Unity in the Church - April 30

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:1-24; PM Psalm 12, 13, 14; Dan. 2:17-30; 1 John 2:12-17; John 17:20-26 

There’s something profoundly moving about this moment in John’s Gospel. Jesus is praying—really praying—for his disciples, and not just the ones gathered around him. He says, “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word.” That’s us. Jesus is praying for all of us.

And what does he pray for? Not that we would be powerful or successful or even safe—but that we would be one. As Jesus and the Father are one, so he prays that we might live in that kind of deep, sacred unity.

This passage reminds me that the heart of Christian life isn’t about proving our worth or perfecting our doctrine—it’s about our hearts being transformed so that we become the Body of Christ. It’s about communion. It’s about belonging to one another in love. Jesus wants us to be so connected, so open-hearted, that the world might actually glimpse God’s love through the way we love each other.

This kind of unity isn’t uniformity. It doesn’t mean we all have to think the same way or agree on every issue. It means we live in the kind of love that holds space for difference, that reaches across division, that chooses mercy again and again. But that kind of love requires compassion, deep listening to the pain that each other holds, and a willingness to be in relationship for each other to be held in unity, a most challenging ethic indeed.

Jesus ends this prayer with a request: “I made your name known to them... so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” He’s not just asking for love around us or between us—but for that divine love to live in us. To shape us. To be the foundation of who we are.

That kind of love is what the world needs right now. And it begins not with grand gestures but with everyday faithfulness—showing up, listening well, forgiving freely, and choosing to see Christ in one another. Jesus is still praying for us. May we live as though that prayer is being answered—through us.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: What does unity in the church look like to you? How can the church be more unified when there are so many opinions of what is right, true, or the Way?

The Challenge of Hope - April 28,2025

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 1, 2, 3; Dan. 1:1-21; 1 John 1:1-10; John 17:1-11

I can only imagine how people who did not witness the risen Christ must have reacted when they heard the testimony of those who did. Yesterday’s gospel from John is the account of Thomas’ reaction when he returns to the upper room and his friends tell him they have seen their risen Lord. He earns the nickname “doubting Thomas” because he dares to doubt, to question, to demand proof that who they have seen is his Lord. 

When my oldest daughter was in the fifth grade a classmate shared that one of her grandmothers had survived Auschwitz. She was reticent to tell most people because she was often met with disbelief. She had been told by some that it was all a lie, “made up stories” to gain sympathy for the Jews. Coincidently, I had met a man earlier that year who had told me the very same thing. I had argued with him for several minutes, until finally Stan pulled me away. He could tell I wasn’t getting anywhere, the man was claiming there was no proof, nothing that couldn’t have been manufactured. I was completely bewildered by how someone could be so easily swayed by what clearly appeared to be lies, purposeful attempts to berate the Jewish people even further. 

 It won’t be too much longer after the writing of today’s epistle from the first letter of  John that there will no longer be anyone left who could serve as a firsthand witness to the miracles Jesus performed, to his ministry, his teachings, his resurrection appearances. From that point forward all future believers will need to trust the stories, the accounts that are passed down by mouth and then by writing. Faith and trust will be the lynch pins to belief that earlier had been by sight, by touch, by hearing, proof of his existence, of his resurrection. 

 John’s letter assures the new church, that if they simply believe, if we walk in the “Light” then we will have fellowship with one another. How do we accomplish this? I talk to a great many people who on a daily basis find themselves depressed, angry, despondent, withdrawn. Many tell me they no longer know what to believe, how to manage conversations, how to bridge chasms that have been created by distrust. 

 Holy week and the culmination with the celebration of Christ’s resurrection took us from the table where Jesus shared his last meal with his friends back again to the table where each week, we share the bread and wine that we know as the Eucharist. The light from the resurrection that graces us each day, shines with the hope that Christ’s resurrection brought. It is this hope that gives us the courage to gather shoulder to shoulder at the table, to approach the differences that separate us, to listen with open hearts and minds. It is this light that gives us the courage to do as Jesus commanded, to break bread together with those we may not understand, we may not trust. It is this light that sheds hope on our attempts to deny the dark that threatens to overshadow our communities, our relationships, our peace of mind. 

 Pope Francis’ final Easter address, spoke to the hope that the light of Christ brings:

"Sisters and brothers, especially those of you experiencing pain and sorrow, your silent cry has been heard and your tears have been counted; not one of them has been lost!... The resurrection of Jesus is indeed the basis of our hope. For in the light of this event, hope is no longer an illusion.... That hope is not an evasion, but a challenge; it does not delude, but empowers us."  

 As difficult as it may feel, as fruitless as it may seem, our role is to go in peace, sharing the love of Christ, denying the power of the dark. We have a choice, to lift high our voices full of hopefulness or sit mute or worse yet, complain and do nothing. 

 Faithfully,

 Sally+

 Reflection and Challenge - When you are confronted with doubt or disbelief, how do you respond? With a defensive attitude? With disdain? Or, do you listen and then respond with questions, trying to understand the other's position? What does walking in the "light" mean to you? How do we accomplish this? 

The most important meal of the day – April 25, 2025

Today’s Readings: Psalm 116:1-8 or 118:19-24; Acts 4:1-12; John 21:1-14 

As a kid, I had this idea that breakfast in bed was the biggest luxury possible. Maybe it was the television shows of the 1980s that planted this seed in my mind. I remember telling my mom and dad to stay in bed so that I could bring them breakfast. We had an olive green metal tray upon which I placed plates of toast (already buttered and jellied), along with orange juice and milk. Around this time, my mom had taught me how to cook an egg in a pyrex cup in the microwave, so that it was cooked sort of like a poached egg…whether one of those made it onto the tray, I cannot recall. I do remember walking into my parents’ room, their dark orange floral curtains still blocking out the morning light. Liquids sloshed, for I traversed up the stairs with the delights. My parents expressed gratitude as I slid the tray upon their bed. I can still see my mom with her hair in curlers (she would hate that I shared that detail), taking a bite of the toast topped with a generous serving of red plum jelly. There was probably a mess left behind on the kitchen counter and perhaps a trail of juice and milk on the stairs, too…but the joy of providing a meal was at the heart of that morning.

In the gospel appointed for today, the resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples. It is early in the morning and some of them have been fishing. Jesus calls them, “Come and have breakfast.” He serves them bread and fish. He attends to his friends’ needs, demonstrating his care for them. In the verses that follow, the risen Christ asks Peter three times over, “Do you love me?” Peter assents each time, “You know that I love you.” Jesus responds steadily, “Feed my sheep.” (John 21:15-18)

My friends, Jesus models for us how important it is to start with a solid foundation, so that we can go out and tend to others in need. In the Easter joy that abounds through this celebration of the resurrected Jesus, remember that we must partake of the most important meal of the day. So, with love in your heart, have breakfast! Hear Jesus’ words “Come and have breakfast” as an invitation to the table. Feast on bread and fish, or toast and jelly. Receive the love of God with each bite, so that as you go out to feed God’s sheep, you are prepared to face the heartache and brokenness in our world.

Faithfully,

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge:

As you enjoy breakfast today or this weekend ahead, reread the gospel from John (21:1-14). Reflect on how Holy Scripture is nourishing you. Pray for those who are hungering for peace. What can you do in your network to share the nurture of Jesus this day?

Easter Reality - April 23

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 97, 99; PM Psalm 115 ; Micah 7:7-15; Acts 3:1-10 or 1 Cor. 15:(29)30-41; John 15:1-11   

There’s something so simple, and yet so profound, about today’s lectionary reading in Acts.

Peter and John are going to the temple—just a regular afternoon, just the daily prayers. And there, at the gate called Beautiful, is a man who has been carried to the same spot every day. He’s not expecting anything miraculous. He’s hoping for coins, for a few acts of kindness to get him through. But God has more in store.

Peter looks at him and says those famous words: “Silver and gold have I none, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.”

And he does. He leaps. He walks into the temple for the very first time. A place he’s likely never entered. And the text says that all the people saw him walking and praising God.

A man who had spent his life on the outside—outside the temple, outside the flow of daily life, outside hope—is suddenly restored to wholeness. His body, yes. But also his place in the community. His identity. His joy. He is raised.

The resurrection of Jesus doesn’t just happen once. It happens again and again—in lives restored, dignity returned, relationships renewed, and hope reborn. In that way, resurrection is not just a historical event we remember. It’s a present-tense promise we live by. 

I can’t shake the man being restored to community, how isolated he must have been from the life of those who passed him by every day. And I can’t shake how isolated so much of the world feels from each other, isolated by our own actions, or the false promises of technology to connect us and yet leaving us more disconnected than ever. We are isolated because of ideas, or natural tendencies to care for our tribes, our allegiances to the promises we have believed. Easter undoes this all and restores us to life again. The question for each of us is how can we learn to see the Easter promise as our present reality?

May we carry that hope—not just for ourselves, but for one another. May we be the kind of church that, like Peter and John, walks through the world ready to say: “What I have, I give to you. In Jesus' name, rise.” And may it change the way we see God’s world.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: How can you learn to see the Easter promise as our present reality?

Believe in Me

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 93, 98 Jonah 2:1-9; Acts 2:14,22-32 or 1 Cor. 15:1-11; John 14:1-14   

Today’s gospel reading follows the last supper narrative and precedes the last several hours of Jesus’ life. The scene from the last supper was a typical dialogue between Jesus and his disciples. As usual, they are confused and unsure about what is happening. Jesus their master, their rabbi, does something unthinkable - he washes their feet. Now he’s telling them he’s going away to prepare a place for them, and they have no idea where he’s going. Oh, for the advantage of hindsight!  It seems so clear to us but of course we know the story, we understand his cryptic explanations and we know where this is all heading. 

 When our youngest first began playing t-ball, there was a child on his team, who after making her first hit, had no idea where to go or what to do. It was clear to everyone in the stands. Run! Run! The crowd screamed. She looked around, and in a pitiful bewildered voice said, “Where? Where do I run?” Feeling the pressure of needing to do something but having no idea what to do, she sat down and buried her head in her hands and sobbed. 

 There have been many times when I’ve felt this child’s confusion, this same despair. Much the same as the disciples must have felt. Jesus knows his time is quickly slipping by. He didn’t have time to explain where or how, the disciples needed to have faith and trust that he wasn’t leaving them lost.

 In 2008, there was a popular song by Lady Antebellum, "I Run to You." It was hard to hear the lyrics and not think of how God is always there for us to run to. “I run from hate, . . . from prejudice  . . . . from pessimists, but I run too late.” I can relate so easily to these lyrics, to the disciples. Where do I go to find you? Why am I always so slow to turn to God? Why do I run rather than turn and confront the prejudice? Confront the unfair biases and discrimination?

 Lately it seems easier to navigate through a 5:00 traffic jam than find our way through the prejudice and biases that influence our culture. Which way do we turn? Who do we believe? It turns out we can be lost in more ways than one. We know the way is there, we know the story, but we so easily forget and lose our way.

 We tend to create prisons of self-doubt, despair and fear, blurring our vision, snatching away our confidence. Jesus says, “I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do.” The barriers we unknowingly construct from our fears, our doubts can prevent us from making good decisions, from doing the work that Jesus does. We’re lost without even knowing it.

 “Believe in me.” It may sound too simple, too easy, but what if it isn’t? if we believe in the resurrected Christ, if we believe he is the way, the truth, the life, then why not step out in faith, trusting Christ has our back? That he will help us break down the barriers that prevent us from finding our way? What do we have to lose? 

 Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection - Do you find yourself anxious? Unsure of what to do to confront those influences that trouble you? During the Great Fifty Days of Easter why not take up a new discipline of contemplative prayer? Turn your frustrations over to God. What do you have to lose?

A River of Love - April 14, 2025

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 51:1-18(19-20);  Jer. 12:1-16; Phil. 3:1-14; John 12:9-19  

In Steph Catudal’s memoir, Everything All at Once, Steph gives an account of her husband’s journey through an illness that took him to the brink of death and brought him back again. Her husband experienced a sudden onset of symptoms from a rare form of leukemia, went into a coma and then she was told by his medical team there was nothing they could do for him. At that point what she describes is her version of how love can carry us. She reached out to their friends and because he was well known and much loved, she was able to get him moved to another hospital where with excellent medical care he was treated and was able to recover. What she attributes her husband's recovery to is that in the midst of the chaos, they were carried by a river of love that lifted them up and gently carried them through the darkest most frightening days of her life. She states, "I feel like there was a collective love that empowered a massive effort on our behalf.” On reflection she realized she was aware of all the love that was pouring in and believes that’s what saved her husband. Somehow, she was able to let go and trust the team of medical professionals, allowing her husband to be carried by a force greater than any love she had ever known.

Howard Thurman states that we have two lives: the one we're most aware of, the one others see; and a second life, the one that is like water flowing beneath the street, the current of the Holy Spirit flowing below the surface of our lives. The one that we often aren't aware of because of the distraction and noise that surrounds us.

In this morning’s gospel we read a description of a misunderstood, much anticipated Messiah riding into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey’s colt. The crowds gather along the roadway, cheering for who they believe will save them from the brutal dictatorship under which they live. They have no clue what this Messiah has come to accomplish. Jesus realizes this and rather than fight the current of erratic emotions and demands from the crowd, he knows his part in this journey is simply to be faithful and allow himself to be carried by the Holy Spirit. His faith allows him to trust that in the midst of the pain that he knows will come, to trust that he will be carried by God's love and the Holy Spirit.

The message for all of us is that “The river is flowing and we’re ALREADY IN IT.” Rather than resist the current, if we can trust that we are in God’s hands, trusting the divine process, resisting the need to immediately orchestrate a solution every time a problem occurs, avoiding pain at all cost, eventually we will arrive on the other side, embraced by the mystery of God’s presence and deep abiding love for us. That like Jesus we too can trust that eventually we will be “resurrected” in a way that only God can know.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection: Reflect back on a difficult period in your life. Did you feel as though you were being carried by a “river of love,” an unseen force? If not at the time, in retrospect? How might we learn to relax into the flow of the Holy Spirit, to trust that we do not need to always be in control, trusting in the power of the spirit to carry us?

Grafted into the olive tree - April 11, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 95* & 22; PM Psalm 141, 143:1-11(12) 
Jer. 29:1,4-13; Rom. 11:13-24; John 11:1-27 or 12:1-10

Ten years ago, Sam and I went to visit family in north Alabama. Uncle Roger took us to see the cabin he was building in the woods. He was beaming to show us his handiwork. After touring the lovely cabin, he took us down the way to his little orchard. He told us about each tree he planted, along with his hopes for their productivity. There was one tree he was really pleased to have, for it was an apple tree with the branch of a peach tree grafted on one side and the branch of a plum tree grafted on the other side. I had never heard of such!

As I read the epistle from Romans this morning, I wonder about that fantastic tree of various fruits. As a Christian in the first century, the apostle Paul wrote about the work of grafting branches upon the rich root of the olive tree. He makes the case to the Gentiles – those who are not Jewish in their roots – that by joining into faithfulness to God through adoption, they are nourished and welcomed fully. In verse 16, we read, “if the root is holy, then the branches also are holy.” Paul’s message is a reminder to me to remain grounded in God’s goodness, for it is there that God’s goodness can flow through me.

Paul’s teaching is more pointed than the lovely image of connectedness to God through Jewish or Gentile origins. He addresses the tensions between those connected by birth – those first branches of the tree – and those adopted into the faith. “But if some of the branches were broken off, and you, a wild olive shoot, were grafted in their place to share the rich root of the olive tree, do not vaunt yourselves over the branches.” Can you imagine the dynamics at play here? The newly converted are on fire in faithfulness and elated in every way, wishing for everyone to feel God’s grace and love like this! I imagine them with an aura of dazzling white. Some of those who have known God and are struggling have broken away, because hope feels fleeting on many days when life is hard. Their aura has diminished to a dark grey dustiness.

Paul warns the Gentiles against pride or superiority over those who have fallen away. Instead of judging their Jewish siblings, Paul challenges the church in Rome to stand in humility and awe of God, who is both kind and severe. God is the one who judges and extends grace; it is not our piety that saves us. God has the power to reconnect those who have fallen away, regrafting them to the root again…for if a non-native shoot can grow on the tree, the natural branch can very easily be grafted back into their own fruit tree.

The liturgical season of Lent is nearing its end, and we prepare our hearts – humble and open – for Easter. I see the epistle today as an invitation to embrace the breadth of God’s power to heal and nourish. The joyous celebration of Christ’s resurrection is what we anticipate – and it is to God’s glory that we lift our voices. While we recount the stories of how our lives are changed through faithfulness, it is God who extends the salvific and mysterious gift of amazing grace.

With humble gratitude this day,

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

There is a long history of tension between Christians and Jews. Where does this come up in your own life. How does it affect you?

Pray to God, who grafts and regrafts us, for peace in this world and a deeper sense of connectedness to the divine Reconciler.

Where is God?

Readings for Today - AM Psalm 31; Jer. 24:1-10; Rom. 9:19-33; John 9:1-17

When my stepfather died, my mom couldn’t handle the loss of this bigger than life man we had all loved so much. He was the heart of our family and without him admittedly it was difficult. We were never quite the same again. Soon after, books began arriving in my mom’s mailbox. She needed an answer. She needed to understand why bad things happen to good people. Unfortunately, all the answers in the world never filled the hole in her heart.

What she experienced was a very common result of tragedy. People need logical reasons, an explanation why things happen. When a building collapses, who was the engineer who approved the structure that failed? Why did the doctor not recognize the signs and symptoms of a disease? Ultimately people ask how could a loving, all-powerful God allow these things to happen? When things seem as though they are out of their natural order people need to know why. They need answers so that they can make sense of it all. They need to know why, after all their prayers and pleas to God, after all the years of diligently trying to live a good life, they feel God looked the other way.

The Hebrew scriptures tell us that God visited the sins of the parents on the children which makes it seem even more unfair, more difficult to understand. But some rationalize and say, “Well that was the God of the Hebrews, that was not Jesus.” But even the Hebrew prophets didn’t like this explanation. They didn’t believe that God punished the innocent for the sins of others.

In today’s gospel when these questions are posed to Jesus, he doesn’t provide a neat tidy answer, at least not the kind of answer we’d like to hear.  What he does say is that God is in the midst of the situation, not causing it but right there in the middle of the tangled messy tragic hard-to-handle mess.

A young girl once asked me if I had made God mad. In my surprise I said, “I hope not.” Her response was, “Well why did God give you cancer then?” I tried to explain that god doen’t make us sick or cause car accidents. That I was certain God cared about everyone who became ill or hurt. I also said I was just as certain that God shares our suffering, and pain and through us, the body of Christ, God reaches out to everyone.

These are hard questions, and Jesus doesn’t make it easy for us to understand. However, what we can be assured of is that even though God doesn’t fix our problems or jump in to prevent tragedy God loves his children and no matter what will never abandon us. The other thing we can count on if we have eyes to see it is God transforms tragedy, by working through us God can help to make these events more bearable, less difficult. We are not left feeling all alone. Thanks be to God.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Challenge and Reflection - Have you ever realized that you have been a conduit for grace? What was that like? How can we be more open, more available to being that person for others?

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).