Are you looking for love, joy, and peace in these weeks leading up to Christmas?
Waiting for Heaven – by Rev. Whitney Altopp
Are you looking for love, joy, and peace in these weeks leading up to Christmas? The news reminds us of past sorrows and horrors and present ones as well. The suffering that we remember through either first-person contact or only a few degrees of separation puts a pall on this season of sparkle. We know that the hope for joy and peace is not found in our items purchased for Christmas celebration. As Christians our hope is in Jesus, the Christ, who came as an infant 2000+ years ago and promises to come again. Let us be clear, however, that this hope is not passive or sedentary or naïve. It is a hope that calls us into cooperative action in the redeeming work of God—here and now. I find the words from this hymn from the Iona Community particularly profound in reminding us of God’s initiative to show love to all creation and God’s invitation for us to live as ones who have received it by living lives that reflect God’s redeeming, saving love.
Heaven Shall Not Wait
Heaven shall not wait
For the poor to lose their patience
The scorned to smile, the despised to find a friend:
Jesus is Lord
He has championed the unwanted;
In him injustice confronts its timely end.
Heaven shall not wait
For the rich to share their fortunes
The proud to fall, the elite to tend the least:
Jesus is Lord
He has shown the masters’ privilege
To kneel and wash servants’ feet before they feast.
Heaven shall not wait
For the dawn of great ideas
Thoughts of compassion divorced from cries of pain:
Jesus is Lord
He has married word and action
His cross and company make his purpose plain.
Heaven shall not wait
For our legalized obedience
Defined by statute, to strict conventions bound:
Jesus is Lord
He has hallmarked true allegiance
Goodness appears where his grace is sought and found.
Heaven shall not wait
For triumphant hallelujahs
When earth has passed and we reach another shore:
Jesus is Lord
In our present imperfection;
His power and love are for now and then forevermore.
It seems that where your joy is, Christ is there too.
“What Serves Christ?” by Angela Liptack
“May the fields of the wilderness be rich for grazing, and the hills be clothed with joy.” (Psalm 65:13)
In church and elsewhere, the call to serve is strong. To feed those who cannot feed themselves. To hug the frightened. To bind wounds, repair rotten porch steps, volunteer to chaperone a field trip. To visit a shut-in. To hear a sad story with no other role than to listen.
There’s joy in these acts. Absolutely without question. I see it in the faces of people who speak of their walk with Christ in this way.
But what if your walk with Christ doesn’t “look like” these things? Maybe it’s looked like this once in a while. Maybe never. What if the very best you know how to do is to dance? What if the gift you want to give is to sing? What if it’s to meet injustice with respectful resistance? What if it’s to create something that celebrates or adds to the beauty around us? What if your work, at this moment, is to grieve a hurt or loss and move on?
What if your call, today, is simply to “be still and know that I am God”? (Psalm 46:10)
Not that long ago, I began experimenting with fabric, reviving a teenage passion. Inspired by design-rich, traditional quilts, I began making art. My first attempt was very simple: Irregular skinny brown/gray rectangles set vertically against a swirly blue. An undulating white scrap at the base, a white dot for the moon. Voila—a winter woods. Did I do that?
I have been in woods like that, with people I love. People who loved me gave me the tools I used to create that simple scene and many since. Creating art that celebrates the beauty I’ve seen and the abundance with which I have been blessed gives me joy that starts in the center of my being, literally. Looking at these pieces has, apparently, made other people smile.
“Does this serve Christ?” I’ve asked several people wise in His teachings. “It does,” they say. It has something to do with joy. It seems that where your joy is, Christ is there too.
And yes, “Hills Clothed with Joy”—cousin to that first piece, also about six inches square, colorful and happy–has a special place in our home.
I am going to tell you what this church has done for me, and how God has used this church and the people in it to answer my prayer.
This is my third “Stewardship Testimony” I’ve given here at St. Stephens. My grandfather was a Southern Baptist Minister, and my grandmother’s done a lot of church work at a lot of churches in her lifetime. One time she sat me down and said, “Erika, if you say ‘yes’ to something at a church, they’re going to keep on asking you to do it until you finally say ‘no’. Remember your Church-Yes isn’t just for that one time, it’s for all time until you say so.” I must say, I’ve found that advice to be very true! So…YES I will do another Stewardship Testimony.
Usually when I approach this Stewardship time, I get rather John F. Kennedy about it – “Ask not what your Church can do for you, but rather ask what you can do for your Church”, right? I truly feel we are called to create The Church together, and to keep *this* church together specifically – we give our Time, our Talent, our Treasure because we honor and glorify God.
But. This time happens to coincide with something so amazing in my life, in my journey with God, and it all happened because of the volunteer time, the hard work, the financial contributions of the people of St. Stephens. It’s AMAZING. So, even though it’s not my natural tendency, I am going to tell you what this church has done for me, and how God has used this church and the people in it to answer my prayer.
My eldest son, Isaac, has lower functioning autism. I adore this kid – he is genuine and snuggly and loves his loves so completely and passionately, from his devotion to me to his obsession with Peppa Pig and Opera. He has profound disabilities and delays in speech and in social awareness and communication, though, which means while we can watch Opera on PBS together, he can’t tell me what he loves about it or what he’s hearing or seeing in it. His nervous system is miswired and raw, causing his processing of the world around him and the input we all take in to be overwhelming and often painful. We cannot take him to places with lots of people, loud noises, strange textures or distinct smells, or ceiling fans. He falls apart in a room with a ceiling fan. While he is physically healthy, he is a 12-year old walking around with less skills to function in the world than a preschooler.
But I knew none of this when he was born. He was my miracle, my surprise baby that delighted me every day. When he was 6 months old, we had him baptized at the church where I grew up in Ohio, and when I promised God and those around me that I would raise my son in the love of God, teaching him how to follow Jesus, I thought my heart would burst with joy and pride.
And as he grew, and it became clear that he simply was not going to be able to attend church – the people, the music, the flowers, the organ, the behavioral expectations being beyond his ability to handle – every time I heard the words “Will you be responsible for seeing that the child you present is brought up in the Christian faith and life?” at a baptism, and I heard the parents and Godparents say “we will” my heart would break a little. I had promised this too, and I had no idea how to do it when I couldn’t bring my Isaac to church – no church school, no Worship.
I prayed. I prayed and prayed. I prayed that God would show me what to do, how to keep this vow. And for a decade, I’ve been waiting for an answer. Since I began praying this prayer to now, I decided to give myself permission to be patient, to wait, to remove the urgency I felt from the equation and to trust that God created Isaac and God sent him to me and God has a plan for him. I attended church. I followed Jesus as best I could. I prayed out loud at home, and one day I heard Isaac say the Lord’s Prayer along with me in another room, and that was good. I sing a psalm each night to start early evening prayer, and Isaac sometimes sings it with me, and that is good. I say, “thank you God for…” and he fills in the blank with what he’s thankful for – usually it’s Pizza. I thought that if this was all we could do, it was pretty good.
But there was one more thing I desperately wanted that I could not do at home, alone. I wanted Isaac to receive communion. So I continued to pray. And I prayed and I prayed, with truly no idea how this could happen. This seemed impossible. But NOTHING is impossible to God.
Here’s the end of the story – we had our first Grace 2 Go service yesterday, a worship service designed for families with children with special needs. Isaac was excited for it from the moment I told him about it. He’d point to Saturday the 14th on the calendar and say “church school!” We arrived, and in the room was a tent set up in the semi-circle, open on one side facing the Worship leader and he went straight to it, playing with toys and when something sparked his interest, kind of perking his ears up, tilting his head. Next was an activity that he had zero interest in doing, but that was okay, he was allowed to wander and be who he is, and I didn’t have to worry about it. And when we all started gathering to do a procession from North Hall to the Church, he suddenly saw how it was all coming together and said “it’s a parade!” and I sad, “yes it is!”. And we came over to the church, and he said the Lord’s Prayer under his breath with me, and then we lined up for Communion, and it didn’t matter that he couldn’t keep his body still or his mouth from making noise. Mother Whitney said “take, eat” and he took, and he ate, and it happened! Isaac had communion. My prayers were answered, and I had nothing to do with it. God is so good.
But let’s back this answer to my prayer up. It took the Stewardship of everyone to make this happen. This Grace 2 Go costs money. It’s run by volunteers, it’s an efficient and well-organized program, but it costs money for supplies, to maintain North Hall where it’s held – to keep it clean and heated and the lights on. It costs money to pay the water bill to make the coffee and tea for the parents. It costs money to put out the diocesan magazine where Claire Simard first read about Grace 2 Go to bring it here to St. Stephens. Our money, yours and mine, creates the space for God’s work to happen. God’s work doesn’t have to happen in the context of a church, but it surely DOES happen here, and we create it together, and it takes our time, our talent, and yes, our treasure to do it. You tithed money, and my prayers were answered. My Isaac received Christ’s body and blood, and Worshiped God in a community, because of you. It was beyond my ability to do, but not beyond God’s, and God used you to do it.
So I guess I *am* asking “What can you do for your Church?”. I am asking you to give. But I want you to remember that you’re being asked this for the Church to do something for You, for Me, for the Catalyst to create the space for the Holy Spirit to work within us and through us and for us and for others.
I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your past gifts, and for those of the generations before us at St. Stephens that created this church, this campus, that created the opportunity and space for Grace 2 Go. And I can’t wait to see what God will do with what we give NOW, for us right now, and for generations after us, for the Holy Spirit to work in and for and through them.
Please, say Yes, and keep saying Yes, because we’re going to keep asking you. It’s how churches work, literally. They can’t work without it.
Our salvation is found together…
Responding to violence…again
When the news story first came across my screen of the deadly shooting in Las Vegas Sunday night, I was struck by the terror of it. “Should I write some sort of reflection?” I wondered to myself. “Are people sick of reading some written reflection in response to violence? Didn’t I just write one? What could possibly be new to say?” My tired, weary thoughts made the need for words and action even more profound. VIOLENCE KEEPS HAPPENING!
Last year at this time, I was preparing for a trip to the Holy Land, a visit to Israel and the West Bank. Aren’t you worried about the violence? People would occasionally ask me. To what am I comparing the violence in the Middle East? Who can judge between a shooter at the Al Aqsa Mosque and one in Las Vegas?
The Apostle Paul’s lament in his Letter to the Romans seems most suited for today. Recalling various verses from the Hebrew texts he ruminates…
What then? Are we any better off? No, not at all; for we have already charged that all, both Jews and Greeks, are under the power of sin, as it is written:
‘There is no one who is righteous, not even one;
there is no one who has understanding,
there is no one who seeks God.
All have turned aside, together they have become worthless;
there is no one who shows kindness,
there is not even one.’
‘Their throats are opened graves;
they use their tongues to deceive.’
‘The venom of vipers is under their lips.’
‘Their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness.’
‘Their feet are swift to shed blood;
ruin and misery are in their paths,
and the way of peace they have not known.’
‘There is no fear of God before their eyes.’ Romans 3:9-18
I believe that we will not find our way until we find ourselves in the Mercy that is God. Discovering ourselves there will give us the strength and direction to find our way forward together. No one is going anywhere. The Violent are within each of us. Our salvation is found together. Jesus’ death on the cross shows us that although grace and mercy and love and forgiveness are free, our salvation is not. Allowing ourselves to be saved is going to cost us something.
There are people who listen to our words and consider our actions. What do they hear? What do they see?
Why it’s important to always speak up
In difficult situations it can sometimes be hard to know what to say.
Knowing that your words carry gravitas and impact can be the “turn of the screw.” So, I sympathize with public figures, like our President, who discover that every word spoken—or not spoken—is being listened to.
Lest we think that we’re off of the hook, however, we have our own area of influence. There are people who listen to our words and consider our actions. What do they hear? What do they see?
What I hope that you hear from me is that white supremacy…or any other kind of supremacy…is wrong. Our own Christian faith makes this very clear, with no room for misunderstanding. Whether it’s Jesus who challenges the morally righteous or Paul who scolds the early followers of Jesus for seating themselves at the table according to status, these are only two examples of the many ways in our scriptures that make it clear that there is no room for outcasts in Christ. All are one.
This Sunday’s appointed lessons make this point clear. In the reading from the prophet Isaiah, God says, “for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples.” The few verses from Romans emphasize that God’s favor on people other than the Hebrew people does not diminish his original blessing on the Hebrew people. And Matthew’s Gospel leaves no room for confusion on our part– Then Jesus said, “Are you also still without understanding? Do you not see that whatever goes into the mouth enters the stomach, and goes out into the sewer? But what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles. For out of the heart come evil intentions, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a person, but to eat with unwashed hands does not defile.” (To read these pieces of scripture, go to http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp15_RCL.html )
Freedom of Speech is not freedom to hate.
Hatred and division are not American values. (Or am I wrong on this?) I will work from the foundation of my Christian values toward eliminating hatred and division in our world. I don’t want my moral failure to be indifference or surprise that hatred and division are alive in this world.
German Lutheran pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) spoke a lamentation that I hope will never be mine. Taken from Wikipedia, here is part of “his speech for the Confessing Church in Frankfurt on 6 January 1946, of which this is a partial translation:
“When Pastor Niemöller was put in a concentration camp we wrote the year 1937; when the concentration camp was opened we wrote the year 1933, and the people who were put in the camps then were Communists. Who cared about them? We knew it, it was printed in the newspapers.
Who raised their voice, maybe the Confessing Church? We thought: Communists, those opponents of religion, those enemies of Christians – “should I be my brother’s keeper?”
Then they got rid of the sick, the so-called incurables. – I remember a conversation I had with a person who claimed to be a Christian. He said: Perhaps it’s right, these incurably sick people just cost the state money, they are just a burden to themselves and to others. Isn’t it best for all concerned if they are taken out of the middle [of society]? — Only then did the church as such take note. Then we started talking, until our voices were again silenced in public. Can we say, we aren’t guilty/responsible? The persecution of the Jews, the way we treated the occupied countries, or the things in Greece, in Poland, in Czechoslovakia or in Holland, that were written in the newspapers
I believe, we Confessing-Church-Christians have every reason to say: mea culpa, mea culpa! We can talk ourselves out of it with the excuse that it would have cost me my head if I had spoken out.”
I don’t want to fool myself in thinking that hatred and division will simply pass on by. I’m smart enough to notice that it hasn’t happened yet. Hatred and division were there in the time of Jesus. And they’ve been allowed to have a place in the public sphere for way too many months now.
How will I use my God-given creativity and my commitment to the power of Love to change these things? How will you?
“If we all focused more on those who have less than we do, and less on those who have more than we do, we’d all be better off.”
Focus on What Matters Most – by Tom Carr
Every so often I’m reminded how lucky I am. I have a wonderful, caring, loving wife. We have 2 great sons, both of whom have graduated college. They are also caring and loving people, and I’m happy to say I have strong relationships with both. My wife and I both have good jobs, so we can pay the bills and do fun things once in a while. We’re all healthy.
Is everything perfect? No. But I try not to get caught up in perfect. When I focus on perfect, I think about what’s not right; I think inwardly. I can feel bad for myself. I know people who have better jobs, who make more money, whose kids are financially independent. Do I want to trade places with them? No, because they have struggles, too. I might not know what they are, but I know they have them. And the ones I have aren’t bad.
Many years ago, I heard a priest say in his homily, “If we all focused more on those who have less than we do, and less on those who have more than we do, we’d all be better off.” How true is that! There are so many more people who have less: less loving, less caring, less health, less security, less opportunity, less money. And I don’t just mean less than I have; I mean less than almost all of us have.
We are so blessed in this little corner of the world, but we don’t think about it most of the time. I believe it’s so important to think about others and what we can do for them. For people around us: Take the time to listen to them; spend time with them; take the time to pray for them; take the time to lighten their load in some way by doing them a favor; ask them how they’re doing and be interested in the answer. For people who are distant from us: Take the time to read about them; learn what’s different and the same; donate to a cause that supports them. I can promise you this: the more outwardly you focus, the happier you will feel inside.
Twenty miles separate our home in Wilton from Bedford Hills Correctional Facility. I have traveled that route more than 200 times…
Our Week Bedford Hills/St. Stephen’s PartnershipJuly 8th – 13th, 2017
by Eleanor Arnold
Twenty miles separate our home in Wilton from Bedford Hills Correctional Facility. I have traveled that route more than 200 times, picking up kids, visiting moms, touring, attending programs. Every time I am there, I am reminded of a sermon I once heard. An Episcopal priest, dedicated to mission work, described the individual stories of several people who lived on society’s fringes – a homeless veteran, a serial addict, and a recently released parolee. After each of their deeply personal stories, he said, “this is a person for whom Jesus died.”
The stories of the mothers in Bedford Hills Correctional are varied and compelling. Their children, of course, are innocent victims, whose lives are forever altered. Ten of these children came for six days to six host families this week.
Our family hosted two boys, and these were some of the things that were said at our house this week:
Who lives in all of these rooms?
My Mom will be out when I am 18 or 20.
How does the dishwasher work? Do you just lay the bowl in?
My Dad got out of jail but had to go back in because he couldn’t find a job and it was hard taking care of me.
My grandma doesn’t like me to be out on the streets.
And at others’ houses:
My grandma said I could get a mani/pedi before I came home.
My Dad is in the same kind of place my Mom is.
We had tacos at the jail today.
Look at the birthday presents my Mom got for me.
My grandma would let me stay longer at your house if you asked.
Do you live in a mansion?
As a group of 24 this week, we swam, we played, we grilled, we zip-lined, we danced, we made s’mores and ice cream sundaes. As families with guests, we picked blueberries, visited farms, played cards and monopoly, had Wii playoffs, did puzzles, talked and made promises to keep in touch, certainly to see each other next summer. And on our last day, we went to the prison to visit the mothers of the children we hosted. We ate bagels and donut holes, watched a live presentation of the program Puppies Behind Bars, played some cards, and talked. We talked about children and hardships and the things of this life. At the end, we gathered in a circle, had the opportunity to reflect a little about our week, and passed the love, hand to hand. These are the mothers and these are the children for whom Jesus died.
There have been times when I’ve called out in pain or for help, and it’s seemed as if my prayer is going into a void…
God is always there as we journey towards Him ~ by Erika Hagan
“Mommy! Mommy! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”
Ugh. While my children did the appropriate amount of night-waking as infants and toddlers, we are well past that stage right now, and I am having a lot of difficulty with this 2am Mommy-alarm.
“Mommy, I’m really really really scared!”
Deep breath. Get out of bed. Stumble across the hall.
“Mommy,” my 6-year old tells me, “I woke up, and I was all alone, and GOD wasn’t there.” He is sitting up in his bed, clutching his Winnie the Pooh, and the fear is real on his face.
I sit next to him on his bed, pull him into my lap, and hold him close….and wonder what on earth I’m going to say. My general rule of thumb with him is to only answer the question he asks, and it’s gotten me through a lot of questions and ponderings as he begins to grapple with the more complex nuances of our world, and the Divine within it.
After my grandfather passed, questions of death and the afterlife naturally came up. This is what the Bible says, I’d tell him, and this is what I believe, I’d share, but this isn’t something you can know, it’s something we trust in faith. And it takes a lifetime. And you change your mind a lot. But that’s okay, because God is always there as we journey towards Him, working this all out.
He became enraptured with the Apostle Paul this past spring, and how he was one thing one day, and then ZAP he became another. “Is being Jewish wrong, Mommy?” he asked. “No,” I answered, and this is what the Bible says and this is what I believe and Jesus tells us to love, love, love and God loves everyone and that’s hard to wrap our minds around, but that’s okay, because God is always there as we journey towards Him, working this all out.
“Why do I have to give some of my toys to charity?” he demanded angrily as we prepared a box to donate to the upcoming Nutmeg festival. This is what the Bible says about giving, I say, and this is what I believe, and boy is it hard sometimes to give, but that’s okay, because God is always there as we journey towards Him, working this all out.
God is always there. I realize whatever he has asked, I’ve reiterated this as fact. With all the nuance and area for interpretation I’ve shared with him, the fact that God is always there has never been up for discussion.
Yet, I don’t always feel that God is there. There have been times when I’ve felt loved and cared for in Her arms, when I’ve felt the Holy Spirit lift me up and out, when Jesus has been just in my peripheral vision…and there have been times when I’ve called out in pain or for help, and it’s seemed as if my prayer is going into a void. When a tragedy strikes, and I can’t process how a God who loves us so much and is all-powerful could allow it to be, and so how, how, is God there.
And finally, I remember. When I was six. I walked into the living room and found my mother sitting on the couch, hands relaxed and resting on her lap, eyes closed. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m praying,” she replied, “I’m listening. Sometimes if you hold yourself very very still and quiet…you can hear God.”
I took this very, extremely, literally. This seemed a magic trick I could surely do. That night, I lay in my bed, and held myself very very still and was so so so quiet…and NOTHING. I wasn’t sure how long I had to stay doing this, so with tenacity I maintained my still quiet state until (of course) I fell asleep. I woke up the next morning so disappointed. I truly believed God would say, “well, hello there, Erika! Good work being really still and quiet! I love you!” I kept my experiment, and failure, to myself…but it was the first time I allowed the thought to enter my mind – is God really here?
Six is a big age for existential angst, apparently.
“Baby,” I say to my son, “I know exactly how you feel.”
“I was all alone.” He sighed.
“I know how that feels.” I said. “Honey, everyone feels that way sometimes. It’s okay if you can’t feel God and that makes you feel alone or sad or mad.”
And maybe our next existential crisis could happen at a time other than 2am, I thought to myself. Yawn.
Non-dualistic thinking has opened for me a way to accept and proclaim the redeeming work of the Living God; the grace known in Jesus Christ…
I’m passionate about practicing and teaching non-dualistic thinking. Non-dualistic thinking helped me change my question: Is this good or bad? into the following questions: What is good and what is bad in this situation? How do I know this? Non-dualistic thinking allows me to be in relationship with these questions, which I find myself only capable of doing with God’s help. The by-product of this way of thinking is that I grow in relationship with God through the very events/occurrences of my day. Each event becomes an invitation to receive grace; an invitation to engage the Holy One – The Sacrament of the Present Moment, as Jesuit Priest Jean-Pierre de Caussade (1675-1751) wrote over three hundred years ago.
With all of the changes in our world, I find freedom in not judging them. Instead of declaring from the beginning that something is good or bad, I hold it open to see what threads of good and bad run beside each other. Where these threads of good and bad form a knot of reality, I ask God how I can untangle or pull apart the good from the bad AND how I might be a part of God’s redemption of the bad. Well, if not a part of God’s redemptive work, at least not stand in the way. *smile* This is slow and attentive work which in practice looks like prayer. As I join in the work that God is doing, God is right in there with me correcting my efforts, coaching me in my actions, and forgiving my shortcomings. Richard Rohr stated it succinctly, “Once you have known grace, your tit-for-tat universe is forever undone: God is everywhere and always and scandalously found even in the failure of sin.” (p 77, The Naked Now)
This is not perfect work. I’m not even that good at it. Nor do I always enjoy it. When things are hard, I growl or yell when I’m alone — sound born from my frustration or impatience or plain-good-ol’-weariness. And these sounds are prayers, too. Inevitably, God reveals what thread of the knot of reality God is redeeming. And by the flash of God’s redemptive love at work, I’m inspired and consoled to join in the effort that God is doing. I’ll try again. It’s obviously not my job anyway—it’s God’s work. I’m simply on the team.
Non-dualistic thinking has opened for me a way to accept and proclaim the redeeming work of the Living God; the grace known in Jesus Christ. So, I’m passionate about cultivating this practice within myself, and coaching others in it as well, so that the Always Redeeming Love of God can be made known in the world.
Yesterday (June 20) was World Refugee Day, a specific day to remember the average people who flee their well-loved and familiar homes because of famine, war, or persecution…
Yesterday (June 20) was World Refugee Day, a specific day to remember the average people who flee their well-loved and familiar homes because of famine, war, or persecution. Episcopal Migration Ministries invites us to a moment of reflection with these words:
A great commonality across religions and global cultures is the tradition of breaking bread together. The sharing of food between people is an effective and enduring way to foster interpersonal, inter-religious, inter-ethnic, and international connections.
…This call [to welcome the stranger] is the essence of growth and development for humanity.
Sitting down together at the table, whether with our family or with guests, reminds us that we are not our own masters. We cannot sustain ourselves by our own will. The invitation spoken at the Communion Table each Sunday reminds us of this:
“Come to this table…It is Christ who invites us to meet him here, sustaining us for the life we are called to in him.”
How do we allow Christ to sustain us? How do we allow Love to sustain us? Somehow we have to go deeper into our common ground. We have to find our shared foundation, beneath the chaos and volatility on the surface. Breaking bread with one another calls us into our common humanity. We’re not sure how to deal with all of the strife (both personal and political). There is no obvious life-giving answer. I believe, however, that we’re called to a greater awareness of our connectedness with one another, our shared identity as God’s creation. This awareness is the seed of action, and the practice that sprouts from this interconnectedness provides a way for God to work.
Jesus also said, “The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter see on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how. The earth produces of itself, first the stalk, then the head, then the full grain in the head. But when the grain is ripe, at once he goes in with his sickle, because the harvest has come.” Mark 4:26-29
May we plant seeds of kindness in our common humanity so that God’s transforming work is better able to grow.