesus, you can away from your responsibilities of your to-do list and just be the person God created you to be.

We are Made for Love - July 15

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 37:1-18; PM Psalm 37:19-42; 1 Samuel 20:24-42; Acts 13:1-12; Mark 2:23-3:6

I am guessing a few people looked over their shoulders or glanced in their rearview mirrors yesterday.  An accident on I-459 had people taking a detour down Overton Road.  This meant a line of cars from past my house to the church (over 1 mile long).  Needing to get to church, there was no way I was going to drive so I hopped on my mountain bike in my bright red pants and my clericals (black shirt with a white Anglican collar) whizzing by cars on my way to Saint Stephen’s.  I hope some people are asking questions, or at the very least smiling. 

Well, this led me to have to ride my bike home for lunch, probably more than anything because I wanted my car and didn’t want to ride my bike home late on Wednesday evening.  So, I pushed up the hills, and arrived home, sweaty and out of breath. I had lunch and then went to jump in my car, tired from a hot bike ride in pants, clerical collar, and a long sleeve shirt, only to step on one of the dog’s toys and twist my ankle, throwing my can of water, falling to the ground, and letting out some words that my daughter wasn’t too pleased to hear.   As Anne got some ice for my foot, I said to her, “my feet aren’t made for stepping on stupid dog toys.”  She chuckled and I hobbled to the couch to lay down. 

We aren’t made for walking on dog toys, or Legos for that matter.  Our bodies probably aren’t designed for spending more than a few moments outside in the sweltering humidity and heat of Alabama.  Anthropologists claim that we were meant to be leisurely creatures and yet we find the most ridiculous things to occupy our boredom.  I think the Olympics are so exciting because we witness humans doing what is nearly humanly impossible.  We are motivated by humans doing what they weren’t designed to do. 

I think there is an element of this understanding when Mark writes that humans weren’t made for Sabbath.  Left to our devices, we seem to be best at living into two opposite possibilities: not working at all, or working so hard, we leave no room for growth and wellbeing.  Both ends of the spectrum accentuate the same truth: we do know how to care for ourselves or do what is necessary for our own wellbeing.  We need God’s law to remember why we were created, which is not about how hard we can work, or how much we can accomplish in a workday.

This is precisely we have God’s given instruction that even though the creative process is about life-generating work, even though, our purpose is to breathe life, creativity, and love into this world, rest is necessary for the cycle of life.  We need a divine commandment that is counterintuitive to how we want to live to help us thrive and grow.  We need Sabbath. It was made for us. 

Which drives the next point of today’s Scripture: why break one of God’s rules if it was made for us?  We might not have been made for walking on dog toys, or Legos, or riding bikes uphill in 100-degree heat, or any Olympic sport, which should beg the question – what were we made for?  Simple answer: to love each other and God.  Rules are rules.  We have a rule that is to remind us of this.  And these rules are meant to be broken if it is about our more divinely created purpose of caring for each other and pointing us more greatly to our love for God.

We were made to love.  Maybe we were made for love too.  Sometimes we need to be reminded so all that other stuff we think we are doing doesn’t overwhelm the greater reason we are here.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What do you see your primary purpose in life to be?  What do others see it to be?  How much of your vocation or previous vocation is wrapped up in this?  How can you grow in your capacity to love others?

Daily Challenge:  Create one practice that will help you grow in your ability to love.  Consider friends, neighbors, and strangers and pick one thing to do to deepen your ability to love one of these groups.

Come to the party - July 14

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 38; PM Psalm 119:25-48; 1 Samuel 20:1-23; Acts 12:18-25; Mark 2:13-22

Jesus went out again beside the lake; the whole crowd gathered around him, and he taught them. As he was walking along, he saw Levi son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax booth, and he said to him, ‘Follow me.’ And he got up and followed him.

And as he sat at dinner in Levi’s house, many tax-collectors and sinners were also sitting with Jesus and his disciples—for there were many who followed him. (Mark 2:13-15)

This passage from Mark has a lot going on. The narrator advises us of several things at play in this scene: Jesus is by the water. He is surrounded by people. He is teaching them. And then he and the crowd walk past a tax booth staffed by Levi. Jesus says, “Follow me.” Levi does just this. Then, the parade of people break their travel at Levi’s house and have dinner.

As I slow down and envision the scripture coming to life, I have a couple of questions. First is this: there is a tax booth somewhere near the lake. I imagine the booth resembling Lucy’s psychiatric help booth from the Peanuts cartoon, and just on the shoreline (as it is summertime and I have beach on the brain). However, I also imagine the water being a bit away from the city center, so it sounds comical that a tax collection station would be set up remotely – and maybe on a beach?

The second point that stops me short this morning revolves around the shared meal. In truth, this is an impromptu party, where folks just arrive and begin the festivities at Levi’s house, from as much as scripture tells us. Now, perhaps there was more dialogue – like we have in the story of Zaccheus the tax collector (Luke 19:1-10), in which Jesus tells the wealthy chief tax collector that he is coming to his house. Maybe Levi offers his home as a venue along the way. I don’t know about your house, but my abode is not always ready at a moment’s notice to welcome a pop-up dinner gathering. (That being said, it would delight my daughter to no end to have our entire church family come to our house for a party!)

At the heart of this excerpt from Mark, I love the desire for gathering together as community, sharing a meal, and putting aside the differences that keep us apart. Jesus knows that we all need nourishment and inclusion, whether we have been sitting alone or have our peer group to bring us assurance. What a joy and grace it must have been to sit with Jesus and tell stories and listen to one another.

The Messiah challenges us to be vulnerable and be open to receiving the healing love of God. When we are open to receive, our hearts will flutter and we’ll feel that exhilaration and hopefulness that comes with something fresh and joyful – a new vista, a surprising connection, or a brush with angels’ wings. Join me in the joy and trepidation of being vulnerable to need God’s healing today.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

When have you been surprised by someone who invited you to join them?

Think of a time when you invited someone to come to church or talk about the Bible or prayer. What did you share? What did you learn?

Daily Challenge

 Find a way to sit in stillness today for five minutes. Breathe deeply. Imagine being open and receiving healing from Jesus. Pray for your own needs. Then take time to pray for the needs of others. End in words of gratitude for God.

Through the Roof - July 13

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 26, 28; PM Psalm 36, 39; 1 Samuel 19:1-18; Acts 12:1-17; Mark 2:1-12

Today’s Reflection

Imagine living in Jesus’ neighborhood and then hearing that your neighbor finally has returned home from a long trip—and you’ve heard all sorts of stories about amazing things he said and did while traveling through so many other villages and towns. What would you do? Run over to Jesus’ house, of course, to see and hear for yourself!

This is just the situation Mark describes in the story we hear today from Mark 2. So many people want to get close to Jesus and hear firsthand from him that they crowd into and all around his house: “So many gathered around that there was no longer room for them, not even in front of the door” (2:2).

A particular group of five friends has heard the stories of what their neighbor Jesus has been doing in other towns and they talk amongst themselves about how they really need to get into Jesus’ house, too. One of their group is paralyzed (whether short-term or long-term, we don’t know) and the other four friends are determined that they will make a way for their friend to get in front of Jesus so that he can be healed. Since the door is blocked by the crowd spilling out of the house and into the street, they think about their options and realize there’s another way in—through the roof!

In our time, we may not think of the roof of the house as having much potential for being an entryway into the house. But the kind of house common to Capernaum at the time was constructed in such a way that this was possible. According to one commentary, “A flat roof could be accessed from the outside. It consisted of branches and sticks, combined with clay, and Luke adds the detail that the roof had clay ‘tiles,’ which were used on some houses at that time” (ESV Study Bible 1896). So, the way this roof was constructed meant that if someone were determined enough, they could make a way into the house from above: “And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay” (2:4).

We learn a lot about the faith of these five men through this very creative, determined act of friendship. Perhaps the paralyzed friend had been in an accident or had suffered an illness while Jesus had been out of town. Finally, they heard the news that Jesus was home—and they weren’t going to let the crowd stop them from getting their friend in front of Jesus.

Now some would have been angry to find people digging an opening in their roof, skipping in the line, so to speak, by lowering a man in through the ceiling. But Jesus saw this as an indication of their great faith in God, not to mention their great love for their friend: “When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’ … ‘I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home.’ And he stood up, and immediately took the mat and went out before all of them; so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, ‘We have never seen anything like this!’” (2: 5, 11-12).

In the book, Mark as Story, which we were assigned to read by our beloved New Testament professor at Seminary of the Southwest, the authors share some insights on what we learn about faith through these nameless characters in Jesus’ story: “The faith of the minor characters is important, because the work of the rule of God is contingent on people who ‘turn around and put faith in the good news.’ … Sometimes, friends or family bring the person to be healed… The active faith of these surrogates counts for the faith of trust of those on whose behalf they have come.”

As Mark describes, “When Jesus saw their faith,” it was then that he pronounced forgiveness and healing would be given to the paralytic man. The faith of his friends had made it possible for the man to be restored to health by Jesus. However, as the authors of Mark as Story observe, “For Mark, faith does not itself restore the suppliant, for it is God alone who restores. However, because neither Jesus nor God forces healing, faith becomes essential as a way to release and receive healing. Faith does not have to do with correct beliefs about Jesus. For Mark, faith is a matter of trusting that God will act through Jesus. Such faith gives people access to God’s power.”

As believers in Christ, sometimes we are blessed to be given the role of suppliant on behalf of another—God allows us the privilege of being in a position, through our own faith, of seeking healing on behalf of someone else. We do this through praying for someone in need, but also as we stand by someone as they seek healing. Maybe we go with someone to their appointments, a prayerful and reassuring presence, an advocate for them with their medical team. Maybe along with others we help point someone who has been resistant to healing toward new resources for health and wholeness. As we are reminded today in Mark 2, “By faith, the suppliant is empowered to be a partner in the healing with God” (Mark as Story 131-132).

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When has someone been a suppliant on your behalf, praying to God for your healing? When have you experienced others taking the role of advocate for you, making sure you have access to the caregivers and resources needed to promote health and wholeness in your life? When have you taken on these roles for others, and what did you learn by living out your faith in this way?

Daily Challenge

If you’re looking for a good resource to help you dig deeper in the Gospel of Mark, consider getting your own copy of Mark as Story, which helps us understand this Gospel account through focusing on its narrator, settings, plot, characters, and audience.

Change is Coming - July 12

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 25; PM Psalm 9, 15; 1 Samuel 18:5-16,27b-30; Acts 11:19-30; Mark 1:29-45

Last night, I worshiped at our 5:00 p.m. Celtic service of Holy Eucharist.  At that service, we have a number of alternative prayers, candles, and instrumental music, and lately, we have been using Eucharistic Prayer C from the Book of Common Prayer.  Often referred to as the ‘Star Wars’ prayer, it draws attention to “the vast expanse of interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses, and this fragile earth, our island home.”  It’s weird and earthy, and I love it. 

But it’s not my favorite for those reasons.  At the end of the Eucharistic Prayer is my absolute favorite few lines.  We are commanded to “Open our eyes to see your hand at work in the world about us. Deliver us from the presumption of coming to this Table for solace only, and not for strength; for pardon only, and not for renewal. Let the grace of this Holy Communion make us one body, one spirit in Christ, that we may worthily serve the world in his name.” What a powerful way of communicating the hope and power of the Eucharist!  We are coming to be renewed, strengthened, and changed!  Yes, it is about sin and redemption, but it’s also about a lot more. 

Here is the kicker:  if we need to be renewed and strengthened, then there is something we all need that we don’t already have.  The people who show up on Sunday are not complete without God’s grace and renewal.  And the people who leave Sunday are better off than they were before they walked in. 

In today’s Gospel, there is a lot of healing.  Demons are cast out, people are cured, a leper is made clean.  People’s lives are fundamentally changed.  When people encounter Jesus, they are not the same people as before.  

The power of the Gospel is that this same gift is what we experience each invitation to the table, to be healed, to be renewed, to be made clean, to be strengthened, and to be changed.  In the words of Annie Dillard, ‘we are mixing up a batch of TNT.”  You and I will be different when we walk out of the building. I think a more serious consideration should be if we are open and willing to that change? 

If you have the option of going to Church this Sunday and you feel safe doing so, please do.  If you can’t get to church and live in the Birmingham area, someone from Saint Stephen’s will bring you the Holy Eucharist (just let me know).  And I’m praying that after those sacred moments, once again, life will never be the same.  Isn’t that what believe?  Or does it all hinge on an openness to believe that truth? 

Change is coming, and it’s coming Sunday.  Are you open to what could happen?

John+

 Questions for Self-Reflection:  Is the Holy Eucharist a part of your life of faith?  What role does it play?  How has the pandemic changed that practice for you?  What has filled its place?

Daily Challenge:  Spend some time with the four different Eucharistic Prayers in the Book of Common Prayer.  On the sidebar click “the Holy Eucharist” and then click “Rite II.”  Consider which language is most meaningful to you. 

The Shepherd and the Philistine – July 10

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 20, 21:1-7(8-14); PM Psalm 110:1-5(6-7), 116, 117; 1 Samuel 17:31-49; Acts 11:1-18; Mark 1:14-28

I can still remember being eight or nine years old and sitting on my bed with my mom, as she read stories to me from this large burgundy book, Hurlbut’s Story of the Bible. It was hers when she was young, and she shared it with me. One of the tales that fascinated me was the epic fight between David the shepherd and Goliath the Philistine giant. I can see in my mind’s eye the picture of little boy David and enormous warrior Goliath, a mismatched pair for battle. And today, we get to read a portion of the story through the scripture appointed from 1 Samuel.

Reading the story today, two things stick out. First, David speaks of himself to Saul as “your servant” - in third person, which is both amusing and odd. Second, this shepherd is not just a meek and mild pretty face. David is a badass:

“But David said to Saul, ‘Your servant used to keep sheep for his father; and whenever a lion or a bear came, and took a lamb from the flock, I went after it and struck it down, rescuing the lamb from its mouth; and if it turned against me, I would catch it by the jaw, strike it down, and kill it. Your servant has killed both lions and bears; and this uncircumcised Philistine shall be like one of them, since he has defied the armies of the living God.’” (1 Samuel 17:34-36)

Yes, you read that correctly. This shepherd fought lions and bears with his bare hands, and it sounds like he did it singlehandedly. He would grab their jaws – which sounds nearly impossible while evading the powerful paws and claws of these predators. He would wrench the prey from their mouths. He would then kill the offending beast. I imagine the animal as immense as a grizzly bear, with Werner Herzog narrating the documentary, but even if the powerful predators were the size of a puma or bobcat, what David describes is harrowing and bold. He a fierce protector of his flock.

In verse 37, the shepherd credits Yahweh (the Lord) with keeping him safe, saving him from the paws and jaws of bears and lions. If God protects David from predators, then surely he will be safe from the hands of the offending Philistine. Perhaps it is not surprising, then, that though it was offered to him by Saul, the beautiful shepherd boy wears no external armor to shield his body or head when he goes into battle. David trusts the Lord to be with him as he wields his sling – slight in presentation yet dangerous as a weapon of ancient warfare.

When the Philistine (referred to only once as Goliath of Gath in 1 Samuel 17:4) meets his opponent on the field of battle, he says, “Come to me, and I will give your flesh to the birds of the air and to the wild animals of the field.” David retorts with a great speech:

“You come to me with sword and spear and javelin; but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This very day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you down and cut off your head; and I will give the dead bodies of the Philistine army this very day to the birds of the air and to the wild animals of the earth, so that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel, and that all this assembly may know that the Lord does not save by sword and spear;  for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.” (v. 45-47)

David, speaking eloquently, brings a strong resolve that is unparalleled. To him, it is not a singular match between two people. Rather, David is representing all of Israel and is backed by God, facing the defiance of the Philistines who have affronted the Lord. David far from a meek and mild pretty face, the baby of the family. He is on fire for God. It is God’s righteousness that propels him forward into battle. And David prevailed.

While I have always seen David as an underdog in this epic battle, perhaps I was looking through the lens of the Philistine, Goliath of Gath. This morning I see the story differently. The story that Israel retold to their daughters and sons showed what we see in holy scripture: a fierce shepherd trusted fully in God, while tending sheep and facing adversaries.

The hand of the living God is here to save David, and that hand is here to save you, too. Whatever struggle is plaguing you or those you love, I pray that you see the loving, strong hand of the Lord guiding you in pleasure and in hardship. May you be strengthened by God this day.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

When was a time you were underestimated? Who have you gauged incorrectly before, who appeared stronger or more resilient than you expected? What happened next?

Daily Challenge

David was prepared for battle because he was grounded in God's love for him -- not in his own drive for success. Spend two minutes in quiet prayer about how the Lord is equipping you in love and life - for what battles are behind and ahead for you. Then, take five minutes to journal about what comes up for you in the witness of David the shepherd.

Like a Dove - July 9

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 16, 17; PM Psalm 22; 1 Samuel 17:17-30; Acts 10:34-48; Mark 1:1-13

Today’s Reflection

“In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’” –Mark 1: 9-11

I’ve always found birds both comforting and fascinating. Their songs bring me a sense of joy and peace. Their fluttering and gliding about the yard, eating seeds, finding worms, splashing around in water, reminds me always of the ways God provides for even the birds of the air. Birds’ interactions with one another often remind me by analogy of the ways in which we people can interact with one another—there’s enough seed for everyone, and different kinds of birds can all come and find sustenance together around the same feeder. In my childhood home, one of my bedroom windows looked out onto a small patio, from which hanging pots hung down from the eaves. I still remember the mother dove who once decided to make a nest for her eggs in one of these potted plants, just outside my window, and I recall watching with expectation for when the dove eggs would hatch.

So, it’s not surprising that, when I made my first visit to the Seminary of the Southwest in Austin back in February 2016, I noticed the doves. Maybe birds are not what everyone notices when they visit a seminary campus, but the doves’ presence there was very striking to me. The seminary campus is quite small, a cloister of two-story, limestone-covered buildings gathered roughly in a circle facing inward toward an open area called the Motte (which, as our seminary dean shared with us is a term, specific to the Southwest, for a grove of trees). The trees in the Motte are all oak trees, many of which are beautiful old live oak trees that have been there since the Rather House (now the seminary administration building) was a family home in the old days of Austin.

In the quiet of that first evening at the seminary, and again in other quiet moments on that campus visit, I noticed the sounds of doves calling in these oak trees. The acoustics of the stone buildings arranged around the Motte amplified their calls. As one who was there as part of an intense period of discernment, and as one who has long looked for and listened for God in nature, I found a sense of God’s peace and holiness in the sounds of those doves. It felt like confirmation, in a way, that this would be a peaceful and holy place to be formed for ministry. Later, when my family moved there for seminary, we put out a feeder to attract these same doves to the little tree that shaded our front porch. And as I went about my seminary life those three years, I always stopped to listen when I heard the doves continue to call out to one another—and, maybe, also to me.

In our Judeo-Christian heritage, doves have long played an important role in the relationship between God and people. When the earth flooded and Noah took his family and the animals into the ark, he sent a dove out to see if it would return; when the dove returned with a sprig of olive leaves in its beak, Noah saw it as a sign that the waters were receding. In the Song of Solomon, doves are used in this love poem as a way of describing the beauty of the beloved. Throughout the Scriptures, doves are frequently mentioned as the sacrifice that people of meager means, like Joseph and Mary, could afford to bring to the temple.

And so, when we read in Mark’s Gospel that at the baptism of Jesus the Holy Spirit descended on Jesus “like a dove,” we are not surprised to read of the Spirit being described in this way. If you’ve ever watched doves, you know that they flutter their wings in a particular way as they hover down to a landing. This seems to be what Mark was getting at when he uses the image of the dove to describe the Holy Spirit descending on Jesus as he rose forth from the waters of the Jordan.

Over this past year of living in Birmingham, I’ve enjoyed all the birds who call our big backyard beneath the pecan and oak trees home. Rarely (if ever), have I noticed doves amongst the cardinals and thrashers and blue birds and the rest. But lately, just these past few weeks, a pair of doves has started to appear, and call me mystical or out there, but when I see them I do feel a sense of peace and reassurance—a sense that God’s Spirit is in our midst, and has been all along.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What reminds you of the presence of the Holy Spirit at work in your life and in the world around you? A gentle breeze? A gusty wind? A cleansing rain? The waves of the ocean? The flickering of a candle’s flame? A roaring fire? The sounds of doves? The voice of a friend?

Daily Challenge

See and read about one visual representation of Christ’s baptism in the Visual Commentary on Scripture. You can also use the search feature on this web site to explore how other artists have used doves in visual interpretations of scripture over the centuries.

"My Well is Dry, and that's Okay" - July 8

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 18:1-20; PM Psalm 18:21-50; 1 Samuel 16:14-17:11; Acts 10:17-33; Luke 24:36-53

On Monday morning, I awoke at 5:15 a.m. to start writing my reflection.  Sometimes I write in the afternoon or evenings, and sometimes I get a late start with an exceptionally early morning.  A fun celebration on the 4th of July after a full day at church had me waiting until the next morning.  

I’d been thinking a lot about independence and freedom, had even prepared by reading the Declaration of Independence and as I sat there in front of my computer screen, the words stumbled off my fingers.  I tried to write about freedom (I had just preached about this the day before).  I typed words from the readings, and the special collects for the day, and cut excerpts out of the Declaration of Independence.  I worked through a full pot of coffee. 

An hour and a half later, I looked at my computer screen and for the first time since March of 2020, I closed Microsoft Word with nothing to show or share.  I drafted an email to Katherine and Becky, saying “My Well is Dry” but decided not to send that either.  And I left for a long bike ride on a beautiful Monday morning 

For most of the morning (and on and off this week), I have felt guilty.  Writing multiple times a week for the past year and a half has been a huge gift, a practice that has shaped my own process for reflection, forced me to spend more time in Holy Scripture, and been a vehicle for creativity and contemplation.  It’s a practice I plan on upholding for as long as I can, one that I hope will last much longer. Honestly, I’m a little embarrassed that I couldn’t make everything work on Monday. My own self-reflection is a reminder about how easy it is to value our self-worth on what we can produce, or accomplish, or achieve. 

Today’s Gospel is the very end of the Gospel according to Luke.  It is an account of the Resurrection.  In a way, the disciples are commissioned to go forth living into the reality of the truth that had been revealed to them.  I like Luke’s interpretation because he reminds the disciples that they “are witnesses of all these things.”  It’s not up to the disciples to create content, produce value, start something new, but instead to be witnesses. 

You and I are not wrapped up in this crazy story of Resurrection and God’s love because of what we can do or produce.  We are a part of this movement of faith because of what God has already done.  It’s a helpful reminder. Take a day off, skip the meeting, ignore the email, and remember it’s not about what you can do, but what God has already done.  We are witnesses and that is good enough. I’ll try to believe it too.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Where are moments lately that you haven’t been able to accomplish what you set out to?  What role does ambition, accomplishment, and pride play in your ego?  How do you understand God’s call to be witnesses of the Resurrection?

Daily Challenge:  Let go of something you are supposed to do today.  Instead, read a passage of Scripture, call a friend or loved one, and offer to pray with them. 

Angels among Us – July 7

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:1-24; PM Psalm 12, 13, 14; 1 Samuel 16:1-13; Acts 10:1-16; Luke 24:12-35

In Acts 10 and Luke 24, we read of human brushes with angels.

A centurion named Cornelius has a vision in which he clearly sees an angel coming toward him and it calls him by name and gives him direction: ‘Your prayers and your alms have ascended as a memorial before God. Now send men to Joppa for a certain Simon who is called Peter; he is lodging with Simon, a tanner, whose house is by the seaside.’ (Acts 10:4-6)  Cornelius obeys, in a story that is unfurled more in the following verses in chapter 10. Because of the angel’s intercession, Cornelius and three others heard Peter share the Good News and they were baptized. The angel’s message opened the door to a more robust encounter with the Divine.

After the death (and unbeknownst resurrection) of Jesus, two of his followers were walking on the road to Emmaus. Jesus began walking alongside them, though their eyes were prevented from seeing it was truly the Christ. He asked them what they were talking about. They unfurled the happenings of late, retelling of the death of Jesus and odd happenings in the wake of the Nazorean’s burial:

“Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” (Luke 24:22-24)

Jesus calls them foolish for not understanding all that was going on, and then talks through the story of Israel as God’s people – retelling the scriptures and interpreting the scriptures that had foretold Jesus’ ministry and sacrifice. When they reached Emmaus, it looked as if the “stranger” (Jesus) was going elsewhere, but they convinced him to join them. In Luke’s account, we read:

“When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, ‘Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?’” (Luke 24:30-32)

Though they had just wrapped up a long walk to Emmaus, the two headed back to Jerusalem at once to tell Jesus’ inner circle and others of their brush with the risen Lord.

Reading these scriptural accounts of angelic interactions (and brushes with the risen Christ), I think about the power of divine revelation. I am struck by how God’s gift of angels upon our journey is fleeting, surprising, and yet powerful in bringing us to deeper understanding of the Lord’s involvement in our lives. The song that keeps bubbling up in my mind this morning is “Angels among Us”, recorded in the early 1990s by the country band Alabama. Those angels among us might help us find our way on a foggy night. Those angels among us might be the medical team bringing us strength and encouragement after a terrible injury. Those angels among us might be the words of assurance in our darkest hours, when it feels that all is lost.

If you find yourself in need and are calling out in sadness, talk to a friend. Reach out to your clergy at Saint Stephen’s. Know that you are loved by God and that you are not alone.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

When you think of stories of angels, what comes to mind? What does the term "angelic" mean to you?

Who is a messenger of God's love in your life?

Daily Challenge

In Acts, Cornelius the centurion was a prayerful soldier. An angel came to him in a vision after his fervent prayers to God and his disciplined giving to the church to help those in need.

Take time this week to pray like Cornelius - pray that God will open your eyes to where you are needed. Give like Cornelius, giving alms to the church to help those who are hungry, suffering, and in a dire time.