Of Boldness and Boasting - July 22

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 40, 54; PM Psalm 51; Joshua 9:22-10:15; Rom. 15:14-24; Matt. 27:1-10

Today’s Reflection

I myself feel confident about you, my brothers and sisters, that you yourselves are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, and able to instruct one another. Nevertheless, on some points I have written to you rather boldly by way of reminder, because of the grace given me by God to be a minister of Christ Jesus to the Gentiles in the priestly service of the gospel of God, so that the offering of the Gentiles may be acceptable, sanctified by the Holy Spirit. In Christ Jesus, then, I have reason to boast of my work for God. For I will not venture to speak of anything except what Christ has accomplished through me.  Romans 15: 14-18a

Oftentimes, confident people are misunderstood. Other times, confident people are questioned disliked because those around them see that, perhaps, they are unduly confident or that the source of their confidence is problematic somehow. Sometimes, we might even find humor in those who possess confidence that is out of proportion to their abilities and who, as a result, misread the situations in which they find themselves.

When I read today’s passage from Romans, scenes and snatches of dialogue from the U.S. version of The Office came to mind—in part because my daughter was watching multiple episodes of The Office just last evening. In nearly every episode I have seen, a key source of the humor comes from two characters, Michael Scott (played by Steve Carrell) and Dwight Schrute (played by Rainn Wilson). What makes Michael and Dwight funny, on their own but especially when they interact, is that both are very confident, often unduly so, in themselves. Much of the humor of The Office comes from how the other, more balanced characters (Jim, Pam, et al.) perceive them and respond to them, especially in their biggest, most out-there moments of egotism. And yet, we also find ourselves, against our better judgment sometimes, pulling for Michael or Dwight in a similar spirit as we might root for Don Quixote in some of his outlandish, windmill-fighting adventures.

Over the years, I have been drawn to the voice of Paul in his letters to his friends and supporters scattered around the Mediterranean region. More than anyone else in the Bible, I feel like I have been able to get to know Paul as a person through his letters. Yes, Paul has many flaws, of which he freely admits—and yet he also comes across as very confident in himself and the abilities God has given him. Some readers of Paul find this confidence to be over the top and frustrating—to them, his self-confidence is off-putting and detracts from his being a good messenger of the Good News.

However, these readers are not reading Paul’s letters closely enough. At multiple points in his letters, Paul acknowledges that the source of his confidence is the grace and love given him by God. We hear this in today’s passage from Romans 15. Paul feels “confident” in his friends because of they are “are full of goodness, filled with all knowledge, and able to instruct one another.” And he acknowledges that “on some points I have written to you rather boldly.” But ultimately what is the source of Paul’s boldness and the confidence he places in his friends? Paul speaks boldly “because of the grace given me by God to be a minister of Christ Jesus to the Gentiles in the priestly service of the gospel of God.” As he argues convincingly, “In Christ Jesus, then, I have reason to boast of my work for God. For I will not venture to speak of anything except what Christ has accomplished through me.”

As Paul declares elsewhere, in his letter to the Galatians: “May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me and I to the world” (Galatians 6: 14).

Becky+

Questions for Reflection

Recall a time when you boasted about something not that you had done but on something good you observed or experienced that was clearly a glimpse of God’s grace and love. How does boasting about God and his creation and ongoing presence with us in the world feel different than boasting of something for which you are giving yourself the credit?

Daily Challenge  

If you would like to reflect further on boasting, listen to this recent sermon, “May I Never Boast,” given by the Rev. Dr. Sam Wells at St. Martin-in-the-Fields, London, on July 3, 2022. It begins around the 26:50 mark.

Watching from a Distance - July 20

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:49-72; PM Psalm 49, [53], Joshua 8:30-35; Rom. 14:13-23; Matt. 26:57-68

Violence is hard for me to bear in recent days. Since the shootings at Saint Stephen’s, imagery of interpersonal harm is upsetting. There is a television show Sam and I are watching on Hulu called “The Old Man”. It is exciting, fascinating, and sometimes violent. In order to get through some scenes, I turn my head away or cover my eyes. I know that this is a side-effect of trauma. It is too painful to absorb the hurt.

In today’s gospel reading from Matthew, in which Jesus is being tried before Caiaphas the high priest. Jesus refuses to answer the calls for his testimony. The excerpt for today ends with Jesus being struck in the face as someone demands, “Prophesy to us, you Messiah!” At first blush, I thought, “Nope!” and moved past this scripture to reflect on another piece of the Bible.

And yet here I am, writing about what I yearn to avoid. Here’s what I am wondering as I read Matthew 26 today: Peter must have been traumatized as he hung back and watched from a distance as Jesus, the Son of Man, was taken into custody, badgered, and beaten. What heavy feelings of guilt and remorse he carried around for the remainder of his days in ministry.

Peter was forever changed by his experience shadowing Jesus. He was a survivor in that surge of persecution. Did he wish he had been captured, too? How did he move through the regret? Who comforted him when he felt completely devastated? Did Peter rehearse any verses from Psalm 119 as he sat in horror? Several verses (65-68) resonate in such a space of inner turmoil:

O Lord, you have dealt graciously with your servant,
according to your word.
Teach me discernment and knowledge,
for I have believed in your commandments.
Before I was afflicted I went astray,
but now I keep your word.
You are good and you bring forth good;
instruct me in your statutes.

Sometimes it takes others’ words of faithful prayer to bring peace in discomfort – like the petitions in Psalm 119. And sometimes, we get to let yesterday rest and make different decisions moving forward. Let us prayerfully do the next right thing today.

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection:

Think of a time that someone really let you down. What feelings and thoughts remain about that person?

Think of a situation when you let someone else down. How did you react next?

Daily Challenge:

What does letting go of disappointment look like for you today? Spend a few minutes journaling about a scenario where you felt deeply disappointed, yet the solution feels far away. Pray to God for grace to enter this space of discomfort. Pray through the verses of Psalm 119 appointed for today.

Asleep with an Invitation to Wake Up - July 18

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 41, 52; PM Psalm 44: Joshua 7:1-13; Rom. 13:8-14; Matt. 26:36-46

I get the sense Jesus is not only frustrated but disappointed that his friends were unable to stay awake through the evening in the Garden of Gethsemane. Not once, but three times he comes back to find them sleeping. Jesus has gone to the garden, not only to grieve, but the scriptures say to ‘be agitated.’ I’m not sure I have noticed those words before, but grief and agitation seem like good roommates today.  Jesus has to tell his friends three times and they still can’t get it straight, stay away even for an evening.  I’m not surprised he is agitated.  They just don’t get it.

It seems pretty straightforward to the reader who sympathizes with Jesus, coming back to find his friends asleep as the story unfolds. But what happens when find ourselves in the place of the disciples, being awakened to a friend’s grief and agitation having once again failed to meet their expectations? Is the Gospel a warning or a reminder of what will happen with a vision for a kingdom way to live that is always a possibility and yet just out of touch from reality? 

There are two realities that this can point us to that can be especially helpful in a community that has faced a tremendous amount of grief and loss.  First, we will fail to meet the expectations of others.  We will find ourselves not quite fully understanding the depth of pain that others are living with at this present time.  It may even feel to others that we are asleep to the grief that others are facing.  It’s oddly comforting that the narrator reminds us that the disciples’ “eyes were heavy.” They have done too much to stay awake. 

But being asleep makes an assumption – that we can be awakened.  I am finding awakened a helpful world.  What God is asking us is not to be consumed or taken over by a feeling of emotions only to be aware of it and attuned to it.  This assumes a listening posture, an awareness that previously was not there, and some generosity around listening.  We can both be unaware of the pain around us and be open to receiving the pain and grief. 

Maybe this is all good news.  We aren’t capable of fully comprehending the depth of pain in others’ lives.  And yet every day is an opportunity to listen, to find ourselves invited to be awakened once again.  So, “Get up, let us be going.” It’s a daily invitation into a deeper relationship with each other and God.  We don’t have to have it all figured out, only be attuned to respond when God wakes us up.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Where are the grieving people in your own life?  How have you failed to recognize their own pain and when have you been invited to wake up? 

Daily Challenge:  If you are interested in learning about active listening, here is an article that has some tools for listening.

'Life is so beautiful. Life is so hard.' - July 15

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 31; PM Psalm 35; Joshua 4:19-5:1,10-15; Rom. 12:9-21; Matt. 26:17-25

Today’s Reflection

Back in May, I printed out two copies of a simple yet beautiful little poster—one for my refrigerator at home and one for my bulletin board at work. The poster is, in fact, a miniature version of a mural that was painted this spring on the side of a building in Durham, North Carolina. On it are just eight words, along with some beautiful flowers and leaves interspersed amongst the words: “Life is so beautiful. Life is so hard.” These are words from Duke professor and author Kate Bowler, someone whose life story and writing I have found especially encouraging since I began reading her books two years ago.

Some of you also have read her books Everything Happens for a Reason (and Other Lies I’ve Loved), No Cure for Being Human, and Good Enough—and some of you read them with us in one of our Saint Stephen’s book groups. Others of you have been encouraged by her podcast, Everything Happens. (The rest of you have heard me quote from these in at least several sermons and Daily Office reflections.)

Maybe we think we would like the poster better if it just had the first four words, “Life is so beautiful.” But based on my own life experiences, I know that if we leave off after the first four words then the poster wouldn’t really ring true and wouldn’t be nearly as encouraging. It’s only when we add the second four words, “Life is so hard” that the poster goes from being syrupy sweet to being both realistic and encouraging.

The focus of Bowler’s Everything Happens Project, based at Duke, is to encourage the practice of everyday empathy. It’s a perspective on life together that holds in tension the beauty to be found in encouraging one another through everything that happens—the hard things, the things we will never understand, the things for which we will never come up with a ‘good reason’ for why they happened (or are happening) to us or to those we love or to the world around us. Let’s be real: $#!% happens. Clearly. But when it does, we must keep showing up for each other—and we know that God, in God’s great love for us, keeps showing up. God is with us. Or as we read today in Psalm 31:

But as for me, I have trusted in you, O Lord. I have said, “You are my God. My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies, and from those who persecute me. Make your face to shine upon your servant, and in your loving-kindness save me.”  (Psalm 31: 14-16)

A big part of how God shines God’s face on us is through us shining our faces on one another. How do we shine our face on one another? What does this mean?

Here’s what Kate Bowler learned as she began her ongoing battle with cancer at age 35 and in the several years since: “What I realized when I needed so much was that it was those everyday acts of compassion that were going to carry me. Once I could see it in my own life, I saw it everywhere—in the grocery store, and in the community, and at work, and at the hospital—is that we really do need each other in order to just face the reality of how hard life is. I found myself repeating the same thing over and over again: that life is so beautiful, and life is so hard—for everyone. Everyday empathy allows us to remember the things our culture forgets: that individualism can never carry us, it can never allow us to build bridges that we need to actually carry our lives. Everyday empathy reminds us that we belong to one another.” Which sounds a lot like what we read today in Paul’s letter to the Romans:

Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honour. Do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers. Romans 12: 9-13

Seeing the words “Life is so beautiful. Life is so hard” every day in my kitchen and in my office reminds me of what is most important and what is most true. Life is both beautiful and hard—there’s no getting around the fact that it is both. But what makes life beautiful, even when we are constantly challenged and confused by the parts that are hard, is that God is with us (and we are with one another) and that will never change. Thanks be to God.

Becky+

Questions for Reflection

How have you experienced life being both beautiful and hard? How do you (or could you) picture God’s face shining on you when life seems especially hard?

Daily Challenge

Learn more about everyday empathy, watch a short video, and download your own “Life is so beautiful. Life is so hard.” poster or phone background here.

Desert meditation - July 13

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 38; PM Psalm 119:25-48, Joshua 3:1-13; Rom. 11:25-36; Matt. 25:31-46

While I was in seminary in Austin, Texas, Sam and I would go to this nursery and organic gardening center called The Natural Gardener. It was a remarkable piece of sprawling Hill Country nestled in the exponential growth of an urban mecca. The Natural Gardener embraced the hot sun of Texas, and the toll it could take on terrain, by balancing dusty pathways and drought-tolerant grasses with arrays of wildflowers. The gardens were a botanical haven, with an edible garden for kids to take snips of various herbs and lettuces, and staff to guide and invite them to do so. Josephine was four or five when we first went there, so the huge swing on long thick ropes grabbed her attention, as did the pasture with fickle goats and a reluctant donkey.

There were days in the white-hot summer we would drive the 30+ minutes out to this retreat, not to buy new plants – as we were renting the house we lived in. It was for survival…we needed a place to go to take a breath and a change in the rhythm of the week. On one of those days that had been tumultuous, I remember finding great refreshment at The Natural Gardener - not in the rainbow of floral designs and babbling brook, but as I wandered the dusty grey path, winding up a slow rise past dry tall grasses, old fences, and older trees toward small corners of shade. I let go of the troubles upon my shoulders and the tears waiting to pour down my cheeks. It felt like time slowed down as I ambled and explored.

This old dirt path felt like it held the same power as a labyrinth, inviting me into prayer as I took one step at a time. On that day, I did not need the bright colors of flowers to entice or keep me; I stepped through the wild and untamed parts, sturdy and resilient. On that day, I needed to feel peace in the dust. For in that desert terrain, one drop of water yields life and growth and a burst of beauty.

A part of Psalm 119 is appointed for this afternoon or evening’s prayer time; verses 33 through 40 capture my attention as invitations to meditate and return to an emotional and spiritual center within oneself, with God’s help. The psalmist’s voice calls out in this prayer of direction to God:

“Teach me, O Lord, the way of your statues, and I will observe it to the end. Give me understanding, that I may keep your law and observe it with my whole heart. Lead me in the path of your commandments, for I delight in it. Turn my heart to your decrees, and not to selfish gain. Turn my eyes from looking at vanities; give me life in your ways. Confirm to your servant your promise, which is for those who fear you. Turn away the disgrace that I dread, for your ordinances are good. See, I have longed for your precepts; in your righteousness give me life.”

Notice the verbs used: teach, give, lead, turn, confirm, see. In this raw prayer for God’s refreshing guidance, life is hard. This is a prayer for God’s order to break in upon our messy, dusty life.

This hot July morning, I give thanks for this piece of Psalm 119, as I imagine rehearsing these words while walking the winding desert garden path in Texas. The waves of emotion parallel the turns and switchbacks of the maze of a labyrinth meditation. What a cleansing and centering experience that can be, to allow these ancient prayers to draw us nearer to God. Breathing, praying, being. Being self. Being with God. Being loved.

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection:

Where is a safe and comfortable space for you to reconnect and recenter yourself? When have you done that kind of “reset” in the last month? What sounds and images bring you that sense of peace on a hard day?

Daily Challenge:

Go for a 10-minute mindfulness walk. Take your time. Listen for God guiding you, tending to you, refreshing you. Give thanks to God for the breath that comes into your body, and as you exhale, release those things that are unresolved, painful, and weighing you down.

How much more will their full inclusion mean! - July 11

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 25; PM Psalm 9, 15; Joshua 2:1-14; Rom. 11:1-12; Matt. 25:1-13

“Now if their stumbling means riches for the world, and if their defeat means riches for Gentiles, how much more will their full inclusion mean!”

A simple statement from Paul to the Romans.  Paul is trying to show his Jewish brothers and sisters that God’s extension of love is beyond them, a message of love and inclusion to the Gentiles.  The very Gentiles who have killed prophets, destroyed altars, and left his friends and family feeling utterly alone. A timely lectionary indeed.  When faced with hardship, inclusion is the only answer.

Paul continues, “But if it is by grace, it is no longer on the basis of works, otherwise grace would no longer be grace.” Grace upon grace upon grace.  Oddly, it is the stumbling of the Gentiles that teaches Paul about the true power of grace.  Without utterly messing up, they wouldn’t understand the true power of God’s inclusion and grace.   

Maybe love is similar, where we have to lose it all in order to understand the true value of love, the power of love, the hope of love, and what God has intended for each of us.  I wish more than anything that our community hadn’t been thrust through this ordeal, that the senseless loss of life wouldn’t have become our story.  And, I can honestly say, that I have a new understanding of grace, inclusion, and love that I wouldn’t have understood before. 

God is calling us into the full body of Christ, where all are welcome.  And it is the most beautiful community I have ever witnessed.  “Now if their stumbling means riches for the world, and if their defeat means riches for Gentiles, how much more will their full inclusion mean!”

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What are your stumbling blocks?  Where have you experienced grace recently?  How have you experienced inclusion?

Daily Challenge:  Consider hosting some sort of gathering that brings different people together.  It could be a work lunch, happy hour, or coffee.  Set parameters so that people understand the purpose and feel safe.  If you do this, I would love to know about it later.

Encouraging One Another with Love - July 8

Today’s Readings: Deut. 31:7-13,24-32:4; Psalm 119:33–40; Acts 18:1–4, 18–21, 24–28; Luke 24:28–35

Today’s Reflection

God of grace and might, who gave to your servants Aquila and Priscilla gifts of zeal and eloquence to make known the truth of the Gospel: Raise up, we pray, in every country, heralds and evangelists of your kingdom, so that the world may know the immeasurable riches of our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (Prayer for the Feast Day of Priscilla and Aquila)­­­­

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Becky+

Questions for Self-Reflection

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

Daily Challenge

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

Authentic vulnerability - July 6

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:1-24; PM Psalm 12, 13, 14; Deut. 1:1-18; Rom. 9:1-18; Matt. 23:27-39

Jesus said, ‘Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs, which on the outside look beautiful, but inside they are full of the bones of the dead and of all kinds of filth. So you also on the outside look righteous to others, but inside you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.’

The imagery in the first couple of verses of Matthew appointed for today will not let me go. I am stuck on those whitewashed tombs. They are visually appealing on the outside, where people gather and remember with fullness and love. Once inside, one finds the space full of the detritus of death. What a stark and germane contrast Jesus provides, as he calls out the educated and influential spiritual leaders of the Temple to be authentic and vulnerable.

Authenticity sometimes means stopping to sit with someone in need, before finishing a chapel duty. Vulnerability looks like naming (and feeling) when there is uncertainty or pain, and then asking for help. This work of paying attention to reconcile – and not always resolve – the messiness within our hearts and around our communities is the holy and hard work we are called to do together. It is an effort grounded in prayer. It is a rhythm with roots in the movement of the psalms. Sometimes we will look beautiful and pleasing. Other times, this work of vulnerable authenticity will present as broken and sad. Because sometimes each of us is beautiful, and broken, and blubbering. Then, we find spaces of rest and release, laughter and hope.

Over the last nine days, I worked with a devoted and lovely team from Saint Stephen’s as we presented the daily program to junior high-aged teens at Camp McDowell. As the session included Independence Day, our theme for the week was interdependence. We hoped for the campers to grasp that we are never doing life alone and independently. The Israelites wandered through the deserts of Egypt with the cloud of God’s presence always nearby. They relied on one another, and upon the Lord. Jesus performed miracles for and with others – not for his own pleasure. Mary Magdalene went to the tomb to see her friend Jesus – and a gardener appears, to console and encourage her. She ran to the disciples to share the news that Jesus had risen from the dead. Those witnesses of faithfulness draw us into trusting God and one another.

By living life as interdependent Christians, by design we remain authentic and vulnerable, because we need one another, just as we need God. Jesus is with us in the messy collage that is daily life – in the midst of joy and heartache.

My dear ones, I pray that you are staying vulnerable and authentic. Whitewashing our lives only shortchanges the fullness of joy that God desires for each of us. I challenge you to share more openly with someone you trust, feel more deeply for those around you, and pray for Jesus to be with you in those moments when it would be easier to do something different. And ask for help – from a friend, from a professional, and from God.

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection:

When are you most likely to whitewash a part of yourself or your history?

What people and practices in your daily life keep you grounded and vulnerable?

Daily Challenge:

Spend five minutes today to journal about what a call to being vulnerable and authentic looks like for you today. Think about who and what you need to help you venture into this meaningful and hard space.

Love in Action, Not Words - July 4

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 1, 2, 3; PM Psalm 4, 7, Num. 32:1-6,16-27; Rom. 8:26-30; Matt. 23:1-12

In March of 2020, our clergy began writing daily reflections based on the daily cycle of readings within the Episcopal Church, a practice that became the spiritual grounding for my life in the midst of wrestling with a pandemic and its influence on what it meant to be part of a faith community.  We reduced that practice to writing three times a week, one reflection by each full-time clergy member, a few months ago, with a desire to make the practice one that could live on in perpetuity.  Reading scripture daily and taking time to meditate on its meaning and influence in my own life has not only been life-giving but has personally helped sustain me through the most challenging of years. 

Two weeks ago, we took a two-week break to respond to the heightened and pressing ministry needs of a mass tragedy in our community which also means that many of you are reading this email for the very first time, brought to Saint Stephen’s in search for how our faith can help us process or live with such unfathomable pain and grief in a way that is hopeful and transformative. Personally, as the Rector of the church, the path has seemed clear so far on how to respond to the tragedy at Saint Stephen’s – with love and hospitality.  The mirror image of the Last Supper around the event that took place on June 16 has provided such a hopeful image to me of what it means to live out my faith. It is simple. Always welcome with love, even at the cost of life. I am not suggesting this is easy to do, in fact, it took three of the most faithful people I have ever met to sacrificially model it, but I now know what I am supposed to do, to strive for, a model for what my life can be. 

However, I have struggled with how to respond in love to much of what seems to be playing out in our national discourse, especially in a place that has deeply tried to hold people together who have competing views.  If we are to welcome people at the cost of our life, what does this mean for people who have views that we think are reprehensible, or destructive to the well-being of those who are marginalized?  How do we welcome people who might think our own views are the very same as we think about a different point of view?  How does radical welcome, love, and acceptance play out at such a time as today?

In today’s Gospel, we find ourselves in a discourse with Jesus and the Pharisees, Jesus pointing to the hypocrisy of the religious community gathered whose actions never seem to mirror the words they offer. At a first glance, it could be easy to hold up faith communities whose moral outrage at the behaviors and practices of some have highlighted just how hypocritical the religious often are.  Many of us Episcopalians are quite good at this practice – being outraged at the ultra-religious.

But the gift of reading and reflecting on Scripture daily in our life is that it should always point to our own growth.  Where I am in this story?  Could today’s readings be a reminder that my own words, what we have to speak to into the very common life of our world today is limited in its potential, but how we act and respond is what matters? “Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, ‘The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it; but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach. (Matthew 23:1-3). 

What do I say about the world today, the environmental, social, and medical implications for the wellbeing of our world?  I don’t know. But I do know how to act. Maybe, it is to care more tenderly for the earth, to work more to improve the lives of the poor and those faced with impossible decisions, and to be better about sharing what I can.  And I will trust that God’s word will shine through at the appropriate time.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What challenges and dilemmas keep you up at night?  What do you disagree with that comes from your own faith tradition and where have you changed in your opinion over time?  How can you act in love as opposed to speaking in love?

Challenge:  Find one actionable step of something that you can practice that improves the lives of others that aligns with something you believe and yet have never done before. 

Hearts Broken Open - June 17

Resources for Suffering, Grieving, and Healing

from Saint Stephen’s Christian Formation

The Rev. Dr. Malcolm Marler, “Good Grief: How to Survive It or Help Someone Through It”

The Rev. Dr. Vincent Pizzuto, “A Cry of Dereliction: Lamentation and Resurrection in the Gospels”

Will Kynes, PhD, “How Biblical Lament Helps Us Respond to Suffering”

Amy Cottrill, PhD, “Resilience in the Midst of Suffering: Perspectives from the Psalms”

The Rev. Dr. Sam Wells, “Does God Heal?”

The Rev. Steve McPeek, “The Gift of Grief and the Fellowship of Suffering”

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 88; PM Psalm 91, 92; Num. 13:1-3,21-30; Rom. 2:25-3:8; Matt. 18:21-35

Today’s Reflection

This is another day, O Lord. I know not what it will bring forth, but make me ready, Lord, for whatever it may be. If I am to stand up, help me to stand bravely. If I am to sit still, help me to sit quietly. If I am to lie low, help me to do it patiently. And if I am to do nothing, let me do it gallantly. Make these words more than words, and give me the Spirit of Jesus. Amen. (Prayer for Morning, Book of Common Prayer, p. 461)

As we begin this new day, we are waking up forever changed. As I write this on Friday morning London time (Thursday night, Birmingham time), two very beloved members of our Saint Stephen’s community have died in the most senseless and tragic circumstances, a shooting in our own church building. Another remains hospitalized. Still others who were present are now carrying the invisible, lasting wounds of trauma. All who knew them and who are at all connected with our church are impacted in innumerable ways.

This is a space that we associate with love and joy and community—wedding receptions, Vacation Bible School, bingo and movie nights, guest lectures, Sunday Forums, Wednesday night dinners, the ECW Tea. Now this same space will also be linked in our minds with a time of fear and chaos and sorrow. What are we to do? How are we to go on? As one of your priests, I do not know what to say in the face of all of this deep sadness, but I am praying for the words this morning as I write to you from far away—and looking toward being reunited to walk together through this time of collective grieving and healing.

As I look through the readings appointed for today, our psalm appointed is Psalm 88, which begins with these verses: “O Lord, my God, my Savior, by day and night I cry to you. Let my prayer enter into your presence; incline your ear to my lamentation.” These verses capture well the raw, vulnerable spirit of these recent hours for me and I expect for many of you as well. Our hearts are crying out. My mind and body are tired from lack of sleep, having learned of this at 1:30 a.m. London time and not sleeping since hearing word. My heart is tired from hearing of the shooting down of yet more innocent people—and all the more because these are these sheep of our very own fold.

And so, all I know to do right now to rest in God’s presence, crying out in the middle of the night and now in the beginning of the new day: How long, O God?

Lord have mercy.

Christ have mercy.

Lord have mercy.

In closing, I offer you what is coming up for me in these first hours of processing what has happened and what is giving me hope and reassurance in this time: Our hearts are surely broken—but in this suffering, our hearts are also broken open. The healing, saving love of Christ wells up inside each one of us, seeping through the cracks of our brokenness and suffering to refresh this dry land in need of this living water.

God is with us as we suffer, grieve, and heal—and we are with one another. Thanks be to God.

Becky+

The peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of his Son Jesus Christ our Lord; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be among you, and remain with you always. Amen. Blessing of Peace (Book of Common Prayer, p. 339)

Arise, shine, for your light has come,

and the glory of the Lord has dawned upon you.

For behold, darkness covers the land;

deep gloom enshrouds the peoples.

But over you the Lord will rise,

and his glory will appear upon you.

Nations will stream to your light,

and kings to the brightness of your dawning.

Your gates will always be open;

by day or night they will never be shut.

They will call you, The City of the Lord,

The Zion of the Holy One of Israel.

Violence will no more be heard in your land,

ruin or destruction within your borders.

You will call your walls, Salvation,

and all your portals, Praise.

The sun will no more be your light by day;

by night you will not need the brightness of the moon.

The Lord will be your everlasting light,

and your God will be your glory.

Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit:

as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be for ever.

The Third Song of Isaiah (Canticle 11, Book of Common Prayer, pp. 87-88)

Teeball and Stumbling Blocks – June 15

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82
Num. 11:24-33 (34-35); Rom. 1:28-2:11; Matt. 18:1-9

Imagine this scene with me. It is Saturday morning in Alabama. June’s summer heat and humidity are showing up and shining out. Six year olds are on the teeball field, in varying levels of presence. When one is tagged out a first base, his big, big feelings get the better of him. He hurls his helmet to the ground and storms off the playing field. He cries and yells. Six teammates remain on bases and preparing to hit. With a slim crew, each player is needed. This is not the first time that Evan has left mid-game in a huff. Or stumbled on purpose in the game, only to lie on the ground and suspend play.

“This behavior will not stand,” I think to myself, exasperated with this child who is big for his age, and yet emotionally on the brink of explosion. “He must understand that this is not okay behavior,” I say to his mom, who has tried to recover her child, but he has slipped further away to sulk some more. “He cannot keep playing during the game if he does this.” My tone is authoritative. And then, Evan's mom starts crying, “I am doing the best I can.” She walks off in tears.

In moments like this, I do not feel like a very good assistant teeball coach.

As I ponder the teachings of Jesus from Matthew 18 today, I cannot help thinking about Evan and that teeball game.

Jesus warns his friends about the dangers of seeking higher status, as they are asking who is the greatest of all in heaven. Jesus counters, answering a different question; no one will enter heaven unless they become humble like little children, who lack power and live dependent upon others. Those who welcome such a vulnerable child also welcome Jesus (paraphrasing verse 5).

Well…darn. How was I welcoming Evan in that moment? As he cried. As he fumed. Hmph. I am pretty sure Jesus would have pointed out to me that this specific encounter was a space of stumbling – for all of us involved in that moment. And who knows, Jesus may have also thrown his hands up in the air while coaching little kids on a teeball diamond.

The Greek word used for “stumbling block” is skandala, meaning a snare or cause for error. As Jesus talked with his friends, he was looking at the heart of the actions at play. He was warning them against tripping up others, leading them into sinful mindsets. What I take away from the passage from Matthew today is that each of us is called to be aware of the stumbling blocks around us…those we place in front of us and those that we might kick into the paths of others. There are some days we are more able to sort through those stumbling blocks. Other times it feels as if we are upon a field of trips and falls.

So, take a sip of water. Breathe deeply and remember God created all of us in an abundance of love. Allow the compassion of Jesus to move your hands and heart. And may the hope of the Holy Spirit strengthen you in spaces of tension.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

What has been a recent stumbling block for you? Who or what has helped you get back into a healthier space?

How do stumbling blocks affect your prayer life?

Daily Challenge

Contemplative prayer is a beautiful spiritual practice. Read more about Evelyn Underhill, a theologian and mystic who reminded all people they could live a life of contemplative prayer.

Sharing Spiritual Gifts - June 13

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 80; PM Psalm 77, [79]; Num. 9:15-23, 10:29-36; Rom. 1:1-15; Matt. 17:14-21

Recently, I drove to my hometown for the funeral of a friend’s daughter.  There were a few of us that were really close, brought together by being somewhere at the right time and the gift of music.  We would play weekly, sometimes at church services, most often in homes, offering each other that generative and creative space to nurture what we all loved to do.  

I left early Monday morning after a beautiful and exhausting Easter day to be with friends and family.  After the funeral, the few of us that were close ventured to a friend’s back porch, equipped with guitars, a mandolin, and a banjo, and sat down to play.  We were all heartbroken, and I can’t even fathom the true pain of my friend and her family, but the weight of the emotions in the room was palpable.  For a moment, I even dozed off for just a blip, with instrument in hand.  That caused some much-needed laughter amongst the group.

As we sat, as we cried, as we created, we could all strongly feel the presence of God in our midst, the real gift of hospitality and friendship. Personally, I felt the true gift of love and friendship at that moment, possibly in a more tangible way than ever before. 

Many of us have friendships that have been shaped by extraordinary experiences, whether a wild adventure, a bizarre mishap, an odd event, or even a tragedy.  And how we reflect and nurture those memories with each other define the relationships.  I am struck by Paul’s rather beautiful encouragement at the beginning of his letter to the Romans.  Paul says in verses 11 and 12, “For I am longing to see you so that I may share with you some spiritual gift to strengthen you— or rather so that we may be mutually encouraged by each other’s faith, both yours and mine.”  Paul sees friendship as the potential to share spiritual gifts and strengthen one another.  What an incredible way to view our relationships!

What if you and I viewed every relationship in the same way.  Our going over to dinner wouldn’t just be a chance to laugh and share the latest drama of the neighborhood, but an opportunity to breathe life and love into the very people we interact with on a day-to-day basis.  To see our friendships as spiritual opportunities for strength and encouragement. 

Likely, we catch glimpses of this when our lives hit crisis moments.  Helping parents age, or the loss of a loved one, but Paul has me convinced that every encounter could be this opportunity for life and joy and to share spiritual gifts with each other.  We just have to see the potential in each encounter.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Do you have friendships that strengthen your faith?  Do you have friendships where that is missing?  What is the difference and how could you make a change?

Daily Challenge: Spend some time considering your spiritual gifts, or what gifts are shared in your relationship.  Be more intentional today in reflecting on how you share those gifts in your relationships. 

Carrying Each Other’s Luggage - June 10

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 69:1-23 (24-30) 31-38;  PM Psalm 73; Eccles. 11:9-12:14;  Gal. 5:25-6:10;  Matt. 16:21-28  

Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. … So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith. Galatians 6: 2, 9-10 

As I write this reflection for Friday, it is Tuesday morning. I am in Florida, sitting on the sun porch at my parents’ house, looking out at the green grass, brilliant blue sky, palm trees, and geese swimming placidly across a small pond. It’s a peaceful spot, but it’s not where I expected to be today. I was supposed to be fresh off the plane in London, settling in to my accommodations and adjusting to the time difference. I thought my view at this time today would be of a park and neighborhood scenes in Islington, perhaps enjoying a run or walk in the much more refreshing June weather there.  

But Florida weather being what it is in June, many flights set to depart on Monday afternoon were delayed due to lightning in the Orlando area and thunderstorms on the route between there and Boston, where I was to connect to my transatlantic flight. About 10 hours of my Monday were spent driving to Orlando International, checking in, awaiting boarding, sitting a long while on the tarmac hoping we’d be cleared for takeoff, exiting the plane and spending a long time on the phone with someone rebooking me on a new flight on Tuesday, getting back to the offsite parking lot, rescheduling my parking privileges there, and finally making my way back to stay another night at my parents’ house, over an hour’s drive away, and pondering if I will be reunited with my checked bag that has made it to Heathrow well ahead of me. Fun times. 

While Monday did feel like a colossal waste of a day on many levels, I do feel like there were some redeeming moments and interactions in the day. The pleasant wait staff in the wine bar where I had a late lunch before all the complications began to unfold. The calm presence of the flight crew who managed to keep a plane full of passengers trapped on the tarmac in an overall peaceful state of coexistence. The understanding words and reassuring looks of fellow travelers who, like me, now needed to rearrange their international travel plans. The helpful, patient person on the phone who booked me onto a new and better nonstop flight for the next day. And especially the lovely assistant manager at the offsite parking facility who went above and beyond to not only rebook my parking reservation for different dates, but did so with such a friendly and warm spirit that, though it was approaching my bedtime, I could remain hopeful and happy about my time abroad—not to mention about my fellow human beings.  

Each of these interactions with my fellow human beings illustrates well what we read in Paul’s letter to the Galatians today—that we are to “bear one another’s burdens” and “whenever we have the opportunity… work for the good of all.” Each kindness that we can share, be it in word or deed, can make all the difference in someone’s day, and maybe even the trajectory of their whole life, in ways beyond what we may ever fully know. 

Becky+ 

Questions for Reflection 

When have you experienced someone carrying a burden for you? When have you had the chance to carry a burden for someone else? What moments stand out in your memory as ones in which you felt your faith in God strengthened by how you were treated by your fellow human beings? 

Daily Challenge 

English priest and poet John Donne once gave a sermon in which he reflected that “no man is an island unto himself.” You can read this well known line in its full context here.  

Counter Wisdom - June 6

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; PM Psalm 64, 65; Eccles. 7:1-14; Gal. 4:12-20; Matt. 15:21-28

Life is not easy.  We all know this individually, but it does help to be reminded from time to time.  I’m surprised at the allure of tricks or hacks that are designed to make life simpler and yet rarely do we get at the root of own issues. As a pastor, it is amazing to me how together most people at church try to present their lives.  Many clergy wonder if people disappear when life begins to fall apart. Or maybe that is preciously when the Church can be the Church, but it is too uncomfortable for the uncovering of our fragile human lives. The pressure of not having it together like the person on the next pew appears too much. 

I suspect that we too anticipate the Bible to be full of practice wisdom such as to be kind, forgive, give to charity, don’t lie, cheat or steal.  This wisdom is simplistic and commonsense and mostly true.  I suspect life is better when we follow this conventional wisdom, but there are limitations to this wisdom.  What happens when we are not kind, struggle to forgive, lie or cheat, or God-forbid, worse? If this is the only wisdom of the church, we might feel judged, even in a place that offers grace and forgiveness as the ultimate ethic, the standards of the virtuous life can seem too much. 

This is why the counter wisdom of Ecclesiastes can be such good news.  “Sorrow is better than laughter (v.3), it is better to go to the house of mourning (v.2), it is better to hear the rebuke of the wise (v.5), better is the end of a thing than its beginning (v.8) are all offerings of advice that we do not expect to hear and yet offer a balance to conventional common-sense wisdom of the world.  Our pericope is wrapped up “On the day of prosperity be joyful, and on the day of adversity consider; God has made the one as well as the other, so that mortals may not find out anything that will come after them (v.14).” What good news to be reminded that God is a part of it all!

The goal of a faithful life isn’t a prosperous career, joy, happiness, or the attainment of status.  The goal of a faithful life is the trust and confidence to see God in all things, in all places, and at all times. This is even more true when things don’t go our way.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What unconventional wisdom have you discovered in your life? 

Daily Challenge:  Read slowly the passage from Ecclesiastes.  Consider what is most challenging and what is helpful.  If interested, consider spending time in the whole book.  You can begin here.

Clothed with Christ - June 3

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; Ezek. 36:22-27; Eph. 6:10-24; Matt. 9:18-26

Today’s Reflection

When I was 19, just finishing my sophomore year at university and looking for a summer job, my friend Nicole helped me to get a job as a camp counselor a few hours away, just outside of Tampa. Now while there were some things that I liked about being at camp, overall being a counselor was pretty far out of my comfort zone. I wasn’t the fun, joking around, outdoorsy counselor—I was just the one who was good at leading the Bible studies and making the crafts and the snacks. But a few weeks into the eight weeks of camp, a new person entered the mix. Alison was a bit older than us college students (in her 30s or 40s) and had come all the way from St. Andrew’s, Scotland, to visit friends in Florida—but also to volunteer for a month at our camp. Alison filled in as an extra person with arts and crafts and wherever else she was needed. To me, it kind of felt like God had sent her to be my mentor and encourager as I fumbled my way through being a counselor that summer.

At the end of her month at the camp, Alison and I made plans that I would visit her sometime that fall when I’d be studying abroad in England. And as we parted ways, I still remember when she wrote down and then prayed for me one of her favourite prayers, a prayer that she called a hedge of protection. That prayer was the very passage we read today from Ephesians 6 about putting on the full armor of God. Alison explained to me that she liked to imagine that she was really putting on each piece of the armor—and would even sometimes go through motions as if she were buckling a belt or putting on a helmet and so on to make this prayer for spiritual protection feel more tangible, and more real:

Therefore take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness. As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace. With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.    

When I think back now on that year, when I was just 19 years old, I see now how I was taking some risks, trying out new things as I tried to figure out what to do next in life. After camp, I went home for a few weeks to prepare for an even bigger, riskier adventure, which is that I was leaving the country for the very first time—and that I’d be gone for three and a half months, fully immersing myself in a different education system and a whole different way of life in Nottingham. I did take the train up to Scotland for a long weekend that November—and once again, I was refreshed by Alison’s gift of hospitality and encouragement. I was encouraged by her faith in a God who wants to cover each one of us with a hedge of protection—a God whose attributes we can clothe ourselves in as we wear the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the helmet of salvation, and the shoes that allow us to deliver the gospel of peace.

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul writes of “putting on the armor of God.” And then, in his letter to the Galatians, Paul says that, “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ.” Lauren Winner, an Episcopal priest and professor at Duke Divinity School, wrote a whole book titled Wearing God, which is about the metaphors woven throughout the Bible—metaphors that express our relationship with God in ways that we can see and hear and feel in our daily life. Winner digs deep into the implications of clothing ourselves with Christ, talking about our level of closeness with a God who wants to clothe us—clinging to us, right up against our skin, taking on our shape and our size, and even all our bumps and curves and rough edges.

And being clothed with Christ also carries connotations of being protected in Christ. While Paul talks of God as being like armor, Winner talks about God as being like a soft, cozy sweater. We put on a sweater to keep us warm, or a raincoat to keep us dry. Being clothed with Christ, or putting on the full armor of God, means that we are both protected by and close to God. God can be as close to us and as comforting to us as our favorite hoodie or sweater. Not only that, but being clothed with Christ, and putting on the armor of all the attributes of God, impacts who we understand ourselves to be as well as who others experience us to be. When we are putting on Christ, we are going to make choices that move us more and more in the direction of wanting to share with others this comforting, protective clothing of Christ.

Becky+

Questions for Reflection

What spiritual practices do you have (or could you imagine having) that help you sense that you are wearing Christ or putting on the “armor of God”?

Daily Challenge

Today’s reflection is an excerpt from my sermon, “Clothing Ourselves with Christ,” given August 22, 2021, which you can listen to in full here.

"Why don't you just forgive him?" - June 1

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4 (5-19) 20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144
Isa. 4:2-6; Eph. 4:1-16; Matt. 8:28-34

“Why don’t you just forgive him?”

It is a tender question asked of a parent by a child. A child who does not know that sometimes there are rifts and wrinkles in and among families that run deep. A child who is not yet aware that resentment can trickle down through generations. A child who only knows of what is taught at home and in church about God’s love and repentance and forgiveness. And still, this child knows intuitively that when tension culminates into a nest of infection, the very solution presents itself: let out the pain and discomfort.

Lysing the wounds that plague us does indeed let out the pain. It can be a bit messy. It can begin a journey of healing. It also leaves us vulnerable in the moment. What happens next is crucial to protect ourselves from further illness, as we put on salve and bandage the affected areas.

Maybe we are skilled at the first part – the initial words of release. Or we wait until other parts of life are also affected. Maybe it is the longer space for healing and recovery that is a little spongy. It takes more time and patience and investment than we really know or understand. Sometimes it works. Other times, it might lead to further rupture or pain. Mulling over the trajectory from beginning to end, perhaps awe and humility wash over us as we see how such a small thorn pierces the skin and brings swelling and disruption.

In the reading from Matthew 8 today, Jesus has just stilled the winds upon the water. On the other side of the lake, two fierce, afflicted people – said to be possessed by demons – confront Jesus. They demand, “What have you to do with us, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the time?” Before Jesus can say anything else to them, they continue, “If you cast us out, send us into the herd of swine.” The solution is presented before Jesus. It is obvious. This is the way the tension will be released. Jesus says, “Go!” and the demon spirits fill the herd of pigs and race to their death in the deeps of the water.

The story does not end there. The people learn of what Jesus has done. And they come to see him. Will they thank him for removing the spirits that ailed those people who lingered around the tombs? Or they want to meet this healer and teacher, asking for their own healing? Nope. They implore him to leave their neighborhood. He cannot stay any longer. The cost is too high. The healing is too hard. That one change – expunging the evil nestling in the minds and souls of two – leads to other changes that must occur…no longer tending the pigs that are not “clean” sources of food. Not tolerating the other sins that linger in their midst. One healing reveals even more vulnerability. And it is not easy or comfortable to move to a space of deep, resounding reconciliation.

And yet, what are you and I called to do today? What spaces of healing and reconciliation are just waiting for us? God is equipping and preparing us. We have the model of Jesus to follow. We have the courage of the Holy Spirit dwelling among us. Together, let us take the first steps.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

Where could you really use forgiveness right now? Who in your life is hard to forgive?

What would it take to get to that point?

Daily Challenge 

Take a listen to this audio clip of "Simple Gifts" by Yo-Yo Ma and Alison Krauss. Let it take you into a space of God's love and delight, so that you may be open to the gifts around you today.

'By grace you have been saved' - May 27

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 85, 86; PM Psalm 91, 92; 1 Sam. 2:1-10; Eph. 2:1-10; Matt. 7:22-27

Today’s Reflection

Earlier this week, I decided to go look at a bookshelf that I have rarely looked at since I moved all my belongings into my office at Saint Stephen’s two years ago. The shelf in question is filled with books of poetry—many of them souvenirs of my first two degrees, which focused on literary criticism. I decided to bring a few home with me, to re-engage with this aspect of my imagination and intellect that I have felt distant from in recent years. Something about being in a new home and a new phase in life has my heart and mind open again to the beauty of poetry, and the different lens on life it offers us. So, I brought home an eclectic mix of William Blake, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, and James Fenton.

Fenton’s poetry collection is called Out of Danger (Farrar Strauss Giroux, 1994). This collection of poems was once quite dear to me, given by someone who held a special place in my life at the time (my now former spouse). It felt a little strange to take that book off the shelf again, but it seemed an important step toward reclaiming poetry for myself in this new chapter in life.

One of my favorite poems in the collection, when I first read it in 1997 and still today, is a poem called “The Ideal.” Given all the ways life has unfolded since then, it seems drenched in significance. Reading back over this poem again this evening, I am all the more aware of the truth Fenton so well captured in these three stanzas:

This is where I came from.

I passed this way.

This should not be shameful

Or hard to say.

A self is a self.

It is not a screen.

A person should respect

What he has been.

This is my past

Which I shall not discard.

This is the ideal.

This is hard.

The passage we read today from Paul’s Letter to the Ephesians connects in my mind with the sentiment of Fenton’s poem. Paul is reassuring his friends that God has saved them through his kindness and grace:

All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, following the desires of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else. But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ*—by grace you have been saved (Ephesians 2: 3-6).

In these lines, Paul is acknowledging how we all have a past—we all can look back and see where we made some mistakes “like everyone else.” But no matter what we have done (or left undone, as we say in the Confession), God sees each mistake or regret as an occasion to “show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness towards us in Christ Jesus.”

In another poem, “The Mistake,” Fenton articulates how we can look back at our choices and see them ever so much more clearly in retrospect:

With the mistake your life goes in reverse.

Now you can see what you did

Wrong yesterday and wrong the day before

And each mistake leads to something worse

And every nuance of your hypocrisy

Towards yourself, and every excuse

Stands solidly on the perspective lines

And there is perfect visibility.

I, for one, can easily look back at any number of points in my life and see so clearly how if I had made a different choice at point A, B, or C, I could have avoided several complicated and unfortunate situations. It can be easy, when caught in this regretful frame of mind, to be hard on oneself for not knowing better or not choosing better at the time.

But here is where our faith in Jesus makes all the difference. No matter what regrets we may have, no matter what choices we wish we could undo, what moments we wish we could re-live differently, God in his unending kindness offers us unending grace through Christ Jesus. We are loved by a God who does not expect perfection from us. Rather, we are loved eternally and unconditionally by a God who loves us, imperfections, ill-informed choices, and all:

For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are what he has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life. –Ephesians 2: 8-10

Becky+

Questions for Reflection

What choices in life do you look back on with regret? Have you ever prayed to God to help you let go of your regrets and embrace the gifts of grace and forgiveness? Do you find it easier to forgive others and understand their mistakes than to forgive and understand your own?

Daily Challenge

Write a letter to yourself in which you allow yourself to put some great regret into words—and then allow yourself to put forgiveness into words. Loving yourself requires not only forgiving yourself but accepting without qualification the forgiveness God offers you.

Uvalde - May 25

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82
Lev. 26:27-42; Eph. 1:1-10; Matt. 22:41-46

Yesterday, there was a shooting at an elementary school in Uvalde, Texas. The news is still fresh. More is being released. Each detail brings the picture of horror into more focus, and yet the anguish continues. Nineteen kids. Fourth graders. A fourth-grade teacher. Others.

Having empathy means that we open ourselves to understand and share the feelings of another. Adopting a posture of empathy right now is overwhelming. The waves of sorrow are not lapping at our feet but threaten to crash over our heads. Jesus tells his friends as he prepares them for his departure, "I will not leave you comfortless [or orphaned]; I am coming to you." (John 14:18) We can take those words of Jesus, and the ones that follow, with us today: "...know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you." Jesus the Healer is in the midst of the families grieving today. He is binding them up. In the long goodbye to the disciples in John 14 and beyond, Jesus tells his friends, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid." (v. 27)

Last night, there were responses from many across the Episcopal Church. The Presiding Bishop Michael Curry led a time of prayer. I commend this video to you.

The Rt. Rev. David Reed, Bishop of the Diocese of West Texas, that includes the people of Uvalde in their geographic region, issued a request for prayer. Bishop Reed shared this prayer at the conclusion of the message:

O God our Father, whose beloved Son took children into his arms and blessed them: Give us grace to entrust your beloved children of Uvalde to your everlasting care and love, and bring them fully into your heavenly kingdom. Pour out your grace and loving-kindness on all who grieve; surround them with your love; and restore their trust in your goodness. We lift up to you our weary, wounded souls and ask you to send your Holy Spirit to take away the anger and violence that infects our hearts, and make us instruments of your peace and children of the light. In the Name of Christ who is our hope, we pray. Amen.

We find ourselves in a space of great discomfort. Croatian theologian and professor of theology at Yale Divinity School wrote this: "There is something deeply hypocritical about praying for a problem you are unwilling to resolve." What are you and I to do about all of this?

For right now, I leave this reflection upon your email doorstep. We get to take the next steps as each of us feel so called to do: grieve as rain pours down from the heavens; hug our loved ones tightly; equip our kids and young people with resources to process hard things; lend our hands to support those in need; and, lift our voices as faithful people to bring about change in this world, with God's help and healing grace.

Katherine+

Questions for Reflection

In the face of tragedy, how do you respond?

What are the losses you grieve today?

Daily Challenge

Sit in prayer for the people in Uvalde, Texas, and those at Robb Elementary School. Pray for teachers and students in your neighborhood. Listen for where God is calling you to respond in your community.

Remember to Breathe - May 23

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 80; PM Psalm 77, [79]; Lev. 25:35-55; Col. 1:9-14; Matt. 13:1-16

Last week, I had the opportunity to participate in one of my favorite events of the year, the Saint Stephen’s Preschool graduation.  Maybe it is the memories of my own daughter standing there with a big grin in front of a nave of grandparents and parents and special friends marking the transition from one chapter to another. The children march into our nave to Pomp and Circumstance, sing some of Ms. Whitney’s famous Bible songs, then teach us about Alabama, and they beam with pride as parents clap and cheer supporting all that they have learned over the course of three years. 

It is that season in life, where there are so many events celebrating and marking transitions.  There are graduations galore at preschools, elementary schools, high schools, colleges, and seminaries.  Performances and choir ensembles are happening with people of every grade.  All of these events have a few things in common: they draw together a wide range of supporters and they require the honoree to stand in front of others.  

There is a nervousness that comes from being in front of others.  Some of the best advice is simply, “don’t forget to breathe.”  Sounds overly simplistic, but these moments when we are called to stand before others can be stressful and daunting.  I’ve seen at least one groom faint and more children and youth than I can remember.  But these events always become visible reminders of just how large a community is and the support that is pouring in beyond family.  One of my son’s classmate’s parents could not attend the awards ceremony for their child, but all of the parents there clapped and applauded when he received his reward, a tangible reminder of a much larger community than his family. 

The passage this morning from Colossians is an encouraging reminder that the community of Colossae has been continuously prayed for by Paul and Timothy, ‘without ceasing’ in their words.  It reminds me of the real power of the body of Christ.  We pray by name every Sunday for our partner churches in Thomasique, Haiti and Fairfield, Alabama.  And maybe more important to those reading, those communities pray for you.  There are numerous prayer lists that float among our pastoral care teams, some that are private and others that are public. And this summer, the Rev. Katherine Harper will launch a campaign to pray for everyone by name in our congregation and send a card sharing when that happened. There are people praying for you and for me and for the world, so much so that I would wager that prayer is happening without ceasing. 

In the words of Paul and Timothy (or who wrote in their name), may that “lead to lives worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, as you bear fruit in every good work and as you grow in the knowledge of God.”  Maybe more important, may you know that you are not alone in this journey and that a great cloud of witnesses is behind you in your journey of life and faith.  Remember to breathe, because there are lost more people cheering you on than you might imagine.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection:  How do you pray?  Are you aware of the prayers of others?  How does that support or encourage you?  How could your prayer life be different?

Daily Challenge:  Download the prayer list from last week and pray for the names on the list and the people who have had birthdays this past week.  

A Place of Acceptance - May 20

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 106:1-18; PM Psalm 106:19-48; Lev. 23:1-22; 2 Thess. 2:1-17; Matt. 7:1-12

Today’s Reflection

‘Ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him! ‘In everything do to others as you would have them do to you; for this is the law and the prophets. –Matthew 7: 7-12

These words of Jesus, that we read today in Matthew 7, are words of reassurance. God provides for us (ask and it will be given you). God guides us (search and you will find). God welcomes us (knock and the door will be opened). And not only that, but God also considers our specific needs, as a parent gives sustenance and other good gifts to their children, so too does God delight in providing for us, guiding us, and welcoming us as his dear ones.

Yesterday, along with a couple of others from our Saint Stephen’s staff, I had the opportunity to tour the Magic City Acceptance Academy. This is a free, public charter school for sixth through twelfth grade students that is designed to provide a safe and supportive learning environment for students who have not felt safe or supported in other schools—whether due to their sexual orientation, gender identity, racial or ethnic identity, learning differences, or some combination of these and other aspects of who they are. As we were guided through the school by Karen Musgrove, a Saint Stephen’s parishioner who is the executive director of Birmingham AIDS Outreach, the parent organization that founded and operates the school, we saw evidence around every corner of the loving care that is put into creating a safe, supportive space. We saw a place where students can attempt to set aside their fears and insecurities so that they may learn and grow into their full potential and begin to dream of what their futures may hold.

Classrooms have been designed to meet the needs of students with a variety of learning styles and special education needs. Teachers choose to work there because they believe in the mission of the school and perhaps, they, too, have faced bullying and opposition in previous workplaces or phases in their lives. Hallways are painted with bright colors and classrooms filled with colorful desks and chairs. Signs with uplifting messages, reminding students they are valued just as they are, are found along every stretch of hallway. Several local churches painted encouraging banners and posted, signed by their clergy and parishioners, and these are posted in common areas like the media center and the cafeteria. It was especially heartening, in the light of recent negative public discourse about the school, to see how people from around the United States (Oregon, North Dakota, New York, Florida, and more) and around the world (Prague, Dublin, London, and beyond) have sent affirming messages to the school, which have been printed out on colorful paper an added to the other positive messages posted around the campus.

So, when I read Jesus’ words in Matthew 7 today, about how God provides, guides, and welcomes us as loving parents give good gifts to their children, my mind went back to what I saw, heard, and felt as I walked around MCAA yesterday afternoon. God’s love is being freely given to each one of God’s children who comes to school there each day knowing that they will not be bullied or cast out. God’s love is being freely given to each one of God’s children who can walk into school with a mind that is less burdened by fear and anxiety and more able to focus on growing and developing into the people God has created each one of them to be. Thanks be to God.

Becky+

Questions for Reflection

Looking back on your life so far, what has been a place of refuge and acceptance for you? Who has God brought into your life at exactly the right moment, be they times of insecurity or challenge, who showed you what it looks like and feels like to be accepted and loved unconditionally? How have you shown that kind of acceptance and love to others when they needed it most?

Daily Challenge

You can read more about Magic City Acceptance Academy in this May 8 article in The New York Times or through their school website.