Smashmouth – September 6

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

For all of us make many mistakes. Anyone who makes no mistakes in speaking is perfect, able to keep the whole body in check with a bridle.  James 3:2

Do you ever have those moments when you have the option to share a message one way, and instead, you impart words with a forceful tone and judgmental language? Well, I do, too. I just did, in fact. Things were going relatively smoothly this morning and then, blam! One thing led to another, and my daughter and I were at a standoff over the silliest of details: she did not eat the watermelon or carrots packed in her lunch yesterday.

Rather than be curious of the reason, or just move on without engaging in such a battle before breakfast, I chose to do what today’s excerpt from the Letter of James observes about the special power wielded by our mouths: “The tongue is a small member, yet it boasts of great exploits. How great a forest is set ablaze by a small fire! And the tongue is a fire.” (3:5-6a) Yes. I reluctantly admit that my tongue was an incendiary source to the bonds of relationship this morning.

The letter goes on: ”The tongue is placed among our members as a world of iniquity; it stains the whole body, sets on fire the cycle of nature, and is itself set on fire by hell. For every species of beast and bird, of reptile and sea creature, can be tamed and has been tamed by the human species, but no one can tame the tongue—a restless evil, full of deadly poison.” (6b-8) Strong language? Yes. Clear message? Yes. Do the analogies of the power of human mouths in comparison to others of God’s creation ring true? For me today, sadly yes, again.

I promise I did not do this on purpose. My words came from a position of care and concern. This demonstrates (unfortunately) how the way we speak to one another can be beautiful and uplifting, and then hurtful and stormy. Our epistle says this in verse 10: “From the same mouth come blessing and cursing.” Now, today I did not curse at my daughter. I did leave the room sullied by pushiness and my large personality, leaving no room for recourse from anyone else. And she left the house angry and sad and hurt.

So, while I go figure out where God is calling me to clean up the emotional spillage on aisle 7 of my household, let us all ponder the folly of our human tongues…we are wonderfully and beautifully made, yet it takes the centering of the Holy Spirit to interact lovingly with one another through a day. Pray for me and I will pray for you…in Christian community, we will keep seeing those reminders of grace, redemption, and reconciliation.

Humbly,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection and Daily Challenge:

Sit with James 3:1-12 this morning. Re-read it. Where do you feel discomfort? Where do you feel called by God to grow? Journal for 10 minutes. Pray to God about what healing you seek from the pain of harsh words. Pray for others in your life. Share with a friend some takeaways from this exercise.

Someone has prayed here before - September 1

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 16, 17; PM Psalm 22; 1 Kings 5:1-6:1,7; Acts 28:1-16; Mark 14:27-42

One of the most memorable places for followers of Jesus to visit in all of Israel is the Garden of Gethsemane. Many of the biblical sites in Jerusalem are educated guesses. For example, there are two sites that are rumored to be where Jesus was laid in the tomb: the Garden tomb or the Chapel of the Holy Sepulcher. We think we know where Golgotha was because there is a place that really looks like a skull just outside of the gates of Jerusalem, but it’s a guess. However, scholars are fairly confident in the location of the Garden of Gethsemane at the base of the Mount of Olives.

In the garden are twenty-three trees. When I visited in 2020, I thought the trees were thousands of years old. I’ve learned since that the trees are probably from the 12th century which is still pretty old dating them at about 1000 years. When you are in the garden, it has a real feel of nostalgia, and knowing that you are amongst trees that have heard the prayers of humanity for 1000 years is still pretty incredible. 

Does it matter where we pray? I doubt it matters too much, unless one’s journey to a sacred space is itself a form of prayer and helps one be more intentional and mindful that God is a part of their life. And yet being in the place where Jesus prayed is a reminder that most places that we encounter are places where people have prayed before. I don’t often consider when visiting someone in a hospital how many prayers have likely been said in the waiting room or a hospital room. 

Have you ever considered how many people have prayed right where you are at this moment? What about the places you will visit today? The mechanic, the grocery store, a school or university, or a workplace? Does matter? At the very least it might inspire you to know that God is a part of so much more than we see and realize. 

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: Where do you pray most often? Do others use that space for prayer too? Does this affect your own prayer? How so?

God and our threshold moments – August 30

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:1-24; PM Psalm 12, 13, 14
1 Kings 3:1-15; Acts 27:9-26; Mark 14:1-11

Thresholds. I remember learning somewhere about ministry happening in threshold moments, where something is changing. Birth. Graduation. Marriage. Job change. Divorce. Illness. Moving. Death. These thresholds have varying levels of excitement, uncertainty, resolution, and faith wrapped up in them. One of my favorite writers, John O’Donohue, writes many prayers and blessings to carry readers through such tumultuous waters.

As I sit with the scriptures from 1 Kings appointed for yesterday and today, I am struck by two big threshold moments: King David’s final words to his son Solomon, and Solomon’s humble prayer to God as he begins his role as king of Israel.

Let’s start first with the goodbye. As David was dying, he said this to his son: “I am about to go the way of all the earth. Be strong, be courageous, and keep the charge of the Lord your God, walking in his ways and keeping his statutes, his commandments, his ordinances, and his testimonies, as it is written in the law of Moses, so that you may prosper in all that you do and wherever you turn.” (1 Kings 2:2-3)  David advised his son to remember who he was and whose he was. The old king knew that he did not always follow the commandments of God, and he hoped that his son would make choices that honored God. The father also passed along a promise of faithfulness that the Lord proclaimed to him: “’If your heirs take heed to their way, to walk before me in faithfulness with all their heart and with all their soul, there shall not fail you a successor on the throne of Israel.’” (1 Kings 2:4)  David was leaving his son Solomon a legacy of a kingdom, for sure, and more importantly, a legacy of living fully into faith in God – through prayer, through song, through relationships with others. The words are heavy and hopeful.

And then, we have the threshold moment of Solomon, walking into the role as King of Israel. He went to Gibeon to make a sacrifice to honor God. Solomon had a dream in which God said “Ask what I should give you.” Powerful, right? How would you respond?

Well, here’s what Solomon said, in a nutshell: “God, you were so loving to my dad David, who aimed to please and serve you. Because of that, he lived a faithful life. And now, I am where I am today, because of you, Lord. I find myself as your servant and as a king over your people, those you love and care for. So, this is what I ask: please give me “an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil”.

God was so pleased by how Solomon presented himself. The new king asked for wisdom and understanding, rather than glory and power. God agreed, saying, “Indeed I give you a wise and discerning mind; no one like you has been before you and no one like you shall arise after you. I give you also what you have not asked, both riches and honor all your life; no other king shall compare with you.” And Solomon woke up from his dream. He continued praising God and living as faithfully and wisely as he was able.

In each of these threshold moments, David and Solomon made the loving and faithful response to change. They shared God’s love. They did what they could to be swept up into the love and promise of the Lord. As such, Solomon and David are sources of inspiration and reflection for us today. Let us walk in God’s ways and keep God’s statutes and commandments, so that for each day we live, people will know who we are and whose we are.

With God’s love,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection and Daily Challenge:

If God asked you in a dream, “Ask what I should give you,” how would you respond? Journal for 10 minutes. Pray to God about what you externalized. Share with a friend some takeaways from this exercise.

Clergy - Sinners in the need of God's Redeeming Grace - August 25

Today’s Readings AM Psalm 140, 142; PM Psalm 141, 143:1-11(12); 2 Samuel 19:24-43; Acts 24:24-25:12; Mark 12:35-44

I’m not the biggest fan of the passage for today.  Jesus is pretty critical of the scribes.  That’s a word that doesn’t make much sense in our context in a world with spell check and grammar applications and tools that harness Artificial Intelligence.  The scribes had a much bigger role than just figuring out mistakes or ‘scribal’ errors in copies of sacred text. After the Babylonian exile, scribes became teachers of the law.  They are religious leaders. 

Scribes also had a legal role in the community. It was a scribe that could draft a legal document such as a marriage contract or divorce, or even a loan. Maybe this is the origin of clergy signing marriage contracts in every state in the United States except Alabama (all you need in Alabama is a Wi-Fi connection, a printer, and a notary!) 

Jesus holds up the scribes as the hypocrites who have not only failed to live out a life of caring for those who are in need, and warns people to not be like them, it hits home.  Jesus is critical of the religious leaders, the ones who have taken on a voice of authority. Three times a week, our clergy (religious leaders) write reflections, we preach, we teach, and I pray that we help you deepen your relationship with God.  And we are as far from fully embodying Jesus as everyone else. 

The litmus test for your faith is not a sermon or a reflection, or something said in passing, and dare I say it’s not your imperfect clergy – it is the love and compassion of God in the life of Jesus Christ.  If what the church proclaims does not muster up to God’s unconditional embrace and love for all people, especially those who suffer and are on the margins, then we have missed the boat.  Remember, Jesus is most critical of the religious leaders of his time, a helpful reminder for us who try to be faithful. And we are all human, sinners, in need of God’s unconditional love and redeeming grace, a freedom from having to be perfect. 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  How do you reconcile when your church doesn’t live up to the expectations that you believe it should live up to?  Have you seen the church ever act in a way that doesn’t model God’s unconditional love? 

Our times are in God’s hand – August 23

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:145-176; PM Psalm 128, 129, 130
2 Samuel 18:19-33; Acts 23:23-35; Mark 12:13-27

When I was in high school, we were required to do an inordinate amount of reading. History. Literature. World affairs. Poetry. Some of it stuck. A lot did not. I have kept many of those classics, boxing them up each time we move and replacing them on bookshelves as we resettle. These days, Lego creations and varied treasures of our children often get placed on shelves in front of the books.

In a moment of decluttering and dusting in the last week, my eyes fell upon William Faulkner’s 1936 work “Absalom, Absalom!”. I don’t know why I held onto this book. It was hard to get through as a teenager. I do not recall liking it. And yet, I know that Faulkner is one of the great American authors. Southern gothic literature is fascinating and painful, as the reader pours through pages of the downfalls and foibles of human nature that bring division. Faulkner’s writing shakes the reader awake, pointing to the very messy lives we live. The contradictions and hypocrisy. The conflicts and intricate webs of connectivity. He is a source of fodder for students and an inspiration to writers – like the late, great Cormac McCarthy – because there is a lot going on to parse and ponder.

Why, you ask, am I writing about a southern author this morning, in a reflection about Holy Scripture? That is fair. Here’s the answer: in the appointed readings from 2 Samuel this week, we read of the death of King David’s treasonous son Absalom, and what happens next. It is a gothic story, penned many generations before Faulkner’s works.

Absalom is on a mule during the battle in which his troops were defeated by his father the king’s armies. His mount rides underneath a large oak and Absalom’s head gets stuck in the low hanging branches of the tree. The mule keeps going and the king’s son is “left hanging between heaven and earth” (2 Samuel 18:9). Evidently, the wooded areas are quite a problematic space for fighting, as “the forest claimed more victims that day than the sword” (v. 8b).

The king’s trusted leader Joab acts quickly when he learns of Absalom’s incapacitated whereabouts. Others refuse to lay a hand on Absalom, son of David. Joab, however, hurls three spears into the royal heir’s body. Then, ten of his armor-bearers beat Absalom to death. They bury him in the forest.

The king must be informed. Two sentinels run – albeit separately – to King David. The faster, Ahimaaz son of Zadok, is known as a great runner and yet, he is not fully informed. He cannot answer King David’s question, “Is it well with the young man Absalom?” Standing aside, the Cushite – the other messenger – speaks. After giving his greeting, he is also asked, “Is it well with the young man Absalom?” His answer is offered, “May the enemies of my lord the king, and all who rise up to do you harm, be like that young man.”

King David hears the words of the Cushite and withdraws to another room. As he walks away, he cries, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would that I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son! Though his son has committed treason and tried to overthrow the beloved (and very human) King David, the father is in agony at the downfall of his son.

The tangled webs we weave are messy. And cluttered. And sometimes we don’t know up from down, left from right. And we hurt one another. And we weep. And sometimes, maybe we remember to pray for one another and for ourselves. In these times of utter messiness, we may wonder where God is in all of the muck.

As I pause and ponder, here is what comes up for me. In the Book of Common Prayer on page 830, there is a prayer for those celebrating a birthday. At a previous church, the congregation would say this prayer each Sunday as those celebrating birthdays gathered with the clergy during the announcements. These words resound in my ears this morning:

O God, our times are in your hand: Look with favor, we pray, on your servants as they begin another year. Grant that they may grow in wisdom and grace, and strengthen their trust in your goodness all the days of their lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

This prayer is one of those tethering prayers, as those for whom we pray look ahead to a new year. A new year that may have messiness and dysfunction, loss and frustration. No matter what, our prayer is that we each grow into the goodness God has instilled in us. May we hold fast to the salvific love of God each day.

With God’s love,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection and Daily Challenge:

What does it mean for you to grow in wisdom and grace? How might your trust in God be strengthened through what is going on in your life today?

Sit in stillness for 2 minutes to ponder. Then, journal for 10 minutes. Pray to God about what you externalized. Share with a friend some takeaways from this exercise.

Finding our place in God's story - August 18

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; 2 Samuel 15:19-37; Acts 21:37-22:16; Mark 10:46-52

Today’s Reflection

This fall, our Sunday Forum speakers will all connect with the theme of Finding Our Place in God’s Story. I enjoyed planning this series of speakers for you to learn from, and hope you’ll consider either attending on Sunday mornings from 10:15-11:00 in the Parish Hall or watching later online. You can learn more about this fall’s series on Finding Our Place in God’s Story here.

Stories are powerful. Over the years, I’ve noticed in my reading how I’ve shifted from reading fictional stories more into the real-life stories of people’s lives. When I think back to the books I’ve invested the most time in reading the past few years, they have been memoirs. Michelle Obama’s memoir Becoming tells her story of growing up in Chicago and how her life unfolded since then as an attorney, community leader, and First Lady. Kate Bowler’s memoir Everything Happens for a Reason: And Other Lies I’ve Loved shares her story of cancer diagnosis and treatment as a 35-year-old mother, wife, and university professor. Shaking the Gates of Hell by John Archibald tells his story of growing up the son and grandson of Methodist ministers here in Alabama.

When I was in Chicago summer before last for vacation with my daughters, our main destinations were educational in nature (even on vacation I always like us to keep learning!). One afternoon we visited the Field Museum of Natural History, and the exhibit I enjoyed the most was called Becoming Jane: The Evolution of Jane Goodall. Organized by the National Geographic Museum and currently touring amongst museums around the country, the focus of the exhibit is giving visitors an inside look at the life story of the famous primatologist and wildlife conservationist.

The exhibit begins by sharing photographs and accounts of her childhood and adolescence in a small English village. We see her favorite stuffed animal (a monkey). We learn stories about how even as an 18-month-old she was drawn to sitting in the mud observing earthworms, and about the birch tree she loved to climb up so much that her grandmother gave it to her as a birthday gift one year when they couldn’t afford to give her another gift. I was especially moved by the story of as a small child, Jane disappeared one afternoon. No one could find her, but eventually as it was getting dark she came walking back home from across the field. Where had she been? “Well, I’ve been in a henhouse, waiting to watch a hen lay an egg. Nobody would tell me how a chicken laid its eggs, so I just sat down and waited. And now I know.”

These childhood stories are great foreshadowing of exactly how she came to learn so much about chimpanzees in the field in Tanzania. We understand Jane Goodall so much better as a scientist and conservationist by learning these stories of her childhood, her young adulthood as a research assistant and graduate student, her life in the field as a young scientist and later how she balanced that as a spouse and mother. All that she accomplished and contributed to conservation, and our own understanding of the world, are now even more meaningful to me having learned these stories of how she came to be the person she is today.

In yesterday’s Acts reading, we encountered Paul as he was being seized and dragged from the Temple, and then was arrested and taken to the barracks by the soldiers as the crowd kept shouting “Away with him!” In today’s passage from Acts 21 and 22, Paul has the opportunity to share his story with the crowd.

Just as Paul was about to be brought into the barracks, he said to the tribune, ‘May I say something to you?’ … ‘I am a Jew, from Tarsus in Cilicia, a citizen of an important city; I beg you, let me speak to the people.’ When he had given him permission, Paul stood on the steps and motioned to the people for silence; and when there was a great hush, he addressed them in the Hebrew language, saying:

‘Brothers and fathers, listen to the defence that I now make before you.’ When they heard him addressing them in Hebrew, they became even more quiet. Then he said: ‘I am a Jew, born in Tarsus in Cilicia, but brought up in this city at the feet of Gamaliel, educated strictly according to our ancestral law, being zealous for God, just as all of you are today. I persecuted this Way up to the point of death by binding both men and women and putting them in prison, as the high priest and the whole council of elders can testify about me.

Having shared the way of life he was raised in, which gave him common ground with his audience, Paul goes on to tell of his conversion experience on the road to Damascus. It’s a powerful story, one which not only changed Paul’s life and purpose forever, but one which gave him a message of hope to share as he traveled around the Mediterranean region, encouraging believers and winning new converts in the churches that were beginning to form in Philippi and Ephesus, Galatia and Corinth, Rome and Thessaloniki.

In some other denominations in Christianity, one tends to hear more emphasis on the power of knowing and being able to share with others your “testimony,” which is the story or stories of how one has seen God at work in their life—especially stories of salvation and conversion. We in the Episcopal tradition can learn something valuable from their practice of being able to articulate and share our own “testimonies” with others—just as we hear from Paul in this passage from Acts.

Each of our stories are compelling and powerful. What is your story? Where do you see God at work in it?

Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your story these past three years at Saint Stephen’s—and thank you for being a part of mine.

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

What is your story? When you look back at stories of how you became the person you are today, how you see God at work in your life? How does storytelling help us to form bonds of friendship and community with others?

Make some time to write down an important story from your life, whether in a journal or in a letter to a family member or friend you want to know and remember this story. Or make a point to share a story from your life with someone in a conversation this weekend. How can sharing a story from your life change the tone and direction of your conversation?

Days of Our Lives – August 16

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144
2 Samuel 14:21-33; Acts 21:15-26; Mark 10:17-31

If you have been following the story of King David and his family this week in 2 Samuel, perhaps you are picking up the complexities in family life. To refresh your memory and simplify the story, there are blended families and sibling rivalry at play, followed by incest and rape. Amnon, the firstborn of David, is taken with his half-sister Tamar. He seeks her out, tricks her by feigning illness, and then sexually assaults her – and casts her out in shame. When David learns of this, he is hesitant to censure Amnon the violator, because he favors his son and heir. Tamar’s younger brother Absalom takes in his sister and gives her shelter in his home. He holds back seething rage for two years, and then it bubbles up as he avenges his sister’s woundedness by plotting and killing his half-brother Amnon. Absalom flees to a region under the leadership of another king and remains there several years. David, as king and father, summons Absalom back to Jerusalem, yet refuses to see him for two years. After some posturing and manipulation, Absalom gains an audience with his father King David, and prostrates himself, face to the ground, to show his willingness to be reconciled…for a while.

Maybe these pieces of the saga of beautiful, beloved David touch on painful parts of your experience, or make you cringe as you read. (And if you have not read these seeds of modern-day soap opera fodder, just crack open your Bible and peruse chapters 13 through 15 of 2 Samuel to get caught up on this week’s Old Testament action in detail.)

Why do I lay out all of this story? Well, it is presented to us as a reading alongside Mark 10, in which Jesus is asked what must be done to inherit eternal life. What must we do to be welcomed as the beloved of God? Who really can be saved? These are questions that the disciples and others pepper upon Jesus. I can imagine that as they listen to the teachings of Jesus to give away all that they own – those impediments to fully relying upon God - the Jews who know ancient scripture feel the tension as they think about the glory of King David. Ruminating on the power of that king, they wrestled with the ways his wealth, immorality, and emotional attachments tripped him up. Though there were laws of how to live faithfully, it was – and is – hard to follow each prescription.

And so, those listening to Jesus and pondering the stories of King David and his family scratch their heads. Then who really can be saved? Jesus takes the complex and makes it simple in this way: “For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.” (v. 27)

The trappings of life and the pains of our human experience weigh heavily on us. They skew our vision. They haunt our dreams. They slow our pace. They leave us feeling violated and desolate. When we are lying prostrate upon the ground, with our noses to the soil, let us remember to lean upon the encouragement and hope that is beyond our imagination. For God, all things are possible. Redemption and healing can come. May the Holy Spirit give us courage to hold on.

With God’s love,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection and Daily Challenge:

What do you hear in Jesus’ words,

“For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.”

What does this mean to you? Journal for 10 minutes. Pray to God about what you externalized. Share with a friend some takeaways from this exercise.

Too much of a good thing - August 14

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 89:1-18; PM Psalm 89:19-52; 2 Samuel 13:23-39; Acts 20:17-38; Mark 9:42-50

Last week, several people gathered at my home to harvest the honey made by Saint Stephen’s bees.  Our resident beekeeper had retrieved eleven supers (boxes filled with honey) and brought them to my house, about a mile from the hives.  There was an interesting and gloomy cloud cover that evening and it probably kept all of the honeybees from finding us.  This was the first year of harvesting where the bees actually left us alone. 

However, the next day, word had gotten out.  There was free honey on the carport of the Burruss household and thousands of bees had returned to clean up the mess.  Bees make honey so that they have a source of food in the winter.  Often, when there is residual honey from a harvest, it is found in the bottom of a big bucket or found pooled on the low point of the driveway.  We did a much better job this year up this year, but there still was small number of bees that drowned in honey.  In a honeycomb, there is never more than a little drop without being separated by some wax, but when we have free honey, the bees can’t resist, and they often meet their own demise.

The bees remind us of a profound truth.  The bees come rushing toward something good and necessary for their lives, without self-control, and it costs them their life.  We, humans, aren’t much different. 

I’m wondering what the stumbling block that Jesus talks about in this passage of Mark really is.  When I think of my children, in many of the household battles that ensue, I often give in to trying to make everyone happy.  The kids get what they want, and peace falls upon the house.  An extra dessert, more time on the Xbox, to stay up a little later than normal.  Maybe it's okay within reason.  Most things are.  But there have to be limits. 

It is hard to do what’s right.  Maybe that’s why today’s Gospel is so difficult, but I’m wondering if the stumbling block might be our own resistance to put boundaries and limits on all of the good things that desperately need a limit.  Too much of a good thing will kill you, or at least a honeybee.

 John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What are things that you enjoy that you should do less of?  What are the stumbling blocks in your own relationship with God?

Never stop looking at it - August 11

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 88; PM Psalm 91, 92; 2 Samuel 12:1-14; Acts 19:21-41; Mark 9:14-29

Today’s Reflection

But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he was able to stand. When he had entered the house, his disciples asked him privately, ‘Why could we not cast it out?’ He said to them, ‘This kind can come out only through prayer.’

—Mark 9: 27-29

Recently, a parishioner sent me an article from The Atlantic Daily, the daily digest of articles in The Atlantic magazine. In the essay, “Why So Many Americans Have Stopped Going to Church,” Isabel Fattal cites studies about why fewer and fewer Americans attend church. The various experts cited believe that the reasons go beyond disaffection and mistrust in the wake of a proliferation of scandals involving abuse and corruption. What is equally responsible for the exodus of Americans from organized religion, these scholars say, is that “Contemporary America simply isn’t set up to promote mutuality, care, or common life. Rather, it is designed to maximize individual accomplishment as defined by professional and financial success.”

In an earlier article published in The Atlantic, Jake Thompson elaborated his theory of workism, or the worship of the role that work life plays in the lives of many professional people: “The economists of the early 20th century did not foresee that work might evolve from a means of material production to a means of identity production… They failed to anticipate that, for the poor and middle class, work would remain a necessity; but for the college-educated elite, it would morph into a kind of religion, promising identity, transcendence, and community.”

As Jake Meador observes in his recent Atlantic article, “The Misunderstood Reason Millions of Americans Stopped Going to Church,” in the workism-oriented world in which people are so consumed by their work life and other responsibilities, “The underlying challenge for many is that their lives are stretched like a rubber band about to snap—and church attendance ends up feeling like an item on a checklist that’s already too long… The problem in front of us is not that we have a healthy, sustainable society that doesn’t have room for church. The problem is that many Americans have adopted a way of life that has left us lonely, anxious, and uncertain of how to live in community with other people.”

In today’s Gospel passage from Mark 9, Jesus, Peter, James, and John are just coming back down from the mountaintop experience of the Transfiguration, returning to the frenzy of scribes arguing with the other disciples and people bringing their loved ones to Jesus for healing. One father has brought his son to the disciples in search of someone who could release his son from convulsions (similar to what today would be diagnosed as epilepsy). The father tells Jesus that he had asked the disciples to cast the convulsion-causing demon out of his son, but they could not do so. To this Jesus responds: “You faithless generation, how much longer must I be among you? How much longer must I put up with you? Bring him to me.”

At that moment, the boy begins to have more convulsions and Jesus asks the father how long this had been happening to his son. The father describes a lifelong affliction and asks Jesus, “if you are able to do anything, have pity on us and help us.” Jesus seems a bit taken aback by the “if you are able,” saying “‘If you are able!—All things can be done for the one who believes.’ Immediately the father of the child cried out, ‘I believe; help my unbelief!’” Jesus then makes the spirit that has caused the boy’s convulsions to come out of him, following which the boy is so still people think he has died. But Jesus raises him up and all are astounded at this miraculous healing.

One of the moments that stands out to me when I read this is the part where the father says that the disciples could not help his son. I wonder if it was a matter of could not or would not. In this passage, I see a scene in which the disciples got very caught up in the workism of being disciples. They were too caught up in arguing with the scribes and other aspects of their disciple profession that they got distracted from what was most important. Later, in private, the disciples asked Jesus, “Why could we not cast it out?” Jesus’ response is simple: “This kind can only come out through prayer.” The disciples were so distracted by the frenzy and the chaos of the crowd and the scribes that they forgot that what was most needed in that moment was simply to pray for the ones in need of healing—to commit those seeking God to God’s own care.

This story of the disciples getting too caught up in the chaos to devote time to what is most important—prayer and healing—and many of us getting so caught up in the seeming urgency of our own daily work lives and responsibilities to make time for prayer and worship reminds me of something Sam Wells said in his sermon on the Beatitudes, preached at Saint Stephen’s last October:

Then we come to ‘Blessed are the pure in heart.’ The thirsting for righteousness is about God, being merciful is about others, and being pure in heart is about ourselves. One great theologian said, ‘Purity of heart is to will one thing.’ I’m sure you’ve all been told many times that to hold down a responsible job you need to distinguish between the urgent and the important, and to judge which things are urgent but not important, which things are important but not urgent, and which things are neither urgent nor important. Well, purity of heart is about knowing, as a matter of habit and uncomplicated clarity, which things are important. Not fashionable, not popular, not effective, not lucrative, not eye-catching, not relaxing, not clever, not witty, not dramatic, not necessarily urgent: but important. And then, in a crisis, when everyone else has lost their sense of perspective, you’ll be able to see the one thing that no one else is able to see. Because you never stopped looking at it.

May we remember what it is that we should be centering our lives on—the incarnate, crucified, resurrected, and ascended life of Christ—and never stop looking at it.

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

Read The Atlantic Daily article by Isabel Fattal, and the other articles she cites, here.

Read or listen to Sam Wells’ sermon, “Dwelling in the Comma,” here.

Life is faith and faith is life – August 9

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82
2 Samuel 9:1-13; Acts 19:1-10; Mark 8:34-9:1

Jesus called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?” (Mark 8:34-37)

Do you ever have those moments when you contemplate your life and wonder what your life is worth? What is your legacy? Or maybe, you feel that all that you thought you had has crumbled into a pile of rubble…and you look at that mound, lonely, overwhelmed, and steeped in a mire of existential crisis. Realizations like that can be paralyzing – and they can also be openings to a space of catharsis.

In Mark’s gospel passage appointed for today (8:34-9:1), I hear Jesus calling his disciples and the wider crowd to ponder their existence, to reflect on their lives, and to authentically live into their belief in God as they follow the Way of Jesus. The Messiah calls them to follow him: “let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Jesus challenges the audience, filled with the committed disciples and curious passersby, to put down their own desires and interests and livelihoods. He dares them to pick up the hard work of sacrifice and loss, and to live by pouring out themselves and receiving the power and grace of God.

Jesus does not stop there. He is so serious about clarifying what a life of faith is like. He continues, “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” Jesus names this inversion of expectation that is a theme running through stories of the people of God. Those who are faithful to the Lord often have deep loss, and in losing they are pulled nearer to God. Those who hold back from giving themselves to God will retain what they have in life – and lose out on the fullness of the Lord’s wonder.

He continues with two rhetorical questions: “For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?” Jesus is quite pointed here. I hear a warning about living hedonistically and acquiring physical niceties, while neglecting the nurture of one’s spiritual needs. As such, life is faith and faith is life. Faithful living begets meaningful existence. Jesus makes a compelling case in his gospel message to recruit more disciples.

I wonder if this gospel news from Jesus is like the opportunity to ride on a rollercoaster at a theme park. I know riding the ride is terrifying and hard. I feel much anxiety in the process. And when I emerge from the ride, I am changed and relieved and dizzy. And if I choose not to ride, I will not have those feelings and I will miss out on an adventure of life. Now perhaps I am diluting the scripture or offering an analogy that is profane.

I am curious about how this message from Jesus can fully sink into to our understanding of our existence as people created by God. What if we live lives through that lens? And maybe we even aspire to lives worthy of being children of God, because we read story after story, scripture after scripture, about people attempting to live lives faithful to the law of the Lord. They mess up, the return to God, and they try again. And they tell others of their challenges.

It is no surprise to me that this work of faith we do compels us to be faithful in community. As we stumble into our existential realizations, we need one another to steady us, pray for us, and stay with us in these moments. And God will bring us peace and grace and clarity. Let us keep struggling on together, my friends.

With God’s love,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection:

What do you hear in Jesus’ question, “Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?” What does this mean to you? Journal for 10 minutes. Pray to God about what you externalized. Share with a friend some takeaways from this exercise.

Influences - August 7

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 80; PM Psalm 77, [79]; 2 Samuel 7:1-17; Acts 18:1-11; Mark 8:11-21

The Pharisees are arguing with Jesus.  “Give me a sign!” they demand.   And Jesus gets in a boat.  Apparently, no sign.  Then the disciples get in a boat, limited with one loaf of bread, worried they don’t have enough food for the journey.  Jesus has to remind them of the feeding miracle.  They don’t understand, even though the disciples helped to feed thousands with just a few loaves of fish.

One thought: Have the disciples been influenced by the Pharisees? Have these followers of Jesus who have actually lived some of Jesus’s miracles now become influenced by the voice of others?  It’s a spiritual journey of doubt, faith, and doubt lived out before us.

We are social creatures.  We influence each other.  Think of the ridiculous amounts of money paid to people on social media who have no other skill than that of ‘influencer’, paid to use products.  The other night Anne and I just watched the 1980s classic Can’t Buy Me Love starring Patrick Dempsey. Dempsey pays his neighbor to act like she likes him for a month in order to change his social status. It’s a story about influence and trends and our ridiculous drive to follow others in order to appear important, or popular, or successful.  It’s hard to deny that the influence of others shapes our lives more than we often understand or want to admit.

Have the disciples been influenced by the Pharisees?   

Most often, when we talk of our faith, we think of the people who have had a positive impact on helping us to become the people that God has called us to be.  But do we take time to consider the people or forces that draw us away from the love of God?  Maybe today’s reading from Mark is an opportunity to consider what are the forces or the people shaping our lives in a destructive way in order to be more intentional about surrounding ourselves with the positive forces in our life. 

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Who helps you grow in your faith?  Are there people who challenge your faith, or cause you to challenge the person God has called you to be?  How to reconcile your relationships with these people?

Caution: Road Underwater - August 4

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 69:1-23(24-30)31-38; PM Psalm 73; 2 Samuel 5:1-12; Acts 17:1-15; Mark 7:24-37

Today’s Reflection

But as for me, this is my prayer to you, at the time you have set, O Lord: “In your great mercy, O God, answer me with your unfailing help. Save me from the mire; do not let me sink; let me be rescued from those who hate me and out of the deep waters. Let not the torrent of waters wash over me, neither let the deep swallow me up; do not let the Pit shut its mouth upon me. Answer me, O Lord, for your love is kind; in your great compassion, turn to me. –Psalm 69: 15-18

In summertime, we see so many rainy afternoons here in Birmingham. These afternoon thundershowers remind me of Florida, where these downpours are the norm summer after summer. These afternoon rains bring refreshment, cooling things off and keeping all the yards and parks so lush and green throughout the summertime. Rainy afternoons and evenings, while they make it challenging to get in a run at the end of the day, are nonetheless a pleasant change after experiencing several extremely hot, dry Texas summers.

In the neighborhood where I lived during my first two years here in Cahaba Heights, Meadowlawn Drive and Meadowlawn Park are prone to flooding. In Florida, the daily afternoon rains do not tend to cause flooding due to the sandy soil, which allows the rain to easily sink down through the ground and trickle down into the Florida aquifer. In contrast, what we saw happen on Meadowlawn is that the rain starts to pool up, and the drainage is such that the waters quickly start to cover the street and, if it rains heavily for long enough, starts to overflow the creek, too.

The other thing I learned about that street is that many locals use it as a cut-through between two main roads in our area. So, here’s what happens when our street and the park at the end of the street flood and then people come down the street to do their usual cut-through: If they are driving in the direction of the park, they get midway down the street, right around our house, and then if they are looking ahead, they will see that the road is impassible and that they will have to turn around—usually backing up in our old driveway and turning back toward where they came from (Green Valley). And for the people who either aren’t looking ahead to see the road is washed out—or who see it and foolishly think their car or truck can make it through all the standing water—inevitably they will get just past our yard and then start to very slowly go into reverse until they get back to our driveway—then they turn around and head back up the road to find some other way to get wherever they need to go. From time to time, someone in a very tall truck (the ones with the giant tires) may manage to make it through—or, as happened last week, someone’s vehicle will be overcome by the water, causing their car to stall out and requiring a tow truck to enter the scene.

From the safe, dry vantage point inside my home, when I would look out and observe the rising waters and the different ways the drivers respond to a flooded-out road, I wondered if all this would be a good analogy for when we encounter unexpected situations in life. In Psalm 69, the psalmist seems to have had a similar idea. We find ourselves calling out to God to save us when “the waters have risen up to [our] neck.” We experience moments when we become very consciously aware of how overwhelmed we are by our circumstances: “I am sinking in deep mire, and there is no firm ground for my feet. I have come into deep waters, and the torrent washes over me.” But even in those moments when we see how high the waters are rising, or how we may be sinking into the mire, we can hold onto hope. We have a God whom we can call upon for help, who can direct us to turn around and go back another way—or who can provide a tow truck to help pull us out when do end up getting stalled and stuck.

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

What life situations have you encountered that felt like flood waters rising up to your neck? What life situations have felt like a muddy, miry pit from which your feet could not get unstuck? Looking back, how did God act to get you safely out of the floodwaters and the mire? What do you learn, as you reflect on these situations later, about your faith and about the faithfulness of God?

“Who are you?” – August 2, 2023

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 78:1-39; PM Psalm 78:40-72; Judges 7:1-18; Acts 3:1-11; John 1:19-28

In the first chapter of the gospel according to John, we hear the glorious words, “In the beginning…”, proclaiming a vision of creation with the Divine at its center.

In the beginning was the Word,

and the Word was with God,

and the Word was God.

He was in the beginning with God.

All things came into being through him,

and without him not one thing came into being. (1:1-3)

Sitting with these lines, I appreciate this genesis story. The Word and God are intermingled from the first moment. God and the Word. All things are birthed through God. Without God, nothing is created.

As I look to what follows, light enters the story.

What has come into being in him was life,

and the life was the light of all people.

The light shines in the darkness,

and the darkness did not overcome it. (1:4-5)

Life is what flows from God. Life and light – warm and inviting to all who are created. That light beckons to us and pierces the darkness. The darkness cannot quench the light and life that emanate from God.

What follows in the gospel of John rests upon those five foundational verses. God and the Word. Creation through God. Light and life. This is the setting into which John the Baptizer walks – clearly proclaiming the message of truth to come. His shouts garner the attention of religious officials – priests and Levites – who come to query John. “Who are you?” they ask. He says, “I am not the Messiah.”

The high holy people are befuddled. John answers in the negative, offering who he is not. The leaders of worship and interpreters of God’s law take another approach, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He answers, “I am not.” The interrogators still have no solid understanding of this odd man or his intentions. “Are you the prophet?” they ask. John answers succinctly, “No.”

At this point, they are frustrated and return to their first question, “Who are you?” They plead for more details. “Let us have an answer for those who sent us.” There are others in power – the Judeans – who are concerned by this upstart baptizing people in the river. The cadre must return with information. Desperate, they ask, “What do you say about yourself?”

John responds, ‘I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, “Make straight the way of the Lord.”’

John the Baptist responds to them, quoting the prophet Isaiah, who proclaimed truth to the Israelites who were exiled, imprisoned, and often veering from God’s ways. He was quite cagy in his response, answering the religious people’s questions with the words of one of the greatest prophets.

I am reminded of Jesus’ own interrogations near the end of his life when the authorities demand to know who he is. He often answers questions with questions: “Who do you say that I am?”

“Who are you?” is an interesting question. It is broad, and yet intimate. Perhaps the answer is always the same, and yet always in flux. How do we begin to answer this question when we remember who we are through the lens as being created by, for, and through God? And how do we see and understand the identity of those around us, when we remember that without God, not one thing came into being.

Blessings and peace to you this day,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection and Daily Challenge: 

Spend 10 minutes reflecting on how you answer the question "Who are you?"

As you feel so moved, meet with a friend or loved one to talk about what comes up for you in this question.

The Cost of Listening to Others - July 31

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

Today Gospel is a difficult one.  Herod buckles to the demands of his daughter Herodias and kills John the baptizer.  It’s a violent and disturbing story, although much of human history is no different.  And while we could certainly explore how our own acquiescing to the demands of others leads can cause suffering and pain in this world, I’d rather offer a different insight. 

I’ve been reading a fascinating book titled Stillness is the Key by Ryan Holiday.  Holiday is a notable historian of ancient philosophy who draws upon ancient wisdom to make sense of our lives today.  He shares profound insight into the decision-making process of people such as Abraham Lincoln who calmed his mind to make a decision to seize Vicksburg in the American Civil War, or John F. Kennedy’s approach to the Bay of Pigs which arguably saved the world from a nuclear catastrophe by learning what is necessary to think about when making decisions.  I love a quote from Thich Nhat Hanh that he uses to illustrate this truth:

“Before we can make deep changes in our lives, we have to look into our diet, our way of consuming.  We have to live in such a way that we stop consuming the things that poison us and intoxicate us.  Then we will have the strength to allow the best in us to arise, and we will no longer be victims of anger, of frustration. (page 36)”

Holiday is exploring how the information that we consume clouds our lives.  Herod is an example of this. He listens to his daughter, and he listens to the critics and those people in his community that he wants to make proud, that he wants to show off his capable leadership skills.  He listens to a bunch of noise that corrupts him as a human being and leads his actions to demonstrate power and violence. 

How much do we allow others to influence our own decision-making, our own nurture and knowledge of God that bears a light within ourselves?  Maybe the harshness of today’s Gospel message is the ultimate cost of peer pressure, as opposed to listening to the still small voice that dwells deep within.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What are some of the memories that come up when you think of peer pressure? Are there regrets you have from quickly listening to other people instead of a slow and thoughtful discernment process?

Daily Challenge:  Find some time to listen to your body, to your soul, to your own heart.  Find a quiet place, turn off your phone (power down or put on Do not Disturb), shut off your computer, and pray for 15 minutes. 

Beautiful, terrible days - July 28

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

Today’s Reflection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

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

Today’s reflection is drawn from a past sermon; you can find the full sermon here on the Saint Stephen’s YouTube Channel, where you can find an archive of all our sermons from the past year.

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

Just as I am - July 26, 2023

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

In Mark 4, Jesus leaves the crowd where he was telling parables and says to the disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.” They obligingly pile into a nearby vessel. The Apostle Mark describes it this way: “And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him.” The words “just as he was” stuck out to me this morning. Jesus was ferried into the lake just as he was. He did not change clothes. He was not otherwise prepared. They welcomed him just as he was. This tiny phrase got into my head and reminded me of a song.

“Just as I Am” is one of those songs in the hymnal that stretches across the Christian denominations. The lyrics began as a poem, written in 1835 by Charlotte Elliott. She experienced a disabling illness in her early 30s and lived the next 50 years dependent upon others for her care. Cesar Malan was a Swiss minister and Elliott’s spiritual mentor. He encouraged her to channel the frustrations of her physical limitations into lyrical verse through faith in God, so that she could feel peace. Elliott wrote upwards of 150 hymns, with “Just as I Am” her most well-known. While she was in the depths of uselessness and loneliness, she remembered the phrase “Come to Christ just as you are”, words of inspiration from her spiritual director. It was in contemplating these words – and the salvation offered through Jesus Christ – that the text of “Just as I Am” sprang forth.

The first verse reads:

Just as I am, without one plea,
but that thy blood was shed for me,
and that thou bidst me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Elliott began with sacrifice – Jesus’ selfless gift of dying for her (and all of us). It was in his death that invitation was opened to Elliott. Jesus called her to come to him. And she responded, “O Lamb of God, I come, I come.” She moved in the subsequent verses of the song to the sin in her soul, the internal conflict of doubt and fear, her spiritual poverty and physical impairments…and all of that was welcomed, pardoned, cleansed, and relieved by Jesus. All of the barriers and impediments of her life were broken down by Jesus. All of the storms were quelled. What remained was an open path, calling her to our Lord: “Now, to be thine, yea thine alone, O Lamb of God, I come, I come.”

“Just as I Am” was one of evangelist Billy Graham’s favorite songs to play during the close of revivals. It was the signal for people to come forward and make their personal commitment to Christ. Perhaps this sounds deeply familiar to some of you with evangelical Christian roots. Someone remarked to me recently that at their childhood church, “Just as I Am” would be played ad nauseum until someone came forward at the end of the service. As such, the song became a symbol of internal angst and discomfort – in a way not intended by its author!

It is worth noting that this song approaches relationship with Jesus as a one-on-one, personal interaction. There are times when we need to inhabit that individual space, reflecting on living as “God and me”. It is that granular focus that invites us into the context that you and I are known by God, loved by God, called by God. It is that premise that drives our prayers of Jesus holding our loved ones’ hands – or holding our very own hands – guiding us through a time of tumult or fear.

This is different from many of the prayers we say in the Episcopal church. Common prayer is a corporate act, in which we lift our voices and lives together to God. Our worship forms us as the Body of Christ – the many coming together as one. Depending on where we sit and how we are, our prayers may feel more individual or more united. When we sing this song in our Episcopal tradition, remember that Charlotte Elliott’s words are calling you to zoom in on your own faith in the living God, and then zoom out to see the majesty of all that Jesus redeems. This is the invitation to live fully into the promise extended to us by God. And to that, we say together, “Amen!”

Blessings and peace,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection and Daily Challenge: 

Take a moment to listen to Willie Nelson’s version of “Just as I Am”. Reflect on the ways you feel invited to come to Jesus. What conflicts trip you up? And, for a real challenge, who will you invite to walk alongside you? Consider asking a spiritual director to pray with you about the obstacles to your faith.

Heal me, for I have sinned against you - July 24

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

In the Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopal Church, there is a section called Pastoral Offices – meaning the services that care for people across their lives. You can find the words said at threshold occasions: confirmation, marriage, and even thanksgiving for the birth of a child. And then, there is one called “The Reconciliation of a Penitent”. The BCP says this about the rite for private confession, on page 446:

“The ministry of reconciliation, which has been committed by Christ to his Church, is exercised through the care each Christian has for others, through the common prayer of Christians assembled for public worship, and through the priesthood of the church and its ministers declaring absolution. The Reconciliation of a Penitent is available for all who desire it. It is not restricted to times of sickness. Confessions may be heard anytime and anywhere.”

There are times in our existence when we hit those crises that shake us. It could be the dissolution of a relationship, or retirement, or a move, or a death, or a diagnosis. Whatever the scene, something makes us look at ourselves in the mirror of reality. And the things we see may be disturbing or hard. We wrestle with where we are, and who we are, and how those things of the past keep tangling up our feet and feelings. Perhaps it feels like we have no where to go…but to God.

Walking honestly through the rite of reconciliation with someone (either clergy or trusted layperson) might be a liberating next right step.

When not ready to work through the muck with someone else, we can sit with God and pray the psalms in these low moments, offering words of honesty that address the spectrum of human experience: resentment and hope, exhaustion and faith, emptiness and love.

Take a look at the first four verses of Psalm 41:

1 Happy are they who consider the poor and needy! *
the Lord will deliver them in the time of trouble.

2 The Lord preserves them and keeps them alive,
so that they may be happy in the land; *
he does not hand them over to the will of their enemies.

3 The Lord sustains them on their sickbed *
and ministers to them in their illness.

4 I said, "Lord, be merciful to me; *
heal me, for I have sinned against you."

When we find ourselves in the deepest depths, the psalmist offers us assurance: the Lord delivers us. The Lord delivers us when we pay attention to others in need. We are reminded that we are not the only ones with struggles. And in this company amid the conflicts of life, we find community, care, and protection. The psalmist continues, that God sustains us in our maladies – and in these thresholds, we call out to the Lord to be merciful, and to heal us, as we have sinned against God.

It is a good thing to be honest with God and ourselves about our own spaces of imperfection, disappointment, and hurt. It is not easy. And yet, it can bring healing and reconnection with God and within our own lives.

May God’s reconciling love guide you today,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  

Sit with the Confession of Sin - which you can find on page 360 in the Book of Common Prayer. Or, read through the rite of reconciliation (page 447 in the BCP). 

Then, sit in prayer. What comes up in your heart? Spend some time journaling. If you feel that a follow-up conversation with a member of the clergy would be helpful, please reach out and call the church.

Stepping away from the whirlwind - July 21

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

Today’s Reflection

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Becky+

Moment for Reflection

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

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

Pause and Breathe – July 19

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

Confession: Sometimes when I sit with scripture, nothing really resonates. Maybe there are distractions in my mind that block my connection, or the content of the excerpt is overly familiar, or the psalmist is wallowing in big, hard feelings – and I just don’t want to go there today. Perhaps this has happened to you when reading the Bible.

Brother Jim Woodrum (from the Society of Saint John the Evangelist in Boston) visited Saint Stephen’s earlier this year. During one of his talks, he shared a technique of slowing down to sit with scripture, to hear and reflect on the words deeply. It is a practice that the brothers of SSJE observe when praying the psalms. At the end of each line, take a pause. Breathe in, as your brain processes what was just voiced. Move to the next line, working through the words. Let’s take psalm 38, appointed for today:

1 O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger; * (pause and breathe)
do not punish me in your wrath. (pause and breathe)

2 For your arrows have already pierced me, * (pause and breathe)
and your hand presses hard upon me. (pause and breathe)

3 There is no health in my flesh, because of your indignation; * (pause and breathe)
there is no soundness in my body, because of my sin. (pause and breathe)

4 For my iniquities overwhelm me; * (pause and breathe)
like a heavy burden they are too much for me to bear. (pause and breathe)

Continue moving through the psalm at an intentional pace. Remember that these words are an ancient prayer to God from faithful voices. Remember that these words speak to a real place in each of us. Remember that the Lord meets us in these heavy spaces with courage and compassion. The practice of taking a pause at the end of each line helps us stay engaged in the content, word by word. By taking a breath, we fill our lungs with oxygen; we have the inspiration from God to move to the next words. And sometimes, they are not easy ones to sit with:

5 My wounds stink and fester * (pause and breathe)
by reason of my foolishness. (pause and breathe)

6 I am utterly bowed down and prostrate; * (pause and breathe)
I go about in mourning all the day long. (pause and breathe)

7 My loins are filled with searing pain; * (pause and breathe)
there is no health in my body. (pause and breathe)

8 I am utterly numb and crushed; * (pause and breathe)
I wail, because of the groaning of my heart. (pause and breathe)

The sentiments of Psalm 38 are of one who is in deep anguish. And there are times we feel awful. The most we can hope for in those moments is a bit of relief, or a kind word from a friend, or a hand holding ours. I hope you will pray Psalm 38 – knowing that it is not always easy or comfortable to sit with Holy Scripture, just as it is not always easy to live this life God has given us. Let us pray for courage and grace to read the Bible, and to live into the darker spaces of our existence. As verse 9 of the psalm says, the Lord already knows the desires within us and our sighs are not hidden from God.

May God’s peace be upon you this day,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection:

Sitting with this reflection and Psalm 38, what is hard for you to face today? Where do you need God's courage or encouragement?

Daily Challenge: 

Read about the life and ministry of Macrina of Caesarea - and how she helped shaped the lives of her brothers, who became foundational voices in the forming of the Church.

Family Dynamics - July 17

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

As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them. (Mark 1:29-21)

The gospel from Mark appointed for today in the Daily Office opens in this way: right in the middle of layers of family dynamics. There were two sets of fishermen brothers in the company of Jesus: Simon and Andrew, and James and John. Jesus offered to Simon and Andrew, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” They dropped their fishing nets and joined Jesus. A little distance further, Jesus saw James and John in their boat repairing fishing nets, along with their dad Zebedee and some other hired workers. He called the brothers to join him. They climbed out of the boat, walked to shore, and followed Jesus.

The band of five walked to Capernaum, a community on the Sea of Galilee. They went to the synagogue and Jesus began to teach in the town’s gathering space. It was the Sabbath, so we infer that there was some manner of worship happening. A man afflicted with an unclean spirit interrupted, crying out and calling Jesus by name. The newly recruited teams of brothers watched as Jesus commanded, “Be silent, and come out of him!” The man began convulsing and groaning loudly as the unclean spirit left his body. The crowd was awed by the scene and by the power demonstrated by Jesus.

Still filled with adrenaline from the synagogue episode, they walk over to Simon and Andrew’s house. The five men entered the home. Simon’s mother-in-law is there and ill, lying in bed with a fever.

As Mark narrates this scene, he does not expound more on what Simon’s wife’s mother’s name is, whether this is her permanent home, who else may have been attending to her in her illness, or how long she has been afflicted.

Jesus approached the woman, held her hand, and woke her up. The fever broke. It left her body. She was relieved from her sick disposition! She got out of bed and began attending to Jesus and the four disciples.

We hear about the disciples leaving their families to follow Jesus, and as a priest with a family, I do wonder about the effects of ministry upon those who called the disciples husband, brother, uncle, dad, son. This vignette from Mark shows us a glimpse at the grace and compassion that Jesus showed to his followers’ families, and all who surrounded him.

Family dynamics are not easy. Jesus dwells with us in those spaces, holds our hand, and wakes us up, so that we can be present with those who know, love, and need us.

May God’s peace be upon you this day,

Katherine+

Questions for Self-Reflection:

Who do you pray that Jesus will be present with today? Who in your life needs to experience the compassionate healing of the Teacher? Offer that prayer to God.