April 23: Holy Saturday

For there is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, that it will sprout again, and its shoots will not cease. - Job 14:1-14

In my search for words with which to express the feelings of this passage, I turned to the poets.

—Tonya Farr

The Shepherd Boy’s Song

He that is down needs fear no fall,
He that is low, no pride;
He that is humble ever shall
Have God to be his guide.
I am content with what I have,
Little be it or much:
And, Lord, contentment still I crave,
Because Thou savest such.
Fullness to such a burden is
That go on pilgrimage:
Here little, and hereafter bliss,
Is best from age to age.

- John Bunyan, 17th century clergyman and poet

Psalm 22: Charles Rus, Catherine Blundell, Natalie Blundell

Psalm 22, as sung on Maundy Thursday, April 21, 2011, at the Stripping of the Altar

April 22: Good Friday

The woman said to Peter, “You are not also one of this man’s disciples, are you?” He said, “I am not.” - John 18:1-19:42

If someone were to ask me, “What do you stand for?,” it might take me a while to answer. It is certainly a challenging question which requires introspection and careful thought. I think as I considered my answer, however, I would discover that it isn’t necessarily quite the same question as, “What do you believe?” It’s much bigger than that. Perhaps the real question should be, “What do you believe enough that you are willing to risk being unpopular or even criticized for your position?”

Often, we may give others the impression that we stand for something when, actually, we haven’t really given it much thought at all. Perhaps it’s just that we’ve followed the crowd, which sometimes may seem like the easiest and most comfortable route to take. Or sometimes, even though we want to do the right thing, our actions and the choices we make tell a different story. The reality is that often, despite our best intentions, we might find it difficult to truly stand for the things we feel in our hearts, because we fear what others might think.

In order to be convicted and sure enough in our beliefs to act, we must do some soul-searching and then act intentionally. Acting intentionally requires an element of not only honesty, but also bravery. In this passage, when the woman asked Peter if he was one of Jesus’ disciples, I imagine Peter found himself deeply conflicted. He had been a disciple of Jesus for a long time, yet when it came time to take a stand publicly, he chickened out. He denied Jesus by telling the woman, “I am not.” In a split second, Peter took the easy way out, to save himself. He was not honest with Jesus, and he was not true to himself. Rather than stay by Jesus’ side, Peter chose to huddle around the fire and warm himself with the slaves and the police. I wonder what Peter was feeling at that moment, after denying Jesus.

When this type of situation happens to me, and I act as Peter did, I feel guilty, weak and disappointed. I realize that I haven’t been brave enough to be honest with myself. I’ve created a disconnect between what I believe in my heart and what I could or should achieve through my actions. This passage has made me think about these questions in the context of my own life. I will definitely be examining myself this Lenten season and asking for God’s help. Even though it might be hard, I will be asking God to help me do a better job of letting my actions reflect my beliefs, to be honest with myself and others, and most of all, to not be afraid.

—Catherine Blundell

April 21: Maundy Thursday

They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they eat it. - Exodus 12:1-4,11-14

Passover is, of course, the historical celebration par excellence, celebrating the formative event in Jewish history, the Exodus of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. The events commemorated in this holiday have had continual relevance to Jew and Gentile in all historical epochs, as a model for the understanding of their contemporary situations of national oppression, exiles and liberations.

For many Jewish thinkers over the ages the lessons of Passover and the Exodus were not exhausted in their historical memories. The central themes that dominate the holiday were seen as metaphors and symbols for many facets of individual human psychology and religious experience.

A pioneer of this symbolic approach to reading the Bible was the first-century philosopher and exegete Philo Judaeus of Alexandria. For Philo the whole of Scripture was a complex mesh of symbols which illustrate the abstract truths and mysteries of philosophy and moral virtue. His treatment of the Exodus account is consistent with this approach.

In formulas that echo the assertion of the Haggadah, that “each individual must regard himself as if he himself had escaped from Egypt,” Philo portrays “leaving Egypt” as an internal struggle that must be waged continually in every person’s life. It is the fight to liberate one’s mind from the temptations of the body, symbolized by Egypt, which is always trying to hold us back from the road leading to the freedom of virtuous living.

—From Exodus of the Spirit, Prof. E Segal, University of Calgary

April 20: Wednesday in Holy Week

After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you
will betray me.” - John 13:21-32

Jesus’ identity is a major theme running through John’s gospel narrative. In washing the disciples’ feet during supper, Jesus had revealed himself as the servant Lord who models the serving behavior expected of his followers. After he finished washing their feet, he asked them, “Do you know what I have done to you?” The correct answer would not have been, “Yes, of course, we all know what you’ve done to us: you’ve washed our feet.” (He’d implied that it wasn’t when he said to Peter, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.”) No, Jesus was after something less immediately obvious.

He had said to Peter (who had initially refused to allow Jesus to wash his feet): “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me” and “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean, though not all of you.” No, what Jesus did (with a single exception) was make his disciples righteous before God, make them clean on the inside, pure in thought and intentions, not just clean on the outside. The “foot washing” that Jesus commanded them to do for one another was to cleanse from the pollution from everyday contact with the earth, also known as sinful human society, through mutual confession, repentance and forgiveness. The cleansing work that Jesus did (though not as yet understood) was transform the disciples’ minds and hearts, transformation that is the hallmark of the “new birth.” This righteousness, right relationship with God, identifies the true disciple who will share God’s Kingdom with Jesus.

Recalling these events helps us understand Jesus’ startling announcement that one of the disciples will betray him. Peter’s question to Jesus through John, “Lord, who is it?” foreshadows Peter’s later denial. Yet Jesus is not referring to him but to Judas, of whom gospel writer says, “The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him” (13:2). Jesus is not referring to Peter, despite Peter’s later apostasy.

The identity of the betrayer is the one to whom Jesus, in friendship, will offer a piece of bread dipped in the dish. Yet all the disciples will receive bread from Jesus at his institution of the Lord’s Supper. Jesus is here revealed as the Lord who offers the Bread of Life to all, friend and enemy alike. What then distinguishes Judas from the other disciples? Judas receives bread from Jesus deceitfully, with evil intention, and his hatred allows Satan to take up residence within him. The faithful disciples, including Peter, receive bread from Jesus faithfully, with good intention, in response to his invitation.

Yes, Peter will go on to deny Jesus three times, but he will repent and be fully restored to relationship with Jesus. Judas’ identification with the Enemy leads to his break with the Source of Life. As a sign of this break, John’s narrative says “he immediately went out” into the night, into the darkness which has never understood the light of the glory of God, leading directly to Jesus’ betrayal, death and glorification.

—Jim Ward

April 19: Tuesday in Holy Week

Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world, will keep it for eternal life.

- John 12:20-36

Lose your life? Do we have to hate our lives to be godly? What do we replace it with? How do we do
that?

We don’t have to set out to “lose our lives” or to suddenly turn everything upside down. It is a quiet letting go that happens gradually. It is nothing that we do or that we earn, but purely the soul saying yes to God and allowing that presence to work in us and through us. Sitting in silence, with all the noise of the world turned off and training our mind to quiet its thoughts, allows the gentle voice of God to be heard.

It is amazing how close God is. One breath and everything can shift. The pettiness and irritation of one moment can quickly be encompassed by greater understanding and love.

Take a deep breath into Godspace...
Lose the petty life.
Enter into a new awareness and connection to the greater eternal life.
All is loved.
All is forgiven.
Amen.

—Lori Dickerson

April 18: Monday in Holy Week

"I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness. I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon…” - Isaiah 42:1-9

I am a slave of the news cycle. I get my first hit in the morning on the radio, consume a newspaper before breakfast, get pinged with email alerts of breaking news throughout the day on my computer, iPad, and so-called smartphone, and then allow myself to be yelled at by TV pundits in the sacred hours before bedtime. You have noticed there has been a surplus of news lately. My rate of premature aging has sped up considerably.

And it’s all for nothing. Isaiah called this, quite some time ago. God is with us, even if the known world seems to be upending in front of us. Not only is God with us, God knows how this story will end and has already told us. I can let go of this compulsive need to know the latest developments, this pitiful attempt to feel somewhat more in control in an era of seismic change, because the end of the story has already occurred. “I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness. I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon…”

Even though we don’t know all the ways any story may develop, or if it will take months or years or decades to become more clear, surely we can have confidence in how it will ultimately end. The Rev Dr Martin Luther King, Jr said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” I will try to remember that this Lenten season, amid the clamor of voices. Perhaps I might even turn off my incoming alert bell on my devices. Do I really need Twitter if I have Isaiah? See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them.

—Kim Malcolm

Sunday, April 17: Palm Sunday

'You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you? How much longer must I put up with you? Bring him here to me.’ And Jesus rebuked the demon, and it came out of him, and the boy was cured instantly. Then the disciples came to Jesus privately and said, ‘Why could we not cast it out?’ He said to them, ‘Because of your little faith. For truly I tell you, if you have faith the size of a
mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, “Move from here to there”, and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you.’

- Matthew 17:14-20

As a first grade teacher, I am struck by how similar Jesus sounds to teachers of young children the week before a vacation break. The patience is thin and you wonder how many times you need to say the same thing over and over again. Jesus has “had it” with these faithless, needy people. Why can’t they listen and follow directions? You can almost hear a sigh come from Jesus as he rebukes the man from the crowd and his disciples – “Where is the faith? How many ways do I need to show you? When will you learn?” Jesus even tells them what is to come, but instead of thinking that they need to change, the people/disciples just become distressed and appear weak. A change is coming – you can feel it in the air and in your soul.

—Tammy Waddell

Saturday, April 16: The Rev. Jim Friedrich

No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me. - Jeremiah 31:27-34

The prophet is one who has an eye on the horizon of God’s future: The days are surely coming. Something new is going to happen, changing everything. Jeremiah calls it a “new covenant,” invoking the ancient self-understanding of the Jews that they were God’s partners in the drama of salvation (“I was their husband,” is the way “the Lord” puts it here). The primary image of the original covenant was that of the divine law being engraved in stone on the summit of Mt. Sinai. Moses carried this written Law or “Torah” (better understood as a way of living in tune with the universe than as an arbitrary set of rules), down the mountain to the people so that they might know their own obligations in this partnership agreement. But it’s one thing to read words engraved on stone, and quite another to make those words, and the sense behind them, into an integrated, faithful way of being. And in fact, as Jeremiah’s voicing of the divine reminds us, God’s people (then and now) find it hard keep the law, to honor the covenant relationship by living lives that are merciful, just and loving.

But God knows that it is not enough to tell people how to live. The Torah - what the New Testament calls the Way, the Truth, and the Life - must become something they desire from the deepest center of their being. They must want it more than anything else in the world. And so, says the Lord, I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. The heart, in biblical understanding, is not only the physical organ that sustains the flow of life in our bodies, but is also a name for the integrative center of our humanness where each person’s distinctive interplay of will, intellect, memory and desire is grounded.

Gerald May says there is “a desire within each of us, in the deep center of ourselves, that we call a heart.” And this longing at the heart of our being is what Gregory of Nyssa called “the homing instinct for God.” If you want to find God, look in the place of your deepest longing. You will find that God is already there before you, writing on your heart. When will this take place? When will God inscribe the Way upon the center of our being, and make the energies of divine love as natural and fundamental to our existence as the beating of our hearts?

The promised day is already “at hand,” Jesus tells us. It is a temporal process, sometimes painfully gradual, but it has already begun. God’s hand is writing within us even now. We need only to pay attention, consent, give up, surrender, let go of all the obstacles that hinder and obscure that deep and sacred craving. Just as a writer sits down each day to write but a few pages, and after a time completes an entire book, so may the cumulative “heart-writing” of Lent’s forty days produce in us a most holy text of Christian living.

—The Rev Jim Friedrich

Friday, April 15: Laurie Anderson

But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’ (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief…) - John 12:1-10

To my mind, John here seems to be layering symbol on symbol, building our emotional response. Jesus is getting ready, and getting us ready, for his death at the hands of his enemies, which will fulfill the prophecy of a coming Savior’s death and resurrection. Unlike this story as told in Matthew and Mark, Lazarus, who was raised from the dead, is in this house, not a leper. Judas, who betrays Jesus, is the one here complaining about the cost of the nard or perfume, not just unnamed disciples. Mary pours it not on his head as in other scriptures, but lavishly pours it on his feet and wipes them with her hair. She is perfuming his body as if for burial, foreshadowing his death.

John uses the risen Lazarus, the deceitful Judas, and Mary’s act of complete humility and love to inform and build the crescendo for the next part of the story. As I enter the story with my heart and mind, I yearn for what is abiding, what is sustaining. For me, that is the image of Jesus himself, breathing in the perfume and drawing close to God, resting in Mary’s love, and telling us to wait, even in helping the poor, and dwell in God’s presence, keeping our faith first.

—Laurie Anderson

Thursday, April 14: Laura Gregg

Many of them were saying, “He has a demon and is out of his mind. Why listen to him?” - John 10:19-42

Why listen? Because God is always speaking to us through the people he puts in our paths — the people we love and respect, and more to the point, the people we hold of little account.

This puts me in mind of verse 44 in Matthew 35 where Jesus warns us about the sheep and the goats. The “goats” are shocked to be rejected, saying, “Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?” As long as we think we see Jesus in our brothers and sisters, we are happy to respond with love and caring. But if we think we see adversaries we have demonized, or the undeserving poor, or the sick or imprisoned who deserve the consequences of their actions, we might miss an important message from God: at the very least a reminder that we are called to love — first, last, and always.

God, open my eyes especially during this season of Lent, so that I truly see through your eyes everyone you place in my path. Amen.

—Laura Gregg

Wednesday, April 13: Susan Shevlin

I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. - John 10:1-18

I am drawn to the comforting image of an attentive shepherd calling his sheep one by one, holding open a heavy gate leading to an abundant, protected pasture. But I am also struck by less idyllic images of thieves, wolves, and unreliable hired hands. How do I, or we, make sense of these seemingly contradictory visions? The answer lies, I believe, here:

“I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd.”

Jesus calls not only the sheep who hear His reassuring voice, who come running to the safety of His pasture lands. He also seeks those who do not recognize His voice, who have not come to see Him as the source of peace. He calls the misguided thieves, wayward laborers and wild beasts. He seeks to unite them all in one flock. The great challenge of this task becomes apparent when reading the Gospel stories immediately before and after this passage; they are stories of confrontation, division and exile. It is no coincidence that Jesus pauses to describe “one flock, one shepherd.”

This Lent, we, the sheep at St. Thomas, might reflect upon how we contribute to creating one flock under one shepherd. Do we simply follow one another dutifully through the gate into green pastures? Or do we turn about to seek out those who have not joined the flock, who may seem to be wolves or thieves? Do we do more than feed or clothe or shelter? Do we also extend the invitation to walk through our gate, our doors? Do we, like our Shepherd, call all into one flock?

—Susan Shevlin

Tuesday, April 12: Josh Hosler

His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews. - John 9:18-41

Much has been written, but not nearly enough has been widely disseminated to Christians the world over, about the Gospel of John’s pejorative references to “the Jews.” In a nutshell, it does us no good to think of John’s “Jews” as referring to any and all Jews. Some translations render it as “the Jewish authorities,” to make clear that John is referring to those in power. A broader view of the entire situation shows us that these particular Jewish authorities also represented a persecuted people under the Roman Empire, deeply fearful of losing their status as an acceptable minority group, constantly in danger that the next Caesar would say, “I’ve had enough of these Jews and their peculiar ways,” and resort to genocide to be rid of them.

When I read this passage, I find it helpful to think of “the Jews” as those who are in power in any situation. Those in power tend to want to stay in power. This includes us as Americans, and it also includes any individual who genuinely tries to use power for good causes. Does having power and privilege automatically make us wrong? No, but it should always keep us checking our motives.

—Josh Hosler

Monday, April 11: Susan Huenefeld

Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. - John 9:1-17

Many of the stories in the Gospels are really the same ideas, presented to us in a slightly different way so we can eventually understand. This story of Jesus healing a blind man, and the Pharisees wanting to know how he did it, is one of these variations on the theme of how we are to know God.

The Pharisees are the rule follower in each of us. We like the structure and complacency of thinking that if we follow the rules, we will be rewarded. Jesus tells us that there is something even more important than just following the rules, so he flagrantly heals a blind man on the Sabbath.

There is more to this story than merely a physical healing. Throughout the Bible, sight and blindness are used metaphorically to mean knowing God…seeing with the heart. The metaphor is also in the well-loved hymn, “Amazing Grace”: “I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see.”

We don’t need words to access God, but an opening of our hearts and minds, a letting go of the rules and control. It is difficult to find words to explain God or our personal connection to God, so using metaphor is a way to circumvent that. The Pharisees are looking at the physical (outward) instructions of spitting on the ground, making a paste of mud, etc. that healed the man, but are failing to “see” the inward faith and God’s grace that transformed and healed the blind man. If we can follow the path that Jesus provides to each of us, transcending merely following the rules, but letting go and trusting in the Gospel, we can each be that blind man who was healed by Jesus.

— Susan Huenefeld

Sunday, April 10: The Fifth Sunday in Lent

"Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." - John 11:1-45


It is not surprising that Mary and Martha were irate with Jesus for intentionally waiting two extra days, until after their brother Lazarus had died, before he arrived to help them. I am reminded of a true story of a disillusioned scientist of Jewish heritage who thought he had given up on God. During an airplane flight, he was asked by a stranger if he would pray with nine other men in the back of the plane who needed a tenth to make a “minyan” (the quorum needed in Orthodox Judaism for public prayers). The angry scientist simply said, “I don’t believe in waiting for God to arrive.” At that point he showed the stranger the tattooed numbers on his arm indicating that he was a Holocaust survivor.

A few weeks later the two men ran into each other at the opening of the Holocaust museum in Washington, D.C. The stranger came up to the scientist and said, “Do you remember me?” The surprised scientist replied, “Yes, you are the poor fellow who wanted me to pray.” The stranger was filled with compassion and said, “I may not be able to help you to pray, but here is a map showing the groups that have assembled here according to the death camp that they survived.” The scientist took the map and said, “I see where I am to go but I don’t expect to find anyone I know, because all of my family were murdered.”

Soon afterwards he found the group he was looking for. And much to his astonishment an elderly man ran forward and cried out to him, “David, is that you?” The scientist, in tears, embraced his father. God had taken too many years to orchestrate this reunion, but that no longer seemed to matter to David. God had been grieving too.

—The Rev Steve Best

Saturday, April 9: Natalie Blundell

When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” - John 6:60-71

This scripture is particularly relevant to me, seeing as I am a teenager in high school constantly dealing with friendships, cliques and loyalty. But what strikes me most about this scripture is Jesus himself, knowing from the start that there were people who didn’t truly believe in him. And he responds by telling the group, “no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.” Jesus was searching for loyal followers – the ones who would stand by his side through anything. Unfortunately, many people were daunted by this and decided to turn back.

This story strongly relates to my life. I like to think of myself as a strong person who doesn’t want to have to compromise my personality in order to fit in. This pushes some people away. I don’t outwardly tell people, “this is who I am, take me or leave me,” but I tend to give off that vibe. As a result, I have become what I like to call a “drifter”— not part of one specific clique, friends with everyone, and hard to categorize — hard to fit in a box. Some people decide not to take the time to befriend me. Instead, they turn away and stick to the friends they know. These people are like Jesus’ followers who decide to turn back. They are not willing to put in the time to get to know someone new.

Through this drifting of mine, I have learned (a lot of times, the hard way) that not everyone is loyal. Most people, especially in high school, are looking out for themselves. All they think is, “what will make me most popular?” or, “what is the coolest party to go to?” A lot of the time, not knowing, they are hurting people and letting their friends down along the way.

Not everyone will be our friend. Not everyone will follow us. Not everyone will be loyal. And when times get tough, it is with Jesus’ help and example that we find the courage within ourselves to make our own path.

—Natalie Blundell

Friday, April 8: Lou Bush

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. - Romans 8:28-39

I love the seasons and rhythm in our church life at St Thomas, even during Lent. Why? Not just for the richness and variety of music, flowers, words, and colors, but because the progression helps keep God’s big picture before me, over and over again.

We all have seasons in our own brief lives, and how tempting it is to allow oneself to feel either “stuck” in the difficult ones, or “all settled” in the easier ones! The reassurances of verse 38 suggest an enormous number of potential conditions on earth. I’m thinking that Christians did not have an easy time of it in the first century, and the verses just before this one allude to this.

Nor do Christians always have an easy time of it today. Death, life, angels, rulers, time, the universe ... these are powerful concepts! I am thankful for a quiet time at church in order to try and grasp the message that God’s love for us in Christ Jesus is steadier than all of these. The challenge is to simply accept it, again and again. I think I’ll let those Easter flowers help me.

—Lou Bush

Thursday, April 7: Karen Haig

I have grown weary with my crying. - Psalm 69:1-23

The despair in these words is difficult for me to take in. Drowning in suffering and sorrow, sinking into the muck with nothing to cling to, utterly overwhelmed by wave after wave of heartache and no relief in sight. Yet there have been times in my life – not many, thank God – but there have been times in my life when these feelings were my own. Utter devastation. Shock and fear and hopelessness and loss… loss so excruciating that I had no idea how I would survive. I know what it is to be weary with crying, unable to speak for all the wailing I’d done. I know what it is to search and search and search for comfort, and all in vain. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Just as the psalmist suffered and as we have suffered, God in Jesus suffered too. And as strange as it may seem, this is the place we will find comfort and hope – right there on the cross. After all, if Jesus had not suffered like that, would we trust God to know what it’s like to endure excruciating pain, and to suffer with us? Would we feel the love of God envelop us in the midst of our grief? Would we count on God to know our own indescribable ache? Would we turn to God in our own suffering?

Hanging there on the cross, Jesus kept company with two mere mortals who hung on crosses too – just like He keeps company with us when we hang on our own. That is indeed Good News! Not that God wills us to suffer – suffering is not God’s will. But that when we do suffer – in those times of utter devastation that we fear we will never survive – the God who knows our suffering, experiences that suffering deeply. And taking it all in, God transforms our suffering – redeeming and resurrecting and turning it all into ever more love.

—The Rev Karen Haig

Wednesday, April 6: Dwight Russell

"The vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as seemed good to him." - Jeremiah 18:1-11

Paraphrasing Augustine of Hippo: “Sin is anything that displaces or gets in the way of our relationship with God.” I’ve always liked this definition because it is inclusive, as opposed to the Old Testament enumeration of things to do, or not to do (as in Leviticus), in order to avoid the wrath of God.

In the book of Jeremiah, God makes it very clear: “I have given you free will. Trust in man and flesh and you are cursed; trust in the Lord, you are blessed. Straighten out your lives!” The Hebrews, of course, don’t get it and they say: “Why should we? What’s the point? We’ll live just the way we’ve always lived, doom or no doom!”

At this point God sends Jeremiah to a potter’s house, where he reports the following: “The vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he re-worked it into another vessel, as seemed good to him.” At first, Jeremiah was puzzled, but then he heard God’s message: “Can’t I do just as the potter does, people of Israel? …watch this potter. In the same way that this potter works his clay, I work on you…at any moment I may decide to pull up a people by the roots and get rid of them. But if they repent…I will think twice and start over with them.” Sounds pretty draconian, doesn’t it? But the thread of a miracle exists in this passage. Nowhere in the story does it say that the clay is destroyed; it still exists and is re-workable, as are we if we only listen for God’s word.

The season of Lent, for me, is a reflective time of examination. Where do I need to change my life? What have I been doing or thinking that gets in the way of my relationship with God? I pray that I may seek repentance and renewal, and once again accept God’s grace and love. “Give thanks to the Lord, for his mercy endures forever.”

—Dwight Russell

Tuesday, April 5: Josh Hosler

Wretched man that I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death? - Romans 7:13-25

I remember hearing this passage in church when I was a kid. My best friend Trav and I sat in the front row and giggled throughout, much to the annoyance of my parents. At home, we got out a Bible and read it again. We challenged each other to read it five times fast. We couldn’t make head nor tails of it, but we knew it sounded hilarious. We wanted to shout, “Wretched man that I am! Who will save me from this convoluted sentence structure?”

The passage continued to elicit giggles from me well into high school. One night at summer camp, each of the campers was asked to share a passage of scripture that was meaningful to us. I thought I’d lighten the mood a bit, so I read this passage and received, to my delight, many more chuckles from my fellow campers. But Father Phil, the head of the camp, smiled knowingly: “You may think it’s funny now, but once you understand it, you won’t find it funny at all.”

When we’ve lived long enough, we do understand it. No matter how hard we try, we can’t “be good.” We continue to do things wrong. We continue to mess up—not only by accident, but even willfully—all the time. We justify our actions one way or another, and then we feel awful when we suffer the consequences. Are we sorrier for the action, or for the consequences?

Yet the most important line in the passage is this one: “Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” We have nothing to fear, because Jesus knows our hearts and understands our struggles. Each time we fall down, we can get back up again, not with groveling, but with dignity … because we are God’s beloved children.

—Josh Hosler

Monday, April 4: The Rev. Hollis Williams

Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne; love and truth go before your face. - Psalm 89:1-18

I am very fond of the Central Branch of the Seattle Public Library at 1000 Fourth Avenue. The iconic building, designed by the Dutch architect Rem Koolhaus, has an outside skin of glass. The 9,994 windows set in twelve-inch steel I-beams make the building transparent. Standing outside, one can see in; standing inside, one can enjoy the urban landscape; also, from within as one looks up or down, you can see through parts of the building to other floors. The library is transparent.

When something is transparent, light is able to pass without distortion and one sees more clearly. Transparency is a word heard more frequently in social discourse today. Often it refers to government or institutional processes. People are more comfortable if the components of decisions are more public.

In the faith journey we are in a process, allowing the light of Christ to illumine the shadow places in our life with forgiveness, grace and truth. Thereby, we become more transparent, more complete, and more authentic. I like the phrase, “love and truth go before your face.”

In this season of preparing to take in the transforming power of the Resurrection at Easter, one might allow the light and truth of Christ engage one of your shadow spots. In so doing, you take another step toward wholeness and enhanced transparency.

—The Rev Hollis Williams

Sunday, April 3: The Fourth Sunday in Lent

One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see. - John 9:1-41

As a parent, I’ve expended a fair amount of energy anxiously worrying about the health, well-being and “normalcy” of my children. I spent many moments during the nine months I was pregnant with my son worrying about questions like: Will my child be born with a disability or be afflicted with a disease? In this as with many other things in life, I often find myself troubled and anxious over that which is out of my control.

How can God’s glory be revealed in an innocent child’s disability or illness? Jesus rejects the traditional thinking of the time, that illness and disability were the product of sin. Jesus states something that must have been quite surprising to the disciples. And Jesus challenges our own self-absorbed anxiety as well: God’s greatness is revealed in the one who we think is afflicted. God’s greatness is revealed when we think the worst possible thing has happened to us.

I am reminded yet again that if I can step back from trying to control that which is not in my control, then I can glimpse God at work in my life. If I can let go of the anxiety, the fear, and the attempts to control the big and small of my life, God’s works are revealed. Even as God’s glory was revealed in the blind man who was made to see, the scales can fall from my own eyes, that I may see God’s works revealed in the everyday experiences of my life.

—Andrea Sato Borgmann

Saturday, April 2: Bob Simeone

So they picked up stones to throw at him, but Jesus hid himself and went out of the temple. - John 8:47-59

Moses said “I am who I am” long before Jesus. Jesus said the same words at the temple when surrounded and under duress. Shakespeare gave very similar words to us via Polonius: “This above all: to thine own self be true,” and Popeye said it plenty of times to Olive Oyl and Wimpy: “I Yam what I Yam.”

They are all very different characters from different times. But they all teach us the value in being our most authentic self. Being who you are is always the best way to live. For Jesus it was the only way to live. While he knew he would have to drink from a bitter cup and be surrounded by people he could not depend on when the chips were down, he had to be who he was, faithful to his Holy Father and true to himself.

The same applies to each of us in our daily lives. The shortcuts, the quick fixes, the cover stories don’t improve our situation. We are our best selves when we are who we are, warts, foibles, shortcomings and all. And like Jesus, we are desired, loved, and beloved by our Holy Father who art in Heaven. —Bob Simeone

Friday, April 1: Zonnie Breckinridge

Why do you not understand what I say? It is because you cannot accept my word. - John 8:33-47

Carl Jung once wrote that we cannot solve a problem in the same state of consciousness in which it was conceived. Jung must certainly have been familiar with this passage from John. Here, Jesus calls us to step out of that old, familiar place where we have been conditioned to act (or more often, react) by our fragile egos and emotional programs for happiness (power, control, safety, security, approval, esteem). Jesus tells us that when we act from these conditioned patterns learned from the external world, we become a “slave to sin.” From this place, we cannot know the truth, because the truth comes from another place altogether.

Jesus points us in a new direction – toward that interior place where the Divine Indwelling rests and where all truth exists. By opening ourselves to that Divine life force, we open ourselves to God’s unconditional love for us. Only then can we “hear the words of God” and know the truth, which will “set us free” – free of the conditioned patterns of our ego.

The only path I know to this place is through the practice of prayer, most especially through “silent prayer.” By setting aside a regular time of quiet where we empty ourselves of the constant chatter in our head and sit in silence with the sole intention of resting with the Divine Love that lives within us, we will surely be set free.

—Zonnie Breckinridge