Feb 4 2020 Acts 1: 1-9 Commemoration of Anskar, Missionary

You shall be witnesses to me in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of the earth.

We hear of missionaries and think of foreign, savage, third world countries. People are missionaries in Africa, South America, even Guatemala. But that’s a limiting concept, I think. And Anskar is an example of how our concept of mission is so small. 

Anskar was a missionary to the a people who were oppressed by a foreign power. He worked to plant churches, and to show God’s love to the people but his work would not see much result for three generations. He died with little awareness of the impact of his work.

So here’s what Anskar teaches us. First, we don’t know the impact of our efforts – either our good efforts or those that fall short. It would be very easy to get discouraged when you don’t see the fruit of your labor. Having recently returned from a mission trip, I understand this. While I did paint and build, those things are fleeting. The things we painted will need repainting, and the things we built will be replaced at some point. We may never know the impact of our work. But I’ve no doubt we had a positive impact on the people with whom and for whom we served. We lifted up, encouraged, and loved. We’ve no idea what fruit that will bear, nor do we really need to. It was enough to lift up, encourage and love. The rest is up to God.

The other thing Anskar teaches us is that the mission field may not be where you think. He did his mission work in a place now that sounds absurd to be a mission – the wilds of Scandinavia! Now granted, at his time, the area was inundated with those pesky and ill-behaved Vikings. But it does sound odd to modern ears that he was a missionary to Denmark and Sweden.

I live in one of the most un-churched areas of the US. Perhaps I don’t need to go to Guatemala to share God’s love. To encourage, lift up and love. I can do it on the bus ride to work.

I also have plenty of challenges in my home. I don’t even really need to leave the house, to minister to the sick. I can encourage, lift up and love. I can show God’s love to those with whom I work, play and live. I can be a missionary right here.

This morning, I’m thinking about how I’m called to be a missionary. To go out to the ends of the earth and share God’s love. I’m thinking about how that might not mean the literal ends of the earth, and I’m thinking about how I may never know the impact of my actions. I am, none the less called to serve.

Here I am. Send me.

Jan 17 2020 2 Corinthians 4: 5-7

It started when God said, “Light up the darkness!” and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful. If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us.

I love this idea of us holding God’s light and love in our ordinary lives, likened to unadorned clay pots. On a walk down the street, on the bus, or at my job, I’m surrounded by people. All of them are unadorned clay pots. All of them are filled with God’s light and love. Clay pots, unlike glass jars, are obscure. You can’t see what’s inside, and we’re best not to presume to know what’s inside.

This morning’s pre-trip reflection is about being God’s presence while on the trip, being in community with the people there. The author argues that it’s not about the money; even if they need money, they also need our presence. We are Christ’s hands and feet, eyes and heart. The difference is that we have the luxury of going, of spending the money it takes to go to far flung places to share God’s light and love. 

Tomorrow morning early, I leave for a week to Guatemala. I have had a tumultuous month, and am exceedingly glad to be able to go. I am grateful for the opportunity to travel, to see old friends and make new ones.

This morning, I’m thinking about unadorned earthenware pots. About how they’re functional, carrying important contents, and they’re opaque, so you can’t tell what’s in them. I’m thinking about my sick loved one, who’s pot is a little cracked these days, but how it still contains amazing light and love. I’m thinking about all of the people I’ll meet in country, and I want to be sure to remember they too are earthenware pots.

And now, off to pack.

Jan 16 2020 1 John 1: 5-7

But if we walk in the light as He is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus Christ His Son cleanses us from all sin.


Walking in the light. I love this image. I have a balance problem, so walking in the darkness is actually quite challenging. I will always choose to walk in the light. This morning’s pre-trip reflection focuses on the fellowship aspect of walking in the light. We cannot claim to be walking in Jesus’ light if we stumble around in the darkness by ourselves. When we are struggling with something personally, the best thing to do is to share it, and in community, walk in the light.

Due in part to challenges with my sick loved one, and in part to the general pace of life, I have gotten much, much better at sharing my darkness. I cannot handle the dark bits by myself; I get in a funk and hold quite a pity party. But just sharing my woes makes them better, or makes me feel better about them. Or at least makes me realize that I’m not alone.

We were made to be in community. None of us has the skills or time to be entirely self-sufficient. It makes perfect sense that we need to be in community, to pray together, break bread together, work together, rejoice together, and lament together. It’s when I think those things are better done alone that I get in trouble.

This morning, I’m thinking about the great joys of being in community. That’s not to say community is always perfect. I have the joy of working in an environment that is God-infused. I need to remember that despite workplace imperfections, I have a tribe of people with whom I can pray, any time at work.

I am looking forward to another environment and tribe with whom I can pray, as I prepare to head to Guatemala Saturday.

Jan 15 2020 Matthew 18: 15-22

Then Peter came and said to him, ‘Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?’

This morning’s pre-trip reflection focuses on friendships that will be tested, irksome habits that may annoy, and how to manage that, in the crucible of this one week time together. As a newcomer to this group of Ohioans, my intention is to be entirely humble; I don’t want to be the annoying extra friend at the dinner table, to those I don’t know, and particularly to those I do.

The appointed scripture for this reflection was from Matthew, and focused on how to work through a disagreement. When alone with that person, talk with them in private. If they understand and you make up, you’ve made a friend. That is absolutely great advice. There are so many times when that kind of disagreement hasn’t gotten resolved, and it’s generally because this simple counsel wasn’t followed. Either the initial discussion was not done in private, but in front of others. That’s a sure way to entrench people, as they feel called out and defensive. Do it in private. The other thing is if an issue is not raised at all. Of course it can’t get resolved if the other person doesn’t know what that there’s a problem. It’s interesting how Jesus had this resolution clearly spelled out, 2000 years ago. Humanity doesn’t change.

The passage from Matthew continues that once you’ve made up with the other person – when two or three are gathered in Jesus’ name, he will be present. This is a familiar passage to me, as it’s repeated every day in Morning Prayer. It’s a nice reminder of God’s presence in community.

After all of this lovely advice from Jesus, Peter comes through as the fallible human – just like me. Ok, ok, he says, but if someone sins against me repeatedly, just how forgiving do I need to be? What’s the outer limit of what I’m expected to tolerate and forgive? Seven times seventy times, which in ancient allegorical language was the equivalent of infinity or endlessly. Forgive as many times as someone needs forgiveness, to keep community.

This is one of those teachings of Jesus that I’ve found we think we can limit or modify, to suit our preferences. With my sick family member, they’ve been pretty crappy to us, at least 70 times. Well intentioned, loving Christian folks, including me, get to a point where I think forgiveness isn’t warranted. I’ve had loving, kind, Christians tell me in response to some part of my past year, that they knew people who disowned their children. Or others who suggest what we should or shouldn’t allow, because their behavior is unforgivable.

To be clear, I’m not talking about safety boundaries, or about the amount of disruption I can handle. Forgiveness is about the underlying active love for the person. My sick loved one is teaching me all about seven times seventy times forgiveness.

This morning, I’m thinking about seven times seventy. About how Jesus did not give Peter a convenient outer limit of the extent of forgiveness. I’m intrigued by how we, as a society, have uniformly decided that unlimited forgiveness shouldn’t be allowed, that there really are outer limits. But that’s not what Jesus said. Today, I want to think about all those people or instances where I have bought into society’s notion of limited forgiveness, and return back to Jesus’ notion of endless forgiveness. Boundless forgiveness can free me from those past hurts. Seven times seventy.

Jan 14 2020 John 1: 11-13

As many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God. 

This morning’s reflection is about what we ‘rights’ we are given by God. The only right is to be children of God, if we receive and believe and follow Jesus. As children, we are not always in control of our worlds, and this lack of control will be illustrated while on a short term trip with a team to foreign place, doing foreign things.

There is much in this world that is clearly out of my control. And to counter that, there is much in my world that I’ve ordered quite nicely, thank you. My morning routine for example. I get up, have a cup of coffee, sit in my prayer chair, read, reflect and write. That is not likely to be a thing for the next week. I also get up absurdly early, and go to bed equally early. Also possibly not a thing next week.

These are things I do in my otherwise uncontrollable world. But whenever I’m away from home for some amount of leisure, my routines are interrupted, and that’s ok. It’s ok because for a brief interlude, I am not fretting about my uncontrollable world, or my job, or what’s for dinner. I don’t need those routines or those brief exercises in control.

There is a great freedom that comes from travel, from seeing things without that nagging sense of responsibility. There comes a moment in travel, where I try to capture that feeling of freedom, and figure out how to build it back into my home world. But the difference is that home, I do have to worry about my uncontrollable life, my job, and what’s for dinner. So that sense of freedom slips away until the next time away, replaced with routines. To be clear, I love my morning routines, as they hold space for that sense of freedom, when I’m not worrying about dinner or whatever else.

Once I get to Guatemala City, I will not be responsible for much. I will be able to go where I’m asked, do what I’m asked, help where I can, and not worry about things.

This morning, I’m thinking about what it means in my uncontrollable life to be a child of God. Where do I have the luxury of letting go, of just going where God asks, doing what God asks, helping where I can, and not worrying about things? Maybe the whole thing is what God asks. Maybe it’s not really out of control at all, it just feels that way to me. If I believe in an all-powerful, all loving God, if I believe that I’m a child of God, I have to believe that God would not allow me to be in an out of control place, or put me there without the ability to survive. Maybe I can find those moments of peace, even in my home world, and not wait until I’m travelling – beyond my morning routine moments.

Today, I’m going to think about ways to act more like a child of God’s. Of letting God worry about things, and direct my steps, and my thoughts. I’m reminded of a prayer from our Book of Common Prayer, that always fills me with a sense of security and comfort, knowing who’s the ever-loving parent and who’s the child.

Almighty and eternal God, so draw our hearts to you, so guide our minds, so fill our imaginations, so control our wills, that we may be wholly yours, utterly dedicated unto you; and then use us, we pray, as you will, and always to your glory and the welfare of your people; through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Jan 13 2020 Mark 10: 23-27

And they were greatly astonished, saying among themselves, “Who then can be saved?” But Jesus looked at them and said, “With men it is impossible, but not with God; for with God all things are possible.”

I could start with ‘this morning’s reflection’, but it’s nearly 5:30pm. It’s been a busy few weeks, and apparently I needed sleep. Ten and a half hours of it. So this morning, whizzed by in a miraculous 30 minute bed-to-bus sprint. No time for morning musings today. Apparently, I needed the sleep.

So this evening’s reflection is focused on the power of prayer, and how we frequently make God much smaller than God really is, with what we think God can and cannot do. Given the scale and scope of God and all of what God is, I’m quite sure none of us can fathom the reaches of God’s God-ness. Just when I think I know anything, I’m quickly reminded I don’t. When I think I have a sense of my role in this world, I’m quickly reminded I don’t. When I think I understand something, I’m quickly reminded I don’t.

It’s quite humbling, actually to think about all that I don’t know, and how absurd, or naïve, or precious we look from God’s perspective.

The reading from Mark comes immediately after Jesus has explained to the wealthy man that in order to be saved, he should sell all his possessions. This comes after he’s explained that he’s kept all the Laws, thinking he’s done what he was supposed to. Jesus responds with this challenge to sell all his belongings and give the proceeds to the poor. We don’t really know what the man does in response to this, because all we hear is that he went away, sorrowful.

But we do know what those precious or naïve or absurd disciples do. They follow up with a little bit of bemoaning. But Jesus, we’ve left our families, our livelihoods. Who can be saved, if not this man who’s followed the Law. Jesus responds that with God, anything is possible, but for men, it’s impossible.

It’s not about what we do, or don’t do. It’s not about the laws we keep, the commandments we keep, tithing, attending church, swearing. It’s not about us at all. It’s about God, and God’s unmerited, radical grace.

Today, I’m thinking about a prayer written by Archbishop Desmond Tutu that speaks to the fact that it’s not what we do, or don’t do. It’s true for me. It’s true for my sick loved one. It’s true for the children in the orphanages in Guatemala. It’s pretty amazing, really.

God created you because God loved you. You do not therefore need to do anything to earn or deserve God’s love. You do not need to impress God so that God will love you. God already loves you and God will love you for ever and ever.

There is nothing you can do that will make God love you less. There is nothing you can do to make God love you more. God’s love for you is infinite, perfect and eternal. 

                                                               ~Desmond Tutu

Jan 12 2020 1 Peter 4: 1

Since Jesus went through everything you’re going through and more, learn to think like him. (The Message)

This morning’s pre-trip reflection is focused on the challenges that will certainly arise, and how to respond to them. It focuses on analogies in Peter and Timothy that relate to being a soldier. Be a good soldier for Christ, and arm yourself with a mindset for suffering. Personally, I tend to bristle with the soldier and war analogies. Maybe that’s because I’m the mom of an army soldier, but for whatever reason, soldiering isn’t something that resonates.

Thank God for different translations of Scripture. Eugene Peterson’s The Message is definitely more contemporary language, and sometimes misses the mark. But today, it resonates.

Where the New King James Version talks about Christ suffering in body, and arming myself, The Message breaks this down to remind me that Jesus went through everything I have, so I should think like Jesus. Yes!

When you read through Jesus’ life, it’s fascinating how he really did go through all the things we think are so unique to us. Betrayal? Yes. Sick friends? Yes. Death? Yes. Joy? Yes. Travelling to foreign places? Yes. And he did all this in sandals, in the desert, without AC, or pillows. And with ne’er a complaint. Instead, Jesus was grateful, praising God, helping his neighbor. Love God. Love your Neighbor.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to have a mindset like Jesus in all things, both big and small. How much better would my internal outlook be, as well as my outward response, if I could first remember to Love God, and Love my Neighbor.

Jan 11 2020 Mark 4: 35-41

[He] said to the sea, “Peace, be still!” And the wind ceased and there was a great calm.

Jesus is in the boat with his disciples. A big storm comes up. They’re frightened, as anyone would be in a little boat with big waves. Waves and boats are a pair of things that always inspire in me a sense of God’s superlative and inarguable power. Jesus is not worrying with them, or holding their hands, or calming them down. He’s asleep in the front of the boat, which frightens them all the more.

Jesus, Jesus, wake up! He awakens, commands, “Peace be still”, and there was a great calm. He turns to the disciples and is testy with them, that they had no faith.

This morning’s pre-trip reflection is about having faith in God, in the face of storms. When a group of well-intentioned North Americans, accustomed to our normal things, intentionally put ourselves in the midst of well-intentioned Latin Americans, accustomed to their normal things, it is only natural to think there will be storms. We’re heading – intentionally – into uncharted waters. We go with deep faith, and still will encounter the unexpected that will frighten, unsettle, or challenge our sense of the known and predictible. We are asked to remember that Jesus is, in fact, with us as we go. We are charged with refusing to doubt that, even in the face of – whatever.

It is Saturday morning, and my house is quiet. The storm in my life has been stilled, for now. My loved one is in the hospital for up to 90 days, after quite a tumultuous three weeks that involved several police and mental health crisis visits to our house. A couple of days where they were on the street, absolutely ill-equipped, a breakdown that resulted in another contact with the police, admittance to the hospital, and a court hearing for longer-term placement. It definitely felt like I was in a little boat, with big waves. I was afraid.

And while fear may not be ideal, I think it’s normal. The difference, I hope, is that I didn’t doubt that God was present. To be clear, I didn’t have the sense that if I only tapped on Jesus sleeping shoulder, he’d awaken and make all things calm. This wasn’t a faith necessarily intercedes for miraculous results. But a conviction that God was with me and with my loved one, the whole time.

Now, in their muddled state, my loved one isn’t speaking to us. We cannot talk to them or visit them. Should they remain in this frame of mind throughout their recovery, upon their release, we won’t know when or where they are, and will not be able to learn that. To be clear, that frightens me.

That feels normal. Fear, I think is not the problem. Fear kept our ancestors from walking into lions’ dens. Doubt is the problem. Doubting that God is with me, with them, with their care team, with them upon release. It’s not that storm didn’t happen in the small boat. It did, and it will in my life again.

Right now, my house is quiet; for now, the sea is calm. My husband and I are very aware that our home calm is likely temporary, and we’ve decided to intentionally enjoy these respites of calm. Maybe we’ll go out for a movie tonight. The storm is at bay, but not gone forever.

This morning, I’m thinking about the difference between fear and doubt, about how to manage fear so it isn’t overwhelming, and how grateful I am that doubt hasn’t been a temptation for me. I’m looking forward to going with this lovely group to uncharted waters in Guatemala, to see what storms we encounter, and to watch God’s amazing calm-making. If God can make calm in my house after this month, I’ve no doubt about God's providence for this trip!

Jan 10 2020 Psalm 141

Set a guard, O LORD, over my mouth; Keep watch over the door of my lips.

Psalm 141 is this great prayer of protection, that covers all of my possible foibles. Watch my mouth and what I say, my heart and my intentions, let me be corrected if needed, let me not be swept up by the wicked. How is all of this possible? The psalmist concludes with the answer. My eyes are turned to you, and in you I seek refuge. Amen!

This morning’s reflection is about being careful to not presume different is better, that our standards are somehow better than others. For one thing, it’s presumptuous to think that we’ve got all the answers. And perhaps more tragic is that when we think our way is right, we miss all we can learn from others.

No one would intend to hurt the feelings of the people we’ll meet, but because things are so different from what we know and do, it’s hard not to quickly assess the differences and make judgements.

This past week has been a challenge. Yesterday, my sick loved one agreed to get much-needed medical care and will be away for some time. Their circumstances, what they know and do is so different from the way I see things, it’s hard not to quickly assess the differences and make judgements. There are countries and cultures that are much more accepting of the differences presented by this particular illness; they don’t see it as wrong or requiring fixing. It’s just different. That is not our country’s experience, nor is it my understanding. I’m not defending or advocating unsafe or illegal behavior. But how my loved one experiences the world is very different than I do. Am I deciding that different is worse?

This morning, I’m thinking about what I decide is acceptable and normal, both in other countries and in my home. I want to be exceedingly cautious to allow different to be different, but not necessarily better.

Jan 9 2020 2 Timothy 2: 20-26

But avoid foolish and ignorant disputes, knowing that they generate strife. And a servant of the Lord must not quarrel but be gentle to all.

This morning’s reflection is about the foolish and ignorant disputes that arise in market places while traveling to impoverished countries. Frequently, vendors will jack up the prices when they see people they think have more money, and there is a bit of a game that goes on, to barter down prices. The counsel of the pre-trip meditation is to think twice before bartering with someone who’s standard of living is so vastly different than ours. What does that extra $5 buy me, compared to the vendor? One less latte for me, food for a week for them?

This is a good reminder, that we are God’s agents the whole time we’re travelling. I would not want to be perceived as argumentative or petty to the vendors there, or the airline attendants on the way.

I’m reminded of a trip to China I took, about 15 years ago. I was in the market and wanted to buy some scarves or shawls. There were some big wool shawls that were seemingly expensive, and a little further down, there were some silkish shawls that were a lot cheaper. I liked the wool ones better, but they were nearly twice the price. So I bought a dozen of the kinds I didn’t love, and two of the ones I really liked. Upon returning, I had 12 shawls, of which 2 I liked. Hmm. And upon further reflection, I realized that given the exchange rate, the cheaper shawls were $2, and the expensive once were $4. My decision to save money seemed absurd, now that I was back, and had a dozen shawls I didn’t really like, but boy, were they cheap! Since then, I’ve not skimped the souvenirs, or at least I didn’t buy things that were cheap but unloved.

Do not engage in ignorant or foolish quarrels. This advice from Paul has so much application in my world, well beyond bartering in the market. It seems like I’m just beginning to take this to heart, as there have been decades of my life where there was no battle that was not worth fighting. Now, there are plenty that aren’t worth it at all. For one thing, I have less energy to engage in dumb fights. More importantly, I’ve begun to realize that sometimes the victory isn’t worth the casualties.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to discern a foolish quarrel versus a worthy quarrel. Maybe it’s all about what the battle is over, and for whom is it is being fought. That level of awareness requires paying attention to those things before engaging, which in turn requires a pause before engaging. Today, I want to intentionally build in that time to pause before engaging in any quarrel – foolish or worthy.

Jan 8 2020 Romans 13: 8-10

Owe no one anything except to love one another, for he who loves another has fulfilled the law.

Jesus had it right. Love God. Love your neighbor. Yes, there are 10 commandments, but if you look at them, the first four are all about Loving God. The next six can absolutely be summed up by Love your Neighbor. It’s not that the top 10 aren’t important. But it’s like legislation that’s written, or a parent’s rules laid down. Think about the intent, and only be as specific as you need to be, lest you unintentionally create a loop hole. Don’t go to this scary movie with out me, a parent says. Ok, I’ll abide what you say, and go to that scary movie without you, is the child’s response. Better to say, don’t go to any scary movie without me.

Such is difference between God’s law as explained by Moses compared to Jesus. God’s law, as inscribed on the tablets for Moses were precisely what the people needed at that time. They needed everything spelled out. And sometimes I do too. Generalities presume a common understanding, and a shared application. When in doubt, be specific. Don’t covet your neighbor’s house.

But sometimes generalities are needed, because people are tricky and work around the specifics. You shall not murder. Hmm. It doesn’t say anything about neglect, or slander. I guess that’s ok.

Along comes Jesus who clarifies by generalizing. Nope. Love God. Love your neighbor. That’s it. No murder, no slander, no neglect.

Sometimes I feel pretty good about my walk in this world. I haven’t murdered, committed adultery, or stolen anything. Check, check, check. Sometimes I need that kind of checklist. But sometimes, I forget that the checklist is just examples of the two great commandments; they’re illustrative, not exhaustive. Love God. Love your Neighbor. Oh, right. That’s humbling, because although they’re easier to remember, it’s much harder to do, because they’re so much more comprehensive.

This morning’s pre-trip reflection is about not taking gratuitous pictures of the hard things we’ll see. Don’t take the photo of the abject poverty if it will humiliate the subject of the photo. They wouldn’t want that moment captured for eternity or shared on social media any more than I’d want some of those moments in college shared. Clearly, there’s nothing in the ten commandments about not taking unflattering pictures. But it’s covered in Love your Neighbor.

This morning, I’m thinking about Loving my Neighbor, in all the very particular ways I’ll be given the opportunity to do that today. A kind word to my husband. A smile to the homeless woman I pass in the morning. An added prayer for family members. Today, I need the generals, not the specifics. Oh, and I'm thinking about how much better things are in the morning (like this writing), rather than the evening (like yesterday's).

Jan 7 2020 1 Corinthians 19-23

I didn’t take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ—but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view. (The Message)

This morning’s reflection is about going to a different culture, and trying to not feel better than our hosts. I like the translation from The Message rather than the traditional “To the Jews I became a Jew so I might win Jews”. That sounds more like cultural appropriation than the translation which is about empathy, feeling with and seeing things from the perspective of the other. I hope that I am able to do that on this trip, even with foreign food, and smells and practices, and traditions.

And I must admit that my head isn’t in this writing today. My loved one remains in the hospital on a mental health hold. Later this week, I’ve been asked to testify at a court hearing, where the recommendation from the court investigator is to require additional inpatient treatment, involuntarily. Unfortunately, my loved one still does not acknowledge that they’re sick, so it will be a painful, confusing day for all of us. And in their scattered head, they’ve fabricated all sorts of horrible truths about my husband and me, that will also be put on the record at court. But they're not fabricated to my loved one. That is their truth, and that makes me ache.

Today, I’m not thinking about my upcoming trip. Or the pre-mission trip reflection. I’m thinking about how crummy it is to have someone this sick, and not know it. How this is absolutely testing the concept Love God. Love your Neighbor. No conditions or caveats. No exceptions. Love. Simple, but not easy.

Today, I’m also thinking about that Buddhist adage of not worrying about things over which you have no control. Tonight, I’m sipping bubbly water, staring out at the beautiful lights of Portland, and although there’s a little knot in my stomach, I’m mostly content. In the next few days, I’ll vacillate between worry, grief, anger, and hopefully back to in-the-moment contented.

It’s not that I’m not worried about Thursday, or Friday or whatever comes after it. But honestly, I can do nothing about it, and the lights are beautiful out there. I’m going to sign off, and relish my now. .

Jan 6 2020 Hebrews 10: 35-39

Do not, therefore, abandon that confidence of yours; it brings a great reward.

This morning’s pre-trip reflection is about perseverance, in light of trials and tribulations. Paul is giving what sounds like a coach giving a half-time pep talk. Go back out there, team, and keep fighting! You can do it!

The reflection reminds us that despite what trouble we’ve been through, we’ve made it thus far. We will encounter more trials, but we can do it – we can make it through so we’ll be looking at tomorrow’s troubles in the rearview mirror one day. Don’t give up.

Scripture is full of pep talks, isn’t it? Don’t be afraid. Love your neighbor. Persevere. That alone is reason to read Scripture daily.

The confidence that Paul is talking about, I think, is a confidence that in the end, following Christ is the right choice, and believing that when all evidence points to the contrary. Continue to do the right thing, even when the easy option presents itself. Love your neighbor even when it’s politically unpopular. Give your neighbor a coat, even if it costs you financially. Follow Jesus, even when it’s hard.

I had a boss who said that he could resist anything, but temptation. Obviously, that’s a joke, but it highlights what Paul is saying. Follow Christ when it’s easy. And when it gets hard, persevere. Keep following, because it’s even more important to have that beacon when we’re walking through the darkness. Don’t give up when it gets hard.

Persevere. Even when it gets hard. Especially when it gets hard.

I’m involved in some groups for people struggling with the same health challenges we have in our family. I saw a quote that struck such a chord that I’ve written it inside the front cover of my planner:

“One day, you will tell your story, of how you’ve overcome and wat you’re going thorough now. It will become part of someone else’s survival guide.” 

Amen to that.

Jan 5 2020 2 Corinthians 2: 14

But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads in every place the fragrance that comes from knowing him.

This morning’s reflection focuses on going to places where there may be darkness and what we can do about it. Whenever there is a piece of scripture that begins with a preposition, like “but”, it seems to me to be important to know what precedes it. In this case, Paul is lamenting that he was initially excited to arrive in Troas, but was discouraged because he did not find his friend Titus there. So he moved on to Macedonia.

Christ leads us in triumphal procession, all right. But sometimes the route is a little circuitous. We think we’re heading to Troas, but then continue on to Macedonia. In my own world, I think I know how things are going to unfold in the next couple years, and all of a sudden, everything changes. Wait, I thought we were going that way, and now we’re going somewhere else!

My challenge is to let Christ lead, and have faith that the destination will be the right one, even if we start out heading one direction and then head another. As long as I follow Christ, I’m good. But sometimes I get attached to my understanding of the destination, and I’m resistant to let it go. Apparently I’m just along for the ride, and God doesn’t really need my help in navigating.

The other thing I take from this reading is that as long as I’m following Christ, I’m like a little sachet, distributing good God fragrance where I go. The nice thing about sachet packets is they don’t work very hard. They sit in your grandmother’s drawer, and smell like lavender. They don’t actively do anything.

By following Christ – and by letting Christ actually lead without our ‘help’ – we are infused with the good fragrance of God. It is then diffused out of our very being, as we continue on our merry path.

Today, I’m thinking about how to let God lead wherever, and however, and why ever, without having to know the reasons.

Jan 4 2020 Philippians 4: 14

Do all things without complaining and disputing

So yesterday a thing happened. Actually many things happened in the previous 48 hours. The result is that for the first time in over a year, I did not write or post any of my ramblings. Because of that, my day was incomplete, and I think I’m back. But here’s a quick run down of what kept me away.

• My loved one who’s very sick ran away, choosing to be homeless instead of staying with us, because of their desire to be independent
• For about a day we didn’t know where they were.
• I got a call Thursday afternoon from their case manager, asking if I had any additional information about their admittance into a local emergency room. Um, no.
• Turns out they’d had a further break down and were picked up by the police for erratic behavior. 
• Because of their behavior, we cannot live in multi-family housing, so we are looking to buy a home, rather unexpectedly.
• Friday was a day where my husband and I were confirming where they were, talking to court advocates, determining what the next steps might be, looking for housing, and all the while, I was battling a cold I’d been avoiding for weeks. I slept much of the day. 

A friend texted me to check on me, because I hadn’t posted anything, for which I’m extremely grateful, and as it turns out, she was right to check!

This morning’s pre-trip reflection is about supporting the mission team, without complaint. I will absolutely plan to do that. And my musings this morning are about doing all things without complaint, focused more on my personal world than my upcoming trip.

I’m reading a fascinating book, documenting a conversation between Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama. They are friends, deeply spiritual, and the book is about Joy (The Book of Joy) These two octogenarians have seen their share of heartbreak and suffering. The Dalai Lama fled his country at night in disguise, and has lived in exile for decades. Tutu lived through apartheid, and was instrumental in the establishment of the reconciliation councils after its demise. The book contains their week-long dialogue and exploration of joy, how to cultivate it in the midst of trials, and concludes with practices to cultivate joy. It’s a perfect book for me to read now.

Just last night, I was reading in the Joy book about complaints and worry. His Holiness was explaining that an ancient Buddhist adage involves complaints and worry. First, evaluate the problem. If you cannot do anything about it, why complain or worry? It is entirely outside your control. If you can do something about it, do that something. But why complain or worry? Do your something, and move on.

Both for the upcoming mission trip and my personal drama, I really really appreciate this Buddhist wisdom. In either case – whether something is in my control or not, worrying or complaining is irrelevant, and useless.

As it turns out this next week will contain much that I cannot control. There may be a court hearing to determine my loved one’s next treatment, or the system may decide they can fend for themselves. We have been asked to testify, if a hearing is held. If that happens, we’ll be in a room with doctors, and public defenders, and court advocates, a judge, and our loved one. If the judge decides they should be released from the hospital, there is zero chance our loved one will want to return to our home, so they will chose to be homeless, again. If the judge determines further care is needed, our loved one may be sent some distance away. Again, I can do nothing about that. If it’s scheduled, it will be Thursday, and Saturday, I’m supposed to board a plane to Guatemala City. I can do nothing about that either.

This morning, I’m thinking about the gratitude of learning from other traditions things that are supported in mine. In all things, do them without complaint or worry. Next week will contain many uncertainties, over which I have no control. And every morning, I’ll get up and face that day’s array of blessings and challenges, confident that I’ll do the same thing the next day, and the next. Reading scripture, other inspirational books and writing will absolutely be part of my days. I find joy in the time I spend thinking, and most definitely from the feedback and discussion that ensues. Thank you all.

Jan 2 2020 James 4:6-8

But He gives more grace.

Today’s reflection in advance of my mission trip is about putting aside pride and grumbling and submitting to God’s will. It talks about how two people may experience the same event, same trip, same accommodations in very different ways. Yes!

Two people rarely experience things exactly the same, even if the things are exactly the same. We bring so much to every encounter and interaction, based on who we are, how we were raised, and how we see things. Take library fines. My husband is ok with them. It’s the cost of turning in a book late. Me? I loathe them. It means I’m somehow an incompetent human. Same fine. Very different reactions.

So on this mission trip, we are encouraged to let God drive the agenda, set the plans, carry the load. And because we’re all human, we’ll all mess up, and think God needs our help. I have a particular way of ‘helping’, and I’m sure everyone else does too. I know better. I’m quite sure God can manage without my help. The leaders have done this before. No one is waiting for my pronouncement of anything. And here’s the best part. Even if I mess up, if I grumble, or help, or fret, God has even more grace.

I was involved in a very contentious church training about welcoming people of differing gender identities. Before we started, the trainers asked us each to write on a big post it note our definition of grace. We had some quiet time to think, and write our answers, and then we were asked to post them on the walls around the training tables. Then the 30 of us walked around and read everyone’s definitions. Love, forgiveness, open arms, always feeling welcomed, radical acceptance. No two definitions were the same, and together they painted a very rich tapestry of Grace.

Then we were asked to sit down. The trainer said we were going to leave the notes on the wall for the whole day. And if ever things got heated, or we didn’t like what someone else was saying, we were surrounded by Grace, and reminded that everyone in the room had similar and complimentary loving definitions of Grace. We literally were surrounded by Grace.

Today, I’m thinking about being surrounded by Grace, and how God always has more Grace, regardless of what is happening in my world or in my head. Regardless of what I do, or don’t do, say or don’t say, or whatever happens, God gives more Grace. On that I must count!

Dec 31 2019 Matthew 8:1-17

“Go your way; and as you have believed, so let it be done for you.”


This section of Matthew is a litany of healings. Jesus heals the leper, and he heals Peter’s mother-in-law. After these big three healings, we read that he healed many who were demon-possessed with a word, and all who were sick.

In the midst of this string of healings, he heals the Centurion’s servant. The Centurion is a Roman soldier, part of the occupying force – clearly seen as the oppressor. This soldier comes to Jesus and acknowledges that like Jesus, he is under authority of others, and has authority over others. He asks Jesus to heal his servant, with only his word. Jesus’ response is that because of the soldier’s faith, his servant will be healed.

The reflection for the pre-mission trip focuses on being under God’s authority and speaking and ministering under that authority. With that authority, we have immense power to heal and bring God’s Good News.

I fully believe that it is only God’s authority I can do any ministering. As a baptized Christian, I am commissioned to seek and serve Christ in all people, strive for justice and peace, proclaim the Gospel in word and deed. We all are commissioned to do that in our baptism. We all have committed to act under God’s authority to do God’s work. Also, in my tradition, I am ordained (or ordered) to do special ministries. Serve the widow and the poor. Bring the needs of the church in to the world, and the needs of the world into the church. I absolutely believe I am squarely under God’s authority, and my power and effectiveness comes from the power and authority conferred to me, as a baptized and ordained Christian.

I also understand that I am a mere mortal, as are all of the well-intentioned people with whom I live, work and travel. Sometimes we get it wrong, believing we are working under God’s authority or on God’s behalf, when it’s really our own will. In my experience, it is easier for me to recognize that slip in other people much easier in others, than in me.

I also bristle at the notion that prayer and subservience to God will heal all illnesses, and trample all demons. I have a sick loved one who’s in crisis now, and they are incredibly unhappy and making dangerous choices. This is not because of anything they did, and their illness is not because of anything I did, or am not doing. Nor is it God’s will that this is happening.

I believe God’s healing touch, my prayer, the power of darkness, flickering light – all of the spiritual things in and around my life are part of a big arc. It’s part of a big story that started a long time ago, long before I was born. And its ending is long after I’m gone. It’s as MLK said, “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice”.



This morning I’m thinking about my God-granted authority to help bend that arc of the moral universe. From where I stand, my impact may be imperceptible, since the arc is long; I can’t see that the earth is round from where I stand, because it’s so big, and I’m so small. But the earth is round. The arc of God’s kingdom bends toward Love. My job, all of our jobs is to bend our little bit, even if we cannot see it. Even if miracles are infrequent, and healing doesn’t come. Still we are commissioned and ordained to share God’s love and mercy.

Dec 30 2019 Mark 16: 14-20

And they went out and preached everywhere, the Lord working with them and confirming the word through the accompanying signs.


Jesus has died, and the eleven remaining disciples are hiding, afraid for their lives. Their leader, the one who they thought was going to kick the occupying Romans to the curb, has just been executed by the very Romans he was to defeat. The disciples are afraid that they put their money on the wrong horse; they were well known as Jesus’ disciples, and he seemingly was defeated. They don’t yet understand that he actually won the war; all they know is that he lost this battle, and lost his life.

They’re hiding, afraid, and doubting the faith they placed in this dead, ineffective Messiah. It’s a low moment for them, unsure what they’re going to do next. It’s at that low moment that the risen Jesus appears, and comforts them. No, actually, he chides them harshly for their disbelief.

But for whatever reason, that worked. After their rebuke, Jesus commissioned them to go out and spread the good news. And they did! But they were not alone. The reading says that the Lord affirmed what they did, traveling with them and showing signs, which in some translations is ‘miracles’.

Lately, I’ve struggled with the concept or reality of miracles. It’s not that I don’t think God can perform miracles. But I don’t think it’s entirely up to me and my praying. I do like the notion of being accompanied by God, who shows signs. This I can get behind.

The interesting thing about signs is that it’s easy to miss them for opposite reasons. On one hand, we miss them because we’re oblivious. We aren’t looking. We’re not expecting them, and we miss them entirely. On the other hand, we become accustomed to them, used to them, expect them, nonplused by them, and we miss them because they become routine.

I am not planning to go to Guatemala and see God’s miracles. Maybe that will happen, but I’m a little jaded right now. But I do hope to see signs of God’s action in the world. Maybe those signs will precede me, paving the way. Or maybe they’ll be in my wake.

This morning, I’m thinking about watching for signs of God’s action in the world. Seeing them, naming them, sharing them.

Dec 28 2019 Galatians 5: 16-26

The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.

Paul is ranting about the warfare between the flesh and the spirit, what the spirit wants is at warfare with the flesh and what the flesh wants is at warfare with the spirit. He then provides a long list of the fruits of the flesh, none of which are good – licentiousness, strife, envy, carousing. But he finishes with a wonderful list of fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience. He finishes this bit the recommendation that if we are going to live by the Spirit, we should also be guided by the Spirit. How simple to hear, but not easy to do!

The pre-mission trip reflection asks me to think about the people on the trip and their traits that might get under my skin, when thrown together for an intense week. I’m sure that will happen, but because they’re a group from Ohio, and I know only one person in the group, I don’t know what I don’t know about everyone else.

I am reminded, however of the group of people I journeyed with through my discernment process for ordination. It was a long 5 years of intense weekends, with disparate people, asked to share intimate things. I would return to work after a weekend, and grouse to an interested co-worker. She’d listen kindly to my complaining about this person or that quirk. At one point, she remarked that it sounded like we were being formed into a group of disciples, and she listed off all of the grousing and quirks of the original group of 12 journeying through their discernment together. Well, um, yeah.

There is value in the process that groups go through, even the rough bits. That is true when we all remember the fruits of the spirit. Even with the traits and quirks that I find irksome, can I remember to treat everyone with the fruits of the Spirit? With love, and joy and patience?

This morning, I’m thinking about how groups of Jesus-followers are formed into disciples, with all of our human, fruits of the flesh traits. If we can remember and be led by the fruits of the Spirit, none of the rest of that matters. We can overcome all of that.

Dec 28 2019 2 Corinthians 5: 16-20

We are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ

This morning’s pre-trip reflection focuses on being a good ambassador for Jesus, versus being a loud-mouthed, stereotypical Ugly American, when travelling. As someone who’s travelled, I appreciate this reminder, and hope I’ve never been the Ugly American. Possibly the closest I came was the trip in college to East Berlin and the Soviet Union. It was hard to not stick out there, both because of my youthful impishness, and the severity of the host cultures. 

But that trip aside, I’ve been keenly aware of how different we are in the US, compared to nearly every other place. I’ve tried to blend in, or at least not stick out. I’ve tried to respect and reflect local culture and customs.

But still that’s not quite what this reflection is encouraging me to do. This is reminding me that I am an ambassador of God while on this trip. My sister- and brother-in-law have had long and interesting careers in the US State Department. I see what ambassadorship looks like, when they talk about policies or politics, and they clearly are expressing the perspective of those they are to represent; sometimes it was hard to see where the individual stopped and the ambassador started, the lines were so blurred.

The devotional provided a great analogy that I inherently understand, given my years in local government. If I go to a public meeting as an individual I can share my individual perspectives. But if I go to a public meeting on behalf of my city employer, my language is metered, and my thoughts are filtered; is this the perspective of my boss? If not, better not said.

For this upcoming trip, it’s clear whose agent I am. I should do nothing that is inconsistent with what that Governor asks of me. In my baptism, those requests are clear:

• Continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship
• Persevere in resisting evil and when I fall into sin, return to the Lord
• Proclaim by word and example the good news of God
• Seek and serve Christ in all people, loving my neighbor as myself
• Strive for justice and peace, respecting the dignity of every human being

While on this God-inspired mission trip, I need to be an agent for those things, and always act with this in mind. If what I do or say is not supportive of this, my ultimate lord, best not done or said.

And here’s the thing. This trip is nothing different than my every-day world. In my every day, I am just as much committed to God’s will, and should be just as much an ambassador of Christ. Because I work for the church, and read and reflect on scripture daily, it’s increasingly easy to remember where my focus should be. Whether I’m praying in the morning, or writing, or scheduling meetings for clergy, or arranging for spiritual retreats, God is in my mind, and God is the focus of my thoughts.

This morning, I’m thinking about how to be sure that my focus on God, which feels sort of one-to-one – me to God and God to me, actually needs to be one-to-one-to-all. In my interactions with everyone I encounter, I am God’s ambassador. I do not have the luxury of ‘speaking my mind’, because I’m always on the clock, with God as the ultimate and eternal authority.

I’m increasingly in the habit or practice of remembering my one-to-one relationship. I will use this short term trip to remember it’s really a one-to-one-to-all.