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Sabbatical Journey…On Weariness and Gratitude

01 Saturday Jul 2023

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Montana Driving (reuse with permission)

Today was a driving day for our cross-country trip – perhaps the longest driving day of the trip.  All told, we were on the road, with multiple stops, for about 10-11 hours.  By the last hour, I was engaged in an inner complaint fest:  the trip felt like forever, I was stiff from the ride, and I just wanted to be in the next location and stretch my legs.  But when we arrived, I was glad I had kept my complaining to myself.  First my younger child exclaimed, “That wasn’t so bad!  It went by kind of quickly!”  My husband agreed, “Yeah, that was an easy drive!”  My elder child confessed, “I kind of like driving days.  They’re like ‘chill’ days.” 

Their comments helped me reflect on the day a little differently.  I tried to remember all the good things about the day:  the way the heavy fog slowly lifted to reveal beautifully green mountain scenery with rivers and tall pines; how fun it was to drive along winding road, hugging the curves; the pops of color that wildflowers brought to the drive; the fun road trip games we played, where everyone was winning at different points; the laughter, the naps, and adding a new state to our list of visited states.

Today, I am grateful for the invitation into gratitude.  It’s a practice I encourage all the time, but one that is easily forgotten when we are tired, weary, and cranky.  But the funny thing is that gratitude is the best antidote to us who are tired, weary, and cranky.  When we give thanks, we see all the good things that made us tired.  When we offer gratitude to God, our weariness is held like soft mattress.  When we give ourselves to thankfulness, crankiness is melted into praise.

I would love to hear what you are grateful for today.  How has God shown up in surprising ways?  How has the Holy Spirit spoken grace through people in your life?  How is Jesus inviting you into a new interpretation of the day?  I’m grateful for you and our journey together in gratitude!

Sabbatical Journey…on Burdens and Blessings

20 Tuesday Jun 2023

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My husband is a master planner, especially when it comes to travel.  So, when we embarked on this sabbatical adventure, I had no worries because I knew he had planned the trip, down to which rest areas we should use.  You might imagine that kind of exacting detail would translate to rigidity – someone who can become rattled when things do not go as planned.  But that is not the case with my husband.  In addition to being a master planner, he is also absolutely the person you want in the room when things go sideways.  He is able to quickly shift, make alterations, and carry things forward seamlessly.

Today, just day three of our twenty-one-day adventure, those skills came in very handy.  The first hiccup happened when our lunch plans got altered.  Our lunch date got called away (welcome to the life of a priest-parent!).  I was super sad about missing our visit but know all too well that things happen.  But when you travel with my super husband, all is not lost.  During lunch, my husband coordinated Plan B, and off we went to the Oklahoma City National Memorial.  I had only seen the site in pictures, but pictures cannot capture the power of seeing all those names, retelling the tragic story to our kids, noting small chairs for the children in daycare who died that day, and even worse, the one chair that indicated the death of a pregnant woman, with the unborn named child on her chair.  It was a powerful moment of sobriety and a reminder to all of us how much we need to savor one another.

Fast forward to our final destination.  We were all tired and a bit weary.  When we stopped at our hotel to check in, we figured the water gushing from a ceiling down the hall was a bad sign.  Sure enough, the hotel’s water had been shut down, with no estimated fix schedule.  Before we even got through the line to cancel our registration, my husband was already booking an alternative hotel on his phone, and then calling customer service to make sure our prior booking wouldn’t charge our card.  Our frazzled, anxious little family was on our way to a new hotel less than a block away within the half-hour.

It had been a heavy day.  We began the day with conversations about the Trail of Tears, why there are so many reservations in Oklahoma, and what we can do as consumers to support the economy of indigenous Americans.  We talked about Juneteenth, and wondered about our experiences in Little Rock and how much more work we have to do.  We recalled mass violence and the death penalty as we walked through the vivid artistry of the Oklahoma City National Memorial.  And we dealt with our own travel hiccups.  Needless to say, as walked in 100-degree weather to an impromptu dinner, we were all a bit worse for the wear.

And then I saw it.  A beautiful, unusual flower lining the road of our walk.  It seemed silly to stop and take a picture of the flowers (or at least, so my then cranky family told me), but I knew this was the Holy Spirit’s way of telling me to look around at the blessings of the day:  to remember the constant invitation to think about injustice in all its forms and how we can be agents of change; to remember that even when things do not go your way, sometimes equally wonderful things happen; to remember that even in the midst of sweaty, weary, whiny messes, God uses the gifts of all of us (problem-solving husbands, caring strangers, and even nature herself) to renew and restore us.  What blessings has the Holy Spirit been trying to show you today?

Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (reuse with permission)

Sabbatical Journey…on Butterflies and Beauty

19 Monday Jun 2023

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Photo credit: https://www.history.com/topics/black-history/central-high-school-integration

Our second day of travels landed us in Little Rock, Arkansas.  We had mostly planned to get here and head straight to the hotel, but traffic was forgiving, and gave us a little extra time.  So, we hopped over to the Little Rock Central High School National Park Site.  As a refresher, in 1957, Central High became the epicenter of confrontation and the catalyst for change in enforcing the decision of Brown v. Board to integrate schools.  Three years after the Supreme Court decision, the “Little Rock Nine,” were denied entrance to the school, and President Dwight D. Eisenhour had to federalize the Arkansas National Guard to safely enable the Little Rock Nine to successfully attend school. 

As I was looking at the photos at the National Park, I noticed a butterfly flitted past me and landed right next to a picture of those National Guardsmen protecting those students.  I was reminded of how even in the darkest times, one can find beauty.  I do not know the stories of those men who protected those students.  Maybe they did it because they were obligated to help by order of the President.  Maybe they did it because they felt a desire to right an injustice.  Maybe they had feelings that changed before, during, and after the event.  What I do know is those from Little Rock during that time were transformed in that event.  And like that butterfly, their transformation flitted on throughout the country as we made our way toward justice – as we continue to make our way toward justice.

Commemorative Garden. Note butterfly in photo. (Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly)

In the Commemorative Garden at the site, there is an inscription about the school.  It reads that Central High School, “…has survived, indeed not just survived but succeeded beyond anyone’s belief, becoming once again Arkansas’ premier high school.”  The inscription goes on to say, “It has achieved this not by returning to its old form merely showing its pretty face, but by modeling the diversity and pluralism that caused the original storm of protest.”

Post-pandemic, and indeed, in the modern era of Church, I think many are hoping to simply return to our old form, merely showing the Church’s pretty face.  But the massive disruption of the pandemic has convinced me that this is our opportunity not to become simply familiar again, but to become something excellent because of our evolution into the goodness God created us to be.  I wonder what new goodness God has invited you into in this post-pandemic season?  Where are butterflies beckoning your attention to see beauty not in what once was, but what is now, and in what can be?  I can’t wait to hear how you are seeing butterflies in your journey!

Sabbatical Journey…Finding God on the Road

18 Sunday Jun 2023

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Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (reuse with permission only)

One of our favorite road trip pastimes as a family is the “license plate game.”  We try to spot license plates from all fifty states while we drive.  We even have a little board that allows you to flip over a wooden replica of a plate when you see that state’s plate, helping you track which ones you are missing.  It’s a fun game for all ages that helps pass the time, and in feels mildly educational as parents.

Today we embarked on our family’s sabbatical road trip:  twenty-one states in twenty-one days.  Many of the sites have been on our bucket lists for years, and some of the sites we only learned about while planning the route.  We know this will be the trip of a lifetime, and we are thrilled to be able to do this together.  One of the themes of my sabbatical has been connection, and we suspect there will be lots of connection by the end of this journey.

As we commenced our journey today, the license plate game started immediately.  We had a bit of a slow start at the beginning, and I wondered if we were going to get stuck as we drove further away from the East Coast.  At some point, as kids and the other adult were snoozing, I saw one of the states I was particularly worried about missing, and I remember thinking, “Oh thank goodness for Delaware!!” 

My thought was rather silly and overly dramatic, but as I kept driving, I began to wonder what it might be like to not just treat the game as a calculated collection of inanimate objects, but instead to imagine the lives and worth of each human life in the cars.  How much more life-giving would it be to say to another driver, “I am so grateful for you today!  May your travels be a source of blessing!”  The image of 35 blessings instead of 35 wooden blocks on our game board made me realize how unfathomable God’s love is for all of God’s creatures.  Here I am competing in a game, when, if I use God’s eyes of grace, I might be seeing 35 blessings, 35 carloads of people made in God’s image, 35 possibilities for connection, or 35 invitations to move closer to God in prayer.

I look forward to finding new ways to see with God’s eyes of grace on the next leg of our trip.  I would love to hear how you found God’s invitation to blessing through others today!

On Companions for the Journey…

31 Wednesday May 2023

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Mary as Prophet by Margaret Parker at Virginia Theological Seminary (photo by Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly; reuse with permission)

Today is the Feast Day of the Visitation – that lovely encounter between Elizabeth and Mary, the mother of Jesus, when they are both unusually pregnant.  You may recall Elizabeth is older, and had likely assumed she would never have children.  Her child would become John the Baptist.  And of course, Mary, officially unwed and a virgin, is now newly pregnant with the son of God.  When the two cousins meet at the Visitation, John leaps in Elizabeth’s womb, and we get the profession of faith that is so familiar to us in the rosary, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb”[i]  Just a few verses later, Mary’s response to Elizabeth is the text we call the Magnificat, or the Song of Mary[ii] – a text sung at Evensongs for centuries. 

As I heard this text retold at the monastery today, I was reminded of how important companions are in our spiritual journey.  I imagine Elizabeth’s pregnancy was full of anxiety – fear that she might lose the precious child in her high-risk pregnancy.  And I imagine Mary’s pregnancy was full of a totally different kind of anxiety – so many social mores to manage, Joseph to worry about, and, well, the whole God-bearing thing.  And yet, only in this meeting of two women do we get two of the richest texts in our tradition.  Sometimes we need earthly companions to help us digest the big stuff that God throws our way.

I wonder who your earthly companions are these days.  I wonder whether you have reached out to them recently with whatever stuff God has been throwing your way.  We are a people made for community and relationship.  We are not meant to walk the journey alone – even though we are perfectly capable of doing so.  But how much more joy, surprise, reassurance, and victory do we experience when we walk together?  May this Feast Day of the Visitation be your invitation to find someone to walk with in this crazy season God has given you.

[i] Luke 1.42

[ii] Luke 1.46-55

Sermon – John 9.1-41, L4, YA, March 19, 2023

29 Monday May 2023

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We are in the midst of award season.  Just last weekend, the Oscars grabbed our attention with surprising wins and disappointing losses.  This week College Basketball’s March Madness has us riveted again, with expected wins, surprising upsets, and underdogs to encourage.  Despite the vested interest I may have in some of these “award” events, I find myself most drawn to the human responses.  At the Oscars, and most award shows these days, they split the TV screen with the five nominees in order to help us capture the suspense and joy of the moment.  Later, in replays and online chatter, our attention gets redirected to those who do not receive awards:  were they gracious in their loss, do they visibly show their disappointment, or do they struggle to conceal their emotions?  The Big Tournament is not much different.  Every game could either be the last of the season or the last of a career for some students.  Like clockwork, players whose teams do not advance show a variety of emotions:  from the gracious loser who can genuinely say “good game,” to the victor, the player who looks angry about the loss – perhaps most angry at themselves, or the player who just breaks down in tears at a season or career suddenly gone. 

The worst part about the award season though is our reaction to those human responses.  We say things like, “She should have been happy to just be nominated,” or “Someone should have taught them about being a good sportsman?”  Our shift from understanding to a finger-pointing-should happens almost instantaneously.  Sadly, when we are given the vivid stories we have been given these last three weeks in John’s Gospel, we do the same thing in Scripture.  I can imagine the thoughts that were bouncing around in our heads during that long gospel lesson:  How could the disciples, of all people, assume someone sinned just because he is blind?  How dare those parents just abandon their son – they should have been leading the healing celebrations! And those hard-headed Pharisees?  They should relent with what Jesus is trying to show them.  Before we realize, we have turned into that Pharisee from Luke’s gospel who prays loudly, “God, I thank you that I am not like other people: thieves, rogues, adulterers, or even like this tax collector!”[i]

The challenge when we moralize this story about the blind man is that we tend to place ourselves dishonestly in the story.  Either, we relate most to the blind man, perhaps even recalling when God has brought about some transformation in our lives or when we have followed Jesus even when we were judged or outcast; or we read the story as an outsider looking in – as if this is a story unrelated to our own journey with Jesus.  In other words, this becomes a story about those people.  But John’s Gospel will not let us do either of those things today.  You see, John’s whole gospel is about belief.  Just two weeks ago we talked about belief when we read John 3.16 – whosoever believes in him.  But, according to scholar Karoline Lewis, “…believing in the Gospel of John is synonymous with relationship with Jesus.  To state that he believes in Jesus means that the formerly blind man is in relationship with Jesus.”  Lewis goes on to say, “When we say, ‘Lord, I believe,’ we are not only making a confession of faith but making a claim of the true presence of relationship with Jesus…To acknowledge belief as a relational category may very well transform much of how we think church and faith need to be.”[ii]

The Pharisees, the folks whom we are most like in this story, cannot be moved into this belief as relationship with Jesus.  They are confident in their own truth:  they follow the God of Moses, they know that no one but God heals on the sabbath, they know blindness is caused by sin (even the disciples agree with this one).  They resist God doing a new thing:  they demand to know Jesus’ origin, they grill the formerly blind man not once, but twice, and they even do a background check with this man’s parents.  They are proud:  when the formerly blind man asks if they might be asking so many questions because they want to follow Jesus too, and when Jesus suggests they are the blind ones, the people of faith scoff and hold their ground. 

Now, I know putting ourselves in the place of the Pharisees may feel a little too-Lent-y today.  We know we need to be repenting of our confidence in self alone, our hardhearted resistance, and our pride and vainglory.  But surely, we are not that bad, right?  Instead of assuring us that we are not, I want to assure us of something else.  The blind man’s journey to belief is just that.  At the beginning of our story today, he cannot see Jesus at all.  But he can hear Jesus and he does respond by going down and washing away the mud.  When he is first questioned by his neighbors, he honestly says he doesn’t know where this Jesus guy is.  When questioned by the religious authority about Jesus’ identity, he only slowly makes his way to belief by claiming Jesus must be a prophet.  When pushed even further, he reviews the truth of his experience, slowly realizing that maybe, just maybe, he is disciple of this stranger.  Finally, in his conversation with Jesus after being kicked out of the synagogue, he says, “I believe.”  Or in other words, “I have and want a relationship with you.”  The formerly blind man’s relationship is not immediate,[iii] he does not come to relationship confidently, and he struggles to understand.  But he does struggle.

Our invitation today is not to go home feeling guilty about our hardhearted, self-centered, pride and resistance.  Our invitation is to see and hear how God can transform our resistance to the new things Jesus is doing.  The journey will not be easy – we will have people question us – in fact, we may question ourselves.  We will not know the answers, we may be afraid, and we may be cutoff from what we thought was our place of belonging.  But what the formerly blind man reminds us today is that belief, relationship with Jesus, is a journey.  Amazing things will happen – my goodness, how amazing that a man blind from birth can find new life.  But new life really comes as we walk as disciples of Christ, following Jesus when those around us, and even we ourselves, resist.  Our invitation though is to keep listening, knowing that slowly, our blindness will be lifted too.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.

[i] Luke 18.11.

[ii] Karoline M. Lewis, John:  Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries (Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2014), 132.

[iii] Karoline M. Lewis, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 119

On Stories and Invitation…

11 Wednesday Jan 2023

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Photo credit: https://www.npr.org/2020/10/15/923962314/good-conversations-take-time-and-attention-heres-how-to-have-better-ones

Last night, my younger daughter and I started reading the first book in the Harry Potter series.  I love the series, although I found it later in life.  I never read them as a young adult.  I started them the summer I was serving as a chaplain in a hospital in my early thirties because I needed something to read that was not overly taxing on my emotionally drained self.  Later, I read them while breastfeeding my first child (I spent a lot of time on a pump!), and then again with my first child when she was old enough.  I could not wait to start the series again with my younger child.

But what has surprised me in restarting this adventure is this is not the first attempt.  Normally an avid reader, I thought my daughter would be excited about reading them with me.  And, given my super enthusiasm for the books (and her knowledge that her older sister and I enjoyed them so much), I thought she would be equally enthusiastic.  But every time I mentioned starting them, even making a point at age eight to tell her I though she was finally old enough to enjoy the privilege, she was only lukewarm about the experience.  We even tried this fall to start them, and she just was not that excited.  With a new set of books all her own being gifted at Christmas, I am hoping this is the attempt that will stick!

I have been thinking how much her journey with Harry Potter might be like others’ experiences with churchgoers who just know that you will love their church.  I recognize I cannot speak with authority about never being raised in the Church – although my faith journey has taken me through multiple denominations, I have never not felt a draw to the Church.  But having ministered to many people who are new to the Church or who are simply Church curious from a very guarded distance, I sense that even our most enthusiastic descriptions are not always compelling to someone who has never been a part of Church culture. 

Many people who have seen the Church decline over the years perhaps feel this is an inevitable reality.  I disagree.  I believe the power of shared stories, including shared stories of faith, remains important.  I am not at all advocating for pressured pitches that many of us have been scarred by (I grew up in a very conservative area and was asked if I was saved more times that I can count).  But being willing to share your faith story is as vital as being able to share about the most amazing food you ever tasted:  it’s an exchange in joy, an exchange in life, and exchange in meaning.  The other person may not be moved to start attending your church, but they might just be intrigued enough to keep listening.  Convincing people to come to our church is not our work.  Our work is simply to share our faith journey joy and invite others to come and see.  The rest is the work of the Holy Spirit and will come (or not!) in its own time. 

Sermon – Matthew 1.18-25, A4, YA, December 18, 2022

21 Wednesday Dec 2022

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I have always loved stories and images of Mary and the Christ Child.  Mary is revered around the world, a patron saint to many, an intercessor for others (just think of all the “Hail Mary”s said globally), and a spiritual companion to some.  I remember in the Holy Land visiting a chapel honoring Mary, the mother of Jesus.  The chapel commissioned artists from around the world to depict their unique cultural version of Mary and Child.  The walls are lined with these floor-to-ceiling renderings of the sacred pair.  I was so taken with the images that I now have my own collection of Mary and Child paintings in my office. 

I also remember that same day in the Holy Land, after spending what felt like hours meditating with these stunning paintings, then going down the road to a chapel dedicated to Joseph.  The chapel was much smaller, rather nondescript, and quite frankly, easily forgettable.  The only real memorable thing about the chapel is how distinctly different the Joseph chapel is from the Mary chapel. 

I am struck this year, particularly as we baptize little Melody, how glad I am that we get Joseph’s story this Advent as opposed to Mary’s.  On baptism Sundays with children, we have two realities.  The first reality is the adorable, belovedness of the child, the glossy photos with family and fonts, the perfect hopefulness of initiating a child of God into the family of faith.  We often skim over the second reality.  We will hear right at the beginning of the baptism some questions for the family about renouncing Satan, evil powers of the world, and sinful desires.  I often joke with the family how inappropriate talking about evil seems at a child’s baptism until you remember those painful sleepless nights of new parenting.  But the reason we talk about that second reality is because we are initiating someone into the life of faith, and for those of us who have been at the life of faith for a while, we know the life of faith is not all roses, glossy photos, and cake.  There will be real struggles.

And that is why I love that we start off Melody’s journey with a story about Joseph.  We are told Joseph is a righteous man.  He is devoted to God and lives an ethical life.  He represents reality number one of baptism.  But then, Joseph is presented with reality number two.  When he learns Mary is pregnant before their marriage is consummated, he has three options:  the harsh one would be to have her publicly held responsible, most likely by stoning; the generous one he plans to choose of quietly divorcing her, which saves her life, but will leave her in poverty with child in tow; or the unheard of third one, especially for a righteous man, of marrying her anyway and living forever in scandal.  As one scholar explains, “In choosing Joseph to be Jesus’s earthly father, God leads a righteous man with an impeccable reputation straight into doubt, shame, scandal, and controversy…[God] requires Joseph to embrace a mess he has not created, to love a woman whose story he doesn’t understand, to protect a baby he didn’t father, to accept an heir who is not his son.  In other words, God’s messy plan of salvation requires Joseph – a quiet, cautious, status quo kind of guy – to choose precisely what he fears and dreads the most.  The fraught, the complicated, the suspicious, and the inexplicable.”[i]

I would much rather Melody start her faith journey off with a story that lets her know, honestly and unequivocally, how messy this journey will be.  We have a hint of that messiness in Matthew’s gospel from the beginning.  In the verses before what we heard today, is a long list of Joseph’s forefathers: from Abraham, who almost kills his son Ishmael and twice risks the life and safety of his wife Sarah, to Jacob, the trickster who steals his inheritance and livelihood twice, to David, who steals another man’s wife and has her husband murdered, to Tamar, who pretends to be a sex worker, and Rahab who is one.  The genealogy of Christ is a “long line of broken, imperfect, dishonorable, and scandalous people.”  As Debie Thomas explains, “The perfect backdrop, I suppose, for God’s relentless work of restoration, healing, and hope.”[ii]

That’s what telling Joseph’s story does for Melody and all of us today.  Joseph reminds us that our faith journey will be messy.  Our faith journey will not take us where we think our journey will.  Our faith journey will invite us to love people we never thought we could.  Our faith journey will sometimes seem meaningless or small, like that Joseph’s chapel in the Holy Land.  But as the angel tells Joseph, so the angel of the Lord tells us today, “Do not be afraid.”  Do not be afraid of the messiness of this journey.  Do not be afraid of going where society may deem too messy.  Do not be afraid to love with abandon, even if your loving is not seen by the crowds, or recognized all over the world.  When we come out of the waters of baptism, we walk right into the mess – because the mess of the world is where God is.  And we want to be there too.  Amen.

[i] Debie Thomas, Into the Mess & Other Jesus Stories:  Reflections on the Life of Christ (Eugene, OR:  Cascade Books, 2022), 12.

[ii] Thomas, 13.

Sermon – Isaiah 58.9b-14, P16, YC, August 21, 2022

05 Wednesday Oct 2022

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Last night, we baptized Becky Breshears in the waters of the Chickahominy River.  When most of us think of baptism, we imagine the baptism of an infant or child, someone for whom godparents make promises to raise in the life of the faith, much like we did with baby Olivia a few weeks ago.  The sacrament of baptism for a child is certainly considered being fully initiated into the family of Christ, but we make pronouncements and promises on behalf of the baptized.  And as the baptized grows up, we continue to shepherd and guide her, answer her questions, and help her claim her faith as her own.  There is an endearing, almost romantic, notion to baptism, full of idealism and hope. 

At least, that seems to be true in Episcopal Churches, where we quite primly and gently pour water from beautiful fonts over the heads of babies – the messiest part being if the water accidently runs into the baby’s eyes.  Of course, adult baptism is totally normal in our tradition too, we just do not do adult baptism as frequently.  When we do adult baptism, we become much more like other denominations, who have always understood baptism to be a mature proclamation of one’s own faith.  In some ways an adult baptism is more exciting because an adult baptism is not about something we hope and pray will develop into a faithful life, but adult baptism is the fully developed proclamation now – a set of pronouncements and promises on one’s own behalf.  An adult baptism is bold, dramatic, and, especially in instances like last night, much messier!

But adult baptism, especially in the Episcopal Church, are not about proclaiming one has her faith life all figured out – that she has some sense of earned clarity and certainty that has led her to baptism, as if baptism is the end of a journey of discernment.  Quite the opposite; baptism is a beginning for Episcopalians.  The baptized does not proclaim she knows all there is to know about faith and salvation.  Instead, the baptized claims that she is starting a new journey with Jesus, with a community of faith who walks with her.  And part of the act of baptism is giving the newly baptized tools to walk that journey.

That’s why I love the lesson from Isaiah today.  Instead of scripture capturing a moment (like a baptism), scripture today tells us what the baptized journey will be like.  Isaiah describes five things that are critical to the life of baptism.  First, the faithful will “remove the yoke from among you” – or in modern language, be an agent of economic liberation for the oppressed, not taking advantage of others.  Second, the faithful will refrain from “pointing the finger,” or take responsibility for one’s own actions, not accusing others but acting to change the self.  Third, the faithful will “refrain from speaking evil,” because “speech, when it is careless or deceitful, can be destructive and injurious.”[i]  Our words have power and are to be used for good.  Fourth, the faithful are to “offer food to the hungry.”  The life of the faithful is a life of self-sacrifice and sharing what we have learned to call our own.  And finally, we are to “satisfy the needs of the afflicted” – not just helping others or solving their problems but letting the disadvantaged “define their own needs and letting them set the criteria for deciding whether our help is effective.”[ii]

What the prophet Isaiah tells us is that as the faithful, we structure our lives differently than the secular, self-interested world might have us live.  That includes honoring even the sabbath – this holy day, not as just a day to go to church (though I hope you all will regularly – either in person or online), but also to be a day of honoring God through letting go of the self and focusing on the Lord and on the cares of those in need.   That’s why in our gospel lesson Jesus’ actions of healing others on the sabbath is so controversial – because Jesus reminds us the sabbath is a day of selflessness, healing, and giving glory to God.

Last night, Becky committed herself to that life, and we, as fellow baptized recommit ourselves this very day, to a life lived differently – a life lived in the light of Christ.  The prophet Isaiah tells us that when we live faithful lives, our light shall rise in the darkness, the Lord will guide us continually, will satisfy our needs in parched places, make our bones strong, and we shall be like a watered garden – a spring – whose waters never fail.  We shall be repairers of the breach, restorers of the streets to live in. 

Earlier I used the language of self-sacrifice.  What the Holy Spirit does in baptism and what the Church tries to continue to do on every sabbath is relocate the self from the center of our universe and place us firmly within a community of faith who cares for one another while placing God in the center of our universe.  When we take that step in baptism or renew the step our parents took for us, and in gathering in weekly worship (whether gathering in person or gathering virtually), we commit not to having this faith thing figured out – but just that we want to live a life where our parched places are always quenched through the living waters of baptism, and where our lives become bigger than they have ever been – where our lives shine the light of Christ in the darkness.  Amen.

[i] Jon L. Berquist, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3, Supplement for P16 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 4.

[ii] Berquist, 4.

The Grace of Seasons…

01 Wednesday Jun 2022

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Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly. Reuse with permission.

I have been working on some continuing education classes for about a year and a half.  I just had a three week break and during that time was able to quickly read three fluffy novels.  The funny thing is, during that same time, I kept watching friends talk about the most recent book they were reading and feeling jealous, thinking, “I never have time to read!”  But I realized during this break between semesters that I will eventually have time and I do still love to read; this is just a season of life when my reading is a little limited to the academic variety. 

That realization got me thinking about seasons of life.  I remember a season with newborns when I did a ton of reading because I was hooked up to a breast pump for about 2 hours a day.  I remember a season before COVID when I traveled distances for meetings and was able to catch up on podcasts and phone calls, feeling more knowledgeable and caught up on the day’s news.  I remember multiple seasons of parenthood when I thought I would never survive something, only to look fondly upon that season later. 

Our faith journey can be a lot like that too.  We all have seasons – seasons when we feel a bit too busy for regular church attendance (thank goodness for those recorded livestreams!); seasons when everything is clicking and some piece of scripture we read totally connects with something happening in our life; and seasons when we are too angry, sad, or unsure to even engage God in prayer.  The nice thing is when we can recognize that we are in a season, we can remember the hard stuff will not last forever, and good stuff will change and shift into new and different good stuff. 

I do not know what kind of season you are in right now.  Maybe you are in a season of grief, of feeling a lack of control, or in a rut of what feels like failures.  Maybe you are in a season of new life, of exciting possibilities, of new opportunities.  Maybe you are in a season of stability and are hoping nothing rocks the boat.  I invite you to talk about that season with God.  Whether you need to curse the season, give thanks for the season, or plead for a new season, somehow just naming the experience of the season is enough to lift its power and help you see grace in it.  That is my prayer for you today.