Render unto God - August 20

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

In the Scriptures, it feels like religious leaders are always seeming to play games with Jesus, trying to prove he is a fraud and entrapping him in some religious violation of the law. In today’s reading, first, the Pharisees and Herodians asked about paying taxes to Caesar. Later, the Sadducees tested him with a convoluted riddle about resurrection. Both groups were trying to box Jesus into a corner, using politics and law to control the conversation.  Sound familiar?

But Jesus wouldn’t play by their rules. Holding up a coin, he pointed out that Caesar’s image is stamped on the money. What might be implied in the message, and certainly in our theology is that God’s image is stamped on us. He told them to give Caesar what belongs to him, and to give God what belongs to God. Then, to the Sadducees, he reminded them that God is not the God of the dead but of the living, showing that their legalistic puzzles couldn’t contain the mystery of resurrection.  When our burial liturgy says, “You are dust and to dust you are returned” it is implied that you were created by God, stamped with the image of God, and to God you return.   

What strikes me here is the limit of human power. Caesar’s empire was vast, but it didn’t extend to the eternal. The Sadducees’ logic was sharp, but it couldn’t capture the reality of God’s promise. Systems of government, laws, and cultural arguments—they may dominate the headlines, but they do not shape all aspects of our life. In fact, they fall short of the

In our own complicated time, it’s easy to feel crushed by the weight of politics, institutions, and even the tangled logic of social debates. But Jesus reminds us that all of these forces are temporary, limited, and fragile. They can affect how we live, but they cannot define who we are, and how we are called to love each other. We belong to God, and the God we belong to is the God of the living that calls us into the way of Jesus Christ.

That doesn’t mean we ignore the world around us. We still “render” what is due, we still participate as citizens, neighbors, and stewards. But we do so knowing that no human system is ultimate and by virtue of being human our earthly systems are by their nature, broken and sinful.

So maybe the invitation today is to loosen our grip on fear about the powers of this world. To see them in perspective. To live with the confidence that the God who made us in his image, who raises the dead to life, still holds us—and all creation—in hands that no Caesar can reach.  And thanks be to God.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: “Where in my life do I feel most pressured by the powers and debates of this world? How might I remember that my truest identity is stamped with the image of God?”

For the Love of Fig Trees - August 18

Today’s Readings -  Psalm 106:1-18; 2 Samuel 17:24-18:8; Acts 22:30-23:11; Mark 11:12-26

For as long as I can remember I’ve had trouble with the gospel passage for today. You see since I was very young some of my fondest memories are of the fig trees in my life. We had a huge fig tree in the corner of our back yard where I lived until the second grade. Its branches reached down to the ground and way up into the sky, arching over our fence. I could climb it, hide in its leafy shadows and eat anything the birds didn’t get to first. Whatever was left my mother would make into fig preserves, which I also loved.

The house I lived in while I was student at UGA had a huge fig tree, too. When they would come ripe, I could pick a grocery bag full each day, until they were all gone. Not long after we moved into the house where we live now, we planted one in our backyard. It was just a little stick of a tree when we planted it and now its branches are reaching over our back fence and most summers there are enough figs to make preserves.  One summer we traded figs for eggs with a neighbor who has chickens. Another summer I was in the hospital when they came ripe, and our neighbor picked them and preserved them for me – now that’s a gift of love. Stan can spot a wild turkey in a field from as far away as the length of several football fields, but my ability to spot a fig tree rivals that. I have a true affinity and love for those beautiful trees.

Now, to the point of this parable. I know Jesus isn’t just picking on fig trees. He’s trying to teach his disciples the power of faith; faith or trust in God and the power that comes from earnest true belief in the power of prayer. I’ve always been told that the true power that comes from prayer is how prayer changes us. It helps us to understand our dependence on God and the endless infinite possibilities born of faith. It provides us with time for reflection on being the hands and feet of Christ and our need for God’s presence in all we attempt. It helps us to see how what we pray for might not be what is actually needed. God sees our needs much more clearly than we ever could.

Jesus emphasizes the priority prayer should take in our lives even over and above our self-interests and greed for prosperity and wealth. Above all Jesus stresses that as we pray, we pray for those whom we need to forgive, so that we might be forgiven by our father in Heaven.

Of course, I realize I’m missing the point of this passage but seriously, why couldn’t Jesus have chosen a date palm instead? I could easily have gotten over that. I guess it’s time for me to forgive Jesus for his harsh treatment of that fig tree, I’m sure I’ve done much worse and heaven knows he’s forgiven me.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection and Challenge - How often do you take time to be still and quiet in the presence of God? What does prayer look like for you? Prayer can be anything you need it to be. When was the last time you stepped back and looked at your life? If you did that today, what might you see? How might prayer change your life?

Mentor Mary – August 15, 2025

Today’s Readings: St. Mary the Virgin:
AM Psalm 113, 115; 1 Samuel 2:1-10, John 2:1-12
PM: Psalm 45, or 138, 149;
Jeremiah 31:1-14 or Zechariah 2:10-13; John 19:23-27 or Acts 1:6-14

This week, my nine-year-old son is adjusting to fourth grade. He is frustrated with a schoolmate who does not listen and causes the class to miss out on recess. It is a deep injustice in Robinson’s eyes. He often works out this disappointment once he gets home – and he is more fervent when he is tired and hungry…I get it. Last night, Robinson flared up each time I asked him to do simple tasks: bring in the mail, set the table for dinner, and other routine requests appropriate to a kid his age. He refused. He dug in, going silent and steely. Something was on his mind. It took parenting steps and missteps to get him to share what was wrong. There were tears, hugs, and apologies. (Full disclosure: I hurt my son’s feelings during the exchange. Parenting is humbling.) Sam and I know our kid, and many times we know what he is capable of accomplishing.

Maybe that is why so many people identify with Mary, the mother of Jesus. We hear more stories about her presence in her son’s life than her husband Joseph. Mary knows what her son can achieve – and she is there for him. She encourages him and can speak to him at a level where he will listen. They have a connection point that is deep and holy. At the wedding in Cana of Galilee (John 2:1-12), we read of Jesus’ first miracle during his ministry. The guests finish off the wine and Mary goes to Jesus. “They have no wine,” she says. “Why is that a problem for you to bring to me?” he asks – maybe with a slight tone of indignation. Mary does not respond to Jesus. Instead, she turns to the stewards of the beverages and advises them, “Do what my son tells you.” Mary knows what Jesus can do. He brings great gifts to spaces of blessedness and hope – like a wedding. He just needs a little time to get ready.

Isn’t that a beautiful gift the mentors in our life can give us? They affirm that we can show up and make a difference. They help us see ourselves in a new light. They show us how we can mirror God’s love in little and big ways. They pray for us as we grow. And so, we reach out to our mentors for wisdom and encouragement. We need mentors like Mary, the mother of Jesus, to face the hard and joyous spaces of life. I give thanks for the witness and blessing of St. Mary this day.

Prayerfully,
Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

 Jesus and Mary are deeply connected as son and mother. With whom do you have a special connection? Reflect on how that relationship has enriched your life. What stories come to mind? Where are the hopes and the challenges? Journal about what that love means to you today. Pray for God to guide and nurture that space of goodness in your life.

The Sin of Greed - August 13

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

Our Gospel lesson for today was recently one of the Sunday morning readings as well, so I’ve been sitting with it for a while—the story of the rich man who runs up to Jesus, eager and sincere, asking what he must do to inherit eternal life. He’s kept all the commandments. Then Jesus looks at him, and says, “You lack one thing. Go, sell what you own, give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

The man turns away, grieving, because he has many possessions.

Our country is in a tricky place—that may be the understatement of the century—but it’s worth looking beyond this moment to a deeper spiritual reality that has shaped humanity far longer than our current moment. Many say America’s original sin is slavery. But perhaps an even more encompassing answer is greed, which made the horrors of slavery possible.  And at every crisis we face greed is there stoking the flames of division.

Greed may be the trickiest of all sins—trickier than pride, envy, or anger—because it hides so well. It slips quietly into our lives, disguising itself as responsibility, security, even generosity. We might tell ourselves, “I’m just being wise” or “I’m planning for the future.” Those things are good—but greed twists them until accumulation becomes the quiet ruler of our hearts.  There is not a doubt in my mind that greed as at the root of the problems we face in our culture today.

Greed fuels injustice, deepens poverty, drives conflict, and feeds the fear that there will never be enough. It whispers that what we have is ours alone, and that giving it away will leave us with less, when in fact, in God’s economy, generosity is the currency of freedom.

When Jesus tells the man to sell all he has, he isn’t laying an impossible burden on him.  He is  offering him freedom. He’s inviting him into joy, into a life unbound from the anxious grip of “more.” The tragedy is that the man walks away sorrowful, still chained to what he owns.

I wonder how often we do the same.

So maybe the question isn’t only, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” but also, “What am I holding on to so tightly that it keeps me from following Jesus with trust, joy, and hope?” If we can name it, we can repent of it, and in God’s grace, find the freedom and generosity for which we were made.

John+

Question for Self-Reflection: “What am I holding on to so tightly that it keeps me from following Jesus with trust, joy, and hope?”

Clare of Assisi - August 11

Today’s Readings: Ecclesiastes 5:8-15 Psalm 49:16-20 1 Peter 4:1-2 Luke 1:32-34

 Clare of Assisi was born in 1194 into a wealthy family in the city of Assisi, located in a region of central Italy. Another well-known religious figure was also born there, St. Francis of Assisi. It was Francis Clare approached after hearing one of his sermons to ask for advice on how she could live a life according to the gospel. At the age of 18, Clare made the decision to devote her life to Christ and took vows to live a life of poverty, following in Francis’ example. 

Clare’s sisters, her mother and her best friend all eventually, joined her, becoming a religious order in the Franciscan tradition known as the Poor Clares. They devoted themselves to caring for the sick, the poor and the neglected, always with an emphasis on prayer. Their daily lives were defined by a strict rule of poverty, which included extreme piety, depriving themselves of all pleasures including beds to sleep in or meat to eat, eating only the food they received by begging. After Clare’s death at the age of 59, the order was renamed the Order of Saint Clare in her honor. The community of Poor Clares or the Order of Saint Clare still exists today in the Roman Catholic Church as well as in the Anglican communions.

 In the gospel chosen for Clare’s feast day, August 11th, Luke reminds us of those things that give us a false sense of security. What Jesus is asking us to do is to have faith, to trust in God’s willingness and desire to care for us. Placing our sight on something beyond our earthly desires is tough. It requires us to loosen our grip on those things to which we cling so tightly, and to open our hearts to receive those things that are unseen, God’s promises of the Kingdom to come; to have faith and to trust. As Hebrews tells us, “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” It is by God’s grace that we have the faith that sustains us, but it is up to us to choose to live into that grace. 

 Clare was an inspiration to the women of her time. Even with the severe austerity of the Poor Clares, young wealthy women from Assisi were drawn to join them. They became the face of Christ for those to whom they ministered. How might we be the face of Christ in our own communities, in our own way? God’s grace is ours to embrace, the hope that is generated and the compassion that it represents is invaluable to all it touches. May God grant us the wisdom to hold God’s grace and the faith God imparts as treasure within our hearts. 

 faithfully,

Sally+

Reflection and Challenge - Take time today to consider who in your life has been the face of Christ for you. How might you be the face of Christ for someone else? Is there someone in your life who needs to be reminded that they are a beloved child of God?

Nathan and David get honest – August 8, 2025

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

People see us in our beauty and in our heartbreaks. As we weep in traffic. As we laugh while talking on the phone at the gym. We cannot always control how others receive or understand us. Sometimes we get insight into how we are seen. The other day, I picked up my car from the mechanic. I saw a piece of paper with my phone number near a set of keys that resembled mine. The paper was askew, so I turned to see the name written atop the paperwork. In pink pen was written “Preacher Girl”. Saying nothing of the moniker, I held up the keys to show I’d found mine. I chuckled as I walked out; the person who drew up my paperwork revealed how he saw me: Preacher. Girl.

I called Sam to share and laugh. I have been called a “lady priest”. People have mistaken my clerical collar as a turtleneck or a neck brace. “Preacher Girl” was a new one! We humans are apt to name people as we see them through our own context. When one learns those thoughts, the result can be amusement; at other times, the truth is upsetting or hard to accept.

The latter is at play in today’s reading from the Second Book of Samuel. King David met Nathan the prophet, not long after the lovely Bathsheba is widowed. David seduced her during wartime while her husband was away. The king surreptitiously ordered that his subject and competitor-in-love – Uriah the Hittite – be sent to the front lines. The plan was for the rest of the troops to fall back, leaving the man exposed. Uriah died at the hands of the enemy, with David nowhere in sight.

Nathan, however, is aware of this and tells the king a parable of deep injustice. David is disturbed by the unscrupulous nature of the entitled character who wronged the poor man in the tale. The prophet speaks hard truth to the king: he is the embodiment of the bad man. He speaks of the Lord’s favor in David’s upbringing and the Lord’s deep disappointment in his transgressions. Hearing the honesty of Nathan, David confesses, “I have sinned against the Lord.” What hard and tearful words those must have been. The prophet responds, “Now the Lord has put away your sin; you shall not die.”

It is not always comfortable to get a glimpse at how people perceive us. So, let us live into God’s grace and love as we interact with others. When we are entrusted with truth, may we receive it with openness to understand and grow. And when we hurt one another, may we confess to God and our neighbors to honor our Lord, who redeems and reconciles in miraculous ways.

Always with God’s help,
Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

Sit with this biblical story of truth-telling between David and Nathan. Journal about where you are in that story today.

What is painful? What is hopeful? How can God guide you in growth in light of this piece of scripture?

The Nudge of the Holy Spirit - August 6

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

Two Sundays ago, I was chatting with a family out on the patio after worship. We were talking about how boisterous the summer services have been—combined services, more kids in the pews—and they asked, half-joking, if I’d heard their four-year-old son “speaking in tongues” during the Eucharist. It was a playful comment, tongue-in-cheek—pun absolutely intended—but it made me hear today’s reading from Acts a little differently.

In Acts 19, Paul encounters a group of believers in Ephesus who’ve received John’s baptism, but haven’t heard of the Holy Spirit. He lays hands on them, and something stirs.  Some end up speaking in tongues like our four-year-old that Sunday morning.  Well not exactly.  Others prophesy. People receive spiritual gifts, each different, but all are changed from who they were before.

We don’t often speak in tongues in our tradition—but we do recognize that the Holy Spirit is a part of our life.  We say when someone is baptized that they are “sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.”  That is a promise made to each of us.   What strikes me is how the Holy Spirit meets us differently, but always personally. Some of us are moved by a sense of calling that comes quietly and over time. Others feel a jolt—a sudden insight, a sharp turn in the road. Some recognize the Spirit through service, or music, or prayer, or even a conversation on a patio. There’s no singular path or pattern, but there is a consistent promise: the Spirit is given. And it is a source of strength, wisdom, and even healing in our lives. 

That little boy, joyfully babbling in the middle of worship, may not have known he was echoing a deep truth—but he reminded me that the Spirit sometimes just shows up and sometimes in surprising ways.

John

Questions for Self-Reflection:   How is the Holy Spirit moving in you right now? What nudges, what stirrings, what whispers have you noticed?

Hope for the Future - August 4

Today’s Readings - Psalm 80; 2 Samuel 7:1-17; Acts 18:1-11; Mark 8:11-21

I recently completed my third year as the Session Director for the Elementary I session at Camp McDowell. We had 125 rising third through fifth graders. This is one of my very favorite age groups and so I choose to forget each year that it will likely be the hottest of all the sessions. I do it for the campers but also for the young adults who serve as the staff. Many of them I’ve come to know through camp and some I’ve been fortunate to know as they’ve grown up. The majority fell in love with camp as campers and then when they became old enough, applied to serve on staff. One of these is our youngest son. Their energy and love for camp and for each other is inspiring and contagious.

Camp is their home away from home and the other staff as their family. One of the older counselors told me “Camp is our Church.” They’re impressionable, loyal to a fault, sometimes naïve, and their emotions can run full throttle. A member of the staff told me, “Our generation tends towards knee-jerk reactions,” what I describe as reacting rather than acting. Which in truth is characteristic of being young and unfortunately some of us older folks, too.

They are the heart of what happens at camp and a big part of what makes it so special to so many people. A mom reported that her son lost a tooth while at camp during my session and that the tooth fairy came, bringing Gatorade and other surprises. That’s just one of the many ways the staff help these campers create memories that will last a lifetime.

In today’s gospel Jesus asks, “18Do you have eyes, and fail to see? Do you have ears, and fail to hear?” The disciples are worried about something tangible believing it’s what they require for sustenance when what they need is simply to trust that Jesus will provide all they require and more. I’m afraid we all occasionally fall into this trap, doubting we have what it takes, thinking we need measurable success to succeed in life. We tend to get hyper-focused on the latest problem and miss the big picture, often investing in a fairy-tale perfect scenario that never happens. It can take a lifetime of experience to trust that sometimes what we thought success looks like isn’t necessarily what in the end sustains us with a soul filling sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

 Jesus must have taught and retaught the same truths to the disciples dozens of times and yet it took the resurrection to convince many of them. Learning to trust and have faith in God’s all-encompassing presence and love can take years. What if this younger generation becomes discouraged and disillusioned with the divisive ways the of world and even of the church and gives up on all of it?

 In John’s Daily Reflection from last week, he reminded us that God’s healing love and compassion can bring hope even when the world resists. I believe in the potential of our youth, and that we can be the face of Christ for them, modeling the love and compassion they need to have hope, to keep believing in the infinite mysteries of love and faith. They are the future of the church, a future we need to invest in with every ounce of compassion and patience that we can muster to ensure they have what they need to succeed.

 Faithfully,

 Sally+

Reflection and Challenge - Do you have a young person in your life that you care about? When was the last time you intentionally spent time with him or her? Take the time to listen, to share your faith story and ask them to share theirs.

Healing, now and ahead – August 1, 2025

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

This morning, I think about those in our midst who are stretched thin as they attend to the needs of the vulnerable, as they pray for restoration and cling to hope. Recently a parent shared that their child was exhibiting behaviors that indicate developmental delays. They were days away from meeting with a specialist to find out more information. They want this vibrant kid to be connected in community, going through the challenges and joys other children experience. Now they wait, uncertain for what is next. There is another family I know with a child who has special needs. Activities like walking, talking, and even tolerating heat are beyond what this cherished daughter’s body allows her to do. And yet, for years her parents sought answers to understand and support her.

In Mark’s gospel today, there are two healing stories. A Gentile woman approaches Jesus, begging him to heal her young daughter who is afflicted with a demon. A man who is hard of hearing and struggles to speak is presented to Jesus for healing; his friends beg for the Christ to lay a hand upon him. How many other avenues have these advocates sought for help and understanding? How many tears have they wept, grieving for and worrying about their loved ones? Maybe you think about your own life and experience in this regard; I sure do. In this gospel excerpt, each appeals to Jesus, offering their voice on behalf of the afflicted. “No” is a response each will bear no longer. For the Syrophoenician woman’s faithfulness and tenacity, Jesus heals the child without touching her. The unclean spirit is vanquished, and the girl is resting on the bed when the mother returns home. With the deaf man, we read of how Jesus heals him, opening his ears and loosening his tongue through touch and prayer.

Sitting with these stories of hopefulness and healing, I feel tension. I pray that God’s divine healing could miraculously restore the two children on my mind this morning, just as we read of Jesus healing others. The coming of Jesus into the world brought about the start of change – the reign of Christ as King. However, our work and struggle is not over. There is a tension of being in a state of “already and not yet”. There is this pull between what God has already accomplished through Jesus’ ministry, sacrifice, and resurrection, and what remains to be fulfilled in the future. We are waiting for the full realization of the Kingdom of God. And while we wait, our faith in God compels us to offer our hands, our hearts, and our prayers to support the vulnerable. Let us offer prayers for the spaces of hardship in our own lives and in solidarity with those around the world.

Always with God’s help,
Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

Are you familiar with the Christian theological concept of “already and not yet”? Learn more! Take 10 minutes and watch this video of N.T. Wright exploring this topic. Reflect on his teaching; spend another ten minutes journaling. Then, invite a friend to watch and discuss together, listening for what work is yours to do in the Kingdom of God today.

Paul and Silas and Holy Disruption - July 30

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 72; PM Psalm 119:73-96; 2 Samuel 3:22-39; Acts 16:16-24; Mark 6:47-56

Several years ago, one of the publishing groups out of the Episcopal Church offered a Bible study on the book of Acts. They were encouraging the whole church to read Acts during the season of Easter. For me, it reawakened the profound story of Acts, easily my favorite of all the writings in the New Testament. It tells the story of the growth of the Church and how the disciples lived and shared their faith after the death and resurrection of Jesus. Acts gives us context for the Epistles.

Today’s story from Acts is fascinating. Paul and Silas encounter a young woman who is trapped, not only spiritually, but socially and economically. She’s a slave, exploited for her ability to tell fortunes. When Paul casts out the spirit, we might expect celebration. Instead, it’s the beginning of a riot, because her liberation costs her owners their profit. Paul and Silas are seized and dragged into the marketplace and accused of “disturbing our city.”  It’s a pretty unsettling story.

That moment says something profound: sometimes acts of compassion threaten people in power. Not because they are cruel, but because they expose the systems that are. Her healing reveals the injustice beneath the surface, and those who benefit from that injustice respond not with repentance, but with retaliation. They drag Paul and Silas into the marketplace, stir up the crowd, and have them beaten and thrown into prison.

It’s tempting to think of faith as something private, something that lives quietly in our hearts. That is true indeed. But Acts reminds us that faith also has the power to disrupt. Our compassion for each other can question entire systems. It can liberate the oppressed. And that can be unsettling to those who benefit from the way things are.

The good news is that God is in that disruption. As the church grew in those early days, God’s resurrection and healing love was indeed Good News because people found hope and healing in the love and compassion show each other, even when the world resisted. Maybe the same is true today too. 

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  Where have you seen compassion expose something you didn’t realize was unjust? 

We Might Be Wrong - July 28

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

Families can be so complicated. Some take on the character of warring tribes becoming territorial over who sits where at the table or who chooses the movie to be watched after dinner. God forbid a child’s place in the family car is taken by another child. An all-out war could develop. Candy was a huge bone of contention in our house. My mom would on very rare occasions allow us to choose something as a special treat. It was either my favorite or my brother’s. He liked those nasty orange circus peanuts. I still cringe when I think about those things. The way I remember it, his was often the choice. I’m sure he probably remembers it the other way!

It was almost as bad when my mom would make us pick between pickled spiced peaches or apple rings for Thanksgiving. Why couldn’t we have both? Looking back some of our differences seem so trivial but at the time they seemed so important. I mean how important is a side dish opposed to family peace at Thanksgiving dinner?

National politics, social media, sports and religion all seem to have this same problem, and it’s not as though this is a new problem. Perceived favoritism, and unfair treatment of one tribe over another were two of the many factors that split the twelve tribes of the Kingdom of Israel, never to be reunited. And even that could be traced back to the contention and rivalry within the family of Jacob. Unfortunately, we’ve not learned much from the problems the Israelites faced. In this morning’s reading from I Samuel we see the results of family discord and rivalry that eventually resulted in the dissolution of what was once a thriving nation, connected not only through familial ties, but by a bond created by having been God’s chosen people.

Political groups, religious denominations and even rival sports teams, all seem to experience this same discord, sometimes with the same results. Do we always need to fight to the bitter end? No one wins when the other is left humiliated, stripped of their dignity or their homes and livelihood are taken away. Jesus was on the side of sitting down, talking and listening to one another however, even he wasn’t always successful. Agreeing to disagree is never easy, and compromise always comes at a cost. However, the cost of failing to try to heal divisions, or refusing to compromise, leaves no real winner. My ethics professor taught us that we should only enter a debate if we’re willing to consider the other point of view and admit that we might be wrong. Because it’s always possible, that we are wrong. That can be a hard pill to swallow but it may be easier than the alternative.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection - When was the last time you knew you were wrong, but just couldn’t admit it? Is it pride?  Stubbornness? Arrogance? What did you gain? What did you lose?

Saint James the Greater - July 25

Today’s Readings: St. James the Apostle
AM Psalm 34; Jeremiah 16:14-21; Mark 1:14-20; PM Psalm 33; Jeremiah 26:1-15; Matthew 10:16-32

Today is the feast day of James the Greater – apostle of Jesus. Through biblical texts we know him as one of the sons of Zebedee. James and his brother John are often together. This duo joined Peter with Jesus one day that took them up a mountain; during this holy hike, they witnessed what we know as the Transfiguration. According to lore, James went on mission to Spain following Jesus’ death. He was beheaded by order of King Herod Agrippa I (Acts 12:2); James’ body was transported to Galicia – a region of northern Spain – and laid to rest in what was then a forest. He is the patron saint of pilgrims, laborers, veterinarians, soldiers, pharmacists, and those with rheumatoid arthritis.

Following this summer’s visit to Spain, I see James in a different light. Our group of 25 attended the Sunday Pilgrims’ Mass at the Cathedral de Santiago de Compostela, where Saint James’ bones are held. At the conclusion of worship, the enormous thurible (called the Botafumeiro) was hoisted above the congregation and dispensed billowing clouds of incense. It was thrilling to behold the enormous metal censer swinging and smoking right above us. This was a special experience that does not always happen during Pilgrims’ Masses – and July 25 is one of those designated days, honoring the martyrdom of James.

After going down to the crypt to see his tomb, we walked up narrow stairs to a large statue of James that overlooks the ornate sanctuary. This larger-than-life rendering of the first apostolic martyr is available for a hug! I walked up the stairwell into the space, following one of our teens. When it was my turn, I put my arms around the enormous metallic shoulders and my head barely peeked over the saint’s right shoulder. I thanked James for the journey: for the amazing experience, for getting to be part of this story, and for the courage to persevere. Even now, I am surprised by how much I was moved by this tradition.

James’ pilgrimage began when Jesus called him as he and John mended nets and fished with their dad (Mark 1:19-20). He did not set out to help proclaim the good news of God in Christ Jesus, and yet he learned what it was like to be vulnerable, facing situations as sheep in the midst of wolves (Matthew 10:16). James was taught by Jesus how to speak truth, bring healing, and live faithfully at all costs. Marveling at his ministry and legacy, may each of us be inspired by the ways following Jesus changed James.

Faithfully,
Katherine+

Jesus in the Storm - July 23

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

“Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

I’ve been reflecting a lot recently on my voice, what it means to be a clergy person in 2025 and how to speak to the vast changes in our world, the deep sense of loss and insecurity for those who are most vulnerable. Scripture offers a window when we hear concern in the voice of the disciples in the boat as they rouse Jesus with the powerful question, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?”

It’s one of the most honest cries in all of Scripture. Spoken in panic, shouted above the roar of a storm, it captures the desperation we sometimes feel when life becomes overwhelming. The disciples, who we are told are seasoned fishermen, are terrified, not because they lack skill, but because the waves are simply too much. And Jesus is asleep.

Maybe you are wondering the same thing these days. We wonder, “Does God see? Does God care?”

But Jesus does wake. He speaks, and the storm is calmed. Stillness returns. And then he turns to the disciples—not to scold, but to invite them deeper in to the moment.  Jesus asks to challenging questions that are worthy of our consideration too. “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”

Faith, it seems, isn’t about avoiding the storm. It’s about learning to trust that God is the one who is in the boat with us. It’s easy to believe when skies are clear. It’s harder, and more transformative, to believe when everything feels uncertain.

Storms are always a part of our story, since the beginning of time.  Sometimes they are moments in our individual lives and sometimes they are moments in the history of communities, places, and even nations.  Storms will always come. But faith anchors us. Not in certainty or control, but in our willingness to be in the boat, or maybe to be in relationship with each other through the storm. Because God is always near, and the story of our faith is to trust in God’s abiding love through it.

John

Questions for Self-Reflection: “Where in my life do I feel like I’m perishing, and how might I become more aware of God’s presence in the midst of it?”

Sower of Seeds -July 21

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

Yesterday was my day to preach. I never take for granted that my message will hit home with anyone. The preacher does his or her best to find a way of making the scriptures from that Sunday relevant, include as much teaching as they think they can get away with and all the while hoping that someone, anyone will somehow hear something that draws them closer to God. The reality is, that you never know whether your efforts will resonate with someone or not.

Every summer part of our front yard becomes one huge patch of brown-eyed Susans. They began several years ago as one or two plants and every spring they reemerge, having multiplied into more and more. This past Spring I divided them, moving several big clumps to the backyard. I planted some in shallow spaces between rocks, careful to try to add as much soil as I could so they’d have a place for their roots to take hold. To my delight they’ve all taken root and already have begun to spread.

Being present to those around us can be a bit like that. We try to say those words that are thoughtful, helpful and perhaps, meaningful but we’re not always successful. I said something this past week that I didn’t think through, that wasn’t thoughtful or patient and wished afterwards I’d been more careful. I’d hate to know how often I put words out there, without thinking them through. Thanks be to God for the grace I’ve been shown.

Building the Kingdom has a lot to do with being thoughtful and kind with our words, and spreading the truth of the Gospel, as best as we can understand it. Unfortunately, we probably rarely hit the mark. Jesus knew this would be the case. His parable of the Sower creates a wonderful visual of how difficult this can be. Some seeds take root, some thrive and are fruitful, spreading more seeds. Some don’t. I wish there was a formula for getting it right, but there’s not. However, we can look to Jesus as an example of patience, of perseverance and of compassion and good will.

As a gardener I know some soil is better than others, some plants thrive, and others don’t and sometimes no matter how hard we try even our best efforts don’t take root. I have also learned that the efforts that are fruitful, those rare moments when we do hit the mark, are God’s way of saying don’t ever give up, keep spreading the seeds, don’t ever give up sharing the word.

Faithfully,

Sally+

Questions for Reflection –Who is someone who has planted “seeds” for you? How did they do it? What are some “seeds” that you might plant as you work to spread the Kingdom?

David & the Bread of the Presence - July 18

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

If ever you think that the Bible is dull or boring, read the First Book of Samuel. It is a riveting tale that I cannot put down…akin to the adventure and drama in William Goldman’s The Princess Bride. There are scenes of intrigue, romance, battles, and the voice of the Divine sounding in answer to prayers. If you’ve been following the Old Testament reading in the Daily Office lectionary for the last couple of weeks, you already are wrapped up in the excitement of David and King Saul of Israel.

Ever since he took out the mighty Goliath against all odds, David has been the shining star. The farm boy succeeds in battle wherever he goes, and the king is jealous. King Saul feels threatened and attempts to get the young man killed by every foe in the region. His son Jonathan is a faithful, dear friend (and brother-in-law) to David, and he works to mend the rift between the two men. Reconciliation with thin-skinned King Saul is short-lived and David must flee again.

He arrives alone in a place called Nob, a priestly city near Jerusalem. David seeks out the priest Ahimelech and asks for bread (for nourishment while evading Saul). The only loaves the priest has on hand are holy ones – called the bread of the Presence. They cannot be shared with just anyone; young men receiving the bread must “have kept themselves from women.” David assures the priest that he is worthy of the holy loaves. David asks Ahimelech for a weapon; the only one available is the sword of the Philistine of Gath, known as Goliath. Equipped with five loaves of holy bread and a legendary sword, he sets out. (Keep reading 1 Samuel to follow the saga!)

I keep thinking about that bread…the special bread of the Presence in the Temple. There were specific parameters of how to honor that holy bread. Did you know that in the tradition of the Episcopal church, we treat the consecrated bread and wine in a special way? Whatever is not consumed during or after the service is returned to the ground – either poured out, spread around, or buried…because it is more than just bread and wine. It has been made sacred through prayers and God’s blessing. And so, we return those gifts to the earth as best we can. Following a late-night Eucharist in Santiago, there were some crusts of fresh bread not consumed. As the roads were cobblestone and the trashcan was not an option for disposal, we toted the crumbs to the Spanish countryside and Finisterra, where they were distributed on the rocky soil overlooking the ocean…not far from where another group of Episcopalians were celebrating the Eucharist.

Whatever adventures are ahead of you, may you be nourished and cared for in unexpected ways, and may you receive the gifts given to you as special.

Faithfully,
Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge

What is an item you have (or have had) that is more than just the thing itself? How do you tell the stories of that item and honor its sacredness?

Take time this weekend to share a story of this item - tell a beloved friend, or even meet someone new and ask them about a possession that feels sacred.

"I Do Choose" - July 14

Todays Readings - AM Psalm 25; 1 Samuel 18:5-16,27b-30; Acts 11:19-30; Mark 1:29-45

Once a month I find myself in the waiting room of the Infusion Clinic at UAB’s Kirklin Clinic. It’s a busy place, with people from every walk of life and every state of healing. People come from across town or as far as other states. They come with friends or family, and some come alone.

It’s virtually impossible not to overhear stories as patients share with the stranger on their right or left. You can hear in their voices the need to feel heard, the need to connect with someone who understands what they’re feeling, their doubts, their fears. Occasionally there will be a wave of recognition warm someone’s face as they realize they recognize someone they see each month in that same place. Almost everyone bears a palpable state of vulnerability. Just a smile can convey “I know, I’m scared too.” Strangers offer words of encouragement and comfort and even pray for one another.  Through the willingness to be vulnerable hearts are opened to one another and in those moments, Christ's presence is tangible. 

In today’s reading from Mark, the leper approaches Jesus and says, “‘If you choose, you can make me clean.’ I imagine anyone in that waiting room would jump at the chance, to be that person who kneels at Jesus’s feet and receives the gift of healing. Mark tells us Jesus was moved to pity and chose to heal. Jesus’ simple three words, “I do choose.” change the course of this man’s life.

Healing can come in many different forms. It’s not always in the form of remission from a disease or whatever else we think we need. Our spirits can be healed by someone who simply listens to our story. Aching hearts can be healed by a hug or a smile from a stranger. Our fears can be lessened by being reminded that Christ walks each step with us.

If we choose, we can be the presence of Christ. We can listen so that others feel heard in a way that’s compassionate and caring. We can share a smile or a word of encouragement. We can pray with strangers, and we can hold that light of hope for others that Christ always holds for us. Christ’s powerful words, “I do choose,” can be our very own spirit-filled words. 

In the shared glimpses of empathy, in the presence of those who silently cry and in the laughter that occasionally erupts, there are those rare moments when the bell rings, and we all rejoice together, silently saying, “Let us go forth into the world, rejoicing in the healing, compassionate, power of the Spirit. Alleluia, Alleluia.” 

Faithfully,

Sally+

Christ in Each Other - July 9

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:1-24; PM Psalm 12, 13, 14; 1 Samuel 16:1-13; Acts 10:1-16; Luke 24:12-35

Today’s Gospel is my favorite story in all of Holy Scripture. Two people encounter a stranger on the road, and only later realize it was Jesus. I especially love the moment when they say, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" That line reminds me that our sacred journey through scripture isn’t just about gaining knowledge. It’s about transformation. Faith has a way of reshaping how we see everything, especially how we see one another. When we immerse ourselves in the story of God, we begin to see with new eyes. Strangers become companions. The overlooked become beloved. And Christ appears in places we never expected.

A lot of the stories from the past few weeks have been really tough for me to process, so I want to offer a lighter image.  Just this week in Louisiana, a routine traffic stop became a moment of profound compassion. A sheriff’s deputy pulled over a speeding driver who explained he was on his way to a funeral and couldn’t get his tie right. Instead of merely issuing a ticket, the deputy knelt on the roadside and helped him tie it, an act of kindness that went viral as a reminder that humanity transcends duty. In that moment, the deputy saw beyond an offense, one that most of us our guilty of from time to time. He saw a grieving fellow human in need, and he chose to meet him with dignity and care.

So many of the divisions and wounds we face in the world today are rooted in our inability, or maybe even our refusal, to see Christ in one another. Whether across cultural, political, racial, or economic lines, too often we look at others and see difference or threat instead of dignity and belovedness. But our faith invites us into a different kind of vision. When we allow the Gospel to open our hearts, it opens our eyes. We begin to recognize that every person we encounter bears the image of God. And that, my friends, is the beginning of transformation. That is the foundation of hope.

John+

Questions for Self-Reflection:  When have I failed to recognize Christ in someone I encountered? How has Scripture opened my eyes to see others differently?

A Change Maker - July 7

Todays Readings - AM Psalm 1, 2, 3; 1 Samuel 15:1-3,7-23; Acts 9:19b-31; Luke 23:44-56a

Today’s reading from Acts, describes how difficult it was for Saul after he was converted to convince his listeners that he was a legitimate voice for Jesus. Knowing what he had done in the past, would have made it difficult to believe him. I can be skeptical, but I am also very forgiving. I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt - sometimes when I shouldn’t. I would have wanted to give Saul the benefit of the doubt but honestly, it would have been hard.  

Embracing change can be hard. In 2020, the website Medium published an article entitled, “For the Change Maker: 12 Powerful Reminders from Martin Luther King Jr.,” the author begins from the premise that in order to change the world, we must first change ourselves. It was written during the first year of the Covid Pandemic. He admonishes his readers that now is the time to be a changemaker. I would counter his advice by adding that every day, in every situation there is the opportunity for change, for us to change ourselves for the better. To learn something, to expand our understanding of others, of our world, of our communities.

MLK Jr., wrote, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.” Creating change requires action, it requires acting on our desires for change not just wishing that it were so. I’d love to lose weight but unless I change my eating habits and exercise more it’s never going to happen. It’s the same with our desire for change in the world, for better futures for our children, for the members of our society who have been disenfranchised. Discussing the issues, reading and educating ourselves are important first steps, but they remain fruit on the vine, with rich potential but of no benefit to anyone unless they are picked and eaten. Good intentions will eventually go to waste if not acted upon.

It's very likely that Saul would never have changed his beliefs if he hadn’t been knocked upside the head by God. Is that what it takes to eventually be shaken from our complacency? Does it take a cancer diagnosis or a near-death experience before we realize that we need to make our lives matter? Complacency is the easiest way out of any situation, and it can be the deadliest of all choices.

“Life is short . . .”  is the first line of my favorite blessing. Living a longtime isn’t what matters. What matters is how we live our life. Saul’s change may have been unexpected but something in him opened to hearing a new truth. Ghandi is quoted as having said, “If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change.” It’s your choices, your actions, that’s what makes you who you are.

Most changes are not as dramatic as Saul’s or as in 2020 when choosing whether to wear a mask or social distance was a matter of life or death. Sual embraced a change in himself that caused an infinite rippling effect on the development of the Christian Church. We’ll never know how many lives were saved by simply wearing a mask.

Sometimes the change that lasts is the kind that begins with small steps: speaking your truth even if it's not popular, taking time to really listen to those you don’t agree with or encouraging those who are struggling to change. What if each day we began by embracing just one small change in ourselves? What positive impact might that have for your life, for your health, your family, your community?

 Faithfully,

Sally+ 

 Reflection and Challenge - In our world today, the call for change often involves a call for peace, for healing of the divisions that we see everywhere, or a call to assist those who are disenfranchised. What one change could you make to be a change maker?

United along the Way - July 4, 2025

Today’s Readings: The Daily Office for Independence Day:
AM Psalm 33; Ecclesiasticus 10:1-8,12-18; James 5:7-10
PM Psalm 107:1-32; Micah 4:1-5; Revelation 21:1-7

249 years ago, a formal statement of separation from the rule of Great Britain was signed by 56 delegates from the thirteen colonies. Perhaps you learned to recite the Declaration of Independence in history class, or the words roll off your tongue when you sing along to the Broadway hit “Hamilton”: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” Thomas Jefferson and his contemporaries appealed to perspectives of philosophy, politics, and theology in this statement that moved our tenacious new nation toward what the founders understood as justice and interdependence as the United States of America. I commend to you on this 4th of July the transcript of the Declaration of Independence; it is fascinating to re-read the work in its entirety.

Does it surprise you that there is an observance in the Episcopal Church that assigns readings and prayers to this day? One of the readings for today imparts wisdom from Ecclesiasticus around living in community as people of the Lord: “A wise magistrate educates his people, and the rule of an intelligent person is well ordered… an undisciplined king ruins his people, but a city becomes fit to live in through the understanding of its rulers… Arrogance is hateful to the Lord and to mortals, and injustice is outrageous to both… The beginning of human pride is to forsake the Lord; the heart has withdrawn from its Maker.” (10:1, 3, 7, 12) Can you hear the relevance to the tensions at play for the colonies in America? The verses also speak to our common humanity when we turn from God and lean into sinful, selfish ways – for that is where distrust and destruction spread.

Another of today’s readings is from the prophet Micah, pointing to the hopefulness of God’s people in the land of promise. “In the days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains and shall be raised up above the hills. Peoples shall stream to it, and many nations shall come and say, ‘Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths’…nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more; but they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid; for the mouth of the Lord of hosts has spoken.” (4:1-2a, 4)

More guidance is offered in the Letter of James: “You also must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near. Brothers, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged.” (5:8-9) Living as Christians means that we find ways to remain strong and united as the Body of Christ, amid our differences and disagreements. Similarly, as Americans we wrestle with how to remain the United States of America. We are bound at our core by the ideals of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of our country (which went into effect in 1789) – as a union. We are not independent from one another; we are a people-group. And it is not easy.

Having just returned home from walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain two days ago, I can tell you this: walking the Way of Saint James is not a space for isolation and independence. It is a path of community and togetherness, even in moments of loneliness or solitude. Millions from across the world have trod that path. People on foot, bicycles, and horseback…different faiths, languages, and experiences…we encourage one another and greet fellow travelers with “Buen Camino!” There is compassion and interdependence exhibited among friends and strangers.

I encourage you, too. This way of faithfulness and life is rugged at times. We get blisters and sores. We do not feel fully equipped to face the day’s challenges. So, slow down. Walk alongside someone else. Take in the beauty of the moment as the gift from God that it is. Eat a healthy snack and stay hydrated. Remain connected to the redeeming love of Christ, one breath at a time. Speak the truth to those around you, and remember to laugh, for the joy of the Holy Spirit brings inspiration into your very being.

Faithfully,
Katherine+

Reflection and Challenge 

What will you do to seek God's help in finding unity and interdependence this day and week ahead?

Letting go of Power - July 2

Today’s Readings: AM Psalm 119:145-176; PM Psalm 128, 129, 130; 1 Samuel 12:1-6,16-25; Acts 8:14-25; Luke 23:1-12

Now that my son is 13, we’ve started watching some of the classic movies and shows that have predated his life. Films that are part of the cultural canon in a funny, nostalgic kind of way. Recently we watched together was Napoleon Dynamite. It’s a strange little movie from my time as a youth minister, full of awkward silences and oddball characters, but beneath the surface there’s a surprising amount of heart.

The story centers on an election. Pedro, the quiet and unassuming new kid, runs for class president against the cliquish and traditionally popular girl. His campaign slogan is bold and absurd: “Vote for me, and all your wildest dreams will come true.” In a world obsessed with control, influence, and appearances, that promise—however tongue-in-cheek—taps into something deep: the longing for power, for things to go our way. What wins the election, though, isn’t a strong speech or clever strategy. It’s Napoleon’s wildly unexpected and painfully awkward dance routine on Pedro’s behalf. (Jack refuses to learn the dance but did find it wildly entertaining).  In that moment, vulnerability and loyalty carry more weight than any campaign promise.

In Acts 8, we meet Simon the magician, who sees the apostles laying hands on people and the Holy Spirit descending upon them. He’s amazed, but not in a way that leads to worship or gratitude. Instead, he offers them money so he can have that same power. His instinct is to possess what he sees rather than participate in what God is doing. Peter rebukes him sharply, not because he desires something good, but because he misunderstands the nature of the Spirit.  It is not something we control for our own gain. It can only be received as gift, and something that we share in love.

So much of what is broken in our world can be traced back to our love of power—our need to dominate, to win, to be in control. From politics to relationships to religion, we are tempted to believe that the answer to our problems lies in gaining more influence or authority. But the Gospel tells a different story. It calls us to let go of control, to repent of our grasping, and to live instead in the vulnerability of love, in the unabashed relinquishing of grace.

The way of Jesus is not about acquiring power but surrendering it, trusting that in giving ourselves away, we will find the life that is truly life. That’s not just good news; it’s a revolution, one that will change our lives and albeit, the whole world. 

 John+

Question for Self-Reflection: Where in your life are you tempted to grasp for control or influence? And what might it look like to let go of that power in order to make room for love?