Are all slaps equal? – September 22

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82; 2 Kings 6:1-23; 1 Cor. 5:9-6:8; Matt. 5:38-48

My reflection from this past Saturday never was penned. While I had many reflection-worthy experiences from which to pull, I was simply too tired. I needed to rest. And so, I did that. Sabbath looks like that sometimes. We have other things pulling at us, and yet, we prioritize health.

Refreshed, I opened the scriptures appointed for today. We meet Jesus in Matthew 5 in the midst of the sermon on the mount, offering wisdom point by point. In verse 38, we read, ’You have heard that it was said, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.”’

I remember learning about Hammurabi’s Code in 9th grade history from Mr. Roberts – an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Gruesome retribution, to be sure. Through the eyes of sibling rivalry, that kind of payback felt good in the very moment. My sisters and I would try to get digs in at each other, one paying the other back for a mean word or kick to the shin. I can still feel the burn in my gut, feeling angry or resentful, and lashing out. The fallout is painful, though. Brokenness and tears. Deepened chasms of angst and separation. And then, somebody tells Mom.

My high horse of physical domination or intellectual superiority over my sisters – who were four years younger than me – quickly would deflate into a pool of fear and dread. Mom’s justice was far from Hammurabi’s mode. She was raised by the daughter of a Presbyterian minister. Mom reminded us about responsibility, connection, and resolution, though her means of delivering that message was not measured in spoonfuls of sugar, but rather was peppered with pointed fingers and sharp tones. And there was probably a “You ought to know better” thrown into the mix, too…because we did.

Jesus offers a different twist on Hammurabi’s Code. Preaching to his disciples and the crowds all around the mountain, this Nazarene woodworker suggests a response in absurdity when met with social injustice. For example, Jesus says, “Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also.” Sometimes this verse is understood as a call to radical nonviolence.

Through understanding ancient Jewish culture, we get a different read on Jesus’ message. Striking a person’s cheek was a way to inflict shame, not just pain, on a person. There were ancient Jewish laws about compensation due to those who were injured wrongly or abused. Those acting unjustly were responsible for making amends, financially and otherwise. Interestingly, a slap on the cheek is one of the humiliating offenses spelled out in the Mishna Bava Kamma, one of the Jewish texts that offered guidance on civil matters:

“If someone slaps another person, he must pay two hundred zuzim. If it was backhanded, he must pay four hundred zuzim. If someone flicks a person’s ear, pulls his hair, spits so that it lands on him, strips his cloak off, or pulls off a woman’s headscarf in public, [the perpetrator] must pay four hundred zuzim.” (m.Bava Kamma 8:6)

In Middle Eastern culture, the dominant hand is the right hand, and so that is the hand with which most activities are executed. Striking a person on the right cheek with the right hand would require using a backhanded motion. A backhanded slap is considered twice as offensive as an openhanded slap, and thus subject to double the fine, as we read above.

A backhanded slap is a sign of deep insult, due to someone of insignificance. An openhanded slap is delivered to someone who is more likely an equal. Jesus tells this crowd – most likely the hungry rabble and not those in power – to offer the left cheek after being backhanded on the right cheek. If the left cheek is then slapped, it is a sign that the person is of higher rank or equal status. Offering the left cheek is a nonverbal way to stop someone in their tracks. Drawn up short, the person wonders, “Wait, is this person my equal?” They are left to question and examine their actions within cultural norms, without one physical blow waged in retribution.

Clever, right?

Jesus was teaching his followers how to love fully and live shrewdly. He taught them to rethink cultural mores and find spaces of empowerment – not for their glory, but for their health and strength. Jesus helped those treated unjustly to seek justice and cultivated an understanding for how God sees each of us, so that we may see one another as siblings.

--Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

How do you react when you feel wronged by someone? Hurl back a punch or an insult? Tell the authority?

What is perplexing to you about Jesus’ call to turn the other cheek?

Daily Challenge

Jesus taught his friends to fully understand the systems around them. He pushed them to examine themselves and the connections in their lives. What is a relationship in your life that needs pondering and prodding today? Pray about a connection that has tension or frustration. Spend 10 minutes journaling about avenues of deeper understanding or where you need to do some work.

Quit Lit - September 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 78:1-39; PM Psalm 78:40-72; Isaiah 8:11-20; Romans 10:1-15; Matthew 13:44-52

Today’s Reflection

Through the seven years I was a grad student, the year in between degrees that I worked as an adjunct, and the twelve years I worked full-time as a university professor, I would keep up with reading the different e-mail lists, blogs, and later social media feeds geared toward academics. Of all the different things academics write about in their sub-culture, I was always fascinated by a genre of life writing dubbed Quit Lit, which are the different stories and statements of reasons that professors or aspiring professors give when they decide to leave academia behind them.

Many of these stories are tales of people who earned PhDs but could never secure that elusive unicorn that so many people with PhDs are striving toward: the tenure-track position. They get tired of the rat race of applying for positions and biding their time in contingent (semester to semester, year to year) teaching jobs. Or some Quit Lit is authored by those who found the unicorn but weren’t able to keep it in their grasp—the expectations were too high, or the colleagues were too cruel, or the university budgets were too tight.

Once in a while once will read Quit Lit by someone who had secured the elusive tenure-track job, done well in it, and then decided to walk away from academia any way. Personally, though I was in that last category, I never wrote my own Quit Lit narrative—at the time, living it seemed challenging enough. To walk away from a profession one has thrown themselves into and been immersed in for years or even, for some, decades is a decision not made lightly.

My observations of those who have composed their own Quit Lit, and my own experience of discerning a new vocation in midlife, leads me to have a special interest in the stories behind how each of the disciples came to leave behind what they did before to follow Jesus. Peter and others were fishermen. Luke is said to have been a physician.

On September 21, the church commemorates the life of Saint Matthew. Besides being the likely author of the Gospel according to Matthew, what else do we know about him? Before Matthew was called by Jesus to be one of the Twelve, he had a very different profession: tax collector. Here’s how the calling of Matthew by Jesus is told in his Gospel account:

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man called Matthew 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 the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting with him and his disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” (Matthew 9: 9-13)

Matthew didn’t have the luxury, as I did, of ruminating and praying for a long period of time to discern whether he should leave his well-paying (though socially shunned) position as a tax collector. Jesus just approached him at his tax collection booth one day, said “Follow me,” and Matthew did. There’s no description of how the conversation may have unfolded—was there a dialogue before that in which Jesus gave a sort of elevator talk for what it meant to be a disciple before he made the big ask. All we know is that Jesus asked Matthew to follow him and Matthew said yes. What a great example of faithfulness we have set before us in Matthew’s own, very short, simple Quit Lit story!

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What is a major life change you have made, when you decided to leave one pursuit behind so that you could try something new?

What is something you could leave behind in order to pick up something new that would encourage yourself and others in the faith?

Daily Challenge

Take a few minutes today to read some of the Gospel accounts of how Jesus called each of the disciples to come follow him. Reflect on what comes to mind for you as you carry these stories with you for the rest of the day.

The Peace of the Lord - September 20

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 80; PM Psalm 77, [79]; 2 Kings 5:1-19; 1 Cor. 4:8-21; Matt. 5:21-26

The Rabbi Harold Kushner once said,

“A woman in my congregation comes to see me.  She is a single mother, divorced, working to support herself and three young children. She says to me, “Since my husband walked out on us, every month is a struggle to pay our bills.  I have to tell my kids we have no money to go to the movies, while he’s living it up with his new wife in another state.  How can you tell me to forgive him?” I answer her, “I’m not asking you to forgive him because what he did was acceptable.  It wasn’t.  It was mean and selfish.  I’m asking you to forgive because he doesn’t deserve the power to live in your head and turn you into a bitter angry woman.  I’d like to see him out of your life emotionally as completely as he is physically, but you keep holding on to him.  You are not hurting him by holding on to that resentment, but you are hurting yourself.”[i]

We often are led to believe that forgiveness is necessary for a person who has wronged us, or for our own sake when we have wronged someone else, but forgiveness is not limited to one party as it is necessary for both parties to live into God’s vision of reconciliation.  Rabbi Kushner reminds us just how dangerous it can be to hold onto feelings for our own wellbeing.

Today’s reading from Matthew is likely one of the justifications for passing the peace at Church.  The practice dates back to at least the fourth century and is a prerequisite for receiving the Holy Eucharist.  We extend to each other the peace of God, we are reconciled to each other, and then we are able to receive the gift of God’s presence in the Eucharist.   

As I reflect on eighteen months of pandemic, it seems to me there is justifiable anger by many.  Poor individual and corporate decisions have affected the well-being of others.  And I am wondering what the fallout will be for years to come as we wonder how things could have been handled differently.  Judgment, shame, and anger could so easily be our next story.  And yet as Matthew’s Gospel account suggested, we cannot truly offer our gifts to God until we are first reconciled to each other.  As individuals, we cannot offer our full selves when we are consumed with anger or resentment, even if fully justified.

In a period of such tragic loss when there is more than enough blame to go around, how do we not become consumed with resentment that further decays our own wellbeing?  I’m guessing it starts with prayer.  And maybe with an understanding that God desires to make us whole so that we can experience the gift of God’s presence too.  It’s far too easy these days to keep tabs.  Maybe we should let others do that and we can focus on passing the peace.  The Peace of the Lord be always with you.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Are there feelings of resentment and anger that you hold on to?  How are those feelings benefiting you?  What are your own practices that help you learn to forgive? 

Daily Challenge: Write down three things that occupy too much space in your mind or heart.  Focus on forgiveness for those three things, specifically in preparation for the gift of the Eucharist.  If you are yet to be worshiping in person, consider requesting a Eucharistic Visitor by emailing Katherine.

[i] See Harold Kushner in Simon Wiesenthal, The Sunflower (New York: Schocken Books, 1998), 186.

Human Salt - September 17

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 69:1-23(24-30)31-38; PM Psalm 73; 2 Kings 1:2-17; 1 Cor. 3:16-23; Matt. 5:11-16

Today’s Reflection

‘You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. ‘You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.  Matthew 5:11-16

What does it mean to be salt and light? We know, of course, what salt and light are in the physical world. In school, we learned that salt is HCl. Maybe your teacher even brought in a big piece of it to show what it looks like before it is broken in up into tiny crystals to season food. And in physics we learned about light—how fast light travels, how it can be refracted, and how it allows us to experience the whole spectrum of colors (this is when we’d get to bring out the prisms, always a highlight in science class).

Before we get into what it means for human beings to be like physical elements like salt and light, it’s important to step back and look at the words Jesus uses to talk about this. The Rev. Canon Christopher Russell, Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby’s Adviser for Evangelism and Witness, gave a talk to a clergy conference in Florida back in February 2020. Russell reflected in depth on the implications of this passage for how we, as Christians, are to see our mission and conduct our lives, as individuals and as a church:

In this, Jesus is telling us about our identity: You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. … Not just the light of Galilee. Not just the light of Jerusalem. Not just the light of Israel, but the light of the Cosmos. … Note that he doesn’t say you should be the light of the world, you could be the light of the world, you ought to be the salt of the earth. You see, no shoulds, no coulds, no oughts. You are. … In every church, you are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world. …. Let us become who we are. Not who we ought to be, but who we are—because Jesus has stated that we are the salt of the earth, the light of the world. Let us become that.

But what does Jesus mean when he tells his disciples (and by extension, us) that they (and we) are to be salt and light? What Jesus is getting at is that we are supposed to take on some of the characteristics of these elements in the way we interact with our surroundings, especially with the people around us. Russell observes what it meant to talk about salt in Jesus’ time and place, when people were more acutely aware of salt’s essential role in preserving and protecting life:

You are the salt of the earth. Salt wasn’t an optional table condiment. Salt was essential to daily life. Stopped things decaying, stopped infections from spreading. It sanctified people, Leviticus tells us. Salt doesn’t exist for itself. … Salt only has purpose when it has contact. As salt of the earth, we have to have contact with this world. … Conversation is the seasoning. Our words of course must be borne out by our lives.

Listening to Russell’s talk changed the way I understand these words from Jesus. It had never before occurred to me that “salt only has purpose when it has contact.” But now that I have grasped this, the application of these verses to the mission of the church is now much more clear.

We are the salt of the earth. We must have contact with other people to make a difference in the world for Christ. We cannot just stay in our own individual bubbles or silos. We must take the risk of making meaningful contact with others. Living these past 18 months through a pandemic that has often required us to have less contact with others, many of the habits and routines we had before for remaining in contact with others have been disrupted. After such a long pause, putting our toes back into the salty waters of being with others in our church and wider community seems unfamiliar and even risky after so many days, weeks, and months of isolation, disruption, and trauma.

Being salt begins with making meaningful contact with one another here at Saint Stephen’s; we can be salt that preserves, sanctifies, and seasons one another’s lives as we get to know one another through small groups, Bible studies, and book groups, as we worship with one another on Sundays, as we care for one another through pastoral care and outreach, and as we care for creation together, making our church campus a more sustainable one. Being salt of the earth also requires that we embolden one another to get out into the wider community of Birmingham, to get to know people beyond the places we usually go. As Russell observes, “Notice when Jesus says ‘you’ he is not talking to an individual—he’s talking to a group and to a community. … The corporate is the thing that counts. We know we have gotten into all sorts of trouble when we’re getting stuck on our own ministries. We know it’s about ‘us.’ It’s we before me.”

Russell asked his audience to think about what is our distinctive—what makes the church distinctive from other organizations and groups? Russell offers this answer to the question of what makes us different: “What if our first distinctive is: We are the church and therefore we are for the world. We are called by Christ to be for others.” To be “for others,” we also must be with others. And in so doing we will find that we are salt and we are light.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What kinds of human contact have you missed most over these past 18 months? What are one or two specific things you could do to reconnect with people at Saint Stephen’s and in the wider community over the next week or two?

Daily Challenge

Listen to the Rev. Canon Christopher Russell’s full address on being salt and light here.

God's Wisdom - September 16

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm [70], 71; PM Psalm 74; 1 Kings 22:29-45; 1 Cor. 2:14-3:15; Matt. 5:1-10

“Those who are unspiritual do not receive the gifts of God’s Spirit, for they are foolishness to them, and they are unable to understand them because they are discerned spiritually. Those who are spiritual discern all things, and they are themselves subject to no one else’s scrutiny. ‘For who has known the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him?’ But we have the mind of Christ. - 1 Corinthians 2:14-16

On Wednesday evenings, I lead two different Bible studies.   At 5:30 p.m., there is a Men’s Bible Study and after Compline, around 7:00 p.m. I gather with the Young Adults of Saint Stephen’s in hybrid format with people joining in person and on zoom.  I ask the same questions and we study the same scripture, but the conversation went in different directions.  That is probably not surprising with people's different junctures in life.  The Men’s Bible Study had an average age of closer to 50 while the young adults gathered on average were probably closer to 26 or 27. 

This week, we explored the passage from James for this upcoming Sunday (James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a).  James is focused on wisdom, the theme of our Corinthians reading from yesterday and today as well.  And I asked both groups to define wisdom.  Our young adults focused on what we learn from experience.  Essentially, they ended up with the answer: “knowledge applied.”  This is certainly true as a group that is rapidly gaining more experience in the world and looking back at how much more they know now than they did just a few years ago.  The older group ended up defining wisdom a little differently - “knowing what we don’t know,” a view from a little farther back from experience.  I was struck by just how different each group’s answers were. 

And yet both Paul and James had a little different definition.  In this excerpt, Paul differentiates between human wisdom and God’s wisdom or also known as God’s power.  God’s wisdom “is not a wisdom of this age or of the rulers of this age, who are doomed to perish. But we speak God’s wisdom, secret and hidden, which God decreed before the ages for our glory” (1 Corinthians 2:6-7).  God’s wisdom does not make sense to the ways of the world.  It is different!

I’m finding it challenging to believe that some of the wisdom I have learned from the world isn’t helpful.  I suspect it is profoundly helpful and yet Paul is critical.  But God’s wisdom is different, emboldened by the Holy Spirit. I shared on Sunday, the prayer for St. Francis which to me has often seemed like the gift of counter wisdom.  It is the antithesis of the way of the world: I wonder if this could be one way of entering into God’s wisdom. 

 “Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen. (BCP 877).”

God’s wisdom might be learned through experience.  And it might be admitting what we don’t know.  But it is also something that is given to us by God that stands contrary to what our ego is driving.  Paul suggests there is a better way of living through the wisdom passed down through God, and I am betting it’s the key to find life through our faith. 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What does wisdom mean to you?  Who do you consider to be wise?  How is God’s wisdom different than what you have learned yourself?

Daily Challenge: Make a list of five things that you do not know the answer to. Try more philosophical questions, not things you could quickly lookup with Google.

Healing and history - September 15

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; 1 Kings 22:1-28; 1 Cor. 2:1-13; Matt. 4:18-25

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them. (Matthew 4:24-25)

One of the methods of Bible study that I find generative and beautiful is to imagine where I would be in the scene as I ponder it. The act of hearing or reading Holy Scripture opens a doorway for each of us to crawl into the story and look around. In reading from the gospel according to Matthew this morning, I can imagine a dusty road in the white hot sun, waiting for Jesus. Waiting for my family’s turn for healing. Perhaps it took two of us to bring our uncle who is sick, as it is exhausting and physically awkward to help another grown person move about when they are unsteady on their feet. We follow the crowds to the public worship space to hear Jesus teach about this other kingdom, apart from the rulers of our land. This promised land and promised love of God. Healing in the moment and healing to come. What a hallowed place that synagogue feels like, witnessing healings and feeling the inspiration of Jesus’ message. I can imagine I would see that space of worship so differently after the healer and teacher moved on. Walking past it would elicit memories and feelings of consolation, hopefulness, peace, and inspiration.

Do you have a place that fills you with these feelings? Maybe it is Saint Stephen’s. Maybe it is a lake house. Maybe it is a parking lot. Who knows…many find churches spaces of peace and encouragement. I know I do. I am thinking about places of safety and nourishment this morning because today is the 58th anniversary of the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church. This church, originally organized in 1873 as the First Colored Baptist Church of Birmingham, functioned as a meeting place, social center, and lecture hall for a variety of activities important to the lives of the city’s black residents. On the church’s website today, in describing their history and the role of the church in community life, this is written: “African Americans from across the city and neighboring towns came to Sixteenth Street, then called ‘everybody’s church,’ to take part in the special programs it hosted.” Because of its central location, the church became a hub of activity for civil rights activities in Birmingham in the 1960s. Marches and demonstrations were planned and implemented to bring an end to the public segregation of blacks from whites.

On a Sunday morning in September 1963, at 10:22 a.m., a bomb exploded at Sixteenth Street Baptist Church, killing four young girls attending Sunday School and injuring more than 20 other members of the congregation. Later that same evening, in different parts of town, a black youth was killed by police and one was murdered by a mob of white men. September 15, 1963 was a painful, horrific day. The church that had been a nexus of hope and change was left with a hole blown out of the side, and hundreds of lives touched by violence and loss. “The Magic City” was a place of tragedy and racism.

John Archibald, the Pulitzer Prize winning columnist for The Birmingham News, spoke at Saint Stephen’s this weekend about his dad’s legacy as a local minister during the Civil Rights era. He spoke about how important it is to know the history. It is a painful history. It is an uncomfortable history. And yet, we are called to open our eyes to see the impact, know the loss, and seek to understand what went wrong. I come back to the image of standing in line, waiting for Jesus on that dusty road. I believe that as we imagine ourselves waiting for Jesus to cure every disease and every sickness among us, when it is our time, Jesus sees the whole picture of our brokenness and pain. He knows it all. There is no way to hide the festering wounds on our skin or in our hearts. He sees it.

Through prayer and study and action as Christians, we strive to prepare our hearts to welcome Jesus. So in the vein of that discipline, let us begin practicing being honest about our pains and disappointments, our regrets and our fears. Through being open and loving, let our prayers to God be that we will not repeat the hurt inflicted in the past. Let our prayers to God be that we will learn from our history of racism, so that we may live into the kingdom of God and do God’s will this day. Amen.

--Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Where is a place of healing and safety for you? What is it like for you to wait for healing?

What do you know or remember about the bombing of the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church?

Daily Challenge

Take a few minutes to read more about the racial conflicts in Birmingham in the 1960s. Then, sit in prayer, praying for those affected by violence as they worked for change. Finally, take 10 minutes to journal about how knowing this history moves you to act and be.

'God's foolishness is wiser than our wisdom' - September 14

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 61, 62; PM Psalm 68:1-20(21-23)24-36; 1 Kings 21:17-29; 1 Cor. 1:20-31; Matt. 4:12-17

Today’s Reflection

For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, God decided, through the foolishness of our proclamation, to save those who believe. … For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength. Consider your own call, brothers and sisters: not many of you were wise by human standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth. But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast in the presence of God. He is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption, in order that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.’   –1 Cor. 1:21, 25-31

It’s mostly invisible to people participating in worship in the Nave or online, but there are many complicated logistics involved in coordinating all the people and elements required for a worship service, especially within a larger parish like Saint Stephen’s. Then we add in all the technology needed to amplify our voices through microphones and speakers in the Nave, and that’s another level of complexity and coordination.

And then there’s everything required to get these images and sounds into a live feed—getting the lighting just right, controlling the three cameras, and the time given by the people who know how to run all these things—not to mention we should always be praying for a strong, consistent Internet connection! And now we’ve added livestreaming our Sunday Forums from the Parish Hall, which means we’re coordinating many of these same elements to make our adult formation hour accessible to as many people as possible.

This past Sunday was the first Sunday in a very long time that we were offering all four worship services in person plus in-person Christian formation programs at 10:15 a.m. for children, youth, and adults. It was the first Sunday we were moving the livestream operation to the 9 a.m. service, and the first Sunday we were trying a new technology set-up to livestream and record our Sunday Forum speaker John Archibald in the Parish Hall.

Many, many hours of thought and preparation went into planning the liturgies, laying out and editing the bulletin, and planning and practicing the music for the worship services. Still more time and thought was spent figuring out the cameras, mics, speakers, and livestream technology for our first Sunday Forum of the fall season. Our children’s and youth staff spent still more hours planning all their fall formation activities to begin on Sunday mornings. So many people’s time and talents were given to glorify God in and through all these preparations—all in the hope that still more people would be able to learn and worship together as a community this Sunday.

But then things happen that no amount of preparation can prevent or fix. An audio tower somehow was not plugged in, but just in the nick of time this was discovered and fixed (thanks Sheila!) and all was well with the audio output in the Parish Hall. Some very weird static interference was emanating (loudly!) from one of the main speakers in the Nave—in both the 9 and 11:15 worship services. In the 11:15 service, as celebrant I tried to just power through the noise—even as the static became increasingly overwhelming as we said the Nicene Creed. John rushed down the aisle to the problem speaker and then to the sound booth so that, by the time we reached the Peace, the announcements, and the Eucharistic Prayer, the speakers were working normally once more. There were probably other logistical hiccups around the church campus of which I am not even aware.

But let’s shift our mindset and think of everything that went right on this Sunday morning (and this is just a partial list):

·       Before we worshipped, flowers were arranged beautifully, and the items needed for communion were laid out carefully, by members of our Flower and Altar Guilds.

·       Hundreds of people came to worship in the Nave, spread out over four services.

·       Many others had the opportunity to worship with us online, whether watching live that morning or through the recorded service later in the day.

·       Children and youth were welcomed into sharing their gifts as acolytes—and they served with willing and joyful hearts that, by extension, encouraged all the rest of us to have a child-like faith.

·       Adults shared their gifts by reading scriptures, helping serve communion, greeting, ushering, and running the sound, video, and livestream.

·       Others shared their gifts of music, leading us with their voices and instruments.

·       Still others shared their gifts by spending an hour of their Sunday morning learning in community with our children and youth.

·       Members of our outreach ministries committee shared about their outreach ministries at tables in the Gathering Space.

·       People donated their blood to those in need through our LifeSouth blood drive.

·       Many people had the chance to learn from John Archibald and one another by attending our Sunday Forum in the Parish Hall—and many others viewed his presentation through YouTube.

·       Hundreds of people joined together to pray for the needs and concerns of our fellow parishioners and our wider community and world.

·       Communion was taken and shared with those who cannot travel to the church for worship.

·       The Gospel was proclaimed, an inspiring sermon was preached, and communion was shared—not just once, but four times.

As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, God takes all our human weaknesses—and even our human foolishness—and turns it into something that glorifies him and encourages us. Mistakes will be made. Speakers may not work right. Lines of the Gospel or the Eucharistic prayer may be flubbed. Livestream feeds may be lost in the shuffle.

There are no perfect people—and there are no perfect churches.

But amidst all of this, we come together to show one another love and hospitality, to worship God, and to share communion with one another. So, when we get things right, let us boast in the Lord. And when we get things wrong, we can rest assured that “God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength” (1 Cor. 1:25).  How much greater is the love of God than any of our human imperfections and insecurities!

For all of this, we can say loudly and joyfully: Thanks be to God! Alleluia, alleluia!

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When have you felt overwhelmed by your mistakes? When has it been hard to get past seeing what went wrong to see what went right? How does your belief in Jesus and being in community with others who believe help you to regain perspective and hopefulness?

Daily Challenge

Consider re-watching our clergy conversation from the spring, “Being Church in a Pandemic: Lessons Learned.” You can find it, along with all our other Sunday Forums and sermons, on our Saint Stephen’s YouTube channel.

You Cannot Live on Bread Alone - September 13

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; PM Psalm 64, 65; 1 Kings 21:1-16; 1 Cor. 1:1-19; Matt. 4:1-11

These past two years, I enjoyed learning more about cycling.  I usually ride a few times a week and on random Saturdays will find time to get outside for a few hours.  Saturday was one of those days with an organized group ride by the local cycling community.  The ride included several rest stops along the way, much-needed opportunities to recharge and refuel. 

One stop was on top of a large ridge.  We had just finished climbing Walker’s Gap in Springville Alabama, an over eight-hundred-foot climb in less than two miles to find an incredible view and more importantly several pop-up tents and tables full of pickle juice, Gatorade, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, candy bars, fruit, twinkies, and more.  I felt like I had arrived in the Promise Land.  I set my bike down and went to town feasting on a little of all that was available.  (Feasting on everything except the pickle juice. That is another story!)

What I really learned this past Saturday was more about nutrition.  I was able to push through more miles than before thanks to all of the stops and opportunities to load my body with calories.  All of this was necessary to push further and further, and when I crossed the finish line that afternoon, filled with a sense of accomplishment, that accomplishment was shared with the volunteers and support along the way who helped push the cyclists beyond what they were capable on their own. 

Food or calories fuel our bodies.  Never is this more apparent than when engaged in lengthy physical activity.  Maybe that is why these words from Matthew’s Gospel stand out when Jesus is being tempted in the desert, and Jesus is told that he has the power to turn stones into bread.  Jesus is famished and the bread will give him the strength to push on. The Scriptures say he has been fasting for forty days and forty nights.  I’m guessing that is worse than Walker’s Gap, and Jesus is ready for food.  And yet the response he offers is “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” 

The irony of writing this reflection, or of you reading it, is likely you already know this.  I hope that as you have found these daily reflections, they have deepened your own engagement with Holy Scripture.  I’m sure you don’t always agree with what is written, but maybe that sends you to click on the link for the corresponding Scripture and you find something else that speaks to you, challenges or comforts you, or aids you in your daily walk of life.

Maybe there are others in your life who feel spiritually famished.  Life has presented its own series of challenges and climbs and what seems best is for a giant rest stop or a break.  I’m willing to double down and suggest that won’t work in the long run.  We need God’s word to make sense of our lives.  Even Paul’s message this morning suggests the same.  “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God” (1 Corinthians 1:18). 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:   What is your practice of reading Scripture?  Do you have a daily or weekly practice?  What are ways that practice impacts your life?

Daily Challenge: Read the Scriptures appointed for today. There are links below the reading. This reflection referenced the 1 Corinthians and Matthew readings.

Remembering - September 11

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 55; PM Psalm 138, 139:1-17(18-23), 1 Kings 18:41-19:8; Phil. 3:17-4:7; Matt. 3:13-17

Over the last few days, I have read and listened to accounts of people’s experiences on Tuesday, September 11, 2001.

Former Saint Stephen’s parishioner Tasha Gibson wrote on Facebook about her experience that day as a college freshman at NYU and in Lower Manhattan with a classmate when the planes hit the Twin Towers. She saw the explosion when the second plane hit. She watched the towers collapse, one at a time. In the dust of destruction and the haze of shock, Tasha forged forever-friendships with Fran and others as they figured out next steps of life and faith.

The Rev. Caroline Dennis, now a Presbyterian minister in South Carolina, reflected in a 9/11 memorial video about her family’s experience that day, as they returned from a family wedding in Europe. While in the air, they learned that the borders of the United States were closed due to a terrorist attack. Their plane was diverted to Gander, Newfoundland with more than 70 other planes. A sleepy town of 8,000 residents welcomed 7,500 hungry, scared, and tired passengers from all over the world. The people of Gander made shelters in their school gym, in public buildings…and residents invited families into their homes for days, until the travelers could re-board planes to head home.

Sean Dietrich published a stirring essay about the passengers on Flight 93, that crashed into a field in Pennsylvania because those aboard were not willing to let evil win. To read his latest piece of beautiful work, visit his website: https://seandietrich.com/

Maybe you have been revisiting memories of that beautiful, horrible Tuesday morning, too. As I read the words of the psalm appointed for this morning, Psalm 55, I felt my soul stirring. The words of this soulful prayer move in sync with the sadness I feel around the attacks on September 11, 2001:

1 Hear my prayer, O God;
do not hide yourself from my petition.

2 Listen to me and answer me;
I have no peace, because of my cares.

3 I am shaken by the noise of the enemy
and by the pressure of the wicked;

4 For they have cast an evil spell upon me
and are set against me in fury.

5 My heart quakes within me,
and the terrors of death have fallen upon me.

6 Fear and trembling have come over me,
and horror overwhelms me.

7 And I said, "Oh, that I had wings like a dove!
I would fly away and be at rest.

This powerful poetic psalm is a gift of lament, ushering us down into the mire of loss, and reconnecting us with God’s strong and steadfast presence, nevertheless. God is our constant companion in these dark times of the past and present. Let us cast our burdens on the Lord, who will sustain us.

If this time-stamped marker of sacrifice and loss is too heavy for you today, do not sit alone. Call a friend. Reach out to a family member or neighbor. Go for a walk. Drop to your knees (as you are able) in prayer. Or, join us at Saint Stephen’s – in person or on Facebook – at 8:30 a.m. for a special Morning Prayer, Rite II.

Friends, the firm foundation of God’s love is strong enough to hold your brokenness and doubt. Jesus wept; he knows your pain and fear. Pray that the Holy Spirit will empower you to proclaim the goodness of the Risen Lord, even on hard days.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Where were you on September 11, 2001? Who was around you? How did you learn about the violence of that day?

What do you remember feeling? What do you feel about that day now?

Daily Challenge

As you reflect on the tragedies of 9/11, and other times when life was shaken to the core, read Psalm 55. Allow the sadness and reality of that day present itself to you. Pray through the verses, as memories well up. Pray that God’s comforting presence is there in the quelling of the pain. Cast that burden upon God, who is constant and will not let you stumble.

It's a Marathon, Not a Race - September 10

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 40, 54; PM Psalm 51; 1 Kings 18:20-40; Phil. 3:1-16; Matt. 3:1-12

Today’s Reflection

“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Beloved, I do not consider that I have made it my own; but this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on towards the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.” –Philippians 3:10-14

You’ve probably heard people say, or maybe you sometimes say this yourself, “It’s a marathon, not a race.” The point is that not all running is about being fast or coming in first or even in the top 10 runners. For a longer race, like a 26.2-mile marathon, it’s about keeping going, and just keep on going from mile to mile until you finally run all 26.2 of them. So, when we say or hear others say, “It’s a marathon, not a race,” we’re trying to remind ourselves that a lot of life happens by just making sure we keep on moving forward. It’s about perseverance.

One of my favorite professors while in grad school at Texas A&M had a sign on her door that said something to the effect of that what matters isn’t being the smartest person in the room, it’s about being the person who keeps going and doesn’t give up. And that has always stuck with me—especially since Vanessa, the person with that sign on her door, is one of the most accomplished academics I’ve had the good fortune to know. She had that sign on her door at a time in her life when she was an untenured assistant professor at a Research I university (a high-pressure job) with a preschooler at home, another baby on the way, and a one-hour commute each way to campus. So, she knew something about that whole “It’s a marathon, not a race” thing.

I remember seeing her on campus on September 11, 2001, and like everyone she was devastated—but she was also worried. Her husband and son were in downtown Houston, where he worked and where her son was in preschool, while she was on the A&M campus in College Station. She was worried that there could be more attacks on major cities that day, and she just wanted to know that her family was safe and that at the end of the day they would all be back at home together. Ultimately, how she felt that day, so separated from her family because of her long commute to A&M, played a role in her deciding to look for a position somewhere where she and her husband could both work close to where they live. While I was sad when she left A&M the next year to take a position in Dallas, I knew that she was doing the right thing for herself and her family.

Now, years after seeing that sign about perseverance on Vanessa’s office door, it’s heartening to see where that mindset of perseverance, coupled with a priority of taking care of herself and her family, got her: She moved on to a few other universities, earned tenure and promotion to associate professor along the way, has continued to raise her sons, and has ended up an administrator at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. And she has done all this not by flaunting her intelligence or other gifts, but by being someone who just keeps going and strives for excellence, even in the face of some substantial challenges along the way. Twenty years later, it’s still about perseverance. And I would bet she might be surprised to know that I still remember that little sign posted on her office door, or our conversation about her fears on September 11—but it made an impact on me, and so did she.

As we continue to read through Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we find Paul writing about perseverance in the face of adversity. Not everyone loved Paul like the Philippians did. I mean, he was writing to them from a prison in Rome, after all. Paul had some enemies who made life beyond difficult for him at times—to the point of him being thrown (unjustly) into jail. So, it’s with some real-life experience that Paul writes his friends in Philippi, “Beware of the dogs, beware of the evil workers, beware of those who mutilate the flesh!” But Paul wants his fellow believers to know that they need to just keep running the race, even when some may try to throw up roadblocks and other hazards along the way. We’ll encounter those who want to discourage us and make us want to give up, but we’ll also encounter encouragers like Paul was to the Philippians or like Vanessa was to me and to all her students and colleagues, and those are the ones who will help us to “press on towards… the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3: 14).

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When have you experienced something that felt more like a marathon than a race? What or who helped you to keep running?

Daily Challenge

Think of someone who needs encouragement to keep “pressing on” in whatever they may be going through in life. Reach out and let them know they’re not alone and that they can keep running, one step at a time.

Grief and Hope - September 9

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 50; PM Psalm [59, 60] or 8, 84; 1 Kings 18:1-19; Phil. 2:12-30; Matt. 2:13-23

During the summer of 2020, in this collection of daily reflections, I wrote about a lecture that I heard where Walter Brueggemann claimed that nostalgia leads to violence.  He argued that our misremembering the past will ultimately lead to violent actions.  While he was speaking to a group of fellow clergy in 2015, I think some of his words have been lived out over the last several years.  We have seen the agitation lived out when groups try to return to what they believe was a better past without acknowledging the faults of prior conditions. 

His solution was simple and two-part.  We should read Scripture together.  And, instead of trying to return to the past, we should grieve what we have lost.  This in itself is a very Christian response.  We grieve the loss of life so that we can then grow and find hope in God’s eternal promises.  But grief is necessary. He ended by suggesting that if God is a part of everything, how can God still not be working to make something new. 

I think Brueggemann point could be taken one step further by asking us to consider what happens to a world that refuses to grieve?  I’ve been wondering a lot about the collective 18 months and the lack of opportunity to set aside a time to acknowledge loss.  We all seem so eager to get back to what was before, maybe because we believe that if we can get back to what was before, all things will be well.  We have yet to really grieve what we have lost.

The Gospel today is a powerful and painful story.  We hear the wails of Rachel who can no longer be consoled after the loss of her children (Matthew 2:18).  In 2009, the General Convention of the Episcopal Church authorized a work called Rachel’s Tears, Hannah’s Hopes to be an official addendum to the Book of Common Prayer.  This separate book is a beautiful collection of prayers that respond to some of the most tragic moments in many lives, prayers that address the loss of child, pregnancy, or miscarriage.  Now, when I hear the cries of Rachel, I am always reminded of Hannah’s hope as well (1 Samuel 1:2 – 2:21).  I’m grateful for the resources and have found so much hope in the prayers in my own life.   Those prayers are a reminder of God’s hope that always is in front of us, even when being honest about the loss of pain we feel.

Rachel’s tears are an invitation to grieve, to acknowledge pain, to mourn loss and life.  But our faith always offers hope.  A wondering today might be to ask if we were to provide the space to grieve what we have all lost, would that pave the way to finding more hope in the promise of our faith?  At the very least, it might be a more faithful approach than trying to get back to where we once were.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: “What are the things that you consider having lost recently?  What changes in your life are hard to come to terms with?”

Daily Challenge:  Write down three truths that you don’t want to admit.  Consider the power of naming those truths in the longer plan of hope and healing.

Waste not, want not - September 8

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:49-72; PM Psalm 49, [53], 1 Kings 17:1-24; Phil. 2:1-11; Matt. 2:1-12

“Waste not, want not!” was a common mantra from my mom’s lips. I still hear those words in my head.

I was cleaning up in the kitchen the other night and silently stewing over how my kids had wasted something – food or art supplies or something else trivial. The window of a teachable moment to redirect or correct behavior passed; instead, I chose to reflect on the tension I felt. Why did this bother me so much?

I was raised knowing that we were living on a shoestring budget. My mom’s habits were meticulous, careful, measured. As I pondered my feelings and listened for what else was stirring, I had a moment of clarity. My vexation was more than just being frugal or a good steward. I found myself thinking about sin; I equate squandering resources with sinfulness.

When I say “sin”, I am not thinking of the big, bad ones like idolatry, murder, stealing, abuse, and infidelity…you know, the ones written on stone tablets by God back in Moses’ day. What I found myself pushing against was the presumption that all in the present moment was brimming with more. That feels like a sin. It is the absence of caring or having gratitude for what is in the present moment. If there is a sin spectrum, this is one of the lesser violations, and yet, such carelessness left unchecked could be a gateway to frivolous and self-centered living…and that has “sin” written all over it!

My brush with judgmental, miserly thinking this week raised a bellybutton gazing question: what does sin look like in the mundane parts of your life? Zooming out to look at the question from a different angle, what part of your past has formed your perception of what is unacceptable in daily living today? I wonder how often you and I talk about these answers with the people in our home, work, and church circles. How much better could we understand one another? How might we pray differently for one another, knowing these details? Knowing that we do not walk alone in this life, I wonder where can Jesus break in and bring God’s grace to you and me?

Today we read a part of Paul’s letter to the Christians at Philippi. The great apostle imparts words to bring perspective on what it means to be people living for and following Jesus. His solid message is grounded in the agape (love) of the Messiah:

“If then there is any encouragement in Christ, any consolation from love, any sharing in the Spirit, any compassion and sympathy, make my joy complete: be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.” (Phil. 2:1-4)

Rather than parsing out one line that could lend credence to my spiraling irritation the other night, we have the gift of holding this message as a unit. Paul is reminding his listeners about the totality of relationship. Division could easily come from disputing one detail. He advises to stay united and in communication. He advises to check the motivations behind our actions, guarding against self-serving, empty pride. In a community-minded paradigm, Paul drives home the need for humility and attentiveness to others’ needs. Note: this comes with maturity and practice. 

He does not stop with the meat and potatoes of living in Christian community. Paul continues with the true inspiration, in what is called The Christ Hymn:

“Let the same mind be in you that you have in Christ Jesus,
 who, though he was in the form of God,
   did not regard equality with God
   as something to be exploited,
 but emptied himself,
   taking the form of a slave,
   being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
   he humbled himself
   and became obedient to the point of death—
   even death on a cross.
Therefore God also highly exalted him
   and gave him the name
   that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus
   every knee should bend,
   in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
   that Jesus Christ is Lord,
   to the glory of God the Father.” (Philippians 2:5-11)

This morning the Christ Hymn calls me to humility. To being grounded in God. To lift my eyes to see the glory of Jesus. To accept God’s grace that wipes away the clutter, division, and control that sin wreaks in my heart. To love my kids, even when they waste a cup of milk every now and then.

Redemption is beautiful.

--Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What is a pet peeve of yours that, when witnessed in others, feels like it is a sin?

What part of your past has formed your perception of what is acceptable or unacceptable in daily living today?

Daily Challenge

Think about an action in others that bothers you: distracted driving, interrupting, tardiness, etc. Spend five minutes journaling about this scenario. Listen for how you are called to understand yourself and others in this tension. How can you shift your prayer life to invite God’s grace into the scene?

The Struggle is Real - September 7

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 45; PM Psalm 47, 48; 1 Kings 16:23-34; Phil. 1:12-30; Mark 16:1-8(9-20)

Today’s Reflection

“I want you to know, beloved, that what has happened to me has actually helped to spread the gospel” (Phil. 1:12). These words come from the apostle Paul in his letter to his fellow believers in Philippi. What has happened to Paul? He was writing this letter from a prison cell. He wrote several of his letters—Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon—while sitting in a jail cell. And as you may imagine, prisons in the ancient Roman Empire were not anywhere you would want to stay for any amount of time. They didn’t even provide food—you had to make arrangements with people on the outside to bring you what you needed.

And yet, I have always found the letter to the Philippians to be one of the most uplifting and encouraging books in holy scripture. How can we square Paul’s imprisonment and his sense of being someone who was always struggling with something, on the one hand, with the overwhelmingly encouraging tone and content of his letters, especially this one to the Philippians?

Paul is honest about challenges he has been and is going through for the sake of Christ. At first, he was going around full of himself and his own sense of authority. Paul was making it his life’s work to persecute Christians—then God decided to strike him down on the road to Damascus with a blinding light and the voice of God coming from somewhere, maybe from above.

But once Paul became a Christian, he was equally committed to advancing the cause of Christ—even to the point of being persecuted himself and taken away to prison. He also talks, in 2 Corinthians 12, of being afflicted over the years with some “thorn in his flesh.” Readers over the years have speculated about what Paul’s thorn could be. Some believe the thorn was guilt over his past sins of persecuting Christians. Others believe he struggled with depression or some other mental illness. Or perhaps, some argue, his thorn was a physical ailment and its long-term effects, anything from malaria or epilepsy to some condition that made it difficult for him to see. But, as one commentator has observed, maybe it’s for the best that we never really know for sure what Paul’s thorn was, as it allows more readers to identify with Paul as someone who, like them, has struggled.

On the one hand, Paul is among the greatest of all evangelists for the cause of Christ. Paul was strong, dynamic, determined, and a person of integrity. And Paul was flawed. Sometimes he came across as kind of full of himself. Often he came across as one who ‘lacked a sensitivity chip,’ as we might say of someone like Paul today. And yet, in his very best moments, he tried to honest about the fact that he was no perfect person. Like all of us, Paul was an imperfect, perfectly loved child of God. He found his confidence in knowing that God loved him, no matter what thorn he carried or how many times he found himself beaten up, shipwrecked, or imprisoned.

We all have struggles. We all have imperfections. Now some of us may be better at hiding our struggles and imperfections, while others of us may be more transparent about our thorns. But know this: every single one of us has been hurt or has struggled in some ways that have influenced the people who we have become. We can choose to see our struggles as weaknesses, or we can choose to see our struggles as sources of strength.

With Paul, we can choose to be honest about our struggles in a way that empowers us to be understanding and compassionate toward others.

Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel, and are in no way intimidated by your opponents. For them this is evidence of their destruction, but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing. For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well—since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have. Phil. 1: 27-30

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

When have you struggled with something and felt like you had to keep your struggle to yourself? When have you struggled with something and felt like you could share your struggle with someone who would be supportive? When have you been that safe person for someone else?

Daily Challenge

This year we have heard more and more stories of top athletes who have chosen to be honest about their mental health struggles and have decided to take some time away from their sport to take care of their health and wellbeing. Read more about how tennis players Naomi Osaka and Mardy Fish have taken time away to care for themselves and, in so doing, are serving as role models for other athletes and for anyone feeling the pressure of their professional life.

The Best is Yet to Come - September 6

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 41, 52; PM Psalm 44; 1 Kings 13:1-10; Phil. 1:1-11; Mark 15:40-47

“I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.” 

This past weekend, we had a wonderful gathering at Camp McDowell for the annual parish retreat.  There was lots of time for porch conversations, bike riding, swimming, and hiking.  I enjoy so much the fellowship that is a result of gathering an hour from home at a place that has become so special to many in our community. 

On Sunday, our plan was to live stream our Sunday service from camp.  Over the past 18 months, it feels like we at Saint Stephen’s have become pretty good at figuring out technology.  Our typical Sunday mornings run with multiple cameras, a crew of trained volunteers, multiple microphones, and different variables that are too technical for most to name.  Becky has been able to bring in speakers from all over the world into zoom chats and YouTube broadcasts having people gather in person and far away in the parish hall.  We have been pretty confident that we know what we are doing, even possibly offering some of the very best in the church world.  Which is why we were pretty confident, that even without much technology or planning, we could bring you quality church from Camp McDowell. 

Thirty minutes before we were to go live, we resigned to the fact that there was no way to fix the lighting. We hadn’t planned for the bright windows and lack of powerful lighting that could create a balance to dimmish the quality of a camera shot.  We set up anyway.  About ten minutes before, we realized that we couldn’t connect our YouTube account to Vimeo to then share to YouTube as we had promised in the Saturday email.  This took a good ten minutes of fiddling until the time was 10:15 a.m. and I was too worried that people wouldn’t be able to find the service online.  We hit “Go Live” anyway, knowing that we would lose half of our audience or more, but it seemed necessary at the time.

Moments later, my phone vibrated to let me know we were connected to Facebook.  I opened it to look at the picture, blurry and dark at best.  The sounds seemed off too.  The camera and speaker that had worked beautifully for a presentation in the spring was not designed for our Camp McDowell worship.  That part was clear!  And we went ahead with worship, albeit probably not our best technical moment in the history of Saint Stephen’s, and I hate that probably many missed an engaging worship service with their church family. 

I share this story, because I was quickly humbled on Sunday and reminded that I don’t have it all figured out.  I am guessing most of us are in the same boat, learning new things every day, far away from perfection (although you all are probably a little closer than me).   If this is a fundamental way of being, of not being complete, why wouldn’t this apply not only to how we understand the world, but to how we understand ourselves as well?

As Paul writes the community in Philippi, he gives thanks for being connected to this new Christian community, and then he shares a rather remarkable insight, “that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.” It is striking because Paul’s insight reminds us that we aren’t meant to be complete until the last day.  Not only is God’s work transforming our very life, making us better and better each day, but we will never be complete until God’s very day. 

We don’t have to get it all right.  And maybe those others whose lives intersect with ours don’t have to either.  What would happen if we were to believe God had begun something in their lives that was yet to be complete?  Might explain and give grace to all of the rough edges?  This might mean that the best is yet to come, and that our best selves are being made right now.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What mistakes have you made lately?  Did you think you were prepared?  How does today’s reflection change your outlook? 

Daily Challenge:  Come up with three things that you would like to be better at.  Now, name three things you have noticed improvement within your own self lately.

Patience does not equal inaction - September 4

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 30, 32; PM Psalm 42, 43; 1 Kings 12:1-20; James 5:7-12,19-20; Mark 15:33-39

Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord. The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. You also must be patient. (James 5:7-8a)

With the buckets and buckets of rain lately, it is hard to be patient. A couple of weeks ago, the grass needed to be cut. Sam mowed and edged the backyard twice that week, due to the rain and ultra-eager weeds overperforming in our yard this year. I really wanted to mow the front and side yards (as we live on a corner lot), but I would have to squeeze it in before a web meeting and impending storms. The lawn was lush and taller than usual, so the push mower and I worked hard. It took endurance, some restarts, and a few periods of rest. The mower and I wrapped up just as the rain began to fall.

Working around the rain is a challenge when it feels like it rains all the time. I am not certain we have early and late rains, as James’ letter in the Daily Office lectionary alludes. The rains in this later summer period in Alabama have taken a toll on our garden harvests, ” the precious crop from the earth” - in the form of my tomatoes and eggplant - has really struggled. While I tend gardens on a small scale, my uncle was a farmer of hundreds of acres of land for crop and livestock. He taught me that farming requires fervent attentiveness to soil, sun, water, pests, and timing. There is time to act and there is time to wait until the next time to act. Patience in the in-between times is hard.

In the excerpt from the Letter of James today, the writer of this ancient piece to Christians everywhere shares several bits of wisdom. First, patience. “Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord.” The early Christian communities were waiting for Jesus’ return. The writer lets hearers know that the timing must be right. The soil must be balanced, the shade-to-sun ratio must be just so…and our hearts must be prepared for the Messiah’s arrival, too. In waiting, we grow stronger – just as the fruits growing in the field increase in size and richness as they mature.

In addition to patience, he moves on from the gardening metaphor to other guidance: avoid grumbling and groaning among ourselves, lest we be judged. Ooh. While waiting indefinitely, that is a hard one. While in discomfort and peril, that is a hard one. We are encouraged to look to heroes, our forebears and the prophets, who remained faithful. What we learn from them is endurance and perseverance – like Job, who continued to be afflicted with pain and loss. In clinging to patience, positive outlook, and perseverance, we see that the Lord is full of compassion and mercy.

Let me clarify one point: patience is not equivalent to “do nothing”. The prophets did not sit stone-like until God made them move. They kept living and breathing and preaching and praying. And the Lord God spoke. Job kept walking and talking and engaging with God, no matter what. The Letter of James advises patience or forbearance; this does not mean inaction. Just as a farmer stays attentive to a myriad of conditions while the harvest ripens, so we are called to be engaged in Christian life. We are called to listen to how God is connecting us with the earth and one another. We are called to fend off those external and internal forces that would draw us away from God’s love. We are called to pay attention to the next right action in the path of faithfulness.

In the wake of massive amounts of rainfall in the Southeast this season, Saint Stephen’s parishioner and UAB professor of polar and marine biology Dr. Jim McClintock published a commentary in The Anniston Star on August 26, 2021, titled “Climate change hits home as Alabama experiences more rain, more flooding”. McClintock points to areas damaged by the intense rainfall over shorter time period, like the Cahaba River. He offers interventions, what we can do to help protect our lovely state and its rich ecosystems – through modifications that even include the all-electric Ford F-150 Lightning pickup truck!

Jim McClintock and other researchers are patient, studying and recording data points over time, watching the causes and effects of living as we do. The data suggests an acceleration of production of greenhouse gases. Likewise, the Letter of James was written from the perspective of an expert in Holy Scripture and the Hebraic wisdom tradition who was observing the life and movement of the early Christian church. The author gives advice to the whole of the church, emphasizing virtues of self-discipline and faithful living with God, so that the soil of the faithful would be well-prepared to yield much harvest for God’s glory.  

Friends, let us be good stewards of our selves and our surroundings – and each day, with God’s help.

-- Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Which of these is hardest for you this week: patience, avoidance of grumbling, or endurance when things get hard? Where do these virtues factor into your prayer life?

What does caring for creation look like in your life today?

Daily Challenge

Set aside a few minutes to read Jim McClintock's piece on flooding in Alabama. Then, sit in prayer for five minutes, thanking God for the beauty of creation. Ask for guidance about how God is calling you to be a better steward of the Earth. Share your insights with a friend!

Living the Good Life - September 3

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 31; PM Psalm 35; 1 Kings 11:26-43; James 4:13-5:6; Mark 15:22-32

Today’s Reflection

Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a town and spend a year there, doing business and making money.’ Yet you do not even know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wishes, we will live and do this or that.’ –James 4:13-15

So much of our contemporary U.S. culture (and Western culture in general) is focused on living the good life. But what does it mean to live the good life? The other day, I read a whole article in The New York Times in which the reporter interviewed various designers about the current trend of hiding appliances like refrigerators behind cabinetry in high-end kitchens. Open what looks like a cabinet or even a drawer and you may find a refrigerator or freezer—but we don’t want anyone to see it. After reading the article, I am still not clear on why exactly people want to hide these things that we do expect to find in a kitchen.

I have to admit, though, that I do really enjoy watching HGTV shows like Love It or List It, Property Brothers, or House Hunters International. But my favorite one the past few years is My Lottery Dream Home. I have seen every episode—and some more than once! Half of why I love this show is the warmth and humor—not to mention the eclectic fashion choices—of the host, interior designer David Bromstad. But besides that, it’s fun escapism to live vicariously through average people who have unexpectedly come into money and see them find the home of their dreams. For some, their dream is not a lavish one—they just want to move from their cramped apartment or small house into a modest three bedroom, two bath home with a nice yard and maybe a spacious basement or a beautiful pool that they can enjoy with family and friends. For others, especially those who come into a multimillion-dollar windfall, David shows them homes with massive square footage and every possible extra feature, not to mention amazing views and high-end finishes in every corner.

I also love to watch pretty much everything on Chip and Joanna Gaines’ new Magnolia Network. Besides their own Fixer Upper episodes and Magnolia Kitchen cooking show, it’s been fun to watch other remodeling shows like Home Work, which follows a blended family with seven kids who buy a massive old schoolhouse to turn into their new home. Each episode shows the parents, who also have a home renovation business, leading their crew of contractors to renovate each former classroom into an amazing kitchen or guest room or pink-everything room for their daughter.

But sometimes, I find that I am not so much in the mood to watch these TV shows. Sometimes, I find that they bring me down. I will never have the means to make all these amazing home improvements—unless I, too, win the lottery. Right now, I lease my house, so I cannot even change the color of the paint on the walls of a room. But then, when I begin to think about it another way, it’s very freeing to not have to worry about whether I should make this or that improvement to my home. It’s freeing if something breaks, someone else pays to fix it. It’s freeing to be able to walk through Lowe’s or Home Depot and know that I do not need to buy these appliances or paints or what have you—even though it’s a little fun to dream of owning a home again soon so that if I need a new dishwasher, I can pick the one I want (within reason).

I can choose to focus on being happy with what I have, which is a perfectly lovely home with everything that we need, and even some things that we don’t need but that make life a little better in simple ways: A fireplace to sit by and enjoy its warmth and glow in the winter. A big, beautiful backyard where I can go to rest and reflect under the shade trees and listen to the water flowing through the rocks of the creek. Lots of picture windows to let in the sunshine or to watch the rainfall. Even the carport, while not aesthetically pleasing, is a luxury that allows us to stay dry when we get home and it’s pouring down rain.

This struggle against materialism and a life focused on the acquisition of money and stuff is not a new one. We hear James the Just grappling with this issue in the passage of his letter that we read today. As James so vividly describes, “Your riches have rotted, and your clothes are moth-eaten. Your gold and silver have rusted, and their rust will be evidence against you, and it will eat your flesh like fire. You have laid up treasure for the last days (James 5: 2-3). What does James suggest we focus on if not on making money and acquiring stuff? The better question to ask ourselves, if we follow the thinking of James and other writers throughout the Bible, is not “How do I live the good life?” but rather “How do I live a good life?”

In the Gospels, we find Jesus telling his disciples to travel light, to bring just the clothes on their back and to trust that people along the way will provide for all their needs. Elsewhere, in a sermon, Jesus reminds those gathered that if God provides food for the birds, who neither sow nor reap how much more will he feed us—and to look at the lilies of field, how they are so beautifully clothed—how much more richly will God clothe us? Do not worry about what you will eat or drink or wear, Jesus says, because the Father knows you need these things, and he will provide.

As James observes, “What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, ‘If the Lord wishes, we will live and do this or that’” (James 4: 14-15). Living a good life does not have to be complicated—and it does not require that we have great wealth. A good life, in God’s eyes, is one based on simplicity. As the prophet Micah says, “What does the Lord require of you? To seek justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

What do you hear the world telling you, through advertising and other media, that you need to live the good life? When have you gotten caught up in believing the very persuasive messages of our consumer culture? How has this sometimes gotten in the way of living a good life (the way of life in which Jesus calls us to live)? 

Daily Challenge

If you’re interested in reflecting further on minimalism and how it relates to our beliefs as Christians, take a look at this blog on Christian Minimalism. Consider reading the book Christian Minimalism by Becca Ehrlich and participating in our discussions about it on September 7 and September 28 at 6 p.m. via Zoom. You sign up for the group or learn more about it by clicking here.

Our role in the Story - September 2

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 37:1-18; PM Psalm 37:19-42; 1 Kings 11:1-13; James 3:13-4:12; Mark 15:12-21

It wasn’t until I was twenty-four or twenty-five that I really began participating in the beautiful liturgies of Holy Week.  Until that point in my life, Church was pretty much the same thing every week.  While I did participate in Morning Prayer as a part of my Episcopal School education, I didn’t think of that as church as much as part of my educational experience.  In high school, I was very active in youth group and even as a youth minister, I begin to believe that it was the extra activities of the church that had the power to deepen people’s faith and transform lives.  If I could get people to Sunday School or EYC, or go on a youth trip, I was helping to deepen people’s faith.

Maybe this is true, but I certainly was lacking an appreciation for liturgy and the power of what happens in our nave when people gather for worship, especially the ritual of Holy Week.  That all changed one year on a Palm Sunday.  The church I attended had put together a passion narrative with about fifteen different roles.  As the story of Jesus’s crucifixion was told, people would stand up in the pews and read different parts of the story.  I recognized the person playing the role of Pilate as my neighbor, Bill, who lived behind my parents.  He walked to the front of the nave as one of the three people in the story with a lot of lines and asked the congregation what we were to do with Jesus.  Another woman a few feet away had stood up earlier and told part of the story right from her very seat.

What came next, was the most surprising.  Printed in bold were the words, “Crucify him!” and the liturgy invited all of those in the pews, to say the words just like we would say any other “Amen” after a prayer.  The church proclaimed the words, not once, but twice and I found myself saying the words louder than most prayers as I was swept up in the dramatic retelling.  The words came out much easier than I imagined.

Tears welled up as I began to realize my own role in this story.  No longer was the passion narrative a story that was just told before Easter, but a part of my own story, and it was me in the crowd, not just some innocent bystander, but caught up in the whole drama, along with everyone else, yelling for the crucifixion as we hear in Mark’s Gospel today. 

One of the challenges of reading Scripture is to begin to learn to see ourselves in the story.  The Bible is not just about events of the past, or how we understand God, but it is our own story of how God is a part of our lives today.  Sometimes this can be painful when we realize our own role in denying God and God’s goodness, and yet that same proximity to the story makes grace and reconciliation that much more meaningful.  God’s love on the cross is still, 2000 years later, what shapes our daily lives.

When you read Scripture, where do you see yourself in the story?  How can the daily practice of reading Scripture make the story your story?  And how can our worship, both on Sundays and throughout the seasons of the Church year, help you to see God’s story lived out in your own life?   The Bible is not a history book, it is how we engage with the Living God and that story is for you and me.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What liturgies of the church have been most meaningful to you?  Recall a time when a church service was especially meaningful and consider how it helped you grow in your understanding of God.

Daily Challenge:  Reread two of the readings for today.  I suggest James and Mark, and ask yourself two questions:  “Where I am in this story?”  “What am I to do, be, or change?”

Guides along the way - September 1

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 38; PM Psalm 119:25-48; 1 Kings 9:24-10:13; James 3:1-12; Mark 15:1-11

When I finished seminary and was ordained, I was assigned a mentor. I am not special in that regard; it is a provision in the Constitution and Canons of the Episcopal Church, from Canon 9: Of the Life and Work of Priests. Section 1 pertains to continuing education; Second 2 is titled, “Mentoring for Newly Ordained Priests”. I met the Rev. Virginia Monroe a day or so after we moved into our house in June 2017. I had yet to begin my role as curate at Saint Thomas in Huntsville. I had no idea what to expect about what it meant to be mentored in my priestly formation. But Virginia did. She asked questions and she listened. We talked for more than an hour.

What I remember from that initial meeting with my mentor at the Panera Bread on Airport Boulevard is that I came away feeling refreshed and less concerned about what was going to happen next. As I reflected more about that conversation with Virginia, I realized that it felt like a spiritual direction session. She listened deeply to what I said and reflected her understanding in a manner that felt like soul care. I wanted to present myself as confident and “together”…and Virginia welcomed me, just as I was, in the spaces of hopefulness and uncertainty. We continued our mentoring conversations long past the advising period prescribed by the bishop’s office. She continues as a guide to help me understand what God is doing and saying.

As I reflect on this excerpt from James 3 today, I am thinking about teachers and guides. The writer of this letter to the early church states, “Not many of you should become teachers” in verse 1. Thinking about the hard work of educators in the climate of 2021, I wonder how these words strike others’ ears. I do not believe the author intends to dissuade the many of you who are teachers in schools, or in volunteer capacities in the community or at Saint Stephen’s…because we need you! However, the point I hear is that the words teachers deliver cast much influence, moving the whole body of a community – whether through the analogy of a horse, boat, or circle of life. The writer of James connects people of influence within the church to the responsibility held in the power of commanding obedience and direction. The words delivered can bring blessing and curse. These are helpful reminders for those who are in church work, and in other spheres of influence.

Which brings me back to spiritual direction. If you read about spiritual directors or talk with someone who has been trained as a spiritual director, you will learn that this an art of holy listening. There is very little directing to solve problems or quandaries. At the heart is closer connection with God. The spiritual director helps an individual listen for and respond to God’s invitation to deeper relationship. This is holy and hard work. And not many of us should become spiritual directors, not because of how we will be judged, but because spiritual directors are not in the obedience business. They are in the relationship business. Relationship with God. And one another. They dabble in this beautiful gig of listening to the Holy Spirit. When we listen for the movements and moment of the Holy Spirit, our mouths and hearts can be full of blessing. Our tongues can be moved to bring restful goodness and hopefulness for what is ahead, to the glory of God.

Friends, turn away from the temptations of yielding your words for blazing fires, as we hear that warning in James 3. Rather, open your ears to holy listening…and if you need a little help, seek out a spiritual director to be your guide toward closer connection with God.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What do you teach others to do and say? Who has been an influential teacher for you?

What ways do you learn best? When do you struggle?

Daily Challenge

Take 10 minutes to research spiritual direction. Get curious. Then, sit in silence for three minutes to pray for open ears and heart. If so moved, reach out to a spiritual director...or contact your clergy for options.

A Window into Our Faith - August 31

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 26, 28; PM Psalm 36, 39; 1 Kings 8:65-9:9; James 2:14-26; Mark 14:66-72

Today’s Reflection

What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill’, and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. But someone will say, ‘You have faith and I have works.’ Show me your faith without works, and I by my works will show you my faith. –James 2:14-18

Last evening, 11 people gave up 90 minutes of their Monday evening to share a conversation about getting to know one another—and about working together on something larger than themselves. Five of those who gathered are parishioners from Saint Stephen’s, four are parishioners from Christ Church in Fairfield—throw in a priest from each parish and you have eleven people brought together in their mutual interest in starting something new that is grounded in the foundation of something very old—our faith in following in the Way of Christ.

Earlier in 2021, a few things happened that laid the groundwork for our gathering on Zoom last night. One is that our Diocesan Bishop Glenda Curry shared her vision, in the context of her address to Diocesan Convention in February, that partnerships would develop between parishes small and large. This hope then began to be discussed among the Diocesan staff and leaders and began to take form as a pilot program the Diocese is calling Parish Partners, which are described as being “relationships of shared ministry and mission.”

Independent of that vision, another development that unfolded earlier this year is that Christ Church in Fairfield was looking for financial help to repair the floor of their parish hall, which was damaged in a fire. It would have been straightforward for the outreach committee or vestry to approve the expenditure and then send a check across town to Christ Church. Instead, our rector John and our senior warden Leslie met with their rector Paul, their senior warden L.C., and longtime parishioner Ruthie over lunch, when they began to share ideas of what more we could do together. That lunch led to other conversations about how helping repair the floor would be the entry point into a more lasting, substantive relationship between the two churches. Then the next thing we knew, John, our outreach chair Chandler, and I were driving across town to deliver the check in person and take a tour of Christ Church and in the process get to know their senior warden LC and vestry member Talitha.

Not long after that, the Diocese sent out a formal call for congregations interested in piloting the new Parish Partners program, and we all knew that we wanted to be a part of it. Alongside all these developments, our parishioner Raymond, who runs a food pantry elsewhere in Fairfield, connected with John, as well as with Paul at Christ Church, about the possibility of moving the food pantry across Fairfield to their campus. Over the summer, we continued to have conversations amongst our clergy and outreach committee, and I shared conversations with Raymond and with our colleague Paul from Christ Church to continue to be curious and begin to think more concretely about what we might be able to collaborate on between our two faith communities. Chandler invited LC and Talitha to join our Holy Hike to see the Cahaba lilies in June. Christ Church hosted a couple workdays on Saturday mornings and several people from Saint Stephen’s decided to attend, including Connie, who grew up in Christ Church as a young child but now is part of Saint Stephen’s.

All these conversations and connections laid a foundation to build something new. The Zoom conversation that 11 of us shared last evening allowed us to invite more people into the process. We have formed this working group to develop the vision and plans for how our two parishes can continue to grow together in our shared faith in Christ. I am grateful for Leslie, Connie, Raymond, Conley, and Michele, who have committed to representing Saint Stephen’s in this partnership. Together with our counterparts from Christ Church, we had a creative and productive conversation. So many ideas were voiced for sharing worship and meals together, for the possibilities of working together on relocating the food pantry, and for sharing more workdays together. And then we began to wonder: Could we do a Habitat for Humanity build together at some point? Could we go on some more Holy Hikes together? Could we share expertise on beekeeping and work together to add an apiary to their church gardens?

The ideas became more and more creative as the meeting went on. And as we shared all these ideas, we acknowledged that these ideas have the potential to do more than just check off boxes to show “a positive, measurable effect on both parishes.” In all these potential collaborations, anyone who takes part will be likely to find that their faith is continuing to be formed as these interrelationships with one another are formed—that as we get to know people from across Birmingham, we will learn more about ourselves, our faith, and all that we share as people of faith.

As James the Just (the brother of Jesus) wrote in the passage we read for today, “But someone will say, ‘You have faith and I have works.’ Show me your faith without works, and I by my works will show you my faith” (James 2: 18). Rather than arguing about which is more important, faith or works, it’s more important is to consider how our works are a window into our faith. Our works (or accomplishments) do not save us, but our work together does give us a tangible sense of what it means to share faith together in something (and someone) larger than ourselves.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Can you recall a time when you collaborated with others in a way that restored your faith not only in your fellow humans but also in God? What about that collaboration felt life-giving and hopeful? How can you imagine recreating that spirit of collaboration and community in a new endeavor?

Daily Challenge

In a time when many people seem divided, now more than ever it’s important to look for evidence of what we share and what we can accomplish together. Read more about the Diocese of Alabama’s Parish Partners initiative here. Learn more about partner parish, Christ Church Fairfield by visiting their website or like and follow their Facebook page.

Getting Back on Track - August 30

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 25; PM Psalm 9, 15; 2 Chron. 6:32-7:7; James 2:1-13; Mark 14:53-65

I shared in my sermon yesterday, an image from a reflection by the Rev. Nadia Bolz-Webber about an old apartment.  Here is her image that I found so powerful and helpful in this time:

“I used to live in a very old apartment building with super sketchy electrical wiring. Were I to audaciously assume my hair drier could run while my stereo was on, I would once again find myself opening the grey metal fuse box next to the refrigerator and flipping the breaker. My apartment had been built at a time when there were no electric hair driers, and the system shut down when modernity asked too much of it.

I think of that fuse box often these days, because friends, I just do not think our psyches were developed to hold, feel and respond to everything coming at them right now; every tragedy, injustice, sorrow and natural disaster happening to every human across the entire planet, in real time every minute of every day.  The human heart and spirit were developed to be able to hold, feel and respond to any tragedy, injustice, sorrow or natural disaster that was happening IN OUR VILLAGE. 

So my emotional circuit breaker keeps overloading because the hardware was built for an older time.”

She continues and you can read her reflection here (just be warned her language is raw and honest).  I am intrigued by her post, because I feel like a lot of the people I know, myself included, are trying to figure out why our circuit boards keep overloading. Her post is really about the shame that permeates our culture of instant gratification on social media and how that leads us to feel like we can’t do enough. 

Our Psalm this morning is once again a plea to God asking us to put our trust in God.  “Show me your ways, O Lord, and teach me your paths.”  Sometimes when I read a verse like this, I think that one day I will know the path of the Lord, or that maybe I am on that path already.  But there is something to waking up every morning and reading the Psalms over and over, of returning to this Psalm every few weeks (and every other Psalm) where the repetition begins to sink in.   I’m asking once again for “God to lead me in [his] truth” once again, just as I did seven weeks ago.  We wake up, and we try again. 

I am especially struck by how Psalm 25 ends when the author pleas “Deliver Israel, O God, out of all his trouble.”  Or maybe a more relevant translation might be, “Deliver us who believe in you, out of the trouble we are in.”  The Israelites had trouble, the early Christians had trouble, our ancestors had trouble, and so do we.  And at each turn, they turned to God as a source of strength and to be led in his truth. 

The challenges are still there as I awake this morning, but the Psalm is a reminder that no matter how often the switches are flipped, we have the ultimate source of wisdom to get us back on track.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What resonates with you in today’s reflection?  How have the Psalms been helpful in your faith journey? 

Daily Challenge: Read Psalm 25 this morning.  Wait to read Psalms 9 and 15 until this evening or before you go to bed.  This is the pattern of morning and evening prayer.  If you are up for it, try using the Psalms for bookends of the day.