Angels' Wings - September 29

Today’s Readings: St. Michael & All Angels: AM Psalm 8, 148; Job 38:1-7; Hebrews 1:1-14; PM Psalm 14, 150; Daniel 12:1-3; Mark 13:21-27

“Are not all angels spirits in the divine service, sent to serve for the sake of those who are to inherit salvation?” (Hebrews 1:11)

My mom read lots of books to me when I was little. One that I remember clearly was called “The Littlest Angel” about the young, curly headed blonde angel-boy who kept dropping his halo and disrupting order around heaven. My mom could not make it through that book without her voice cracking and tears streaming down her cheeks. I would giggle when she cried, for I did not understand the tenderness.

As the story goes, Heaven became a place of great excitement as the news spread of the impending birth of Jesus, Son of God - a child to be born of Mary. As Charles Tazewell writes it, “all the angels rejoiced and their voices were lifted to herald the Miracle of Miracles, the coming of the Christ Child.” The usual hustle and bustle of Paradise shifted, as angels, archangels, seraphim and cherubim prepared their gifts for the blessed baby. But, the littlest angel was stuck. He could not come up with an idea for a gift. He tried and tried – but nothing. At the last moment, he gathered some items into a rustic, worn box, feeling insignificant seeing it in comparison with the other glowing, heavenly gifts. The gift from the Littlest Angel is opened by the Hand of God, holding precious items from when the boy had lived prior to coming to the heavenly gates: a golden-winged butterfly, a tiny bird’s egg shell in hues of heavenly blue, smooth white rocks from the river where he played, and a leather collar worn by his dog who he had dearly loved. Gifts of tenderness and memory, wonder and potential. He gave those gifts of himself freely, uncertain if they would be valued and appreciated. (Surely other angels standing nearby raised their eyebrows or held their breath in trepidation about what was next.) The tension broke and the gifts from the littlest angel were the most fitting, the most pleasing, the most cherished – for these gifts would be the things that would bring the Son of God joy as a child.

Today is the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels. It is a day in which we revisit passages of Holy Scripture that tells of brushes with the protective angels’ wings and their messages brought to us from Heaven. In modern American culture, conversations of angels point to images of cute, snuggly cherubs, or in the realm of baseball, the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim, perennial heartbreakers who just cannot get to the World Series. Biblical descriptions of these heavenly hosts are less sanitized. In Mark, we read about the forecasting of the last and dark days, when the Son of Man is coming in the clouds. Jesus will send the angels to do his bidding, gathering the chosen ones from all around the world (7:24-27). Angels are described as huge and imposing; when people encounter them, the angels’ first words are often, “Be not afraid!” I imagine the booming sounds created by angels when I read in Revelation 5 where John of Patmos writes about his apocalyptic vision in which “a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice, ‘Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?’”

During the Eucharistic Prayer, the priest invites the congregation to join “with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven, who forever sing this hymn to proclaim the glory of God’s name”…or something along those lines. We boldly join our voices with the Heavenly Host in speaking the truth. The messages delivered by angels are unsettling, in that God’s words to humans are often about a change to come. They are words of warning or direction or hard truth we need to hear.

So, while we sing of the tender brush of angels’ wings in the song “Sanctuary”, today is a day we remember that the brush of angels’ wings means that there is movement about. God is moving us. God is present with us. Let us be bold and join our voices with that of angels, as we listen deeply for God.

--Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What images of angels are inspirational to you? Who have been angels in your life? How might your understanding of angels expand?

Daily Challenge

Sit in silence for 15 minutes. Listen for angels' wings. Listen for how God is calling you to move or change in new ways. Ask God to be with you in stillness, emboldening you to move into the rest of your day.

Sheep Need a Shepherd - September 28

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 97, 99, [100]; PM Psalm 94, [95]; 2 Chron. 29:1-3,30:1(2-9)10-27; 1 Cor. 7:32-40; Matt. 7:1-12

Today’s Reflection

Know this: The Lord himself is God; he himself has made us, and we are his; we are his people and the sheep of his pasture.  –Psalm 100:2

This past Sunday afternoon, being exceptionally tired out, I did something I rarely do—I stretched out in the living room and turned on the TV. I was in the mood for something British. I thought maybe Pride and Prejudice, but after a few minutes decided against it. I considered Peppa Pig, which puts me to sleep every single time (the characters’ voices and the theme song are very soothing), but decided against that because I didn’t want to fall asleep immediately. Finally, I turned to see if there were any new episodes of the Grand Tour (the Amazon version of Top Gear), but finding none I settled on a new series featuring one of the Grand Tour guys, Jeremy Clarkson.

If you’re familiar with Jeremy Clarkson, then you’ll know that the whole premise of the series Clarkson’s Farm is meant to be ridiculous. Clarkson, having made many millions of pounds over the years as a Top Gear presenter, owns a 1,000-acre farm in the Cotswolds. The premise of the show is that his farm overseer is retiring, and he wants to learn to run the farm for himself. So, he goes about working with local farmers, Cotswolds born and raised, ostensibly to learn about how to do things like use tractors and farm equipment to prepare soil, plant seeds, and harvest crops (episode 1, “Tractoring”). While it had some humorous moments, the “Tractoring” episode put me to sleep and next thing I knew we were at the beginning of episode 2, “Sheeping.”

Here’s the main thing I learned from watching Jeremy Clarkson trying to raise sheep: both Jeremy Clarkson and sheep are quite difficult to herd! So, when I read in Psalm 100 that we are God’s people and the sheep of his pasture, it puts me in mind everything Clarkson learned about raising sheep. First, you need to give the sheep some boundaries. Clarkson figured he could just rely on the traditional stone walls that mark off sections of his farmland—but he learned that sheep, though they seem docile and unathletic, in fact are quite capable of jumping over walls. And once one sheep jumps over a wall, all the rest of the sheep will follow.

Farmer Clarkson also learned that one needs to provide sufficient food for the sheep, especially once the ewes are expecting their lambs. While the whole sheep farming venture began as a means to mow some of his fields naturally, in fact the sheep so quickly eat the grasses in a pasture that he then needed to purchase expensive hay to supplement his farm’s grass. He also learned that sheep get injured and require expensive veterinary care. Overall, sheep are animals who are difficult to herd and cost much more to raise than the amount he would make from selling off the lambs—and certainly much, much more than it would have cost to just hire someone to mow his fields!

Like sheep, we need boundaries to keep us in the safe pasture where God would rather us be. Like sheep, we need extra attention and nourishment to keep us healthy and well. Like sheep, we need someone willing to look out for us and keep us within those safe boundaries and focused on what is most essential for our life and well-being.

And like Jeremy Clarkson, we are stubborn and wrong-headed! We think that surely our more complicated way of doing things will somehow be better than the simpler, tried-and-true ways of tending the flock.

I, for one, am quite glad that God is my shepherd (and not Jeremy Clarkson). Because, as amusing as it was at times to see the very un-farmerlike Clarkson ostensibly trying to learn about sheep farming, what is needed is someone truly committed to guiding and nurturing us. God himself has made us and we are his, the sheep of God’s pasture.

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Reflecting on yourself, in what ways are you like a sheep in need of a shepherd? Who have been some good shepherd figures in your life? What have these shepherds done to gently keep you in a safe pasture?

Daily Challenge

Learn more about sheep and shepherding in the Bible and art by reading this article on Bible Odyssey.

Letting Go of Worry - September 27

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 89:1-18; PM Psalm 89:19-52; 2 Kings 17:24-41; 1 Cor. 7:25-31; Matt. 6:25-34

In the last few years, I have found cycling to be enjoyable and a wonderful outlet for exercise, focus, and friendship.   Being outside in our beautiful city, or really just outside, in the rolling hills and foothills of Appalachia, I’ve fallen in love with our natural setting here in Birmingham.  One of the aspects of cycling that is most intriguing is the ability to totally get crushed by people thirty years my senior.  Even at 40 years old, I am awestruck at the ability for people well into their seventies to maintain such high levels of fitness, finding myself often struggling to keep up with people who in most other endurance sports wouldn’t stand a chance of being at the same physical level due to nothing more than physiology.

As I learn more about the sport, I am amazed by the time that people put in every week.  Some people ride a few hours a day.  It’s an amazing feat.  It’s not a surprise to come across someone who purely does this to gain years on their life.  You can imagine someone saying, “Oh I ride twenty hours a week so that I’ll live ten years longer.”  This certainly might be true, but the irony of the statement is, the person is spending that time on a bicycle!  If the sole purpose of the activity is to gain time to spend with family or friends, then the gain is lost on the activity and the person is totally unaware.  It has no benefit!  There must be other reasons for riding, such as health, friendship, and general enjoyment of the sport for the activity to make sense.  When diving into anything that requires a significant amount of time, we should ask ourselves, “What is the purpose of our investment of time, talent, and treasure?”  “What are we hoping to accomplish?” 

I wonder if a similar principle can be applied to worry.  I’ve experienced several times in my life wear a healthy dose of skepticism and worry has helped motivate or shape an outcome to be positive.  I’ve also experienced moments where I spent so much time worrying over things that were outside of my control, or worse, where I have spent so much time consumed by worry, for more than even the worse outcome coming to life. 

Jesus’s words of compassion around worry are meant to help give us perspective.  “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? vv. (6:25-26)” Even two thousand years later, we are still worrying about the same things! 

Perspective seems to be the answer.  Jesus reminds those gathered on the mountain that even the lilies of the field continue to grow because God has planted them as well.  We worry a lot these days.  Today, I wonder just how necessary that worry really is.  Sometimes it might be a healthy motivator and at other times a complete waste of time that even inhibits our own growth and wellbeing.  How different would it be if you were to see our own lives as where God has planted us, and to believe that “if God so clothes the grass of the field… will he not much more clothe (us)- of little faith (v. 30).”

Faithfully,

John+ 

Questions for Self-Reflection:  How often do you reflect on the motivations of where you spend your time?  What three areas or activities outside of work do you spend most of your time on?  What are the values underneath those activities that you are trying to draw out?

Daily Challenge:  If you need help worrying less, read these seven simple practices.

Sharing treasures and light - September 25

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 87, 90; PM Psalm 136; 2 Kings 11:1-20a; 1 Cor. 7:10-24; Matt. 6:19-24

It is one of these chilly autumn mornings. The windows of our home office are covered in condensation and I can hear the chirps and chips of creatures outside, invigorated by the cool morning air. What I thought would be a great time to write this morning’s reflection in silence has resulted in something different. Everyone in the household, humans and pets alike, is up early on a Saturday morning. Chirping, chipping, and joyous.

As the din of giggles upstairs taper off, my mind slips to reflections of yesterday afternoon. I attended the funeral of a lovely, kind woman named Kay Kellum. I got to know her and her late husband Mike when we sang in the choir. Kay, a buoyant alto, exuded a warmth and joy. Her face always glowed. Her eyes twinkled. Compassionate, funny, full of spunk and wisdom. I think of Kay when I read this continuation of the sermon on the mount, for Jesus is offering nuggets of wisdom to those who have ears to hear:

“‘Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

‘The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light;” (Matthew 6:19-22)

Kay lived into Jesus’ words. Her whole body was full of light, as her eyes shined with God’s love. She was always giving away treasures to others. She donated to numerous charities that resonated with her heart for caring for those who are struggling. She had been a social worker for the burn unit at UAB. When she was no longer on the floors of the hospital helping families through hard times, Kay was committed to sharing financially with others. She wrote cards of encouragement and care all the time; with her copious handwritten notes, Kay kept the postal service occupied even on the slowest of days. Each time she heard an ambulance or fire truck’s siren, she immediately prayed for those affected by the emergency at hand. Kay told me once that she did not sleep well at night. There were times she would lie awake for hours. Rather than counting sheep, she would pray for people. Pray and pray and pray. Her prayers redeemed the frustration of sleeplessness. It became sacred time of connection with God.

All of this doing and giving and being that Kay lived was valuable, because she was grounded fully in God’s love. Love of family. Love for the whole human family. That is where her heart was. That was her treasure.

As we enter these next few weeks of stewardship conversations at Saint Stephen’s, exploring how giving has changed our lives, I will be giving thanks and remembering Kay, a beacon of love and generosity. I encourage you to think of a person who inspires you to give more. What would it be like to incorporate some of that person’s qualities into your own life?

--Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Who is someone who has shown care and compassion to you in a time when you really needed it?

Who are the people you treasure most? Who holds you in high esteem like that?

Daily Challenge

Think of someone who inspires you to love more deeply and give more freely. Tell that person today – through spoken or written word – how much they mean to you, and how they have changed your life.

Darkness is My Only Companion - September 24

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 88; PM Psalm 91, 92; 2 Kings 9:17-37; 1 Cor. 7:1-9; Matt. 6:7-15

Today’s Reflection

The Psalms appointed for today provide us a study in contrasts. In Psalm 88, we hear strong notes of desperation and hopelessness—one of many songs of lament included amongst the Psalter. But then Psalm 91 comes across as a song of encouragement—a prayer admonishing the one addressed that God will remain with them, no matter what troubles may be encountered. Then we find in Psalm 92 a song of thankfulness, acknowledging God’s steadfast presence through all things, the good and the not-so-good times, even in the downright bad times. This is one of the things I love most about the Psalms—they capture so beautifully and so accurately the wide array of moods and states of mind we will experience throughout our lives.

We all go through different moods and states of mind. Many things factor into how we feel mentally, emotionally, and physically on a given day. Some of how we feel is situational—what is happening in the world around us—whether in our home, our social life, our work life, or out in our community and the wider world.

During this 18-month (and counting) pandemic, people have experienced the stresses of isolation, changes in work-life balance, not to mention the traumas of severe illness and even the death of loved ones. Living in a world of constantly changing conditions takes its own toll, when we are constantly carrying so many questions around in the back of our minds: When are we required to isolate? When is it OK to mix with other people, and in what ways? When should I wear a mask? When is it safe not to? Could everything shut down again at any time? Will I or a loved one find themselves without a job due to the economic impact of it all? Could I or a loved one end up in the hospital? But even when we get to that point when the pandemic is over (whenever that may be), we will all be changed in how we see ourselves, our world, and how we respond to things like contagious illnesses in ourselves and in those around us.

But not everything about our emotional and mental state is explained by outside, situational factors. Our internal physiology also should be considered. Mental health can also be influenced through experiencing trauma at some point in life (even long ago), or through our genetic predisposition, or due to changes in brain function (whether permanent or temporary) due to injury, illness, aging, and so on.

As a priest, I wonder sometimes how all the above—these environmental and physiological factors—interact with and influence how a person experiences a sense of connection with God. So earlier this year, I read a book called Darkness is My Only Companion: A Christian Response to Mental Illness by Katherine Greene-McCreight, an Episcopal priest and theologian affiliated with Yale Divinity School. Greene-McCreight found herself dealing first with post-partum depression and later was diagnosed as having bipolar disorder, for which she has been hospitalized on occasion and continues treatment for through both medication and talk therapy. So, all that is to say, she’s not writing about the intersection of mental health and Christian faith from some abstract, theological perspective—this is her life, and as such her life has informed her vocations as priest and theologian. She titled her book Darkness in My Only Companion inspired by these lines from Psalm 88 we read today:

But as for me, O Lord, I cry to you for help;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Lord, why have you rejected me?
why have you hidden your face from me?
Ever since my youth, I have been wretched and at the point of death;
I have borne your terrors with a troubled mind.
Your blazing anger has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me;
They surround me all day long like a flood;
they encompass me on every side.
My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me,
and darkness is my only companion.  (Psalm 88: 14-19)

As Steve Moore, a parishioner here at Saint Stephen’s has said regarding both substance use issues and mental health issues, these are the life circumstances for which people are not usually offering to bring over a casserole—or any of the other usual ways we show tangible support for people who are struggling with their physical health. What I know of this subject comes from firsthand experience over the years of knowing and supporting those who experience life with mental illness. Knowing and supporting them has given me a special appreciation for the challenges they face—and for the challenge for us in the church to acknowledge what is often treated as shameful both in the church and in the wider culture.

Psalm 88 captures so well that sense of isolation and not being understood that are experienced by people in a number of challenging life situations—whether due to grieving a loved one, facing a life-threatening physical illness, being socially ostracized, or dealing with depression or another mental health challenge. But we also find in Psalms 91 a clear reminder of the hope and comfort that God holds out to us all, especially at those times when the light of hope is shining only very dimly somewhere out there in the distance:

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High,
abides under the shadow of the Almighty.
He shall say to the Lord,
“You are my refuge and my stronghold,
my God in whom I put my trust.”
He shall deliver you from the snare of the hunter
and from the deadly pestilence.
He shall cover you with his pinions,
and you shall find refuge under his wings;
his faithfulness shall be a shield and buckler.

For he shall give his angels charge over you,
to keep you in all your ways.
They shall bear you in their hands,
lest you dash your foot against a stone. (Psalm 91: 1-4, 11-12)

—Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

Which lines of Psalm 88 resonate most with you? What challenging time in life does this Psalm bring to mind for you? Which lines from Psalm 91 do you find most comforting?

Daily Challenge

Consider reading Katherine Greene-McCreight’s book Darkness is My Only Companion: A Christian Response to Mental Illness. Or consider reading Christian ethicist and theologian Stanley Hauerwas’ book, Hannah’s Child: A Theologian’s Memoir, which includes his reflections on being married to a spouse who struggled with mental illness.

If you are looking for resources for yourself or a loved one dealing with mental illness, take a look at the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) website.

Take a Deep Breath - September 23

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm [83] or 34; PM Psalm 85, 86; 2 Kings 9:1-16; 1 Cor. 6:12-20; Matt. 6:1-6,16-18

Often, when studying a new language, you learn more about your own language, or at least that has always been the case for me.  Hebrew, like many other languages, has sounds that are guttural, others that are hard sounding.   What Hebrew does not have in its written language are vowels.  Three of the letters in Hebrew, ‘Yod’, ‘Hey’, ‘Vav’ which in English are often translated as ‘Y’, ‘H’ and ‘V’ or ‘W’ are known as aspirant consonants (This was very new to me when I studied Hebrew but we have aspirated consonants in English too!). These letters, when spoken, require aspiration with the amount of breath pushed out when you say the letters.   

In Hebrew, one of the ways that God is named is simply the Hebrew letters YHVH.  Translations that try to acknowledge the Hebrew name of God often write Yahweh adding two vowels to make the word construction make sense.  Hebrew had vowel sounds but they were not contained in the letters.  

It is not a mistake that God’s name is literally the sound of breath.  In Genesis, God takes red clay (Adamah) and forms the clay into man.  However, this form, later named Adam, is only a vessel until God breathes life into him.  Breath or spirit is the animating force behind who we are.  This makes sense physiologically because one of the signs of life is breath!

I think Paul, a Greek Jew, was deeply shaped by these ideas.  He refers to our bodies as temples animated by the Holy Spirit.  He writes to the community in Corinth, “Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, which you have from God, and that you are not your own?”

I don’t think it is a stretch to claim that God dwells within each of us.  It’s a little bit farther than we are made in the image of God. God has breathed life into each of us.  We also breathe life into the world.   If you are struggling to see God in your life, maybe it’s as simple as slowing down and paying attention to your breathing.  Or maybe just slowing down and listening. 

A deep breath goes a long way to calm worries.  Maybe because it’s a reminder that God is with us.  Take a deep breath and know that you are not alone.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  How often are you aware of your breathing?  How often do you slow down enough without other distractions?  What are your practices of listening to yourself? 

Daily Challenge: Find a quiet place.  Set your phone timer for three minutes and close your eyes and spend a few minutes slowly breathing and listening to your breath. 

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.