Storms - April 4, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 95* & 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32;  Jer. 23:1-8; Rom. 8:28-39; John 6:52-59

During Lent, praying through the psalms has been a meaningful space for reflection and honesty for me. For this reason, I am grateful for the rotation in the daily lectionary so there are a few recommendations of where to begin. Late last week, while away on vacation with my family, I sat with Psalm 88. It was a darker theme than I anticipated as I relaxed on a screened porch upon the cusp of Mobile Bay. It begins “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. For I am full of trouble…”

It was strangely serene to sit with these vulnerable words of heartache when nothing else was pressing upon me in the moment. Praying Psalm 88 invited me to open some of the pockets and drawers within my psyche where I have filed away regret and pain and fear. This prayer brings up rejection, destruction, and the troubles that terrorize our minds. While many psalms move through a verse or two of rage before closing with resolution, Psalm 88 ends starkly, “My friend and my neighbor you have put away from me, and darkness is my only companion.” Those words gutted me, for the sadness and torment upon the heart of the psalmist who wrote it, for the many with whom these words resonate, and for the seasons in my own life when things felt hard, dark, and lonely. I believe that this psalm puts words and flesh on emotions that many are quick to stifle. It calls us to pay attention to angst. It describes the effects of anxiety and depression upon our spirits, our bodies, and our existence.

I felt myself leaning upon the wisdom of Thích Nhất Hạnh, allowing the spaces of stormy feelings and memories to flow over me. Through his writings in You Are Here, Nhất Hạnh describes emotional storms as shaking the boughs of our trees, like the powerful winds that have torn through the Southeast lately. During such disruptions, the Vietnamese monk invites us to move out of the branches and go deeper into ourselves to our trunks, just beneath our navels. It is there that we allow deep breaths to still us as we feel rooted. It is there that we shelter in our safe place, finding steadiness until the storm passes…usually in 20 minutes or so.

Here is another truth: some do get uprooted by the storms around us and within ourselves. Sometimes spiritual practices of mindfulness are not enough to quell the illness upon our hearts and minds. We need help from others to navigate what healing and wholeness can look like. We need the care of the Holy Spirit and others who are trained in healing arts to attend to us…and this helps remind us that we are not meant to live life alone. We need God and we need one another – even when there are storms within us and among us. God made us in love and made us for love, so that we share love and connection.

Take a little time to sit with Psalm 102, appointed for this Friday morning in Lent. It opens, “Lord, hear my prayer, and let my cry come before you”. Lean upon God with any heaviness upon your heart. Participate in this intentional unburdening as a piece of Lenten preparedness. I pray that you will feel lighter and grow in your trust of God. Jesus prayed this prayer. Martin Luther King, Jr. (who died on this day in 1968) prayed this psalm. May we all stand fast in our faith as children of God this day.

Faithfully,

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

Sit with Psalm 102. Feel how the psalmist appealed to God. How does this reflect your prayers with the Lord? Write down what is upon your heart. Then, take two minutes to breathe slowly and pray to God in silence.

God as the Potter - April 2

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144; Jer. 18:1-11; Rom. 8:1-11; John 6:27-40

One of the most powerful images that I have found in Scripture comes from the book of Jeremiah and is later echoed in Paul’s letter to the Romans. Jeremiah 18 begins:

“The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: ‘Come, go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.’ So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. The vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as seemed good to him. Then the word of the Lord came to me: Can I not do with you, O house of Israel, just as this potter has done? says the Lord. Just like the clay in the potter’s hand, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel.”

Life can change in an instant—a cancer diagnosis, a text message, a decision from an employer, or a sudden swerve on the road can alter everything. Part of being faithful means trusting that God is with us, sustaining and supporting us no matter what happens. We experience God’s presence through the compassion and hospitality extended by others during our times of pain and loss.

Many of us have gone through these kinds of upheavals. And often, what we find on the other side is resurrection and hope. It’s as though God has taken us—God’s clay—and gently reshaped us, helping us grow through pain and loss. A faithful response to suffering might be to cling to the image in Jeremiah, trusting that God still molds us to become hopeful and faithful agents of divine love. Or, as this past Sunday’s epistle reminds us: “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Lately, I’ve been finding hope in believing that this promise applies not just to our individual lives, but to our shared life as well. For most of us, we can’t control most of what happens in the world. However, we can grieve, we can lament, and we can choose to be compassionate and loving toward those most affected by change. And we can advocate for the world we desire and dream for while working to create that world. This is where our agency lies.

Jeremiah was writing in the late 7th to early 6th century BCE, during a time when Judah was under threat from the Babylonian empire. He called the people to repentance, offering the promise that God could reshape them, like a potter working with clay.

This is the ongoing story of our faith—that God is making all things new, that resurrection is the central motif of divine love transforming the world. God’s work is not finished.  If we have experienced this within our own life and in the life of others, we can live with hope that it is true for all.

We’re not promised a perfect world. In fact, Scripture and history continue to reveal just how broken the world has always been. And yet, there is always the promise and hope that God is still shaping something new.

May we hear Jeremiah’s words not just as a challenge to our present lives, but also as a hopeful vision of what God is preparing to bring forth.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  In what ways is God shaping you to be a new person?  How are you living into this change?  How can you be a part of God shaping this world? 

Which shall We Choose? - March 31, 2025

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 89:1-18;   Jer. 16:10-21; Rom. 7:1-12; John 6:1-15

Deep down I think we all know we can’t have it all. However, out of fear of not having enough we obtain more and more, even though in exchange we give up the opportunity of getting something else. If we work enough to buy the expensive car, we give up time with our family. The exchange happens everywhere. Scarcity is not just a physical limitation. Scarcity also affects our thinking and feeling. When I was a new mom, I remember looking at my infant daughter and wondering how I could possibly love another child as much as I loved her. It felt as though I would run out of love if I tried to spread it too far. Of course, when my next three children were born, I loved them just as much as my first. There is always enough love to go around.

It’s easy, however, to be convinced that there’s only a limited amount of certain things. Subconsciously we all fall into this trap. Recently I realized we had several bottles of our favorite salsa – we can only eat one at a time and that takes days. We don’t need three jars. This notion of scarcity has been studied a great deal. Walter Brueggemann, a theologian and author, believes this fear of not enough of what we need is a myth he calls the “Myth of Scarcity.” As a result, there’s a sense that we need more and more, that there will never be enough. This can ultimately lead to a selfish desire to hold on to what resources we have and give less and less to our neighbors.

In Genesis I our scriptures begin with praise for God’s abundant generosity. Later Jesus proclaims the abundance of grace, forgiveness for all who believe. However, Brueggemann, believes that Christians find themselves torn between the insatiable desire to have more and the belief in the abundance of God’s grace. Do we adhere to the Myth of Scarcity or believe in the abundance our scriptures proclaim? Which will we choose?

In today’s gospel, we have this conflict of beliefs acted out. The disciples do not believe there could be enough to feed the crowd that has followed them and Jesus in his wisdom, knows they still have no clue who he is or what he’s capable of accomplishing. Deep down, the disciples still don’t know much about Jesus accept that he is charismatic and has a remarkable impact on people to the extent that he attracts crowds of followers.

Jesus demonstrates that for those who follow him and believe, for those who have faith, there will always be enough. Enough to eat, enough love, enough forgiveness, enough healing, enough of what is needed to subsist. On another occasion Jesus puts it this way, “Don't be anxious, because everything you need will be given to you." Implied in his advice is this, ”But you must decide.” 

The hard fact about this Myth of Scarcity is that, in truth as a nation we have more than we need. At least some of us do. Unfortunately, this fear of not enough creates greed and an attitude that interferes with helping those who don’t have enough. If we were more generous, if we were more inclined to share, everyone could have enough.

Joshua reminds the Israelites, of God's generosity, and then says, "I don't know about you, but I and my house will choose the Lord." Sharing our abundance may be difficult but nothing is impossible for God. None of us knows what risks God's spirit may empower us to take. Through faith and God’s grace my hope is that the Creator will empower us to trust his generosity, so that all may be “satisfied.”

 Faithfully,

Sally+

 Questions for Reflection - From which areas of your life do you find it the hardest to share? Your time, compassion, love, money? Has it ever occurred to you that we need to make a choice between God and the little gods of our lives? What will we choose?

Divine Blessing - March 26

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82; Jer. 8:18-9:6; Rom. 5:1-11; John 8:12-20

One of the more powerful prophetic writings in the Hebrew Scriptures comes from the prophet Jeremiah. Likely written in the final years of the seventh century BCE—just before the fall of Judah and the exile of the Israelites—Jeremiah's message is both sobering and hopeful.

A central theme in Jeremiah is judgment. According to the prophet, it is the people's idolatry, social injustice, and moral decay that lead to the collapse of the kingdom, the destruction of the temple, and ultimately, the Babylonian exile. And yet, despite repeated warnings, Jeremiah also proclaims a message of hope—a future restoration of the people and the land, and a renewed covenant with God. God remains faithful, even when the people are not.

In many ways, modern theology emphasizes what we believe about God. That is certainly important. But the prophets of our tradition shift the focus toward right relationship with God as demonstrated through how we care for one another.

Our passage for today begins:

“My joy is gone, grief is upon me,
my heart is sick.
Hark, the cry of my poor people
from far and wide in the land:
‘Is the Lord not in Zion?
Is her King not in her?’
(‘Why have they provoked me to anger with their images,
with their foreign idols?’)
‘The harvest is past, the summer is ended,
and we are not saved.’
For the hurt of my poor people I am hurt,
I mourn, and dismay has taken hold of me.
Is there no balm in Gilead?
Is there no physician there?
Why then has the health of my poor people
not been restored?”
—Jeremiah 8:18–22

Jeremiah connects his joy and grief with the wellbeing of his people. The prophets believed that the people bear a collective responsibility for how society treats its most vulnerable. God's blessing on the nation is tied not just to belief or worship, but to how the people care for one another.

One of my observations about modern religion is the idea that if God blesses our nation, then people’s lives will improve. But the prophets of Hebrew Scripture suggest the inverse: if we care for those who are suffering, then God will bless the nation.

It’s a subtle but important difference.

If we seek to be faithful—if we hope to be people who live under God’s blessing—then we must begin with how we care for each other. And perhaps we will even come to recognize God’s blessing in that renewed commitment to one another’s wellbeing.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  What does “God’s Blessing” mean to you?  What is your responsibility for the care of others?

Speaking Out - March 24, 2025

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 80; Jer. 7:1-15; Rom. 4:1-12; John 7:14-36 

 There have been very few times in my life when I’ve stuck my neck out far enough to get it cut-off. Once when I was in the 7th grade my mother took my brother and I to a political rally for the candidate opposing the one for whom she had been campaigning. Mother had the bright idea of leaving fliers for her guy on the cars at the rally. Someone noticed and approached us. Rather than leave quietly she thought it an opportune moment to explain why his candidate should not be allowed to hold any public office much less the one for which he was running. The less than gentile man, grabbed a brick off the ground and slung it at my mother, narrowly missing her. He then sucker punched my brother, who happened to be a big guy at the time. I don’t remember what I did, but I do remember being terrified. This was typical of my mom’s life. She never let a moment go by when she felt she needed to speak out for someone or something. I’m still intimidated by her moxie way of approaching the world. I’m her daughter in many ways but that is not one of them.

Oscar Romero was cut from cloth very similar to my mom’s. The big difference was speaking out in El Salvador was much more dangerous and he did so on a much more public stage than she ever did. Her role on the Mississippi political scene made her some enemies but nothing like the ones he had. He was better known as Monsignor Romero, a priest in the Roman Catholic Church in El Salvador and eventually the prelate archbishop. His ministry was one of speaking out for the poor and for those who were victims of the Salvadoran civil war. His activism led to his assassination on March 24th, during a mass which he was celebrating. His violent death served to promote international awareness of the need for human rights reform in El Salvador. Pope Francis canonized Romero as a saint on October 14, 2018.

Today is the day on the liturgical calendar on which we honor Romero’s life and ministry. He lived a life none of us will experience but it’s a wonderful reminder of the importance of creating awareness by raising our voices when we see the need.

In today’s gospel John tells us, “Jesus cried out as he was teaching in the temple, ‘You know me, and you know where I am from. I have not come on my own. But the one who sent me is true, and you do not know him. I know him, because I am from him, and he sent me.’” If Jesus had kept his mouth shut maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in so much trouble. But what’s the use of that? He spoke out regardless of how he knew it would be received and for good reason. His was a life that knew only one purpose, to serve the downtrodden, the outcast, the poor and the lost, offering salvation to all those who believed in him, the incarnate son of God. Our role as his followers is to be aware, to care for others, to speak out when we can and to have a heart for those he loved. And as we do, to duck when the occasional “brick” gets tossed our way never forgetting that Christ took the big one for us all.

Questions for Reflection: How do you approach issues that make you uncomfortable, the ones you know are important that you should act upon? How can you change what you do to be more effective? If you stay in the shadows, what is holding you back?

Asterisk - March 21, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 95* 69:1-23(24-30)31-38; PM Psalm 73
Jer. 5:1-9; Rom. 2:25-3:18; John 5:30-47

Has a tiny detail ever opened your eyes in a totally new understanding? One little mark grabbed my attention this week. In the rotation of readings for the Daily Office prayers, I noticed that Psalm 95 is marked with an asterisk every Friday in Lent. I felt curious and wondered how many of us noticed or know what that asterisk means!

That little star subtly denotes that the entirety of Psalm 95 is to be prayed during Morning Prayer, and the footnote explains that it is to be used as the invitatory, or introductory, psalm. The invitatory psalm sets the tone for worship. A portion of Psalm 95 (v. 1-7, titled the Venite (meaning “come”), because that is the first word of the prayer in Latin) is one of these options. For each Friday in Lent, we say all eleven verses, somberly remembering that Jesus died on the cross on Good Friday as a sacrifice for the sins of the world.

What does this asterisk open for us? These are the last four verses of Psalm 95 that bring a reflective and penitential tone to our prayers:

Harden not your hearts, as your forebears did in the wilderness,
at Meribah, and on that day at Massah, when they tempted me.

They put me to the test,
though they had seen my works.

Forty years long I detested that generation and said,
"This people are wayward in their hearts; they do not know my ways."

So I swore in my wrath,
"They shall not enter into my rest."

Do you recall the ancient story referenced in this psalm? In the Hebrew scriptures, there was much written about the Israelites time of exodus from their homes in Judea into slavery in Babylon. The journey back to their homeland through the desert was fraught with tension and trials. Moses, doing his best to listen to the guidance of YHWH, led the Israelites who were only half-heartedly following him. There was intense complaining and dissention. “Are we there yet?” “I am tired!” “I am thirsty!” “Is this the right way?”

Moses went to God in prayer, pleading for direction and help. As we read in Exodus 17, the Lord answered Moses: take some of your leaders with you and go ahead of the people. Take your staff with you and hit the rock at Horeb where I, the Lord, will be standing. Water will emerge from the rock and the people will have something to drink.

Moses followed the directions of the Divine, with witnesses to his actions – and water flowed from the rock. Relief! And so, he named the place Massah (Hebrew, meaning “temptation” or “testing”) and Meribah (Hebrew, meaning “contention” or “quarrel”)…because the people were testing and quarreling with YHWH.

This is the lens of those verses from Psalm 95 – to remember those hardened hearts and the angst of that hard, exhausting time. To recall the dissatisfaction among the Israelites wandering in the wilderness. To remember when others have not trusted God. Why? Because the psalmist knew those stories of yore described a people not too different from those of the present time. While our prayers are to draw near to God so that we may hear that Divine voice, we often get in our own way.

Lent is a time for deep honesty within ourselves. It is a time to remove the spaces where we persist in quarreling and testing God. We desire to be lost and wayward no longer. And there are reasons and seasons when we are in the mire of the wilderness. In those windows of woe, we cry out “Kyrie eleison” – “Lord have mercy.”

May you feel that mercy through your Lenten experience.

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge 

How might you live into Lenten Fridays differently? It can be a penitential day, or maybe a day when you choose to fast from a practice that clutters your mind or heart. Perhaps you take a walk with the intention to open your heart to God. Or sit still in a chair and breathe intentionally with a name of God upon your lips.

Fasting from Judgment - March 19

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; Jer. 3:6-18; Rom. 1:28-2:11; John 5:1-18

I have a small confession to make, and I hope you’ll receive it with care. I find my inner life getting tangled in the outrage of the world—frustrated by our broken systems, by the way we treat one another, and by what feels like a blatant disregard for human suffering. If I’m completely honest, I know this isn’t a new phenomenon. It has always been this way, but lately, it seems amplified—designed to provoke outrage.

I share this because today’s passage from Paul’s letter to the Romans is a powerful reminder. He urges the community in Rome not to judge others, lest they be judged themselves. And who are these people the Romans are condemning? According to Paul, they are filled “with every kind of wickedness, evil, covetousness, malice. Full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, craftiness, they are gossips, slanderers, God-haters, insolent, haughty, boastful, inventors of evil, rebellious toward parents, foolish, faithless, heartless, ruthless.” Paul pulls no punches.

But listen to what he says next:

“Do you imagine, whoever you are, that when you judge those who do such things and yet do them yourself, you will escape the judgment of God? Or do you despise the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience? Do you not realize that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance?”

Paul is reminding the Romans—and us—to leave judgment to God so that we can focus on the work of doing good.

That’s no small task. Perhaps that’s why, in arguably his most important epistle, Paul addresses it so directly from the start. Transformation isn’t easy. It reminds me of another passage from his first letter to the Corinthians:

“For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.”

It feels foolish to withhold judgment in a world where people are acting like absolute fools. And yet, maybe that’s exactly what’s needed—especially with those whose lives intersect with ours.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:

• How can you fast from judgment this Lent?

• Where do you find yourself most judgmental, and what can help shift that?

Forgiven

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; Jer. 1:11-19; Rom. 1:1-15; John 4:27-42

This morning’s gospel is a familiar narrative. When we enter the scene, the Samaritan woman is at the well, she’s left her water jar and returned to the city, where she announces, that she may have met the Messiah. He knows everything about her, all of her sordid past mistakes and regrets, yet he does not dismiss her. Instead, he extends the gift of forgiveness and hope of salvation to her.

When I was first ordained priest, a woman in my parish asked if I would hear her confession. I explained how she could prepare and then we met a few days later. Her confession had been years in the making. She had suffered abuse as a child and as a result had made some regrettable decisions. She had lived well over half her life under the cloud of guilt that she felt as a result of her past. As we were finishing up, I noticed her expression of dread had been transformed to one of relief. She thanked me and confirmed what I had sensed. She stated that she felt a sense of elation and peace that she had not thought possible. It was nothing I had done but rather that she had shared her ugliest and most regrettable decisions to find that she was loved and accepted and forgiven. I was simply a conduit of God’s grace and forgiveness. I don’t think she ever thought it possible that she could share her past without feeling as though she was being judged.

I have experienced that kind of relief before and it’s not hard to imagine how the Samaritan woman must have felt. Acceptance and unconditional love are hard to forget. The verses in John do not describe her as running back to town filled with elation but there is a clue that she was distracted. She left the one thing that she needed – her water jar. That was her sole purpose in being at the well that day and now she had returned without it. But as Jesus explained, she left without the water she thought she needed and instead left with the knowledge of life-giving water that she would never be without.

This kind of forgiveness and acceptance is difficult to imagine, especially if society, family, or friends have reinforced your own sense of guilt. Knowing you are forgiven and accepting and embracing that forgiveness are two entirely different things. There was a time in my life when I intellectually understood I was forgiven but I couldn’t forgive myself. Finally, after beating myself up for years, my mentor told me I was being arrogant. I was shocked and embarrassed. Then he asked me had I thought about my attitude as a rejection of a gift from God? Did I consider my sin as greater than God’s ability to forgive? I’d never considered it that way and immediately reassessed my attitude. My own arrogance had been the one thing that had separated me from God. As I’ve often realized, I can be my own worst enemy.  The forgiveness Jesus offers flows freely. We only need turn around and open our hearts to receive it.

 Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection: Have you ever had difficulty forgiving yourself? Why do you think that is? During Lent, make a list of all those people whose forgiveness you’d like to request and then pray over each one, asking God that you might be forgiven. If you can forgive others why shouldn’t you be forgiven as well?

Mean Girls and Nicodemus - March 12

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:49-72; PM Psalm 49, [53]; Deut. 9:13-21; Heb. 3:12-19; John 2:23-3:15 

Nicodemus said to him, “How can these things be?” Jesus answered him, “Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?”

We all know that humanity is far from perfect. One film that captures this truth beautifully is the 2004 classic Mean Girls. The title itself is fitting—this movie is about high school cliques, with the infamous “Mean Girls” at the center, systematically making life difficult for everyone else. The protagonist, Cady (played by Lindsay Lohan), starts as a thoughtful, intelligent, and kind person but abandons those qualities in an attempt to fit in with the Mean Girls. As the story unfolds, things spiral out of control, and nearly everyone in the film becomes a little meaner. While it’s a comedy (and later a Broadway musical), Mean Girls offers a sharp reflection on just how cruel people can be.

The film’s climax comes after the Burn Book scandal causes chaos at North Shore High. Ms. Norbury gathers the junior girls in the gym for a reconciliation exercise, urging them to apologize for the harm they’ve caused. At first, it’s awkward, but then one student steps up to admit her wrongdoing. Soon, more girls follow, sparking a chain reaction of accountability and vulnerability. This moment of collective repentance helps resolve many of the movie’s conflicts. By the end, Cady has learned from her mistakes. She is no longer defined by her worst moments but emerges more self-aware and resilient.

In the same way, the prayers of the church—the Great Litany, the Litany of Penitence, and much of our liturgy—point to our brokenness as human beings. Lent is meant to expose this reality, not to condemn us, but to prepare us to grasp the true power of the Gospel: the love of Christ and the hope of redemption. Acknowledging our flaws doesn’t mean we are forever bound by them. Instead, we are people who grow.

Nicodemus is one of my favorite figures in the New Testament, perhaps because he wrestles with faith, asks questions, and ultimately shows up at Jesus’ tomb to care for his body. Nicodemus grows. The man we encounter at the end of John’s Gospel is not the same one we meet in today’s passage. Here, he is a seeker, questioning his faith and sneaking out at night to speak with Jesus. But by the end of the Gospel, he steps into the daylight, transformed.

We are not finished products. We are people being shaped and transformed by the love of God. The same is true of those with whom we struggle in our relationships—they, too, are works in progress. Repentance is more than just an act of confession; it is a participation in the chain reaction of grace that helps us grow into the people God calls us to be. Our hope is that we, like Nicodemus, will wrestle with our questions and, in time, live into a faith that transforms us in profound ways.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  How are you a different person than you used to be?  Is this intentional?  How have you grown in the last few years? How do you hope to continue to grow?

Knocking on God's Door

Monday’s Readings - Judges 9:50-55; Psalm 102:18-28; James 2:14-17 ; Luke 11:5-10

Today on the Episcopal Church calendar we commemorate the life of Harriet Ross Tubman. Ms. Tubman lived from 1820 - 1913. Her work earned her the name “the Moses of her People.” Ms. Tubman was born into slavery, and at the age of 24 escaped, and fled to Canada. She returned however and was instrumental in assisting  over 1000 slaves to escape to freedom. Ms. Tubman’s inspiration for her life’s work was God’s deliverance of the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. She came to believe that it was God’s intention that the slaves held in America be freed, just as the Israelites were freed. Her life became an act of devotion to God and what she believed was God’s will. As a black woman, Tubman had every disadvantage anyone can imagine. The one thing no one could take away from her though was her faith and her determination. Her faith was strong, and she took to heart Jesus’ admonition, that his yoke was easy, his burden light. She took up the welfare of others as her cross to carry, making the world a better place for others like herself. She believed and had faith in what we read from Luke today: “So I say to you, ask, and it will be given to you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. 10For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.” 

When we ask, we never know how God will respond. Sometimes it may feel as though God isn’t listening. I’ve done a lot of asking in my lifetime and at some point if only in retrospect I’ve realized God was present even if the answers I was seeking weren’t.  Harriet knew she wasn’t strong enough to carry the lives of all of those she brought out of slavery but she did know God was. 

In the Epistle from James for today, we hear him ask, “What good is it, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you? 15If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, 16and one of you says to them, ‘Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill’, and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? 17So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead.” The Apostle Paul’s teachings seem to contradict this way of thinking. He admonished the early Christians not to count on only good works. That it was their faith that mattered in the end. So, it’s not faith alone or works alone that can bring about salvation. But rather works that are empowered by our faith that bring us close to the heart of Christ. 

Harriett Tubman embodied this teaching, believing that her faith had to be seen in the world. She knew that she could not enjoy her freedom without trying to free as many of those who remained enslaved, so she risked her life, her freedom to help others. Very few of us risk our lives in service of others but for those who do, it is a step in faith. As we begin this season of Lent perhaps as a Lenten discipline we might turn our gaze towards something that we can do for others? Volunteer or call up a neighbor to check on them, take someone a meal, write a letter to someone you haven’t seen in a while. There are lots of outreach opportunities available at Saint Stephen’s, check out our web site and take your pick. Can you imagine if we had just an ounce of the faith, or the strength, or the determination that Ms. Tubman had what we might accomplish? 

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection - When was the last time you “knocked on God’s door?” Do you have a passion for something that could improves the lives of others? If you don’t why not? How might you improve the life of just one person?

Drawing Nearer to the Divine – March 7, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 95 & 31; PM Psalm 35; Deut. 7:12-16; Titus 2:1-15; John 1:35-42

Jesus said to them, “Come and see.”

This morning, I am thinking about the many ways we experience the power of invitation that is modeled for us by Jesus. That invitation changed Jesus’ disciples – like brothers Andrew and Simon Peter. Drawing nearer to the Divine opened their eyes and transformed the trajectory of their day – and ultimately their entire lives. Jesus taught them to extend a call to include others with authentic hospitality and enthusiasm.

A beloved person in my network of “heart people” – one who embodies authentic hospitality – is very ill. The outcome of her earthly life is uncertain at present. Driving to visit her yesterday, I felt deep sadness, akin to the grief many of you have experienced. It was healing to hold her warm hand in mine and to note her nail polish, a hue like nearly ripe cherries. Though unresponsive to voice or touch, I shared the latest updates of my kids’ lives and told her how much she has meant in mine. I am a better version of myself because of her gift of invitation.

When I was new to Birmingham in the late 1990s in my early 20s, she invited me to join her family at church. When planes crashed into the World Trade Center in 2001, I called her in shock. “What are we going to do?” I asked. She said, “We are going to church to pray. Meet us there at 6 o’clock.” We sat together and cried and prayed – and then shared a delicious meal as family following worship. When my mother died on Thanksgiving morning, she and her family welcomed mine - my sisters, our aunt and uncle, plus a cousin – expanding their table effortlessly by six people! Within the walls of their home, we shared a feast of deep and meaningful thanks. Even now, more than 20 years later, Sam and our kids continue this tradition of sharing laughter, food, games of Scrabble, and life-giving connection with these dear ones who are extended family.

Jesus calls his followers to come and see, so that we may draw nearer to the Divine and experience true hospitality. He calls us so that we recognize a new form of home and being at home in our souls. When it is time for us to be loosed of these earthly bonds, I pray that each of us hears the invitation of Jesus calling us into the mystery and beauty of heavenly glory, where there is feasting and laughter and home.

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

Can you think of a time when personal invitation to go somewhere or join a gathering felt meaningful? Did it change your life? If so, how are you different?

During Lent, who will you invite to “come and see” what Jesus is doing in the hearts of minds of people seeking him through worship?

Penitence and Reconciliation - March 5

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 95* & 32, 143; PM Psalm 102, 130   ; Jonah 3:1-4:11; Heb. 12:1-14; Luke 18:9-14

Ash Wednesday is one of the most powerful liturgies in the Christian tradition. It speaks bluntly to our mortality and, through a litany of prayers, acknowledges humanity’s deep brokenness and its role in the world’s injustice. As Christians, repentance is the means by which we enter into right relationship with God. In a world that constantly seeks to shift blame, there is profound wisdom—and hope—in the Church modeling a different way: a community that turns inward in repentance, embodying humility for the sake of the world.

I encourage you to reflect on the following litany of penitence (pages 267-269 of the Book of Common Prayer):

We have not loved you with our whole heart, mind, and strength.
We have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We have not forgiven others as we have been forgiven.
Have mercy on us, Lord.

We have been deaf to your call to serve, as Christ served us.
We have not been true to the mind of Christ.
We have grieved your Holy Spirit.
Have mercy on us, Lord.

We confess to you, Lord, all our past unfaithfulness:
The pride, hypocrisy, and impatience of our lives,
We confess to you, Lord.

Our self-indulgent appetites and ways,
And our exploitation of other people,
We confess to you, Lord.

Our anger at our own frustration,
And our envy of those more fortunate than ourselves,
We confess to you, Lord.

Our intemperate love of worldly goods and comforts,
And our dishonesty in daily life and work,
We confess to you, Lord.

Our negligence in prayer and worship,
And our failure to commend the faith that is in us,
We confess to you, Lord.

For the wrongs we have done:
For our blindness to human need and suffering,
And our indifference to injustice and cruelty,
Accept our repentance, Lord.

For all false judgments,
For uncharitable thoughts toward our neighbors,
And for our prejudice and contempt toward those who differ from us,
Accept our repentance, Lord.

For our waste and pollution of your creation,
And our lack of concern for those who come after us,
Accept our repentance, Lord.

This litany covers, in many ways, all the problems of the world. Modeling self-reflection and a desire for growth is itself an act of humility—one necessary for the healing of our people and our world. Because, frankly, humanity is capable of unimaginable harm.

Lately, I’ve been reading Lincoln’s Greatest Speech by Ronald White, a deep exploration of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address written when our country saw the full capacity of war and sin with the Civil War. White argues that Lincoln masterfully crafted every single word of his 703-word speech. The most famous line—“With malice toward none; with charity for all”—lies at the heart of his message, which was focused not on retribution but on reconciliation. White details how Lincoln intended these words to guide Reconstruction, though, tragically, that vision was abandoned after his assassination.

In the book, White examines Lincoln’s shift in rhetoric—he no longer blames only the South for slavery but implicates the entire nation.  Lincoln suggests that the suffering of the war is a consequence of America’s collective sin and that justice requires enduring its consequences.  This is where “With malice toward none; with charity for all” emerges as a path forward.

The Church’s mission is reconciliation: to reconcile all people to God in Christ. Our framework is never retribution, but rather charity, compassion, and grace. This posture allows us to be honest about what we have done and left undone.

Read the litany again. The list is exhaustive. And yet, God’s grace and forgiveness encompass it all.  May we have the courage to be honest with God about where we have come up short, and we all know God’s unfailing love and compassion through our self disclosure.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: Where are the areas you have come up short? What have you left undone that needs to be named? Where have you sinned in your life? (Consider making an appointment with one of your clergy to receive the gift of Confession and Absolution).

A Listening Ear

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 25; Deut. 6:10-15; Heb 1:1-14; John 1:1-18 

Have you noticed how incredibly filled with words our world has become? There is a pod cast for every subject, satisfying every listener’s taste. And unfortunately, a great deal of what is trending tends toward anger. The expression of every feeling, every political, religious, or other viewpoint is available twenty-four hours a day. Thanks to social media, not only can you find a video on how to knit a baby blanket, but you can also express your most vile, angry thoughts for all the world to read.

The abundance of words, negative and positive, reminds me of the importance of listening. One of the first things I learned as a social worker was that if I was talking, then I wasn’t listening. Glen McDonald, in his Morning Reflection quotes the book of James, “. . . Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires” (James 1:19-20). “Quick to listen,” is likely to be one of the most valuable pieces of advice any of us can receive. McDonald seems to endorse James’ advice when he writes, “We can master the power of the pause – waiting for someone else to speak. We can listen carefully, paying fierce attention to others instead of thinking ahead to our next amazing comment.”

Today’s gospel reading from John, may be one of the most succinct of all bible verses: “In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God.” In that one short sentence the author establishes what many authors have written entire books trying to communicate. The succinct clear way this is expressed is unparalleled. Logos, Greek for “word” means mind, speech, or communication. Jesus spends a lot of his ministry talking, communicating the thoughts, and actions of God. Jesus is expressing the ways we can love others. He is the Word from before time so yes, he talks but Jesus also listens and when he does, he responds in a thoughtful, compassionate way. If all talk was as valuable as what Jesus has to say we would do well to refrain from ever speaking again so that we never stop listening. As it is we must discern what is worthy of our attention and what isn’t.

Howard Thurman, from his book Meditations of the Heart, writes, “Give me the listening ear. I seek this day the ear that will not shrink from the word that corrects or admonishes  . . . the word that holds up before me the image of myself that causes me to pause and reconsider – the word that lays bare the needs that make my own days uneasy, that seizes upon every good decent impulse of my nature, channeling it into paths of healing in the lives of others.” May we desire a discerning heart that seeks not to only hear with the listening ear of God but also speak from a thoughtful heart.

Faithfully,

Sally+ 

Questions for Reflection - How might we put on the mind of Jesus when we listen? When we speak?  When was the last time you prayerfully considered what you were going to say and how it might be impactful either in a constructive or hurtful way?

Snarky mutterings - February 28, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 140, 142; PM Psalm 141, 143:1-11(12)
Ruth 3:1-18; 2 Cor. 4:1-12; Matt. 5:38-48

Wow. There are days that Holy Scripture feels extremely relatable and today is one of those. The epistle is from the Apostle Paul’s second letter to the church in Corinth and begins: “Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God.” (4:1-2)

These words resonate loudly in my heart. They speak to the ways God’s mercy sustains me on days when I feel overwhelmed, that I am not enough, and that I have not done all that is expected of me. Paul’s message recalls the power of forgiveness extended to each of us in the sacrifice and love of Jesus. Being cleansed from those dark and hard places with God’s amazing grace, I live anew. That renewal looks like a fresh commitment to act and speak in truth and love, avoiding the snarky mutterings that tempt my tongue. This excerpt also reminds me not to twist or adjust the Word of God for my own gain or to manipulate others in false or crafty ways. Rather, we stand together as a body of faithful people bringing God’s truth and compassion to life.

I recall with gratitude the wonderful bonds of sharing and learning that were woven together through time with clergy from across the country at the Episcopal Parish Network conference in Kansas City, MO, earlier this week. I reconnected with a friend from seminary; as we caught up, we shared spaces of our lives where there has been disappointment and change. Over the last decade, we each have gone through seasons to reflect – as individuals, within our families, and in our contexts of ministry. We are different than we were 10 years ago. We have deepened in wisdom. We dedicate ourselves to receiving the compassion of Christ, as we share that mercy with others. In doing so, we are reminded of the humble posture we assume when kneeling at the feet of Jesus.

Inspired by today’s epistle, I offer a bold and counter-cultural prayer: that the Holy Spirit will give each of us courage to adopt the stance as slaves bound to serve for the cause of Jesus – not enslaved in darkness, but in the bonds of lightness and for the glory of God. Amen.

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

Re-read 2 Corinthians 4:1-12. What stirs your heart today? Where are you called into life?

Spend a few minutes writing your musings. Then, talk with a trusted friend over coffee and invite them to reflect on this scripture, too.

I Believe . . .

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 106:1-18; Ruth 1:1-14; 2 Cor. 1:1-11; Matt. 5:1-12

The Gospel for today is one version of what we have come to know as the Beatitudes. Luke’s version is known as the Sermon on the Plains and is very similar to the one we have for today from Matthew. Jesus goes through a list of ways in which various human conditions might bring a blessing. It’s hard to read this without wondering why Jesus wants us to believe that we are blessed if we mourn or  are poor in spirit or persecuted. Who is he kidding? We know following Christ is challenging but this seems out of even Jesus’ realm of what might be something we can accomplish.

In Joan Chittister’s book, In Search of Belief, she takes the Apostle’s Creed and line by line she dissects what it means to say “I believe. . .”  She establishes that intellectual belief and the kind of belief that comes from faith, without the need for quantifiable data, are the two sides of the equation that people struggle with when it comes to what we believe.  One way to consider scripture is to look at it from at least three “senses:” Literal, historical and spiritual. I recently heard someone say, “I take the Bible too seriously to only take it literally.” To look at scripture only from a literal perspective eliminates the historical context and what the scriptures are saying to us spiritually, for our situation, in our time. According to Chittister, literalism “involves more non-thinking than it does actual genuine faith.”

In the Sermon on the Mount Jesus is laying out his mission, he is restating his purpose which he had alluded to earlier in the Temple when he read from the prophet Isaiah. As we read Jesus’ words it’s easy to see how he could have been misunderstood. Even now, it’s easy to become confused or to be unsure of the message that Jesus is trying to communicate. Jesus is not trying to soft pedal the awful situations of which so many people in our communities suffer, nor is he dismissing their situation by simply declaring that this is some sort of blessing. One thing we know for certain is that Jesus suffered, and he felt companionship and solidarity with others who suffered. When we suffer, illusions of our independence from God or superiority over others is erased. We all suffer, we all mourn, we all find ourselves misunderstood and persecuted at one point or another. We are all poor in spirit and we all long for the presence of God to fill our empty hollow lives. This is what I believe Jesus was trying to communicate as he delivered the beatitudes. In the end our suffering erases those barriers between us and God, and we can believe that we are blessed too. Never before have we had a greater need not only to believe the scriptures, and creeds but we also need to understand them, to be able to not only recite them in church on Sunday, but actually live them as if we believe and understand their implications.  When we experience those things that bring us closer to God and to realizing the presence of God in our midst, when we live out our beliefs, not only are our lives made better, but the world is made better as well.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection - What creedal statements or bible verses do you struggle to understand? To believe? How do you reconcile the “hard to believe” statements with your faith?

Priorities - February 21, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 102; PM Psalm 107:1-32; Isa. 65:17-25; 1 Tim. 5:17-22(23-25); Mark 12:28-34

My third grader is doing a vocabulary study project. The word he chose is “unbalence” (he wrote it this way on his planning sheet). He defines the word as “something that is not equal”. For the costume to embody this word, he needs “something heavy and light”. That nine-year-old boy has me thinking about spaces in life that are unbalanced.

It doesn’t take long to see examples of imbalance in my own life: Working hours. Spending money. Food choices. Social media. Worry. We each have our own categories that bubble up…and maybe we examine what is most important in life. To find a healthy blend or balance, what people, actions, and perspectives are considered first?

We are not alone in testing our need for realignment. Jesus and a scribe exchange words in the gospel according to Mark appointed for today. The scribe asks, “Which commandment is the first of all?” Jesus answers, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength…The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” (12:29-31) Period.

Last night, Nadia Bolz Weber spoke at Birmingham’s Highlands United Methodist Church in Five Points, the second stop on her Red State Revival tour. She shared music, words of inspiration, and offered her own testimony grounded in song and prayer. Nadia spoke of her times wandering far from God, and those moments when the Holy Spirit gave her the gift of words and reassurance to trust in the bold forgiveness and reconciling love of Jesus. It is that love which we are to extend to our neighbors, our enemies, and those who are hard to love. That is the love that we truly want – for it is strong enough to forgive those who have hurt us and ignored us and belittled us. It is big enough to forgive us, too, liberating us in ways we never could imagine.

Friends, when life within us and outside of us is unbalanced, let us choose the priority of great and abiding love. Love for God. Love for ourselves. Love for our neighbors. Then, act accordingly. It is a radical way to live. It is the command God sent to the Israelites of yore. And we have the model of Jesus and the courage of the Holy Spirit to help us along the way.

In God’s love,

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

What are your priorities of time, money, and mindset this week? Sit with the gospel for today and reflect on how God is calling you to realign or adjust.

Try a small experiment for this next week: make one incremental change to lead with God's love with intention each day.

I Confess

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144; Isa 63:15-64:9; 1 Tim. 3:1-16; Mark 11:27-12:12

This morning’s Gospel presents a difficult message, one that challenges us to confront uncomfortable truths. Jesus shares the parable of the vineyard, where the tenants, entrusted with caring for the land, rebel against the owner. When the owner's son is sent to them, they kill him, believing they can seize the inheritance for themselves. This is more than just a story of greed and violence—it is a prophecy, foreshadowing the rejection and crucifixion of Christ.

The religious leaders who hear this parable do not miss its implications. They realize that Jesus is speaking about them, about their own role in resisting God’s work. But rather than repenting, they grow angrier. The Gospel tells us:

“They wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowd. So they left him and went away.”

It is a striking moment—one in which the truth is laid bare, yet those confronted by it refuse to change. This parable invites us to examine not only the actions of the religious leaders but also our own tendencies to resist truth, to shift blame, and to avoid responsibility.

We all struggle with our role in the brokenness of the world. This week, I had a long conversation with my son after he tried to blame others for something he had done. We talked about responsibility—how difficult, yet necessary, it is to own up to our actions. It is a lesson that many of us, even as adults, continue to wrestle with.

Since I have previously shared reflections from Howard Thurman’s Meditations of the Heart (1953), I thought I would offer one final passage that speaks to today’s reading and my reflection. This one is titled “I Confess”:

The concern which I lay bare before God today is:
My concern for the life of the world in these troubled times.
I confess my own inner confusion as I look out upon the world.
There is food for all—many are hungry.
There are clothes enough for all—many are in rags.
There is room enough for all—many are crowded.
There are none who want war—preparations for conflict abound.

I confess my own share in the ills of the times.
I have shirked my responsibility as a citizen.
I have not been wise in casting my ballot.
I have left to others a real interest in making a public opinion worthy of democracy.
I have been concerned about my own little job, my own little security, my own shelter, my own bread.
I have not really cared about jobs for others, security for others, shelter for others, bread for others.
I have not worked for peace; I want peace, but I have voted and worked for war.
I have silenced my own voice that it may not be heard on the side of any cause, however right, if it meant running risks or damaging my own little reputation.

Let Thy light burn in me that I may, from this moment on, take effective steps within my own powers to live up to the light and courageously pay for the kind of world I so deeply desire.

It is easy to blame others for the world we have created, but that may not be the most faithful response. May God’s light burn in us so that we may live courageously.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: What role does confession play in your faith life? How can confession give you courage in our world today?

Creating Communities of Truth

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 89:1-18; Isa. 63:1-6; 1 Tim. 1:1-17; Mark 11:1-11

Teachers are some of the first to love our children outside of family relationships, teaching them they are valued and loved just for who they are. They open our children’s eyes to amazing literature, science and nature, the value of reading, and learning how to respect the earth, their class- mates and themselves. They can engage a child’s interest in passions that they will have for a lifetime. They may teach them how to catch a baseball, sew a shirt from scratch – when there was such a thing as Home EC, love poetry, play a piano or a cello, or how to bicycle kick a soccer ball. These life skills open our children’s eyes to the world of ideas and experiences that will shape them as adults and as members of their community.

In Parker Palmer’s To Know as We are Known, Palmer stresses the spiritual and communal aspects of learning. When he published in 1983, those involved in religious education, at universities, colleges or seminaries were his primary target audience. However, 10 years after publication he came to realize he had a much wider, more diverse audience. Faculty at public schools, and major research institutions of all faiths have taken it up. He came to realize there was a very simple reason – educators of all descriptions are having a really difficult time, and the pain they feel has sent them looking at “unconventional resources” (P. Palmer). Palmer describes the pain educators are experiencing as “the pain of disconnection.” Palmer points out that in the midst of alienation spiritual traditions can offer hope that is difficult to find elsewhere.

In today’s Letter from Timothy the writer is exposing a type of teaching that takes liberties with the truth, creating divisions and doing this “without understanding either what they are saying or the things about which they make assertions.”

Knowing where to find the truth and how to discern what we are hearing is a difficult task. Good teachers can help, they can lay the foundation but society must support their work. We must be more discerning of theories and conjectures and listen with the heart of Christ. This is what Timothy was trying to teach his followers: “not to occupy themselves with myths and endless genealogies that promote speculations rather than the divine training that is known by faith..”

Palmer states that “Authentic spirituality wants to open us to truth – whatever truth may be, wherever truth may take us. Such spirituality trusts that any path walked with integrity will take us to a place of knowledge. Such spirituality encourages us to welcome diversity and conflict, to tolerate ambiguity and to embrace paradox.” As followers of Christ, we can leave behind the fear that creates divisions, that erodes sound learning. We can hear Timothy’s words in light of today and pledge to create spaces in which communities of truth are created, networks of relationships in which we both speak and listen with the heart of Christ, in which “instruction is love that comes from a pure heart” (I Timothy 1:5.)

Faithfully,

Sally+

Reflection - How might you be able to create a space that encourages a community that seeks truth, a space where diversity is welcomed and fear is crowded out with trust and open, whole-heartedness?

Love = Service and Sacrifice - February 14

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 88; PM Psalm 91, 92; Isa. 61:1-9; 2 Tim. 3:1-17; Mark 10:32-45

Amazed. Afraid. Angry. These are emotions and feelings exhibited by the disciples in today’s gospel story from Mark. While informed by Jesus of what is to come – betrayal, humiliation, death – James and John are still not satisfied. The brothers voice a desire to draw nearer to Jesus’ power, sitting to the left and right of this one who God will raise from the dead. They are not seeing the whole picture Jesus is outlining for them, for they are missing the immense sacrifice required.

There is dissention among the disciples, stirred with angst at the impertinence of Zebedee’s boys. Jesus dispels the tension and corrects the expectations of his students. Gentiles, he says, have rulers who lead sternly and as tyrants. Conversely, faithful believers in God – like the disciples – embrace a different paradigm: greatness is defined by one’s humility and willingness to serve. Then, Jesus makes a profound statement of his purpose in community: “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” (v. 45) Selfless service and sacrifice are at the heart of what Jesus models for the world.

This life coaching lesson opens the disciples to be more apt to welcome the blind, bellowing Bartimaeus, calling out for Jesus to have mercy on him (tomorrow’s gospel reading, Mark 10:46-52). I imagine the disciples join others in the crowd to help encourage and lead the pleading beggar to the Son of David. These students feel his power and are in awe, while still figuring out what it means to be in the presence of such a being. He may be called Jesus, but they are beginning to know him as the Messiah. As they watch the healing of the needy, like Bartimaeus who is made well by his faith, their own faith is bolstered through witnessing miracles.

The disciples are sources of encouragement for us – we who are flawed and bumbling, angry and afraid. The disciples faced adversity and injustice. They asked the wrong questions. They missed the point. And the Good Shepherd did not leave them behind. Jesus Christ’s grace-filled instruction continued.

Jesus keeps teaching us, too…beckoning us to live into ways of demonstrating justice, loving mercy, and walking with humility. How will you honor God through your life today?

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

What does honoring God with your life look like? Who do you look to as a guide? Where are the spaces of hurt and need that are immediately in front of you?

Pray and journal as you reflect on these questions. Listen for ideas of action and response that emerge.

Inner Peace - February 12

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; PM Psalm 81, 82; Isa. 59:15b-21; 2 Tim. 1:15-2:13; Mark 10:1-16

A question that many Christian mystics and theologians have wrestled with is whether being spiritually centered—grounded, calm, and at peace—enables us to fully live out our calling as faithful witnesses. To follow Jesus, to be people who respond to the world’s suffering with His grace, love, and hope, do we first need to cultivate inner stillness? I would argue not necessarily—but it certainly helps.

As I shared last week, I have been reflecting on the writings of Howard Thurman, particularly his Meditations of the Heart (1952). He writes, “How to get beyond one’s anxiety and trouble to the center of one’s own spirit is one of the most formidable hurdles to serenity and inner peace.” This is a powerful reminder that our inner life—the state of our hearts and souls—deeply shapes how we engage with the world and with God’s calling. When fear, anxiety, or distraction cloud our spirits, responding faithfully becomes more difficult. But when we cultivate a deep, abiding peace, we create space to hear God’s voice and move with clarity and conviction.

Today’s reading from the Prophet Isaiah presents a striking image of God putting on righteousness “like a breastplate” and a “helmet of salvation.” It’s a vision of divine strength and justice, one that likely influenced the writer of Ephesians, who offers a similar metaphor in chapter six:

"Put on the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For our struggle is not against enemies of blood and flesh, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. 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."

This imagery reminds us that faith is not passive; it is a way of moving through the world with intention, strength, and purpose. The “armor” of God is not about aggression but about resilience—the courage to stand firm in truth, the readiness to proclaim peace, the faith to withstand adversity.

One of my favorite prayers, the Great Litany (written in 1544 and the oldest in our English tradition), speaks to this need for divine protection and guidance. A few of its petitions stand out:

"From all blindness of heart; from pride, vain glory, and hypocrisy; from envy, hatred, and malice; and from all want of charity, Good Lord, deliver us.

"From all inordinate and sinful affections; and from all the deceits of the world, the flesh, and the devil, Good Lord, deliver us.

"From all false doctrine, heresy, and schism; from hardness of heart, and contempt of thy Word and commandment, Good Lord, deliver us.

"From all oppression, conspiracy, and rebellion; from violence, battle, and murder; and from dying suddenly and unprepared, Good Lord, deliver us.

"In all time of our tribulation; in all time of our prosperity; in the hour of death, and in the day of judgment, Good Lord, deliver us."

This prayer acknowledges a truth we often forget—our greatest battles are not always external. They happen within us: in the struggle against pride, fear, division, and despair. The armor of God is not just for defense against outward threats but for the quiet, internal work of cultivating faith, integrity, and love.

It is worth considering that faith is both armor and a balm. It equips us for the trials we face, giving us the strength to stand firm, and yet it is also a source of healing, offering peace amid turmoil. May our faith not only protect us but also transform us—so that we, in turn, may bring God’s peace to the world.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: How does your faith become armor to you? What do you need protection from?