Teenagers - June 4

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 101, 109:1-4(5-19)20-30; PM Psalm 119:121-144; Ezek. 11:14-25; Heb. 7:1-17; Luke 10:17-24

 ‘I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.’

As the parent of a teenager, I have reached the moment where my child knows infinitely more than I could ever learn in a lifetime, at least according to him.  I believe Mark Twain once said, “When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.”   I’m in the ignorant chapter.  You get the drift.

It’s funny, isn’t it, how age can make us simultaneously feel smarter and more clueless. Part of aging is we learn just enough to realize how little we actually know. And perhaps that’s what Jesus is getting at here. Not that wisdom or intelligence are bad, but that true understanding begins with humility. God’s wisdom begins with wonder and with the kind of openness you find in a child who still asks “why?” twenty times in a row without shame instead of lambasting you with certainty at the dinner table.

Infants don’t know much, but they know how to trust. They know how to receive. They know how to be fully dependent. And maybe that’s the posture Jesus is praising—the willingness to see that grace isn’t something you figure out like a puzzle or earn like a degree. It’s something you notice when you stop needing to be the smartest one in the room.

So, here’s to holy curiosity and to the gift of not having all the answers. And to the childlike faith that keeps us open to wonder—especially when it shows up in unexpected places, like the wisdom of teenagers (Jack sometimes does surprise me) or the grace of God disguised as mystery.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: What is something that you are just learning now?  What is something that is a mystery to you? How does humility shape your life and faith?

A Timely Invitation - June 2

Today’s Readings - Ezek. 4:1-17; AM Psalm 89:1-18; Heb. 6:1-12; Luke 9:51-62

One of my favorite authors, Ken Follett, created an incredible historical fiction in his trilogy, Century. Follett takes his readers from 1911, the day of King George V’s coronation through the 1980s. The last book of this trilogy, Edge of Eternity, begins in the 1960s and culminates with the civil rights movement. At the beginning of the Civil Rights movement George Jakes, a bi-racial twenty-something, volunteers for a Freedom Ride. The Supreme Court decision Morgan v. the Commonwealth of Virginia had made the segregation of races on interstate public transportation unconstitutional. Some of the southern states were ignoring the decision, so, in the Spring of 1961, in an attempt to challenge the attitude of the southern states, an interracial group organized by the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) prepared to ride a bus from Washington D.C. to New Orleans. In anticipation of the violence they would face, their preparation focused on nonviolent resistance, self-protection, and understanding potential resistance, principles inspired by Mahatma Gandi’s belief that social change could be achieved without using violence. 

What ensued on their journey were some of the worst behaviors of which humanity is capable. At a stop in Alabama, they were met by crowds of angry whites, one of their buses was firebombed and as they fled from the fire they were attacked and brutally beaten. Some were arrested, and in some cases, no police protection was provided even with knowledge of the violence that was planned.

The attacks drew national and international attention to the civil rights movement. The nonviolent approach of the Freedom Riders was considered to be successful given the attention they had garnered along with the stark contrast with the actions of segregationists, highlighting the moral imperative of their cause. Ultimately, despite the personal cost, the Freedom Rides demonstrated that nonviolent direct action could be an effective way to achieve social change. 

Christians for Social Action declared Gandhi the best modern disciple of Jesus' nonviolent teachings. Gandhi, trained in his native India as a lawyer, drew inspiration from Christian ideals embodied by Jesus Christ, particularly the Sermon on the Mount, which emphasizes nonviolence, forgiveness and love for enemies.

 In today’s gospel, James and John’s reaction to their rejection by the Samaritans was to “command fire to come down from heaven and consume them,” much like Elijah’s response to the King’s messengers in 2 Kings. However, Jesus rebukes them. Again, he reminds them of the inevitable rejection they will face in his absence and of the nonviolent response they will need to practice by continuing to focus on their God-given mission to grow the Kingdom of God. It's difficult to read the accounts of the Freedom Rides without recognizing the similarities in the ideology of the rider’s training with the non-violent resistance Jesus taught his disciples.

 Despite these examples and others, it seems that no matter how many times we see the aftermath of violence we continue to shake our heads in disbelief as if real change is beyond our reach. What if we were to take today’s gospel as a timely invitation to revisit these events, to reconsider the direction humanity is taking and our own role in challenging the continual violence our society seems to tolerate? Remember, every small effort is a worthy act, capable of creating a ripple affect.

Faithfully,

Sally+

 Questions for Reflection – When have you been challenged to act on something you felt was unethical or immoral? As overwhelming as a solution may feel how can we realistically impart change? How might we emulate Jesus' example in our daily lives?

Trust in God - May 28

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:97-120; Baruch 3:24-37; James 5:13-18; Luke 12:22-31

It’s hard not to worry. We worry about our families, our health, our finances, the future of the world. Even when things are going well, we find new things to be anxious about. Maybe it’s our constant desire to be connected which means digesting worry from every possible stream. News, neighbor, phone, social media all have the capacity to rile us up. It’s as if worry has become the background noise of our lives—so constant, we hardly notice it anymore.

And then Jesus says, “Do not worry about your life.”

Not as a rebuke. Not as a guilt trip. He offers these words as an invitation.

He points to the birds and the flowers—simple, overlooked parts of the world around us—and says, “Look.”

Look at how God provides. Look at how creation sings with beauty, even without striving. Look at how you are held, even when you can’t see it.

 It’s one of those passages where Jesus invites us not to accomplish more or get it all together, but simply to notice. To pause long enough to see that the world still turns without our endless striving. That maybe—just maybe—we are loved and cared for more than we realize.

It seems important to parse that Jesus is not asking us to be passive. There is too much in Scripture that calls us into action and discipleship. But maybe it is worthy highlighting that in this instance, the action is so simple, it is disarming. Notice. Trust. Jesus is inviting us to practice trust. He invites us to show up, day by day, and believe that faith isn’t just something we feel—it’s something we do.

When we pray. When we gather at the table. When we serve others or share what we have. These are small, intentional ways we say, “God, I trust you.”

Even when worry comes knocking. Especially then. Especially right now.

This passage reminds us that peace isn’t found in having everything figured out.

Peace comes from learning to see that God is already at work in the everyday—and choosing to live trusting that it’s true.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: What are areas in your life where you can trust God more?  What does that look like?  

The storms of our Life - May 21

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; Wisdom 13:1-9; Rom 13:1-14; Luke 8:16-25

A little over five years ago, a group from Saint Stephen’s spent some time in Israel following in the footsteps of Jesus and several days in the region around the sea of Galilee. We even took a boat ride as part of tour. It was a beautiful and slightly overcast day. We were spared from any inclement weather, but I remember the guide sharing how quickly storms arise in this region. A person who made a living fishing on the sea of Galilee would know this, and maybe would even be prepared for uncertainty. 

In the Gospel for today, the wind picks up and the waves rise. And even though some of the disciples were seasoned fishermen—men who knew these waters—they are terrified. “Master, Master, we are perishing!” they cry out.

And Jesus? He’s asleep.

It’s a moment we recognize. Maybe not with literal waves crashing over us, but certainly the emotional, spiritual, or existential ones. We know and are even prepared for the uncertainty of our earthly existence and yet change or unfavorable weather (metaphorical and literal) has the capacity to drastically change our outlook.

But then Jesus wakes, and with just a word, there is peace. Calm. Stillness.

And then the question: “Where is your faith?” It’s not a rebuke so much as an invitation—a reminder that Jesus wasn’t absent. He was always in the boat.

That’s the heart of our sacramental life. Week after week, we gather. Sometimes in joy, sometimes in exhaustion, sometimes in quiet desperation. We bring all of it to the altar. And the gift we receive isn’t flashy or loud. It’s bread and wine. It’s the simple promise that Jesus is still with us—in the boat, in the storm, in the stillness.

The rhythm of showing up each week doesn’t stop the storms from coming, but it anchors us. It gives us eyes to see Jesus—not just when everything is calm, but even when the winds howl and the waves rise.

Maybe the miracle isn’t just that Jesus calms the storm, but that we can learn to trust he’s with us before the storm is even over. If you feel a level of uncertainty due to the storms in your own life, might I suggest that our commitment to kneel (or stand if unable) at the altar rail to receive the gift of God’s presence can be our sustaining hope.

John+

Question for Self-Reflections: What areas of your life can faith help ground you? Where are the storms in your life?

To Truly be Seen - May 19, 2025

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 56, 57, [58]; Wisdom 9:1, 7-18; Col. (3:18-4:1)2-18; Luke 7:36-50

When I was in high school one of my teachers really saw me. She saw the tentative way I would glance around the room before volunteering, or how I would hesitate as people paired up for projects, never wanting to be rejected. She recognized things in me I was too immature to see but nonetheless was able to hear. I felt accepted for the awkward shy child I was, and those attributes that still lay hidden she encouraged and helped give me the confidence to embrace. The parts of my personality that I was criticized about, my shyness or reticence to speak up she saw as opportunities for growth and increased awareness of my strengths that were yet to see the light of day.  

As I read today’s gospel reading from Luke, I was struck by how differently Simon saw the nameless woman in comparison to how Jesus saw her. Simon saw a woman of questionable merit, a sinner who any self-respecting Jew would not associate with, much less allow to touch him. When Jesus asks Simon, “Do you see this woman?” He’s not asking if he’s noticed her robes or the color of her hair. He’s asking, “Do you see her spirit; do you see her compassion and the love she’s offering?” Do you see her as a precious child of God?

I was once told by a homeless person, that the thing that is almost more hurtful than everything else that happens to him on a daily basis is the way people look straight through him as if he doesn’t exist. What he sees in passerby’s eyes is that he doesn’t matter, that his existence is nothing to them. The apathy, he said, is worse than being spit on or yelled at. I get irritated when I’m not acknowledged as I stand at a counter waiting for a store clerk to help me; what this man described is infinitely worse. Sadly, people in our culture who are chronically ignored grow accustomed to this treatment to the point that they expect it rather than expecting compassion or empathy.

What Jesus wants Peter to “see’ in this parable is that through the eyes of her faith she recognized Jesus as the Messiah, she saw the sacrifice and selfless way he would end his life. She saw an opportunity to give back, to care for someone who cared so deeply for others. Through Jesus’ eyes of love, he saw through her reputation, through her sins, to see a heart full of love, faith and remorse.

Something very powerful happens when we are truly seen for who we are. It doesn’t happen every day, nor does everyone acknowledge or even understand the nuanced difference between seeing someone in passing and truly seeing them through eyes that bear the filter given to us by God. But when it happens, and you know you’ve been seen it’s life-giving, it’s a transformative gift.

Faithfully,

Sally+

 Questions for reflection: When was the last time you felt as though someone really “got you?” Really saw who you are deep down? Do you remember how good it felt? What prevents us from seeing through characteristics we may not understand or like in others? How hard would it be to make an intentional effort to listen, to look at others so that we truly see them?

“And you shall know that I am the LORD” – May 16, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 40, 54; PM Psalm 51; Wisdom 6:12-23; Col 3:1-11; Luke 7:1-17

“And you shall know that I am the LORD.” This refrain echoes through the book of the prophet Ezekiel. As he issues prophetic messages from Yahweh to the Israelites from exile in Babylon in 586 BCE, Ezekiel warns of destruction in their midst because of the distractions that draw them away from living with hearts for God. They are wrapped up in sinful behaviors, idolatrous practices, and are a general mess. And it is only going to get messier: Division will come. Conflicts will heighten. People will be scattered and persecuted. After each hardship is described in vivid imagery, the refrain comes, “Then they shall know that I am the LORD.”

I have been pondering this book of the Hebrew Bible with a lovely group during the Thursday afternoon Bible study at Saint Stephen’s. What does it truly mean to know that God is the great I AM? Each person will respond differently, and here is the message swirling in my heart this morning. When I say, “Yes, I know You are the LORD,” I am acknowledging that the Divine is here and at play in the world – and even in my life. When I use words around knowing God, I am connecting experiences and belief, albeit feebly, and moving that internal contemplation outward. Maybe those words are only held in my head or my journal – but maybe that attempt at affixing language to thought is translated into prayer to God, spoken in spirit or through my lips. If I am really paying attention to what I am saying, these words can move me to action. It is a type of alignment of faith and life, so that believing in and knowing God shapes how I am in the world around me.

The apostle Paul speaks to this mindset and life-set to the new Christians in churches around the Mediterranean. In the letter to the house churches in Colossae, we read this challenge, “So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God, Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth…” (3:1-2)

How will we “live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28) as the Body of Christ when we acknowledge the Lord as the magnificent Divine, the source of breath and life? If we believe that we are of God’s love and made for God’s love and to share God’s love, what will shift within ourselves and outside of ourselves? May that transformation begin today.

Faithfully,
Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

What does it mean to you to know the Lord God? Ponder this thought today. What prayers and actions come to mind?

Some really hard scripture - May 14

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:49-72; PM Psalm 49, [53]; Wisdom 4:16-5:8; Col. 1:24-2:7; Luke 6:27-38

Last week, our new endeavor, the Threshold Center, held in conjunction with Saint Stephen’s, an evening focused on depolarization hosted by a national organization called Braver Angels.  Braver Angels believes that civic renewal begins with every voice being respected and is working to build bridges across partisan lines.  The organization is growing by leaps and bounds and has hosted over 5,000 events with more than 63,000 participants. 

At our event, a transformer blew causing the power to go out, and the temperature of the room reached almost 80 degrees.  I heard it was an especially meaningful evening, and you might say, “people were sweating.”  Maybe it was a simple and serendipitous reminder—crossing partisan lines isn’t easy work. 

It seems more than obvious that we shouldn’t see each other as enemies but consider the implications of our rich Gospel text. There are few passages in Scripture that push against the grain of our instincts like this one. Jesus looks at the crowd and says: “Love your enemies.” It’s one of those teachings that we’re tempted to soften, to spiritualize. But Jesus doesn’t back down—he doubles down: “Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”

This is not a call to be passive. It’s not a suggestion to let injustice slide. It’s a call to a deeper strength—a radical mercy rooted in God’s own love. Jesus is inviting us to mirror the heart of God, a God who is “kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” That’s not sentimental love; that’s courageous, sacrificial love.

He goes on: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” That line alone could be a life’s work. Mercy is not weakness—it is power held with compassion. It’s choosing not to give others what they might “deserve,” but instead offering what God has freely given to us: grace, forgiveness, a fresh start.

And then Jesus offers that difficult mirror: “The measure you give will be the measure you get back.” In other words, the way we love, forgive, bless, and show mercy matters. It doesn’t earn us God’s love—that’s already ours. But it reflects whether we’ve allowed that love to take root in us.

This passage isn’t just about being “nice.” It’s about choosing a different path—the Kingdom path—where love is stronger than hate, where mercy reshapes judgment, and where generosity spills over into joy. That’s not easy. But it’s the kind of life that Jesus lived—and the kind he invites us to live too.

While these implications apply to every facet of our lives, it might be a good place to begin in our cultural struggle to see God in each other, and to work together for the kingdom of God.  We should start with a commitment to love each other, regardless of what we feel about each other. Jesus is clear.  We just have to trust in His way.

Faithfully,

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection: This passage is especially challenging. What fears does it bring up for you if you live this way? How can you live more authentically into Jesus’s care for the hard people to love?

Rule Followers

Today’s Readings - AM Psalm 41, 52 Wisdom 1:16-2:11,21-24; Col. 1:1-14; Luke 6:1-11

 Rule followers often miss the point. I’m frequently reminded that I’m a rule follower. I didn’t realize this until a few years ago when I began seeing myself in our youngest child. When he started playing baseball, if he thought the umpire had misread a rule of the game, he would openly criticize the official. His dad almost jumped onto the field the first time it happened. No matter how many times we explained that “In this case you do not question authority,” he would frequently ignore our warnings and in protest declare, “He’s not following the rules.” My husband would glare at me, saying, “He’s just like you!” To be fair I’m not as brave as our son was. I tend to be a little more intimidated by authority than he was. 

 Over the years, he’s become more gracious, more diplomatic, but still true to his resolve. I think I’ve probably mellowed some, too. One thing I’ve learned is to be careful to choose the groups with which I associate. This can prevent my being in a position where I’m forced to break the rules or follow one, I don’t agree with. It’s not always possible but I try to be more thoughtful, more deliberate than I once was.  

 In today’s gospel reading, the disciples are criticized for breaking the rules that faithful Jews follow regarding the Sabbath. As Jesus so often does, he replies with a question, “I ask you, is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?” During the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, medical staff at Memorial Medical Center in New Orleans were faced with life altering decisions. Decisions none of them wanted to make. Afterwards, their decisions drew great scrutiny resulting in legal action. In Five Days at Memorial, written by journalist Sheri Spink, she documents each moment of that horrific experience.

 It’s clear that none of the decisions were made easily or without great regret. The ethical dilemma they were placed in was inconceivable. Medical professionals who knew the importance of following the rules governing medical care were forced to break rules they never imagined breaking before those five days. Ultimately some lives were saved and some were lost. Whether they made the right decisions or not is hard to say. It was clear however, survival for as many as possible required actions of which many would regret.  

 I think it’s safe to say that the Pharisees missed the point. To put rules above human life could never be part of God’s plan. Does this mean that breaking rules is always the better choice? No. The adage "rules are meant to be broken," isn’t always true. Making decisions that are sound, that seek the betterment of humanity, that treat people with respect and that value all human life can take deep thoughtfulness, courage, and yes, sometimes it can take a certain disregard for authority or rules.

 In today’s narrative, Jesus is asserting his authority and as he does, he knows what the repercussions will be. As always, Jesus bases his statements on scripture, and tradition using reasoning that values human life over rules. 

It took moxie and more than a little naiveté for my seven-year-old to confront authority. Over time I think he’s come to see the greater point, to realize the value in carefully choosing to break some rules. I hope he’s salvaged some of that moxie. Our world can use more of that. 

 Faithfully,

Sally+ 

Questions for Reflection – When was the last time you were tempted to break a rule for the sake of a better outcome? What would have been the repercussions? If you didn’t, why not? If you did, what was that like?

Forgiveness and healing – May 9, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 105:1-22; PM Psalm 105:23-45;  Dan. 6:1-15; 2 John 1-13; Luke 5:12-26  

Can you think of a time when you wronged someone and – after a time – they truly and deeply forgave you? Perhaps it felt like a weight was lifted from your chest and you were no longer burdened with the pain of separation and angst. Receiving forgiveness brings a new sense of freedom. Hope can swirl again within your mind and whole being.

In today’s gospel, Jesus saw the faith of a paralyzed man’s friends. Because of their heroic efforts to get the man closer to Jesus for healing, he said to the disabled man, ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven you.’ (Luke 5:20) And then Jesus healed him so that he could walk again. The scribes and Pharisees – spiritual experts and leaders – were appalled and disturbed. Forgiveness was not to be doled out by anyone. This brazen man was pushing it too far, for the Lord God was and is the only absolver of sin. As such, they spoke out vehemently against Jesus, yet they knew the scriptures of the Hebrew people. They knew of the times in history when God extended mercy and grace and when prophets proclaimed God’s goodness and hope. They stood by as Jesus’ ministry continued, displaying the reconciling and healing love of God over and over, bridging the spaces of separation and pain and transforming lives.

We humans often trip over ourselves and become stumbling blocks for others. And sometimes, with God’s help, we come together to lift up those in need or show up for our friends who are grieving. Let us remember today that forgiveness and healing go hand in hand. They are more accessible to us through the witness and power of Jesus. May this good news inspire your words and your interactions this day.

Faithfully,

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

What is your relationship with forgiveness? Do you avoid apologies and hope the topic will move on? Are you quick to ask for forgiveness or stubborn to accept apologies?

Reflect on where God is calling you to grow, heal, and learn as you ponder the gift of forgiveness this day.

With Purpose, May 7, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 38; PM Psalm 119:25-48 ; Dan. 5:1-12; 1 John 5:1-12; Luke 4:38-44

Today’s Gospel echoes the theme from last Sunday. Then, Jesus asked Simon Peter three times, “Do you love me?”—each time following with a command: “Feed my sheep.” In that moment (John 21:1–19), love became vocation. Peter’s experience of God’s love gave shape to his life by giving him a mission: to care for others.

We see a similar rhythm in today’s passage from Luke. There’s something quietly powerful about the pace and pattern of Jesus’ day. After teaching in the synagogue, he immediately responds to the suffering in Simon’s household. He heals not just with compassion but with authority. And when Simon’s mother-in-law is restored, she rises—not just in strength, but in service. Healing, here, is not the end of the story. It becomes the beginning of purpose.

As the day wears on, the needs grow. People gather from every direction, bringing with them sickness, burdens, and pain. Jesus responds to each—not with a sweeping gesture, but with personal attention, laying hands on every individual. And yet, even in this outpouring of presence and mercy, he doesn’t remain. At daybreak, he departs to a quiet place, and when the crowd tries to hold on to him, he says, “I must proclaim the good news of the kingdom of God to the other cities also; for I was sent for this purpose.”

Jesus’ mission is both intimate and expansive. He meets people in their deepest need with tenderness, but he is also propelled by a holy urgency to carry the Kingdom into every corner of the world. For that to happen, the healing he offers must also become the healing we extend.

Today, may we pay attention to both the healing we need and the healing we are called to offer. May we listen for God’s invitation to serve, even when it moves us beyond what feels comfortable or familiar. And may we see our lives through the lens of sacred purpose—called, like Simon’s mother-in-law, to rise and serve.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where is God calling you to be an instrument of healing today?

With God's Help, May 5, 2025

Today's Readings - Ezekiel 34:1-10 Psalm 51:10-17 2 Corinthians 4.7–12 Matthew 7:1-6

On this day on the church calendar, we remember the Martyrs of the Reformation Era. This commemoration was first observed in the Roman Catholic Church. It began by commemorating the forty martyrs of England and Wales who were executed between 1535 and 1679 for their allegiance to the Catholic Church. In more recent times the Church of England (C of E) has recognized on this day the forty Catholic martyrs with the addition of those persons who were loyal to the C of E as well as all other Christians who were persecuted for their faith.  

This commemoration requires us as Christians to do some pretty heavy introspective lifting. Those who have become known to us as martyrs were not persecuted and killed by pagans with no faith. They were executed by other Christians. People much like themselves who were followers of Jesus Christ.  

Unfortunately, it didn’t end in 1679, nor is it likely it will ever end. I remember when I was in the tenth or eleventh grade learning that throughout history much harm has been orchestrated in the name of Christ. It was a hard reality to come to grips with at such a young age.

Over time Christians have come together in an effort to discuss this very topic. To begin to understand the dynamics of what happened. Their work addressed our need to help others heal, to help our own hearts to heal, and to acknowledge our own complicity.

History has a way of repeating itself. Not always in glaringly obvious ways but in subtle trends and shifts in cultural mores. Unwritten rules that often end up dictating what is considered acceptable human behavior or not. We no longer burn martyrs at the stake in the town square, but we do still judge and persecute others who do not follow the path in the same way we do.

I happen to be a huge fan of our baptismal liturgy. For many reasons but one reason is because it's a sacramental act that never ends. At our baptism we are made a member of the body of Christ but it’s not a “one and done.” Our baptismal covenant includes five questions that I believe are our "marching orders" as followers of Christ. The gist of it is we never quit learning or growing in our faith, we never quit striving for justice or ensuring all people are treated with respect, we never quit spreading the Good News or seeking to love everyone as we love ourselves. We do all of this with God's help, and when we fall into sin we repent and return to the Lord. We repent. We fail and then we turn back, again and again.

The martyrs lived their faith during a time when they knew their lives were on the line. Our's are too, just not in as dramatic a fashion. Their sacrifice can serve as a reminder of how important it is to be faithful to our baptismal covenant, to be faithful as if our life in Christ depends on it.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Reflection and Challenge - When was the last time you revisited your baptismal covenant? Take time to read the vows we made, How can you live them in your daily life? What might change if you set a goal of intentionally incorporating these vows every day?

Radiant beams of light – May 2, 2025

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 16, 17; PM Psalm 134, 135 
Dan 3:1-18; 1 John 3:1-10; Luke 3:15-22  

Last night, Sam and I went to a concert. A midweek date on a school night…what a rare treat! We grabbed dinner and as the rain drops began to fall, we walked into the venue. We stood near the back as the main event took the stage. I loved the music, and I was also captivated by the lights during the show. It was not a high-tech display. I watched as the beams of light moved out over the crowd, from a bold spot at the source to an expanding gentle blanket of color. That outward movement of energy is what stays with me this morning, both with the power of light and the power of God’s love.

As I reflect on the retelling of Jesus’ baptism in Luke, I image as heaven was opened up and the Holy Spirit descended upon Jesus “in bodily form like a dove”, there was also a beam of light fanning out and surrounding the Son of God. In the spotlight, a voice resounded from the heavenly spaces, “You are my Beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.” Following baptism, Jesus went out to pray and reflect in the wilderness, faced with temptations. Then he began to teach in the synagogue and to heal the afflicted and suffering. Jesus brought restoration to body, mind, and spirit through spoken word and the laying on of hands, so that the healed ones could reengage with their lives in health and wholeness. Though people sometimes longed for Jesus to stay with them, he knew he had to keep proclaiming the restorative power of God to as many as he could find. God’s light and love continued to radiate outward in ripples. Through the gift of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, the world was changed.

I wonder how Jesus sees us attending to the light and love of God today. Sometimes I forget it is there. I get focused on earthly constraints and tensions. And yet, I believe and have seen that God’s light radiates from our words, our eyes, our very presence. I wonder how many among us are in tune with God’s love within and around us. As you go through this day, perhaps you will see a ray of light. Look for the source and then look where it is landing. Remember the power of light and the power of God’s love. Shine a wisp of that light with others, through encouragement, compassion, and truth in love. It is not easy; I pray that we each lean upon the courage of the Holy Spirit as we radiate the light of Christ.

Faithfully,

Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

How do you shine the light of Christ? When is it hard? When does it feel natural?

Ponder and pray how God is calling you to share the resurrection hope of Jesus in this Easter season.

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?