Daily Devotional Guide

January–April 2020 ReflectionsNextSunday Resources 6316 Peake Road, Macon GA 31210-3960 1-800-747-3016 (USA) • 478-757-0564 (Advertising)

Keith Gammons Dee Kelly Publisher Chelsea Madden Deborah Miley Carol Davis Younger Church Relations Editor Daniel Emerson Katie Cummings Dave Jones Assistant Editor Graphic Design

Michelle Meredith Editorial Associate

Our cover photo, taken by Sharlande Sledge, reflects the variety of breads offered on World Communion Sunday at Lake Shore An imprint of Smyth & Baptist Church in Waco, Texas. Helwys Publishing.

Volume 29, Number 2. Copyright © 2020 Smyth & Helwys Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this material may be reproduced in any form without written permission. Scripture quotations unless otherwise indicated are from the New Revised Standard Version. Daily Devotional Guide Reflections Themes for January–April 2020

January 1-4 Beginning of Good News January 5-11 Jesus’ Ministry Begun January 12-18 Jesus Heals and Teaches January 19-25 Parables in Mark January 26–February 1 Jesus and the Gerasene Demoniac February 2-8 Jairus’s Daughter Healed February 9-15 Death of John the Baptist February 16-22 What Defiles? February 23-29 Transfiguration March 1-7 First Last and Last First March 8-14 Bartimaeus Healed March 15-21 Parable of the Tenants (Taxes to Caesar) March 22-28 Great Commandment March 29–April 4 End of the Age April 5-April 8 Triumphal Entry April 9 Maundy Thursday, Lord’s Supper, Prayer in Gethsemane April 10-11 Good Friday, Crucifixion April 12-18 Resurrection April 19-25 You Shall Be My Witnesses April 26-30 Peter Heals in Jerusalem What would you like forFrom dinner? the Editor What are you hungry for? What do you really want?

Those questions shape our grocery lists and lead us to new restau- rants. But after the meals are over, the questions remain and reveal more than our culinary preferences. Our hunger involves body and spirit. Satisfying that hunger is a lifelong pursuit.

What does your soul crave? Where will you find the bread that your spirit wants? What do you really need?

The soul food for which we long can show up in a shared bowl of braised collard greens, and the uplifting harmony of your favorite song, and the soothing voice of a friend who listens thoroughly. The food our souls crave leads us to communion. A sanctuary table covered with bread offers food for our spirits and invites us into Christ’s community. Sharing bread can satisfy all our hungers. Whenever we prepare a new edition of Reflections, we pay attention to details and deadlines. Dinnertime approaches, so you set the table and make sure something edible is on it. All of us take care of our responsibilities. But in our best moments we rise above the routine. We remember what is essential and that makes the difference. A group of Plymouth Church writers gathers around a library table to ask what God wants us to hear in the parable of the tenants, the healing of Bartimaeus, and a section of the psalms. We feast on the conversation for four Sundays. Rachel Sciretti’s 13-year-old daughter sees her mother working on her assignment and says, “Let me help.” Anastasia creates a devotion that inspires the one Rachel writes. Caro- line Smith reflects on her devotions as her children splash in the ocean. When someone shouts “shark,” Caroline’s heart stops as she scans the waters, then sees a pod of over 60 dolphins, which they watch for an hour. She thinks about her Scriptures, realizing again that things are not as they first appear, and that when we take time to focus closely on what we see, fear can become joy. As you look for daily bread, remember that the Bread of Life, the satisfying food for which we’re always hungry, waits to be shared.

Carol Davis Younger About the Writers Aimee Day Yeager (January 1-4) is minister of youth and community outreach at Webbs Chapel United Methodist Church in Denver, NC.

Tom Allen (January 5-11) has spent 21 of his 30 years in ministry as minister of education and administration at First Baptist, Southern Pines, NC. He and his wife, Beverly, have two daughters: Hannah, who’s married to Zach, and Sarah, a senior at Meredith College. Tom enjoys gardening, freelance writing, and making the best peanut brittle and pimento cheese you’ve ever tasted.

Jennifer Baxley (January 12-18), a physical therapist, lives in Athens, GA with her four children and husband, Paul, who is the Executive Coordinator for the Cooper- ative Baptist Fellowship. She spends most of her time driving kids around in a minivan, but she also enjoys teaching a children’s choir, watching college sports, and finding a little creative energy for writing and music.

Rachel Sciretti (January 19-23) is pastor of discipleship at Chapelwood United Methodist Church in Houston, TX. She is wife to Michael and mother to teenager Anastasia, ’tweener Zoe, and preschooler Nathaniel.

Carol Davis Younger (January 24–February 1), editor of Reflections, lives in Brook- lyn, NY where she and her husband, Brett, love Plymouth Church. She’s convinced that churches need writing groups and enjoys making the case for why that’s true.

Irie K. Price (February 6-12) is a freelance writer, a yoga instructor, and a lay leader at Broadway Baptist Church in Fort Worth, TX.

Drew Herring (February 9-15) is the pastor of West Main Baptist Church in Dan- ville, VA, where he lives with his wife, Jenny, and son, Judah. Drew felt stretched by God’s Spirit as he wrote about the scandal of God’s presence in our ordinary lives, particularly because the assignment reflects on John the Baptist’s death during the observance of Valentine’s Day.

Daniel Headrick (February 16-22) is associate pastor of Northside Drive Baptist Church in Atlanta, GA, and is a former litigation attorney. He is married to Jenney and they have two children: Mary Frances, 11, and Joseph, 9. Daniel is currently writing, “A Baptist Catechism,” to introduce middle school students to Christian faith, history, and Scripture.

David Sapp (February 23-29), a retired pastor, has continued to write, preach, teach, and serve with organizations devoted to ethics, media, Sabbath, and Cath- olic-Evangelical relations. He has also read a ton of books he wishes he had read a long time ago. None of these, however, have given him as much joy as his role as grandfather. Erin Robinson Hall (March 1-7) received her doctor of educational ministry degree from Columbia Theological Seminary. She co-hosts the podcast, “Glass Half Full,” and leads in media and engagement for the video and podcast series, “Three Minute Ministry Mentor.” She loves sharing laughs with her husband, Jake, and her second-grader, Logan. Erin blogs at erinrobinsonhall.com.

Plymouth Church Writers Group, Brooklyn, NY (March 8-21). Participants wrote the following: March 8—Jaime St. Peter; March 9, 12—Jacque Jones; March 10—Inga Knets; March 11—Fran Vasquez; March 13, 20—Caroline Koster; March 14—Mardi-Ellen Hill; March 15—Christy Stewart; March 16—John Leighton; March 17—Donalda Chumney; March 18—Molly Martinez; March 19—John Scaduto; March 21—Paula Fichtner.

Caroline Smith (March 22-28) is the pastor of Wilton Baptist Church in Wilton, CT. She is the moderator of the Baptist Fellowship of the Northeast and serves on the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship Missions Council. She loves scuba diving and time at the beach with Josh, Bella, and Noah.

Sharlande Sledge (March 29–April 4) is associate pastor at Lake Shore Baptist Church in Waco, TX, where she has ministered over thirty years. Most days her ministry focuses on what’s “within three feet or so,” as Carrie Newcomer sings: planning worship, a hospital visit, the person at her office door. On other days she may center on a need in Ghana or on the Texas border. Whatever the day holds, the beauty of words and walking in the world outside her window always shapes it and helps her live gratefully.

Brett Younger (April 5-11) is senior minister of Plymouth Church in Brooklyn. After three years in New York, he feels qualified to give directions to tourists. He and his wife, Carol, are glad to have two grown sons. Brett’s most recent book is Funny When You Think about It: Serious Reflections on Faith.

Beverly CroweTipton (April 12-18) is the pastor of Zion UMC in Anderson, SC. She and her husband, Vaughn CroweTipton, associate vice president of spiritual life at Furman University, have two adult children. Two dogs are also part of their family: regal, smart, and obedient Jake, and cuddly, soft, and not-so-obedient Tucker. She enjoys reading, journaling, being a mom, and having family and friends around her table.

Jolene Roehlkepartain (April 19-25) has authored 33 books. She blogs at books- byjolene.com/blog. Jolene enjoys spending time with her husband, Gene, and their two adult sons, Micah and Eli. She grows orchids, does family history, and is active at her church. She lives in St. Louis Park, MN, a suburb of Minneapolis.

Brent Newberry (April 26-30) is the pastor of First Baptist Church, Worcester, MA. He earned his MDiv at Truett Seminary, completed a pastoral residency at Wilshire Baptist in Dallas, TX, and is pursuing a DMin at Boston University’s School of Theology. He enjoys his dog, Zooey, fantasy baseball, good fiction, photography, writing, ramen, and being an Enneagram 4w3. Wednesday, January 1 Mark 1:12-15

Immediately is such a shocking word, with no allowance for dilly- dallying, or even taking one last deep breath. Immediately is how the New Year begins. We count down from ten, and immediately it’s a whole new year. What happened in the past 365 days is left to history. What lies before us is vast and empty, ready to be journeyed into like the wilderness of a barren, snow-covered field—or an unending Middle Eastern desert. Jesus comes up from the baptismal waters of the Jordan and immediately the Spirit drives him into the wilderness (v. 12). There’s no time to look back. No time to second guess. No time to say, “I don’t want to move forward! I want to stay right here.” The Spirit propels Jesus into his ministry with an urgency. Chaucer was not wrong when he said, “Time and tide wait for no man.” Not even Jesus. Time propels us forward, too. Maybe you were ready to leave this past year behind. Maybe the prospect of a new calendar and a fresh start couldn’t come soon enough for you. Jump right in. The wilderness awaits, and beyond that, your ministry beckons. But, perhaps you want to keep your toes in the Jordan. Maybe your past year was excellent, and it feels like the Spirit is pushing you forward too fast, without your consent. Remember that though there is no time to wait, God goes before you and prepares your way. Today the Spirit moves with imme- diacy. But you do not go into the future alone. The time is fulfilled and the kingdom of God has come near (v. 15a). Go forward into this new year wrapped in God’s promise of good news.

Consider How does the Spirit beckon you today? What is the wilderness you must move into now? What is the ministry that will follow?

Pray God who leads with urgency, we know there is a time for stillness. Yet today we celebrate your call for action. Help us to not linger in the past. Propel us forward into the world with a sense of haste, for the need is great and the love we bring is good. Amen. Thursday, January 2 Mark 1:16-20

Did you spend New Year’s Day reflecting on where the Spirit was immediately beckoning you to follow in this new year? Did you wait, listen, and come up with nothing? Are you still unsure about where the Spirit will lead you next? That’s okay. Jesus is walking along the Sea of Galilee when he calls four fishermen to follow him. Scholars don’t know whether Andrew, Simon, James, and John knew (or knew of) Jesus before this encounter. Maybe they were already so intrigued by him that they knew if he ever called their names, they would jump up and go. I think of their reaction like this: if Julie Andrews called and said, “Aimee, I’d like you to act in a movie alongside me,” I would not hesitate. I would not need to know what the film was about. I would kiss my husband and kids goodbye and be on the next flight. Maybe the disciples felt something like that. Regardless of why they immediately left everything to follow Jesus, they did so not knowing where he would lead them. I am a firm believer in doing “the next right thing.” I think Jesus is, too. Sometimes (dare I say, oftentimes), God does not reveal the entire picture to us. All we are asked to do is the next right thing. What comes immediately next? Maybe it’s simply finishing the laundry so you can clear that clutter from your mind and focus on the greater task at hand. Maybe it’s calling that friend who has been on your heart all week. Maybe it’s remaining faithful in the current daily grind, just putting one foot in front of the other and not getting ahead of yourself or God. The call before you now may be as simple as this: just do the next right thing.

Consider What is the next right thing in your life? Don’t spend too much time thinking about this. Do what appears for today. Nothing more. Pray Beckoning God, you call us to follow you. But taking that first step is hard when we don’t know where we’re going. Hold our hand. Remind us that you’re asking us to move, rather than navigate. Help us take our next step into the future with you. Amen. Friday, January 3 Psalm 91:1-8

I sit here in the wake of another campus shooting and feel my anxiety rising, my heart breaking, my fear consuming my thoughts. I think of all the mothers who lost their babies today. My mind shifts to my own kids, who are currently somewhere else, in the care of someone else. Are they safe? Will I hear their voices again? This is a parent’s worst nightmare. I read today’s text wondering how I am supposed to feel safe in a world that feels increasingly dangerous. What do these promises mean when I know that there is no guarantee that the fear, terror, and destruction will not come near me or my loved ones? How do I hold tight to the hope in this psalm, not dismiss it out of hand? These promises which the psalmist claims are not magical charms to ward off all danger. The writer tells us that the Lord will deliver [us] from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence (v. 3). This reminds us that the snare and the pestilence are out there; we aren’t promised that we will not be entrapped before we are delivered. We cling to our idea of what deliverance looks like. For us it looks like never having to worry about school shooters. But for David, deliverance did not involve a life without risk or loss. And deliverance for Jesus meant nothing less than death before resurrection. As we walk into the unknown of this new year, we know that even though fowlers and pestilence lurk, there is no realm where God does not reign, no situation that can separate us from God’s love and care. When the promises of protection ring hollow, the comfort of companionship is good news.

Consider What fears control your thoughts? How might deliverance from these fears look differently than you first imagined?

Pray God of hope, remind us that you are always with us, even—and maybe most especially—in our fearful moments. Help us experience the deliverance you abundantly offer. Amen. Saturday, January 4 Psalm 91:9-16

In my favorite recurring dream, I fly across the city as though I am light as air. Sometimes when I wake up and the dream still feels real, I must bring my expectations of my abilities back down to earth. My husband, with his fear of heights, doesn’t love this dream so much. He says it’s not falling that scares him, it’s the smashing into the earth part. After Jesus’ baptism, Satan meets Jesus in the wilderness, takes him to the top of the temple, and tries to convince him to jump. Satan quotes Psalm 91: For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone (vv. 11-12). Jesus stands in a conspicuous public place, aware that if he jumped, and angels rescued him, his identity as the Messiah would be obvious. Yet, as J. Clinton McCann says, “Jesus refuses to claim God’s promise of protection for his own benefit.” Later, as he hangs from a Roman cross, someone suggests that Jesus call on angels to save him. Again Jesus refuses an angelic rescue that would “test rather than trust” God. Trusting God without knowing the details of God’s ways makes faith challenging. Those who love me, I will deliver; I will protect those who know my name. When they call to me, I will answer them; I will be with them in trouble, I will rescue them and honor them, God assures (vv. 14-15). In this new year we cannot know all we will encounter, but we can trust that God will walk beside us, whatever we face.

J. Clinton McCann, “Psalms,” 1 & 2 Maccabees, Job, Psalms, New Interpreter’s Bible Com- mentary, vol 4 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996).

Consider When do you test God instead of trust God?

Pray God, when we despair, give us hope. When we fear, lend us faith. When we are uncertain, grant us courage. May we always commune with you. Amen. Sunday, January 5 Mark 1:21-28

Over a quarter of American adults identify themselves as “spiritual but not religious,” according to a 2017 Pew Research report. The researcher explains that many who favor the term “spiritual,” but reject the adjec- tive “religious,” view institutional religion as harmful. Some believe that the only spiritual authority they need is a private, internal one, rather than an external, institutional one. While they long for transcen- dence, meaning, and the experience of knowing God, they are skeptical of churches. If we ever think of “spiritual but not religious” as a label for the twenty-first century alone, read Mark’s description of the synagogue crowd—religious skepticism is thriving. But on this occasion, they hear something new. Jesus’ teaching astounds his hearers, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes (v. 22b). After Jesus heals the man with the unclean spirit, they continue to marvel at his authority. They were all amazed, and they kept asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority? He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him” (v. 27). This story reminds us that authentic words of faith have power to change lives. Jesus’ words astound, challenge, heal, and inspire. Perhaps those who claim to be “spiritual but not religious” have only experienced the limited fellowship of scribes. We all need to be astounded and amazed by what the genuine words of Jesus can do when we hear them.

Consider When have you been astounded and amazed by the genuine words of Jesus?

Pray Jesus, your words create something new. They change minds, inspire visions, mend hearts, heal the broken. Help me hear your words today and share them in some way. Amen. Monday, January 6 Mark 1:29-31

For the second time in nine years, I heard “we need to biopsy.” Disap- pointment and anxiety ebbed and flowed for weeks to come. When chronic, debilitating, or life-threatening illness is possible, those who wait for test results know how uneasy that time is. Our minds race to the worst-case scenarios. “Hoping for the best, yet preparing for the worst,” creates unusual tension. Four weeks lapsed between the initial news and my procedure. Then I waited two weeks for results. Thankfully, for the second time, the outcome was good. I heard the word “benign.” Other friends received results they couldn’t celebrate. They began their journeys bathed in prayer for the grace of healing or courage or perseverance. Illness, or its threat, changes all aspects of our lives. When the gospels describe Jesus’ healings, the accounts include more than reports about restoring physical health .They also invite people into new understanding and newfound community. Those seeking God in challenging situations often discover unexpected gifts and express gratitude for them. Simon’s beloved mother-in-law is sick with fever. After Jesus heals her, she began to serve them (v. 31). Is Mark just reporting that she was healthy enough to do what a patriarchal culture expected her to do? Perhaps. I read this wishing she could get more rest or kitchen help. But what if Mark is telling us more than just who served supper? What if he’s announcing the newest member of Jesus’ ministry team? Like the others Jesus heals, she responds to her life-changing moment with new purpose. With gratitude she serves with a new perspective, contributes to a greater mission. When Jesus heals what is broken in us, we seldom return to business as usual.

Consider When has Christ healed something that was broken in you?

Pray God, may my first and last words each day be words of gratitude. Amen. Tuesday, January 7 Mark 1:32-34

Mark’s gospel moves from single acts of Jesus’ healing (the man with the unclean spirit and Simon’s mother-in-law) to Jesus receiving a whole city gathered at Simon’s door in hopes that he will heal the ill among them. We’ve experienced those occasions when we were part of a community that rallied around a particular person in need: a child with a serious illness or someone who had lost everything in a devastating fire. Our individual efforts, however meager, became part of a collec- tive response that made a tangible, visible difference. Joining our good intentions with the good intentions of others magnifies them all. But sometimes the need seems so immense, the situation so overwhelming, that we wonder if there’s anything we can do. After Jesus heals two people, he becomes hope for the hopeless. They brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons (v. 32). How do we respond when the need is greater than our ability to deal with it? When we realize how many live with injustice, poverty, or misery, do we withhold the PayPal donation or our volunteer hours because it seems impossible that those gifts will make a dent in the problem? When our help pales against the weighty issues of war, hunger, and disease, we do what we can and seek the one who is hope for the hopeless. Like the whole city (v. 33), we must learn to lift up the needs of a troubled world, take them to the place where we meet Jesus, watch and wait.

Consider What keeps you from bringing the needs of the troubled to Jesus?

Pray Compassionate God, give me faith that whatever I do in Jesus’ name helps your kingdom to come. Amen. Wednesday, January 8 Mark 1:35-39

We cannot nurture our interior lives apart from solitude and silence. And if we want to make space for solitude and silence, boundaries matter. Spiritual directors, along with tomes of literature designed to assist pilgrims along their spiritual highways, admonish us to step away from busyness and to stop glorifying it. They tell us that if we’re serious about doing this, we must disconnect from television, cell phones, social media, and perhaps our greatest distraction: people. Everyone is looking for you, Simon and his companions tell Jesus when they discover his not-so-secret sanctuary for solitude and prayer (v. 37, NIV). Everyone? Evidently hyperbole exists in the ancient world. Jesus responds, “Let’s go.” Jesus leaves the quiet behind and continues his mission of preaching and healing, entering new towns, and never losing sight of what he came to do. Jesus offers us an essential model for how to serve God. Never losing sight of our purpose and having the capacity to act on it requires our withdrawing from time to time to places where—in silence, solitude, and prayer—we can reflect, regroup, and recharge. God invites us to find such times and places where we can be alone with our Creator, if only for a few hours. We must never lose sight of our purpose and opportunity to share Christ’s love. But we must also remember that there is one Messiah, and we are not him. Jesus took the time to withdraw in solitude and silence. God calls us to do the same.

Consider What would it mean for me to retreat? Where and when might I go?

Pray Christ, guide me to a place of respite. Help me to care for myself so that I may then care for others. Amen. Thursday, January 9 Mark 1:40-45

Throughout Mark’s Gospel, Jesus requests, sometimes forbids, and in today’s text sternly warns those he’s healed to remain quiet about the miracles they experienced. While moved with pity for the masses of people in need, Jesus wasn’t ready for his purpose to be revealed. Good news travels fast, though, and the healed leper began to proclaim it freely (v. 45). His sharing didn’t come from a desire to defiantly disobey. He simply couldn’t contain his transformative experience. He had to tell it. The word “leprosy” traditionally covered various skin diseases. Communities shunned, isolated, and cast out the lepers among them. Not only did Jesus’ miracle cleanse the man from his unsightly disease, it gave him back his life and his connection to his community. People who had recoiled at his sores, rashes, bloodied scales, and weeping skin would have noticed that he was no longer marred by them. Some could hardly believe their eyes. Perhaps the necessity of explaining his situation, mingled with his profound gratitude, compelled the man to speak. The healings in Mark’s first chapter reveal a compassionate Jesus who restores many at the risk of being found out and passionately pursued by the people. Some come to Jesus, as they always do, out of curiosity. Yet some, perhaps most, come out of their desire to be healed. With faith the size of a mustard seed, they believe that Jesus was sent from God and that he is their only hope. “Evangelism is just one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread,” said D.T. Niles. May we realize how God satisfies our hunger and say so. May our lives bear witness to the goodness, grace, and healing presence of God within us. And may this news flow freely from us so that others might find hope in the midst of their sorrow, isola- tion, and loneliness.

Consider In what ways has Christ healed you? How do you let this news flow freely?

Pray God, make us whole through the power of your incarnate, risen Son. Amen. Friday, January 10 Psalm 103:1-5

I rarely use the King James Bible for study, preaching, or teaching, preferring contemporary translations instead. But I admit my love for King James’s English and prefer its poetic beauty when I read many beloved passages: “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Ps 23:1), “And it came to pass in those days that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus” (Luke 2:1), “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son” ( John 3:16), “Though I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love” (1 Cor 13:1). Psalm 103 is one of those familiar texts that I find most beautifully rendered in King James’s English. Bless the LORD, O my soul . . . (v. 1). The breadth of a person’s experience with God described in this passage (praise, forgiveness, healing) makes its words even more profound. If I were paraphrasing this text, I might condense the psalmist’s words to three simple phrases that represent three simple prayers. We could, no doubt, find occasion to voice one or all of these prayers each day.

Lord, Thank you. I’m sorry. I love you.

Such simple phrases not only bless God, but become blessings to others as well. How often do we forget to say “thank you”? When was the last time we said “I’m sorry”? Why do we postpone saying “I love you”? Our lives are full of the blessings we receive and the opportunities we have to bless God and others. May we find ways to make this truth a reality in our lives and in someone else’s.

Consider How will you live out these three simple prayers today?

Pray God who continues to bless, help me to understand “blessing” in all its beauty. Amen. Saturday, January 11 Psalm 105:1-6

The psalms cover the continuum of life’s experiences and emotions: grief, joy, fear, peace, anger, gratitude. These ancient hymns, sung in the context of community, are deeply personal as well. While we understand that these songs include strong emotional experiences, we also affirm that we spend much of life in between times of grief and joy, fear and peace, anger and gratitude. And if we could choose, would we not choose a life of joy, peace, and gratitude over a life of grief, fear, and anger? While the latter waxes and wanes in the lives of God’s beloved, the former is God’s desire for us. The psalms, especially this one, affirm that gratitude is by far the best emotion we can choose to practice, particularly in the midst of our grief, fear, and anger. Something good happens within us and others when we express our gratitude and say “thank you.” Our soul smiles. Our neighbor smiles. Imagine how expressing our gratitude to our Creator gladdens God. When we seek God in everything, even in the most mundane parts of life, we find cause to be grateful. We thank God for answered prayers, for a loved one’s healing, for new work that gives meaning, for safe keeping along the journey. We offer thanks for daily bread, for shelter and clothing, for family and friends. We can learn to breathe a prayer of gratitude for a cool breeze, the perfect rose, a good night’s sleep, or a child’s laughter. Can the first dusting of snow, the warmth of a quilt, or the sound of a flowing stream not also evoke praise and thanksgiving, especially in a world dwelling on the negative, cold, and stoic? We have much for which to feel grateful and offer thanks. Happi- ness gurus encourage jotting down three things each day for which you are thankful. The psalmist suggests that list could be much longer.

Consider What am I most grateful for today?

Pray Gracious God, open my eyes to those simple wonders and miracles I take for granted. When I finally see them, give me a grateful heart. Amen. Sunday, January 12 Mark 2:1-7

It seemed like an ordinary hospital discharge visit on the day I asked my patient if she had a caregiver at home. She was close to 90 years old, after all, and I did not want her to be alone so soon after ortho- pedic surgery. She assured me that she did and added, “this one takes real good care of me.” As we walked down the hall, our conversation continued. I ultimately learned that her caregiver was a homeless man that she had invited to live with her and assist with her care until he could get back on his feet again. This lovely woman went on to explain that she lives in a modest home about a mile from a homeless men’s shelter. She has met and nurtured many of the men along the way, and no less than nine of them have lived in her home with her over the years. As if she suddenly read my mind, she added, “Oh honey, I’ve never been afraid of them! They’ve been nothing but good to me.” As she spoke of how her faith compels her to offer this ministry, I knew I was in the presence of a daughter whose faith God sees. Perhaps the most powerful word in today’s text is “their.” When Jesus sees their faith, he is moved to speak healing words to the para- lytic. If we are to learn anything from these four friends, let it be that God calls us to bring hope to the hopeless. Like my dear patient who extends radical hospitality to homeless people, like countless other servants who bring God’s love to places that the world ignores, God still calls the spiritual descendants of those four friends. May we strive to be living examples of intercession, faithful and fearless in the pursuit of healing.

Consider How is God calling you to care for the needs of those who cannot care for themselves?

Pray Holy God, teach us to see as you do. Help us to notice those who need our care and give us the resources and courage to help meet their needs and be part of their healing process. Amen. Monday, January 13 Mark 2:8-12

I’ve never made it all the way through Victor Hugo’s novel, Les Misérables. But I have seen the musical more times than I care to admit. I’m drawn to the intense light and darkness of its story and I find that it parallels the gospel in powerful ways. No character is as predictable or easy for me to despise as Inspector Javert, a lifelong officer of the law whose understanding of right and wrong is so narrow that he often misses the grace right in front of him. Javert spends years of his life relentlessly pursuing Jean Valjean—a man who stole a loaf of bread to feed his family and later broke parole to pursue a life defined by the grace a forgiving priest taught him. When the two come face to face and Valjean has the upper hand, Javert is stunned when Valjean extends that same grace and forgiveness to him. Devastated that everything he believed no longer makes sense, Javert jumps from a bridge, taking his own life. Tragically, he simply could not live with the possibility that he was wrong. In Javert we glimpse the Pharisees who despise Jesus. But if we’re honest, we may also see a bit of ourselves. We miss so many chances to experience God’s grace when we can’t let go of our relentless desire to be right. Relationships could be mended. Forgiveness could be offered. The beauty and value of people we usually dismiss could become visible to us. We could love in ways that we never knew possible. Who knows? We might even notice that a paralyzed man just picked up his mat and walked out of the room.

Consider What act of God’s gracious goodness are you missing because you’re so deter- mined to be right?

Pray Loving God, forgive us when our desire to be right keeps us from seeing the possibilities of your grace at work in the world. Open us to your beauty and goodness in new ways so that we might share the grace we discover. Amen. Tuesday, January 14 Mark 2:13-17

In the wake of her untimely death, I find myself reflecting on these prophetic words of Rachel Held Evans: “The folks you’re shutting out of church today will be leading it tomorrow. That’s how the spirit works. The future’s in the margins.” I admire the deep truth and the encouraging hope of this statement. The writer of Mark’s gospel might also argue that the church has always existed in the margins, even at the beginning. Levi and the other tax collectors are no more welcome in the first-century fellowship hall than those the church often excludes today. Realizing that Levi and his friends are welcome at a table with the Son of God is surprising. Knowing that Jesus is actually invited to their table is even more radical. In a 2018 interview, Evans continued this conversation about “the poor, the marginalized, the lonely, the left out.” She had written extensively about the church’s need to extend the sacraments to the marginalized, but recognizing that “the spirit is so active in those margins” led her to an even more profound truth: “I need to be in the margins having them serve me communion.” When we are open to explore that possibility, we discover that the church receives more gifts from the margins than the number of gifts we have to offer. Mainstream Christianity may lose sight of this revolutionary picture of God’s table, but Jesus never did. Clearly Jesus saw something in Levi, and in fishermen, and in women, and in so many other unlikely leaders that he knew was necessary for the future of the church. God, give us the vision and courage to open our minds and hearts to do the same.

Jen Hatmaker, “Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church with Rachel Held Evans,” For the Love of Exploring our Faith: Episode 6, Podcast audio, 2018, http://jenhatmaker. com/episode-06-rachel-held-evans.htm.

Consider What keeps me from stepping into the margins and sharing Christ’s table?

Pray Lord, teach us why you are leading us to draw wider circles. Amen. Wednesday, January 15 Mark 2:18-22

My youngest children are just old enough to have developed a growing curiosity about Lent. They are asking more questions about why and how we Christians observe this liturgical season. One nuance they had missed until this past year was the fact that Lent is not exactly forty days long because we do not include Sundays. When they asked why, I explained that we are Easter people, and we have to pause and remember the resurrection on Sundays. We do not choose penitence on the day that we celebrate the joy of the living Christ. The inevitable question followed: “Does this mean I can eat Takis on Sunday?” Giving up her extra-spicy corn chips was my twelve-year-old daughter’s idea of sacrifice last year. While I acknowledged that many people do forfeit their Lenten promises on Sundays, she might be missing the point. Praise God there is much more to celebrate in a resurrected Jesus than a bag of Takis or a bite of chocolate cake! Perhaps this is what Jesus is getting at as well in today’s Scripture. In the presence of the living Christ, there is joy. Jesus’ disciples simply cannot fast while the bridegroom is still at the party. There is so much to be celebrated, so much to be shared, so much to offer the world. Though the disciples are in the presence of the living Christ on one side of the resurrection, and we are present with Christ on the other side, the truth for all of us is ultimately the same. In Christ’s presence all things are made new. Nothing is the same as it was. All is joy.

Consider How often do you allow yourself to let go of daily demands and simply be present with the living Jesus?

Pray Holy God, forgive us when we do not delight in the joy of your presence. Teach us to lay down the burdens that bind us and find hope and gladness in the resurrected Christ. Amen. Thursday, January 16 Mark 2:23-28

Life sometimes feels like a never-ending to-do list. We start checking our boxes when we wake in the morning and keep it up until we fall into bed at night. This habit has become more evident to me in recent years as I watch my children try to survive today’s cultural expectations. Test scores, jobs, sports, extra-curriculars, social media presence, volunteer hours, and more measure their value daily. Nathan T. Stucky describes this cycle as, “Work. Reward. Repeat.” If we’re not careful, our entire life—even our relationship with Christ and our practice of Sabbath—becomes another part of our constant efforts. We start thinking that it all depends solely on us, rather than on God’s grace. I watched this happen after an awards night at my daughter’s high school. Though she was there to receive an academic award, she left the event in tears, feeling inadequate and less accomplished than some of her peers. As a parent, all I could do in that moment was put her head in my hands, tell her how proud I am of her, and remind her that she is much more than a number on a page. She is a beloved child of God. She is enough. Because God calls us and names us, Stucky encourages, “We may set aside our work and the lesser gods that tempt us to look to them as the source of our identity. We may lay down even our Sabbath rules and regulations, and we may behold the work of God from creation…. to Exodus, to Incarnation to Cross to Resurrection. And may we dare to hope that the rest we now enter is but a foretaste of the eternal rest….” May it be so.

Nathan T. Stucky, “Sabbath Rest: Not Just for Grown Ups,” Christianity Today, May 3, 2019.

Consider Is the Sabbath something you do or a gift that you let yourself receive?

Pray God, forgive me when I think that that my efforts are the source of my value. Remind me to rest in you, knowing that I am beloved because of you. Amen. Friday, January 17 Psalm 103:6-14

I don’t know about you, but I am pretty sure that Jesus would have been kicked out of my youth group. In this week’s readings alone, the Jesus of Mark 2 manages to infuriate religious leaders by his claim to forgive sins, his having dinner with and befriending the lowest of society’s low, his choosing to party instead of fasting like the devout, and his daring act of breaking the Sabbath laws. Jesus is not exactly a rule follower and this makes the church leaders hard to live with. At times it seems the radical Jesus of Scripture has little to do with the Jesus we try to contain in the box of contemporary American Chris- tianity. We like to decide who is worthy of God’s love and who is not, who is in and who is out, which sins are unforgivable and which sins we will overlook. We dare not make our religious or political leaders uncomfortable by reaching too far into the margins to extend Christ’s love to all people. Today, the psalmist makes it clear that God’s vision for the world always stretches beyond the view of the political leaders, church leaders, or even the law. It moves beyond what we American Christians determine is right or fair. No, proclaims the psalmist, God’s vision was and is about justice for the oppressed and love and forgiveness for all. The psalmist wants us to know that God’s heart and arms are open wider than we can possibly imagine. Through the life of Jesus, we catch a glimpse of God’s justice, forgiveness, and steadfast love. Given the choice, I prefer Mark 2’s Jesus to the one we have constructed. If that makes me a troublemaker too, so be it!

Consider When have I experienced the radical love of God through Jesus? When have I extended it?

Pray God of unending love, forgive us when we try to contain you. Forgive us when we place limits on your work in the world. Teach us what it means to offer the love and justice you so desire. Amen. Saturday, January 18 Psalm 103:15-22

About a year ago, I attended a memorial service for a dear friend and church member who had struggled with illness for several years. Everyone in our congregation and most in our community knew Phil because of his unquenchable joy and his infectious laugh, easily recognizable from one end of the church to the other. Throughout his experiences with cancer, heart disease, pain, and disappointment, Phil never lost his laugh. In fact, as my husband explained in his eulogy, it continued to the end. On the day before he died, over the beeps and buzzers of the Intensive Care Unit, you could hear Phil laughing uncon- trollably. During my husband’s visit on Phil’s final day, the joyous laughter turned so raucous that the nurses came in to find out what in the world was going on. It wasn’t that Phil didn’t know this was the end, because he absolutely did. It wasn’t that he was free of pain or breathing with ease; all of that was still a struggle. Without a doubt, Phil knew the frailty of his human condition. What he knew even more, though, was that God’s love and mercies are from everlasting to everlasting. Is there a more powerful promise in all of Scripture than this one? On the very first morning, before the Spirit hovered over the waters, God’s love was. From the moment we took our first breath, through the best and worst moments of our lives, God’s love is. At our end and throughout our eternity, God’s love will be. I think my friend Phil would tell you that even in the face of death, this is cause for unspeakable joy and never-ending laughter.

Consider Do you ever feel like you are out of the reach of God’s love? What helps you experience the steadfast nature of God’s care for you?

Pray Holy God, even in our darkest moments, teach us that nothing in this world can separate us from your love—not our sin, our brokenness, our fears, or our weakness. Thank you for the promise that your love never ends. Amen. Sunday, January 19 Mark 4:1-9

My grandparents lived on a busy street corner. A modest yard surrounded their simple ranch-style house. When they retired, the gardening hobby they quickly took up became an unpaid second career. They transformed their patch of earth into a tropical paradise. Those who passed by noticed. Cars slowed for a better look at the colorful, exotic flowers. Strangers sent thank-you notes for the surprising beauty they meticulously tended, an obvious labor of love. Cultivating nutritious soil is essential for gorgeous gardens, and manure and compost are keys to it. Early each spring, a truckload of manure arrived to be spread across their lawn. What a stink! But what green, lush grass resulted. My grandparents composted before composting was hip. After every meal, we scraped our table scraps into a special container. The next morning Grandmother turned the soil around, checked on her earthworms, dug a hole to pour the scraps in, and let the decomposition process do its job. “This is a lot of work for flowers,” my younger self thought. My older self sees that they were imparting spiritual truth: Manure matters. Scraps count. Waste nothing, not even life’s “yucky stuff,” because a little intentionality helps create something new and nour- ishing. What if, instead of denying grief, I blessed it? Instead of repressing anger, allowed it? Instead of muting pain or failure, listened to it? Maybe inviting these things into my inner life to be transformed and broken down would make the ground of my being a rich environment for the seeds of the Spirit to flourish. For my grandparents, the flowers were worth the extra work. They are to me too.

Consider What am I denying, repressing, muting, or tossing? How could I welcome it into the “ground of my being”? What might God grow in my inner garden?

Pray God, help me give all of my life to you so that you might turn it into a garden of your love and compassion in my corner of the world. Amen. Monday, January 20 Mark 4:10-20

A friend and I were talking about a retreat we recently attended and what impact the teachings we’d heard were having on us. My friend, who is in her mid-sixties said, “I heard these things years ago, but never did much with them. This time is different. You know the saying, ‘When the student is ready, the teacher shows up’?” Jesus tells his disciples, To you has been given the secret of the kingdom of God, but for those outside, everything comes in parables (v. 11). The funny thing is, the disciples are having trouble even understanding the parable. But then the Teacher shows up. Jesus proceeds to explain in terms that they understand. I get frustrated with myself at times because I feel as though I should be further along in my Christian journey. The demands of family life and the requirements of my professional life seem to compete with the attention my spiritual life needs. Or so I think. But then another Voice speaks and invites me to stop treading water, to let go and just float in the ocean of grace. In time, the mysteries that I want the answers to now will be revealed. The parables will be understood. My ship is not going to sail without me. If a ship sets sail, then it wasn’t my ship. When I am ready, my Teacher will show up.

Consider What do you already understand about God? Why is that enough for now?

Pray God, I open myself to all this day has to offer me—both its mystery and its revelation. Help me let go of worrying about “where I am” on this journey and learn to simply be with you. Amen. Tuesday, January 21 Mark 4:21-25

The “Happy Birthday” song has been sung and the candles blown out. The parents start scooping ice cream onto cheerful party plates. Chil- dren wait for their little slice of heaven to be placed in front of them, then dig in. Except for the birthday girl’s younger brother who pouts when he receives his plate. He thinks his piece of cake is smaller than his sister’s and wants the same amount of icing as hers. The mother can’t tell a difference between the two and calmly explains this to the boy, who insists his share is lacking. Just to help him move on and not de-rail the party, she adds a bit more to his plate. He’s still unsatisfied, and there is blessed little the parent can do to improve the situation. Jesus says, For to those who have, more will be given; and from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away (v. 25). The younger brother believes the cake portions aren’t equal and his plate is deficient, so he won’t enjoy the cake or the party. He keeps himself from having a good time and nothing a parent can do will make him “happy.” The child has some inner work to do in order to change his perspective and move forward. This maturing step is possible, but he must make the pivot. While his parent can coach him, she can’t do it for him. With a little internal dialogue and a perspective change, he can shift into a posture of gratitude and enjoyment. When we look through the lens of gratitude, we experience abundance. When we make everything a competition, we experience scarcity. Jesus’ way leads to a grateful heart. That, my friends, is the best way to enjoy your cake.

Consider With paper, a pen, and a 10-minute timer, list all that you’re grateful for. Then hang the list where it will remind you often to notice what is good.

Pray God, help me to pay attention. Open my eyes to see, my ears to hear, my mouth to taste, and my arms to receive all the goodness that comes to me daily and reveals who you are. Make me ever grateful for your gifts. Amen. Wednesday, January 22 Mark 4:26-29

Remember The Carrot Seed (1945), Ruth Krauss’s classic children’s book that Crockett Johnson illustrated? A little boy plants a seed, then waits—and waits—for it to grow. Every day he checks and waters it. He makes sure it has plenty of sunshine and pulls the weeds around it. Every day a family member walks by and says, “It won’t come up.” But the boy stays focused, waiting for signs of the carrot seed’s growth. One day he finally spots a green leafy sprout. It keeps growing bigger until the boy pulls a huge carrot from the ground. His family stands dumb- founded by the mystery of the seed that actually “came up.” The Carrot Seed and Jesus’ Mark 4 parable both describe what happens when you plant a seed, turn it over to the natural course of things, stay close, keep watch, and root it on (pun intended). Releasing control of our work is hard. Whether it’s finally submit- ting that proposal you poured yourself into for months or dropping your child off at her first college dorm room, both involve “letting your heart go walking around outside your body.” Taking a risk, releasing control, and trusting the process are all exercises that turn one’s heart into fertile ground for the growing kingdom. Remember, the kingdom of God is within you. Now, it’s entirely possible, after you release your work, that things will not work out. Your proposal might flop in committee. Your college- aged child might flunk her classes and withdraw at the semester’s end. But that is not the kingdom of God. The kingdom of God is within you. It’s the seed planted and patiently tended that then emerges from the ground of your being, ready to be harvested and given to your colleagues, to your struggling child, your community, your world.

Consider What signs of growth do you see in yourself?

Pray God, make my heart fertile ground so that the seed of your kingdom will grow. Help me release my inner and outer work to you, and joyfully wait for your harvest. Amen. Thursday, January 23 Mark 4:30-32

I’ve always thought about that famous tiny mustard seed in Jesus’ parable as something to possess and protect. I imagine holding it in my hand, then clenching my fist around it so tightly that I won’t lose it. But as I grow in my understanding of the Gospel, I realize that holding onto things is never the message Jesus offers us. The seed is only useful once we plant it, once we let go of it, once we entrust it to God’s process that leads to new life. To activate this tiny, insignificant ball of potential energy we must place it in a hospitable environment. And once there, it grows into a mighty bush that offers shade and shelter. I no longer believe the mustard seed is something we possess. I believe it is something we are. By the Spirit’s gracious work, goodness and power reside inside us so that, when we are planted in a hospitable environment, we have the opportunity to grow and flourish as part of God’s great landscape. Others benefit from our God-given strength. They take refuge in our shade and delight in our beauty. We can be a rest stop for them or a re-fueling station they discover on their way to God. And though these “birds” are only passing through, our presence and participation in this mysterious process of growing God’s kingdom means something that we often don’t understand except in looking back.

Consider Looking back on my life, who has offered me shelter and shade in my journey toward God? How am I offering protection and encouragement to others on their journeys toward God?

Pray Nurturing God, thank you for the shelter and shade you offer me. Even as I fly towards you, keep me rooted and grounded, open and available so that I might bless and nurture others as they pass my way on their way to you. Amen. Friday, January 24 Mark 4:33-34

When editors have to read a sentence more than twice to understand it, that’s usually their cue to help writers find a better way to express what they’re trying to say. But when I read why Jesus speaks in parables, I always find myself reading his sentences multiple times. I know that’s not my cue to edit Scripture or change a sentence, but to work on my own understanding. Why does Jesus speak in parables instead of simply spelling out his message to the crowds? Inquiring minds like the disciples’ and the gospel writers’ want to discuss that question. And when the disciples asked what these stories meant, Jesus explained everything in private (v. 34). Earlier in this chapter Jesus tells his disciples that he preaches in parables so that they will hear him and not understand (v. 12). Commu- nicators do a double take on that verse. This isn’t what we expect Jesus to say. Wouldn’t he want to make his message of ultimate importance clear? Stories help us picture truth and speak to a varied audience on multiple levels. Why not reply along those lines when they asked, “Why parables?” Could it be that Jesus wants us to love God with our minds by making an effort to think about what he is telling us? Perhaps Jesus is nudging us to go deeper. Maybe the parables are difficult because we need to work at thinking deeply. Jesus takes the disciples aside and explains that he wants them to listen and pay attention. He wants to push them farther in their understanding. When Jesus calls his disciples, he calls them to learn.

Consider What is Jesus pushing you to learn more deeply?

Pray God, show me how to be your life-long student. Help me care enough to question when I don’t understand. Teach me to dig more deeply for the wisdom you offer us all. Amen. Saturday, January 25 Psalm 126

Whether we were this psalm’s first readers or its most recent, all of us yearn for the joy that we cannot create on our own, the joy we only receive as a divine gift. When we don’t experience that grace, we try to achieve it, pursuing whatever promises happiness, climbing whatever ladders that we think will lead us to it. The psalmist redirects us to the source of true joy. When we see God as the active presence in our lives who restores and provides for us, we dream, laugh, and shout for joy. We will experience what the psalmist describes: The LORD has done great things for us, and we rejoiced (v. 3). This was the psalmist’s story when the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion (v. 1). So when the psalmist’s people are also experiencing brokenness and weeping, the poet reminds them again of God’s power to restore. The psalm moves from praise and adoration for the ways God has led them to joy to the prayer that God will restore them again, pouring grace upon the people like the watercourses in the Negeb (v. 4). Sometimes our prayers resemble the first half of this psalm. Our joy is full and we recognize the grace that surrounds us. At other times, we long for God to transform our pain into abundant joy. Both halves of this song feed each other. Both rely on the truth that the joy which satisfies the soul always comes from God.

Consider Which part of this psalm speaks to your current situation?

Pray God, when we see your work in and around us, help us proclaim your gifts joyfully. When we long for your help in times of need, help us remember your steadfast power to restore our joy. Remind us that our help comes from you. Amen. Sunday, January 26 Mark 5:1-8

Neuroscientists differ about how many thoughts pass through our brains each day. Whatever the number actually is, it’s larger than we realize. Our tens of thousands of daily ideas include info fit for trivia nights, “what ifs,” unanswerable questions, things we never want to forget, and hurts we can’t erase. Their quantity can take our breath away, stir inner chaos, entertain, divert, and leave us feeling scattered. According to research, being pulled in a thousand directions can occur in 30 minutes. So as we sit in the boat with the disciples, watching this uncontrollable man running towards Jesus, our minds fill with questions and fears. How much worse will this situation get? Where could we hide? What could ensure our survival? No one had the strength to subdue him (v. 4). If countless thoughts are running through our minds, even more must be running through his. But Jesus is already at work in this situation. The man races to Jesus, then bows down before him (v. 6). Surely this image of an unrestrained outcast bowing before the Prince of Peace is as powerful a sight as the fear-inducing one. Maybe it’s tempting, if we’ve never witnessed drama like this, to consider Mark’s ancient story to be far removed from our own. But we draw closer to its truth when we remember those times when life felt out of control, when pain seemed too heavy, when it felt to us (and perhaps to others) that we were becoming the worst version of ourselves. When we bring life’s hard realities to the story, we realize that Mark’s picture of the man running helter-skelter toward Jesus, then bowing down before him, becomes a light for our path. Because some of those thousands of daily thoughts we have leave us troubled, bowing before Jesus is a good destination for us all.

Consider What difficult realities do you bring to Jesus?

Pray God, do I sprint towards you when I struggle? Do I know that you are the destination I need? Help me realize that you’re already at work in me. Amen. Monday, January 27 Mark 5:9-13

Horror stories aren’t my thing. Apparently the Gerasenes didn’t like them either. They go to great lengths to distance themselves from anyone like this possessed man who runs to Jesus. Without a health facility for the mentally ill, they send this man to live on the margins. He’s left in a Gentile cemetery, across the lake from Galilee, where tombs are cut into the mountain along the water’s edge. In effect he’s buried alive because his culture blames demons for every physical ailment and disease, from epilepsy to mental illness. One Jewish rabbi estimated that seven-and-a-half-million demons were believed to reside in unclean places like graveyards; drowning was considered the primary way to destroy these evil spirits. Mark wants no one to miss the disturbing scene. When we look for Jesus, we often find him on the margins of culture, addressing those who have been excluded. Jesus Christ, unafraid of becoming an outcast himself, actively seeks and cares for the sick, possessed, and homeless. He feels compassion for this broken man who calls himself Legion. A legion in the Roman army contained 5,000 people. This man’s mind is so pulled apart that he feels like a mob. In this already peculiar story, something even stranger happens. The unclean spirits beg Jesus to send them into a herd of swine feeding on the hillside. Suddenly 2,000 pigs stampede into the lake (another reminder that this territory isn’t Jewish). For anyone watching, this is a spectacle. For the man Jesus heals, it’s visible evidence that he is cured. We’re familiar with the Gerasenes’ “out of sight, out of mind” approach to overwhelming problems. But Mark wants us to know that following Jesus means addressing situations we’d like to ignore. Acting with Jesus’ compassion is a needed gift for our needy world.

Consider What situations have you ignored that Jesus wants you to look at today?

Pray God, draw me to those places that need your love and compassion. Give me the courage not to look away, but to let you show me how to respond. Amen. Tuesday, January 28 Mark 5:14-17

What news would you run to tell—and how would you spin it? The pig herders run to town to tell everyone what’s happened. They are more concerned with the deaths of the pigs then with the healing they just witnessed. Picture them trying to explain to the owners of the herd: “It wasn’t our fault! Really, you’ve got to believe us!” When the townspeople arrive at the scene, they are full of awe. The former demoniac sits at Jesus’ feet, fully dressed and completely sane. You’d think that this is cause for celebration. Shouldn’t they start gathering party fare? Instead, they ask Jesus to leave immediately. This situation unnerves them. Do they fear what else Jesus might start changing about life as they know it? Or is their reaction a humble response to Jesus’ power, like the time that Peter, the fishing expert, reluctantly follows Jesus’ instructions and gets a boat full of fish: “Go away—I’m not worthy” (Luke 5:8). To encounter God’s Spirit is to see ourselves more honestly. Along with a glimpse of who God is, we glimpse who we truly are. We see both our desperate need for Grace and the possibility of being changed by that Grace. To experience Christ is to encounter the one who can rewrite our stories. Christ will introduce new themes for us to live out: the power of forgiveness, the possibility of redemption, the difference love makes, the joy that never dies. Those watching Jesus that day don’t know what to do with him. They fear the change he brings, so they ask him to leave. Jesus complies, getting into the boat to return across the lake. If you had been there, would you be relieved or disappointed when he started to go?

Consider What theme or plot might Christ want to introduce or strengthen in your story?

Pray God, help me celebrate your presence and be open to your movement and change. Amen. Wednesday, January 29 Mark 5:18-20

The quiet ending in these last three verses of the Gerasene demoniac’s story are as fascinating as the dramatic plot in the first seventeen. The man Jesus heals is begging to stay with this Great Physician. This healed man, now in his right mind, is understandably concerned about his future. What could he possibly say to the people who bound him with chains and condemned him to live in the cemetery? Maybe he was married. Would his spouse take him back? If he had children, would they call him Daddy again? Would the neighbors always hide when they saw him in the distance? Would they ever believe that he was completely healed? This man is ready to follow Jesus without looking back. There’s room in the boat. He said his goodbyes long ago. Maybe Jesus ponders this situation too. If this Gentile man returned with him, would that complicate his immediate work and mission? How continually discouraging would it be for the man to find himself surrounded by crowds who did not accept him? Jesus has a better ending for his story: Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you (v. 19). Jesus sends him home with a new purpose, and the man embraces it. He tells everyone how Jesus put his life back together. Mark’s Gospel adds that all who hear his message are amazed. Three Gospels include this story because it offers more than an account of how one person got well. It makes clear that the love strong enough to redeem a person must be shared. New life is a communal gift. To know God’s love is to spend our lives loving others.

Consider How do you share the grace you receive?

Pray God, make me an instrument of your peace, and your love, and your hope, and your joy. Amen. Thursday, January 30 Psalm 89:1-4

“Think about the theme of a person’s life,” my dad tells me when we talk about how he prepares to lead a funeral. Like a student identifying the theme of a book, he looks at what a person’s words and actions say about what was most important to them. A theme in the life of Eddie Barrett, an older member of the church of my youth, was his amazing capacity for joy. Whenever he prayed aloud, he thanked God that deep joy is essential to faith. He would ask God to help us experience and grow our capacity to encompass this renewing gift of God’s Spirit. Sometimes when I pray aloud at church, I include the word “joy” because Eddie taught me to do so. Gracious hospitality was a theme in Anne Campbell’s life. “Don’t fret about dusting,” she advised her friends, “just turn down the lights and use candles.” Nothing scared her more than a ten-pound bag of flour, she would say with a twinkle in her eyes. Yet she drew people to her home, making everyone feel uniquely cherished by the time they left. She reminded us all that behind every put-together face we see on Sunday mornings are little pools of tears. When I think of the theme in Mrs. Campbell’s life, I want to love the church more fully. Spending life singing of God’s love is a theme of the psalmist’s life. Like poets who spend years reshaping their work, the writer wants to work on declaring God’s faithfulness forever. When God gives us life, God also gives us a theme to share with the world. May we proclaim our theme in ways that inspire others to find and sing their own.

Consider What theme does your life sing?

Pray God of steadfast love, may the theme of our lives forever strive to proclaim our love for you. Amen. Friday, January 31 Psalm 89:5-13

On days when our tens of thousands of thoughts are full of confusion, grief, or troubling concerns, our first impulse may be to bypass Psalm 89 and head for a lament. In those chaotic moments, we might long for the psalmist’s empathy instead of proclaiming that all is right with the world because the heavens and the earth are God’s. In hard times, some find confident assurance too optimistic for their pain, too dismissive of their difficult realities. But when we read the psalmist’s work prayerfully, we discover that it does include us all, whatever our circumstances. In writing, You rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them (v. 9), the poet acknowledges the reality of the troubles we face and does not look away from them. Raging seas and stormy waves need God’s attentive presence. God, the psalmist proclaims, does not hide from suffering or deny its existence, but confronts what is difficult. In the gospels, Jesus does not overlook the outcast or turn from desperate situations that need careful notice. When raging spirits are destroying the Gerasene man, Jesus casts them out and stills the troubled soul. This theme—that our Creator is overcoming the world’s chaos with creative love—offers us a theme we may also embrace. We can live with a faith that knows our own chaotic days are only part of the canvas on which God is continuing to work.

Consider What is God continuing to create in your life?

Pray God, whatever situations we face today, keep us mindful of the bigger picture, the larger theme you offer us, that you are at work, ordering the world with your love. Amen. Saturday, February 1 Psalm 89:14-18

Some professors who become administrators keep returning to the classroom because their love for teaching is always at the heart of all that they do. Some film stars keep returning to the stage because that immediate experience with the audience reminds them why they love being an actor. And wise people of faith who have spent years in congre- gational life constantly seek fresh experiences of worship and service because they know that doing so keeps their devotion aflame. No matter how long we live as God’s people, we need the basics of our faith to nourish us. Because the psalmist knows we need to stay in touch with the One we worship, these verses provide an essential picture of God for God’s people. Whenever we’re tempted to separate personal piety and social justice, know that Scripture does not. Righ- teousness and justice are the foundation of your throne. Steadfast love and faithfulness go before you (v. 14). To stay close to God is to discover a way of being that brings joy and becomes our strength. Happy are the people who know the festal shout, who walk, O LORD, in the light of your countenance (v. 15). When do we feel the need to move closer to the Source of our faith? When our purpose grows too vague or shallow? When the burden of responsibility replaces the joy of contributing? Maybe such warning signs are gifts intended to draw us closer to the light we need.

Consider How do you stay in touch with the Source of your faith? What fresh experiences of worship and service could rekindle the light you carry this week?

Pray God, help us stay close to you so that we may walk in your way with great joy. Amen. Sunday, February 2 Mark 5:21-24a

One of the great hallmarks of Christianity is the belief that God took human form and came to earth as Jesus, voluntarily experiencing the slings and arrows of human suffering. Importantly, Jesus’ human experience also involved entering into the suffering of others. He wept for them, his spirit was troubled over them, he was angry on behalf of other people. And, as he did with the synagogue leader, Jairus, he walked with their sorrow and their grief. His example suggests that the human experience is not limited to knowing about the highs of joy and the lows of suffering, but also about being with others as they experience those highs and lows. When Jairus approaches Jesus and begs for his ailing daughter to be healed, Jesus requires no more explanation and demands nothing from the man, not even repentance. Neither does he offer speeches or suggestions. Jairus asks for help. So, the Scripture says, Jesus went with him (v. 24). This story reminds us of Jesus’ presence in our most dire moments. But it also reminds us of our very human need for connection. Jesus teaches his followers that he is present when we care for the least of these. And sometimes the least of these are the people who are walking through deep valleys of fear, pain, and loss. Perhaps we don’t have the power to heal others as Jesus heals Jairus’s daughter. But we do have the power to walk alongside them. To do this, we don’t need fancy prayers, or any words at all. Being present means being attentive to others as they experience sadness, and, like Jesus, being willing to walk with them.

Consider How could we walk with the people in our life who need a companion?

Pray God, may we learn to walk with others when they need someone to accom- pany them. Amen. Monday, February 3 Mark 5:24b-29

This woman in Mark’s story lived for years with a hemorrhagic illness. She had spent all her money on doctors who were unable to heal her condition—a condition which rendered her unclean and therefore a pariah. When word travels to her about a man named Jesus who could remedy the most hopeless cases, the woman decides to take her healing into her own hands. She blends into the crowd, reaches for his cloak, and receives his curative power. When I read her story, I think of the many women who have insisted on their own wellness. I remember a friend who sought therapy for her anxiety after years of suffering. I remember a friend with terminal cancer who nurtured her emotional health by joining as many support groups as she could, despite her deeply introverted nature. And I remember tennis great Serena Williams, who recognized the telltale shortness of breath of a life-threatening lung clot and insisted on a CT scan, which her doctors at first denied her. Sometimes professionals try to downplay or ignore women’s needs or pain. Sometimes women are misunderstood, or their ailments remain a medical mystery. And sometimes they are ignored because their suffering makes others uncomfortable. Yet, these women understand their worth and agency even when others do not. They insist on healing. Is it surprising that, upon seeing the great Healer, the hemorrhaging woman takes her opportunity? After years of visiting doctors to no avail, she sees a chance to bring about her healing and she grasps it. This healing comes with no strings attached—no lectures, co-pays, negotiations, referrals, or paperwork. There are no questions of her worthiness or denials of her agency. She reaches out, she touches, and she is made well.

Consider What would it mean to believe so much in our worthiness that we advocate for our own wellness? Pray God, show us when wellness comes to us and when we must seek it. Amen. Tuesday, February 4 Mark 5:30-34

Growing up, my mother couldn’t move like most moms. An old hip injury rendered her unable to kneel on the floor, run around, or jump. She did what she could, but her persistent limp always reminded me to be careful, to avoid bumping into her lest she fall. In my twenties, she received a hip replacement, a life-changing procedure that lessened her pain and increased her mobility. Intellec- tually, I understood this, but experientially it was hard to grasp. When she knelt down one day to play on the floor with her grandchildren, I instinctively reached out to brace her fall. I was so used to her frailty, I found it difficult to accept that she was no longer so fragile. Maybe this is why Jesus doesn’t stop after physically healing the hemorrhaging woman. Instead, he says to her, Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease (v. 34). What if Jesus’ words aren’t just for the woman, but also for the surrounding crowd? Maybe they need to hear that the faith of this woman—who has lived on the margins for so long because of her gender and disease—was enough to heal her. Maybe they need to know that the woman they deem unclean has a peaceful future ahead of her. And they need to know that this woman, long fragile from her condition, isn’t so fragile anymore. Jesus’ words also communicate that the power which heals the woman comes from a mysterious alchemy of his own presence and the woman’s deep faith. Your faith, he says, has made you well (v. 34). Our faith, with God’s help, can do much. For the woman, faith not only helps bring about her healing, it helps her experience a new reality with less fragility and far more agency.

Consider How can our faith help us write a new story for ourselves?

Pray Lord, help us remember that with your presence and our faith, much is possible. Amen. Wednesday, February 5 Mark 5:35-37

I am a worrier. I worry about my health, my children, my husband, my job, my house, the economy, the environment—well, you get the point. Worrying makes me feel productive, like I have a bit of control in situations that make me feel powerless. When I travel, I cannot control the pilot flying the plane or the weather—but what I can do is worry. Even I have my limits, though. Last year, a loved one experienced an injury requiring emergency surgery. Living several states away with young children, I was unable to fly to his side immediately. I felt sad, guilty, and—you guessed it—worried. I couldn’t heal him; I couldn’t be near him. So what did I do? I worried. I walked around in a haze, barely noticing a thing around me. Eventually, I reminded myself, “Your body is here, so your brain may as well be, too.” Worry wouldn’t add a minute to my loved one’s life, nor would it guarantee his healing. I turned my energy toward prayer, requesting strength for my loved one’s journey, and for myself also. Jesus offers Jairus similar encouragement when he hears that his daughter has died. Do not fear, says Jesus, leading the synagogue leader back to his daughter’s side, only believe (v. 36). Belief is the very opposite of worry. While worry frets over a possibly negative future, belief hopes for a positive one. And so, what else could Jairus do but believe? Jesus doesn’t say exactly what to believe. I think that’s because he’s not talking about doctrine. This is a faith that allows Jairus to put one foot in front of the other, to step into the most frightening of situations with the belief that hope exists in the path forward.

Consider When does worry seem more comforting than belief? How do we allow a bit more hope to enter in?

Pray Lord, may this day be filled with less worry and more hope. Amen. Thursday, February 6 Mark 5:38-40

I once belonged to a church that experts assumed was in the last stages of its life. A small church, it seated perhaps 100, but often held far fewer—around a dozen, maybe twenty. Its aging congregation was out of touch with current church trends. They’d been told to hang a screen, form small groups, sing contemporary praise-and-worship songs. They’d also been told to prepare themselves for a fate befalling many churches like theirs: permanent closure. A church member told me this years after the bleak diagnosis. Since then, a bit of a revival had occurred, with young adults and families joining the church. The congregation was small, yes, but seemed on the cusp of thriving. The church member said that when consul- tants warned the congregation to prepare for death those years ago, a brighter future seemed laughable. In the midst of a bleak scenario, joy can seem impossible. Such was the case when Jesus enters Jairus’ home and finds the synagogue leader’s daughter surrounded by people who are mourning her death. “The child is not dead,” Jesus declares, “but sleeping” (v. 39). Like Sarah hearing God’s promise to form a child in her aged womb, the crowd laughs. They don’t yet imagine that life can spring from so unlikely a source. I’ve often assumed that Jesus raises the girl from death—that “sleeping” is both a euphemism for death and a belief in its imperma- nence. Now I wonder if her father and community were so filled with worry and sadness they could not see the quiet signs of life in her. I wonder if the first miracle is Jesus’ ability to recognize life where others see only death. And I wonder how much more could thrive if we could see with those eyes.

Consider What signs of life are we missing in a seemingly hopeless situation?

Pray God, may we see life and hope even in the deepest valleys. Amen. Friday, February 7 Mark 5:41-43

In his book Simplicity Parenting, Kim John Payne argues that childhood is currently under siege. Media constantly floods children’s eyes and ears with sensationalism. Advertisers prey on kids’ need to belong and their fear of missing out. Clothing manufacturers encourage children to dress beyond their years, emulating adult celebrities and sexualized styles. The solution to this rapidly waning childhood, Payne suggests, is simply to allow children the space to grow. The pressure to accelerate toward adulthood may not be a new phenomenon. The story of Jairus’s ailing daughter, some scholars theorize, may suggest the girl’s deep anxiety about encroaching womanhood. The girl’s story, after all, bookends that of a woman who for twelve years—exactly the girl’s age—suffered a hemorrhagic condition that left her on the margins of society, unable to even enter the temple. As a religious leader’s daughter, the girl would have understood this loss acutely. At twelve years old, the girl was on the precipice of womanhood. The hemorrhaging woman’s story represents the gravity of becoming an adult—and a woman in particular. Could the girl’s grave illness have been partly due to her apprehension about this possible future? Near as she is to adulthood, the girl still needs to be a child. Jairus calls her his “little daughter,” and Jesus calls her “the child” and “little girl.” And, after he woke the girl from her deathlike illness, Jesus directs her loved ones to feed her. In other words, he tells them to take care of her. As a child, she still requires the protective wing of their care. This is an interesting word for a time when our little ones are exposed to images and concepts beyond their years. Could the solution be this simple? Allow them to be children; feed them, nourish them, and let them grow.

Consider How can we nurture the childhood of the youth around us?

Pray Lord, let us serve a nurturing role for the young ones in our lives. Amen. Saturday, February 8 Psalm 131

How rare it is to exist without desiring more. I thought about this when I was on a recent walk with my 8-year-old son. The evening was perfect—the sun was setting, but still high enough to warm the late hour. I could see the sliver of our white moon floating in the still-bright blue sky. It had been raining for several days prior, and I was simultane- ously glad for the reprieve and wishing it would last longer. Lost in my thoughts, I felt a little hand slip into mine and squeeze. “I like spending time with you,” he said. This moment was enough for him. He desired nothing else. He was content to simply enjoy having his hand in mine. Today’s psalm presents a similar image of contentedness. The psalmist doesn’t want great and wonderful things—not riches, not even more sunny days. In fact, the psalmist desires nothing. His soul is content next to God, like a weaned child with its mother (v. 2). What an example this psalmist provides. When I think of God, I confess that my thoughts crawl to what God can or won’t do for me: God answered my prayer for this, God ignored my prayer for that. I walk under a beautiful sky, wanting more and fearing there will be less. For the psalmist, the source of divine abundance is always within reach, perhaps even willing to provide just a bit more sustenance. But the soul can learn to be present and content. Next to God, the soul can smile and say simply, “I like spending time with you.”

Consider How can we be more present with God and our surroundings?

Pray God, help us learn how to be content just being near you. Amen. Sunday, February 9 Mark 6:1-6a

They took offense at him is putting it mildly. In Luke’s account of Jesus’ hometown sermon, the Son of God almost gets thrown off a cliff after talking about ending poverty, rooting out oppression, and reforming the criminal justice system. We could be forgiven for imagining this prophetic message being similarly received from many of our pulpits— if we forgot that Jesus was simply reading the Scripture. What really infuriates the crowd is Jesus’ assertion that he is fulfilling these world-altering promises of God right here and now. Mark does not tell us what Jesus said in his version of the story, only that the congregation “stumbled over” the fact that Jesus was the one speaking. They knew where he grew up. They knew his mother and the rumors about who was and wasn’t his father. They knew that Jesus was not one of the boys chosen to learn under a prominent rabbi, but had worked alongside his father in the sweat and sawdust just like their sons. The people can’t believe that God could inhabit their fellow Nazarene, and so they close themselves to wonderfully impossible works God might have done there. How often do we do the same thing? How often do we long for some sort of miraculous intervention coming from outside of the boring and brutal details of the places we live, while missing the God who still becomes flesh before us? How often do we look to that pastor or podcast, hoping to glean expert insight while avoiding the Spirit that still speaks in every breath? The incarnation of Christ shows us that God can inhabit and transform our ordinary lives, but all too often we miss out on the healing and liberation in progress all around us because we’re looking somewhere else.

Consider Where are you looking for God’s presence in your life? How might you be missing God in the ordinary?

Pray Jesus, fully divine and fully human, open me to the ways you inhabit the boring and brutal details of my life. Amen. Monday, February 10 Mark 6:6b-13

Jesus continues to proclaim the scandal of God’s incarnation by sending twelve former fisherman, tax collectors, and day laborers to do the miraculous. Can you imagine being commanded to cast out unclean spirits and heal the sick? Whether or not the disciples believe in Jesus at this early juncture, it is clear that Jesus believes in them. I suspect their departure on this journey wasn’t as uneventful as Mark’s spare prose. Like the crowd in Nazareth, the disciples may have laughed at Jesus’ instructions, even argued with him. Yet they put one foot in front of the other, spoke up in foreign marketplaces, knocked on strange doors, shared unfamiliar tables, and saw God do the unthink- able through their obedience. I think the disciples succeed in being vessels for God’s power precisely because they relinquish their own. As outsiders without money, they could not exert power or authority. With no extra food or clothing, they could not pretend to be self-reliant. With no formal training or education, they could not claim to have superior knowledge. Jesus would not allow them to be anything but their vulnerable selves. All they could do was show up fully and honestly and believe that God could work through them.

Consider Do you believe that Jesus believes in you?

Pray Ever-present God, give me the strength to be vulnerable and present, trusting that you desire to work through me just as I am. Amen. Tuesday, February 11 Mark 6:14-16

“Repent!” Herod is so haunted by this invitation that, when he hears it spreading through the countryside, he believes it must be from John the Baptist, the prophet he killed. Maybe I’m haunted too. I remember that adolescent altar call that led me to publicly profess my faith with mixed feelings—recognizing the preacher used guilt and shame to emotionally manipulate us in the congregation, but also knowing that somehow I also heard the voice of the Lord, who continues to make a costly and liberating claim on my life. The Greek word for repent, metanoia, means to turn and go another way. I no longer believe this is just a one-time confession or decision to profess. I now see it as a continuing willingness to listen and change as we are confronted by the Spirit of God, who is always pushing us to be more honest, more just, and more loving. With every “yes” to this Spirit, we live more fully into the image of God and our true selves while also losing more power and control. This is the very thing our individual egos hate and our unjust systems resist. This is why Jezebel threatened Elijah, why Herod killed John, and why we continue to silence and execute the prophets of our age. Prophets are those who tell the truth we are not yet ready to hear. No wonder the ghost of John keeps Herod up at night.

Consider What costly, yet liberating claim does God want to make on your life?

Pray Holy Spirit, give us the courage to turn and go another way in order to follow your lead, no matter what we fear we might lose. Amen. Wednesday, February 12 Mark 6:17-20

Flannery O’Connor wrote, “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd.” It was odd for Herod to keep John the Baptist alive after John’s repeated condemnation of Herod’s marriage to his sister- in-law. It was odder still for Herod to keep listening to the wild-haired prophet as he continued to threaten Herod’s legitimacy and undermine his power. The text tells us that Herod was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him (v. 20). Herod must have known that the longer he kept John around, the more he risked losing, but he also must have somehow sensed God’s truth in John’s words. These days we have little patience and quite a bit of hostility toward perspectives that differ from our own. Our confirmation bias tells us that we already know the truth. We listen not to actually hear our conversation partners, but to decide how to best tell them they’re wrong. If this is true for our abstract political conversations, how much truer is it when it comes to our personal lives? What would happen if we let the fact that Herod keeps listening to John become our invitation to pay attention to those ideas and people who perplex, challenge, and threaten us? Could there be something of God’s truth within them that we need to hear, even if it costs us something? Believing this is possible might make us odd, but it also might get us a little closer to the truth.

Consider What perplexes you? What can you learn from that?

Pray Spirit of Truth, give me what Brené Brown calls a “soft front and a strong back,” firm in my convictions, but open to the truth others may have to offer. Amen. Thursday, February 13 Mark 6:21-29

What led Herod to kill John? Earlier in Mark’s account, Jesus warns the crowd, “whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit can never have forgiveness, but is guilty of an eternal sin” (3:29). The common interpretation of this verse focuses on the “unforgivable” aspect of this wrong, but other scholars argue that Jesus is warning us that rejecting the Holy Spirit is the sin that every generation is guilty of. Last month we honored Martin Luther King Jr. with days of service, quotes on Facebook, and promises to work harder to fulfill King’s dream of racial justice and reconciliation. The unfortunate truth is that the version of MLK, Jr. we often celebrate has been sanitized to make us more comfortable. How would we have reacted to his opposition to the Vietnam War and his solidarity with sanitation workers who striked in 1968? Martin Luther King Jr. wasn’t shot because he wanted black and white children to play together, but because he wanted them to grow up and share power. Jesus notices that we build monuments to the prophets that our ancestors killed. What would it take to break this cycle of violence? We may not murder those who advocate for social changes that make us uncomfortable, as some do, but we certainly discount, silence, and quench the Holy Spirit working within them. For a time, Herod listened to John and valued him. But in the face of growing pressure, he eliminates him, silencing his challenging message. How might the story have been different if Herod had found the endurance to face his discomfort and consider that the challenge came from God? How might we find the endurance to do the same?

Consider How might we be quenching the Spirit of God to protect our sense of comfort or control?

Pray Spirit, help me listen. Give me courage to die to myself and take up the cross for your kingdom, that breaks into our world before we are ready. Amen. Friday, February 14 Psalm 122:1-5

For some, Valentine’s Day is an opportunity to extravagantly honor the romantic relationships we quietly rely upon. For others, this hallmark holiday magnifies their pain of loneliness and loss. In an act of protest (or an additional festivity), women all over the world now celebrate “Galentine’s Day” instead. Some boycott the traditional Valentine’s Day observance, others have two celebrations, and all of them honor the platonic relationships that sustain their lives. Our joy, our pain, and our protest all proclaim our desire to be connected to someone or something beyond our individual lives. And this is where our path crosses with the psalmist who sings, step by step, on the way to Jerusalem. Unlike this ancient pilgrim, we may not find anything particularly meaningful in the city or its temple, but we are ultimately seeking the same spiritual home. The literal translation of Jerusalem is “City of Peace.” Its Hebrew root shalom means more than a lack of conflict. It denotes the wholeness, healing, and restoration that comes from being in the presence of the Lord. Isn’t that what we all really want? Whether you experience suffering, pleasures, or ambivalence on this Valentine’s Day, remember that the true source of your longing is a desire for oneness with the living God who created and still walks with you. Remember that God is your true home, the only place you are unconditionally loved and delighted in. However you spend this day, and whomever you spend it with, may this Valentine’s Day be a time to celebrate your homecoming to God and yourself.

Consider What emotions are you feeling? What practices might help you find yourself in God today?

Pray Loving God, come close. Be present in my delight and despair. Help me find my home in you. Amen. Saturday February 15 Psalm 122:6-9

The shalom that the psalmist seeks is communal and universal. While Jerusalem has often been understood as a sign of the unique privilege of one nation, the vision of the Hebrew prophets and the writer of Reve- lation is that this holy place might be the center of God’s redemption for all peoples. More than a city, Jerusalem represents the hope that one day the Lord will reign among us transforming hate into love, violence into peace, and wounds into health. The psalmist’s hope is not just in what God might do in the future; it is also a commitment to keep the hope of shalom alive by praying, speaking, and acting today. I will say, “Peace be within you.”… I will seek your good (vv. 8, 9). This was also the commitment of St. Valentine, the third-century bishop who was imprisoned for marrying Christian couples and executed for sharing his faith with the emperor. Somehow his longing for connection to God connected him to others. Somehow his personal desire for God’s peace and wholeness grew into a desire to join God in creating peace and wholeness in the world. St. Valentine knew that whenever he sought the good of his city, he did so for the sake of the Lord. He desired this communal good over his own good, even to the point of death. May we go and do likewise.

Consider How will you seek the good of your city today?

Pray God, let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me. Amen. Sunday, February 16 Mark 7:1-5

Jesus has little patience with those who favor dead traditions over living relationships. It turns out that not all of the elders’ traditions are bad, but each one can become deadening over time. Maybe it’s inevitable that the life will be sucked out of what’s good when we try to preserve those things as institutions . What is meant to be life-giving may become a dead routine over time. What begins as an impulse to purify ourselves before God turns into an obstacle that keeps us from experiencing God’s presence. Jesus encounters this phenomenon within his own religious tradition, just as we encounter similar attitudes and realities in our own. Somebody is always keeping watch to tell us “you didn’t do that right.” After a while, we start looking over our shoulders for permission to do anything innovative or—God forbid!—something occasioned by the Holy Spirit. A colleague once brought home an order of worship from a church he’d visited while he was out of town. Almost an entire page outlined the reasons why a visitor might not be eligible to take Communion there. Imagine that. Despite the rise of the “nones,” the percentage of our population that wants nothing to do with religion, and the never- ceasing scandals that seem to embroil the Church, we’re still setting up obstacles that will keep people from experiencing the presence of the living God. The good news is that Jesus always calls us to move from the dead- ness of “that’s the way we’ve always done it” into new life. “We’ve never done it that way before” are often the seven last words of a church. Sometimes Jesus shows up long after the doors have closed saying, “maybe it’s time to try it my way.”

Consider When have you traded an openness to God’s Spirit for whatever ensures applause?

Pray God, may we be open to your Spirit’s cleansing. Amen. Monday, February 17 Mark 7:6-8

Nothing seems more damning than hearing prophetic words from your own tradition marshaled against you. Is that how these Pharisees and scribes feel when Jesus quotes Isaiah to them, prefacing it with the label you hypocrites? These learned authorities are quite good at using Isaiah as a weapon against outsiders. But when Jesus reveals that they are the people the prophet describes as being far from God, that must have cut deep. Are we any better? We too are great at honoring God with our lips while allowing our hearts to grow icy cold, hardened by misuse and the distance we keep from God’s renewing presence. The truth of the matter is this: if their hearts are far from me, God doesn’t care so much about the words people pile up, one on top of another (v. 6). The honorifics and praises, the blessings and petitions, the invocations and oaths--all done in God’s name--become a heap towards heaven, the opposite of a sweet-smelling sacrifice. In reality, honoring God with our lips but not our hearts indicts us as well as it does these religious legalists who surround Jesus. Multi- tudes honor God with their lips, I suppose. But finding a person whose heart is close to God is a rarer occurrence. Wouldn’t it be something if we could start this day by softening our hearts in love and gratitude for God? By asking Jesus to abide in us so that we might abide in him? Only then could our lips honor God truthfully.

Consider When we recognize a gap between the empty praises of our lips and the interior condition of our hearts, how might we close it?

Pray May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be pleasing and acceptable to you, O God. Amen. (Ps 19:14) Tuesday, February 18 Mark 7:9-13

Jesus has a way of saying things that cut to the heart of a human being quicker than a surgeon’s scalpel. Before you know it, you wake up and realize that you’re in the middle of open-heart surgery. Long before Jesus walks the earth, the prophet Nathan provides this necessary spiritual remedy for King David. After David sins against God, neighbor, Israel, Bathsheba, and Uriah (not exactly in that order), Nathan tells him about the rich man who stole the poor man’s only sheep. David is incensed, but before he realizes it, Nathan has cut his heart wide open. “You are that man,” he says. When Mark makes Jesus’ cutting remark, you do many things like this (v. 13), the last line of the conversation in today’s text, he must want us to feel its sting. How do we use tradition to avoid being obedient to God? In a thousand different ways, if we’re honest. Maybe our family tradition is to never talk about painful secrets, so we never have the healing conversation we need. That grudge we bear against a loved one becomes an infected grievance because “that’s just the way this family does things.” Jesus has a way of broadening our narrow-minded vision. Long ago, a person from a non-traditional religious background came to me seeking baptism. My first emotion was joy. My next thought was,“I wonder what the bylaws say about this specific situation?” The bylaws, just one of the layers of human tradition that stand between us and the living God, get you every time. If Jesus had walked into the coffee shop where I sat with a baptismal candidate, thinking about those bylaws, he might have said to me, you do many things like this. And just like that, my heart would be lying on the table, open and bleeding, ready to be filled with God again.

Consider What bylaws or human traditions keep you from being obedient to God? Name them if you can.

Pray Lord, we often let our traditions become a barrier between us. Help us tear those barriers down in your name. Amen. Wednesday, February 19 Mark 7:14-15

“Listen to me, all of you, and understand” (v. 14). That’s what Jesus says. Listen to me. Say those words aloud, and imagine Jesus saying them to you. Listen to me. Say them each time your brain tells you it’s time to check your email/Facebook/Twitter feed again because you deserve a break. After all, thirty seconds can be a long time to go without rewarding your brain. Say the words each time your phone purrs, roars, or rings, and whenever your desktop notification dings. Better yet, turn all those devices off, get away for a while, and say these words of the living Christ: Listen to me. Sure, nothing outside a person can defile them by going in. There’s nothing inherently wrong with our technology’s omnipresence and, at times, seeming omniscience. But why is it that the things coming out of us lately are so defiling? Here’s a brief list: mean-spirited social media rants, friendship-ending comments, the angry emoji. All of that defiles us. I’m sure you’ve got your list, too. Listen to me, Jesus says. Keeping our focus on external things leads to a superficial life. Ignoring our relationship with God to focus on “the rules” deadens our spirits. But the more we listen to Jesus, the less we’ll care about what distracts us from him. The more Jesus abides in us, the harder it is for defiling things to pour out of our mouths, our keystrokes, our text messages. What we spend time with, day in and day out, forms us. These external things are not inherently bad, but the degree to which we let them guide us is a measure of our spiritual health. What better guides do we need? What beauty or wisdom could we reach for instead of our phones. Listen to the one for whom your innermost heart longs. Wake up to new life.

Consider Spend thirty minutes today in a quiet space listening for Jesus’ word for you.

Pray God, we long to be your listeners. Grant us quiet minds, patience, and space so that we can be open to your will. Amen. Thursday, February 20 Mark 7:17-23

When someone speaks from their heart, we know it without being told. We recognize their intense focus, that imperceptible shift in tone, and their vulnerable disclosure. When the heart speaks, it names what is most real within a person. So, we may not let it speak much. We guard our hearts, wear masks, and pretend to be someone else. We excel in pretense and put on a “show” or a “face.” We “grin and bear it,” and “fake it till we make it.” All the clichés that we keep in our repertoire so others won’t see who we truly are reveal how hard real disclosure is. Our words often convey the condition of our spiritual life. The conversation around Jesus in today’s passage centers on what it means to be clean before God. The religious experts focus on outward appearances. Who looks right? What rituals do we require to demon- strate our goodness? Jesus does not submit to their bad theology. He directs their attention to the inner life instead. What does it mean to be clean on the inside? Jesus names many things that will clot our spiritual arteries: forni- cation, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly (vv. 21-22). Something for everyone. While we may achieve physical cleanliness through our own efforts, Jesus knows that we need God’s help to clean our heart, mind, and soul.

Consider What threatens the spiritual health of your heart today? How could God help you with this concern?

Pray God, remind me that your Spirit is what makes me clean so that I will forever seek you. Amen. Friday, February 21 Psalm 51:1-3

Several years ago, I was standing in my driveway fighting off a panic attack. I felt a great pressure on my chest, and the heaviness extended to my very soul. I was at the crossroads of a decision to become a minister or to remain in a thriving law practice. Many things in my life were not right. Like David, I knew my transgressions, and the reality of my sin was ever before me (v. 3). Have you ever felt that kind of “heart” pressure before? When the weight of a decision seems unbearable? And perhaps your own trans- gression is part of the heaviness? There is only One to go to in times like this. Certainly tell your spouse or trusted confidant, but don’t let that confession supplant the confession we must make to God. Our words don’t need to be flowery or profound. We don’t need to utter them in the church sanctuary, or on a mountaintop, or by a stream. We might confess as we merge into traffic on the way home. In the space where we read these very words, we could open our heart to God. Have mercy on me, O God (v. 1) is all we need to say. That’s what came from my lips as I stood in my driveway. It rushed out, overflowing and exuberant. And all of that crushing weight melted away. The God we worship is merciful. No matter what we’ve done or who we’ve wronged, God’s steadfast love cleanses us. It doesn’t matter how much shame you have or have caused. God will grant mercy to those who know and acknowledge their transgressions, and who ask for mercy.

Consider When life feels unmanageable, what helps you take the crucial step of crying out to God for mercy? What helps you believe that God hears our prayer and answers it?

Pray God of infinite mercy and compassion, we confess our sin before you. We pray for mercy and praise you for being a God of love who will forgive and make us clean. Amen. Saturday, February 22 Psalm 51:6-7

God wants us to be honest—with ourselves, with each other, and with our Creator. You desire truth in the inward being, the psalmist sings (v. 6). But discovering our true self that was made in God’s image, that rests in the deepest part of our being, isn’t an easy or instant act. It involves peeling away the layers of pretense, masks, and camouflage we’ve used to cover it up. So often we try to prevent our real self from emerging. God desires us to be true, but we need God’s help to live this way. When we grow skilled in hypocrisy, God plants the craving for integ- rity in us. As we pretend to be someone we are not, God prompts our longing for the better way of authenticity. You want me to live a genuine life, the psalmist writes, therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart (v. 6). The poet knows this will involve divine work and uses the words purge and wash to describe it (v. 7). While I’ve never been purged with the psalmist’s hyssop, I’m open to it. I remember the clean feeling that comes after having a difficult conversation with a person I love. Relief replaces weighty dread when we finally tell our loved one what is on our heart. Like the pine-scented air we breathe after climbing a mountain, joy finally comes. God desires those clean-heart experiences for us. Ask for that cleansing now.

Consider Why do you need God to bathe you right now?

Pray God, we are a mess. But we want to be clean again. Teach us, wash us, and draw us near. Amen. Sunday, February 23 Mark 8:27-30

When young John Wesley arrived in Savannah in 1735 to be a missionary to the Native Americans, August Spangenberg, a Moravian missionary who had arrived first, greeted him. He immediately asked Wesley, “Do you know Jesus Christ?” “I know that he is Savior of the world,” replied Wesley. “True,” answered Spangenberg, “but do you know that he has saved you?” Jesus poses much the same question to his disciples at Caesarea Philippi: “But who do you say that I am?” (v. 29). Ever since then, theolo- gians, historians, poets, artists, and preachers have tried to answer this question. The question isn’t posed solely to particular professionals, however, but to each of us. Like Wesley, we must learn not merely that Jesus is Savior of the world, but that he has saved each one of us. In other words, the real question is not who scholars have taught us he is, but who Jesus has revealed himself to be in our own experience with him. That is the question Jesus asks the disciples, and the question he asks us. We cannot answer it through reason or research or study alone. We cannot go to enough Bible studies or listen to enough sermons to answer it. We can only answer it as we experience the Christ who comes to us through God’s revealing grace. We can only answer it as we walk alongside him. Peter does just this. He walks alongside Jesus and allows Jesus to walk alongside him. He learns who Jesus is within his own experience, and so he becomes the first to confess:“You are the Messiah” (v. 29). You are the Savior, the Lord of my Life. It still works the same way. To those who are willing to walk with him, Jesus reveals who he is.

Consider What experience of yours has done the most to reveal to you who Jesus is?

Pray God, help me learn who Jesus is, and help me live by what I learn. Amen. Monday, February 24 Mark 8:31–9:1

When Jesus tells people he will be killed and rise again, Peter seems embarrassed. He takes Jesus aside to rebuke him. Jesus turns the tables and answers: Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels (v. 38). That statement worries me. Sometimes I’m ashamed of what people say and do in the name of Jesus. They blame the poor for their own condition. They reject science in the name of religion. They destroy one another to win church fights. Is being embarrassed by that being ashamed of Jesus? Somehow, I think not. Jesus never forbade us to be ashamed of poor representatives of the faith. What he forbade was being ashamed of him and his teachings. Yet all too often we act ashamed of those too. When some of us turn our backs on the unsavory, I hesitate to say that we follow one who was and is a friend to sinners. Or, when I hear people say that passing tough laws is the way to deal with crime, I almost never quote Jesus saying that all law boils down to love. Or, when people claim different religious faiths, I’m so eager not to be offensive that I fail to offer the claims of the Christian faith. Jesus indicts my silence and fear. After all, he said that when he comes in glory, my timidity and shame at his words will inflict shame on him. He didn’t give us a spirit of timidity, of course, or cowering faith (2 Tim 1:7). He redeems us for more. I pray not to inflict shame upon the one I call Lord. I pray for the courage to claim him and all of his teachings. And I pray that courage will descend on me before he comes in glory.

Consider When was the last time you were ashamed of Jesus or his teachings?

Pray God, please relieve the fear that immobilizes us. Make us bold believers. For the Kingdom’s sake, Amen. Tuesday, February 25 Mark 9:2-8

The Transfiguration is a mystery, to say the least. But there are two kinds of mystery. One kind is mystery because we have not yet understood it. The other kind is mystery because we will never understand it. The Transfiguration is the second kind. Think about it. Jesus takes Peter, James, and John to a mountain. Then he appears in raiment that has an otherworldly glow and sits down to talk with Moses and Elijah, who are long since dead. Then the disciples receive the privilege of hearing God pronounce that Jesus is God’s own Son. Who could ever understand this? Not us. Our minds are too small. The event is too big. Of course, the Transfiguration is not meant to be understood. It is meant to be experienced. After all, Jesus does not take Peter, James, and John to the Mount of Explanation, but to the Mount of Transfigura- tion. He does not take them to a place where they can understand the mystery, but to a place where they could behold the mystery. Most of the time, I would choose a place where I could understand. I have so many unanswered questions, so many wonderings. But Jesus invites me to a higher place, a place where I can behold and be dazzled. And when I experience that place, I realize that my deepest yearning is not to understand at all, but simply to behold. Once Peter, James, and John behold Jesus transfigured, Mark tells us they could see nothing else but him. Whenever I have followed Jesus to the highest mountain peaks of worship, that has been my experience as well. And mystery of mysteries, it is enough.

Consider Describe for yourself an instance when you simply beheld the mystery of God.

Pray God, let the mystery of your presence come upon us in this moment while we pray. Amen. Wednesday, February 26 Mark 9:30-32

For the second time, Jesus tells the disciples he will be betrayed and die, and they still don’t get it. How could they be so obtuse? Not only do they not get it, they’re afraid to ask Jesus about it. I can’t help wondering why they’re afraid to ask. I don’t know, of course, but I have my suspicions. For one thing, it’s hard to think about anyone suffering, much less Jesus. Even today’s artwork seems to have moved away from depicting the cross. Our preference in hymns has turned away from the imagery of his shed blood. We would rather think of him teaching or healing or holding lambs. For another thing, it’s hard to think about Jesus dying. Our squea- mish minds prefer to jump right from the cross to the empty tomb. We can hardly imagine him as a corpse, but Jesus put the image right in front of the disciples’ noses. They stumble over this so hard that they seem to completely miss something else that he said. Maybe you missed it too: after his death, he will rise again. This is even more perplexing than the claim that he will be betrayed and killed. It should have been impossible not to ask about his predic- tion of resurrection, but not for these disciples. Not only do they not ask, they don’t even seem to notice it. If they had, and if they had not been afraid to ask, they might have discovered sooner what they would discover later. The story of death, it turns out, ends with life.

Consider What is the most important question you have never asked God?

Pray God, help us to see your suffering and your death, so that through them we might see life. Amen. Thursday, February 27 Mark 9:33-37

When Jesus asks what the disciples have been arguing about on the way to Capernaum, they fall into an embarrassed silence. Like children, they had been arguing about which one of them is the greatest. Jesus’ question reminds them that they know better. Let’s face it. We’re a lot like them. Despite our pretensions of humility, a tiny tyrant lives inside most of us, shouting, “I’m the greatest!” Author Ayn Rand said this was a good thing, that self-promotion would ultimately lead to a better world. Jesus says exactly the opposite. He knows that what humans call greatness too often comes only at someone else’s expense. If I become number one, then no one else can be more than number two; and if everyone tries to be number one, the world is reduced to an amoral mass of individuals who will destroy one another as they compete for pre-eminence. The struggle to be first serves nothing beyond the self. It does not call us to heal the sick or mend the broken or share the good news. Its only aim is to exalt the self, and when that is accomplished, its work is done. Jesus says it is not by being first that we find greatness. It is by being last. Then he turns their childish debate on its head by putting a child before them. Welcome this child, he tells them, and you will welcome me. Welcome me, and you will welcome the Father. To welcome a great leader would give them the envy of others. To welcome a king would give them status and power. But to welcome a child would give them nothing. Nothing, that is, except true greatness. For, as Jesus said, those who welcome a child, welcome him and the Father who sent him.

Consider Where is your greatness? For what do you most want to be remembered?

Pray God, help us conquer the desire to be great and cultivate the desire to serve. Amen. Friday, February 28 Psalm 27:1-4

Church attendance is on the decline in America. I suppose too many people are feeling like Tom Sawyer when he said, “Church ain’t shucks to a circus.” Meanwhile the psalmist prays to live in the house of the LORD all the days of my life (v. 4). Now, that is wanting to go to church! As a pastor, I always wanted people like the psalmist in my congregation, people who wish to behold the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple. Maybe if more church members had shared these motivations, our attendance would have been higher. To behold the beauty of the Lord in worship is not something most of us focus on, but it is an amazing thing when it happens. Think about it. The Transfiguration is an account of three disciples beholding the beauty of the transfigured Jesus. Those disciples were never the same again. The psalmist seemed to know instinctively that beholding the beauty of the Lord leaves a person stunned and amazed and transformed. When I was a teenager, a stymied Sunday school teacher forbade us from ever again asking what happened to people who had never heard the name of Jesus. The psalmist, on the other hand, feels no prohibition against bringing his questions to the house of the Lord. He’s downright eager to inquire in [God’s] temple. People have all kinds of ideas about how to reverse the decline in American church attendance. I certainly don’t have any answers. But maybe we could start by engaging in true worship, by beholding the beauty of the Lord, and by inquiring in God’s temple.

Consider What is the most powerful experience of worship you have had? How is it like or unlike the experience of this psalmist?

Pray God, teach us to pray as the psalmist does—to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of our lives, to behold your beauty, and to inquire in your temple. Amen. Saturday, February 29 Psalm 32:1-5

I had preached that morning on forgiveness. As I stepped down from the pulpit, a deacon handed me a note that contained only a phone number. “This person was watching on television,” he said, “and she called in. She wouldn’t leave her name, but she asked if you could call her.” I finished greeting the worshipers, went to my office, and dialed the number. She poured out a story she had never told anyone. It was a story of a sin committed twenty years before, a story that had haunted and burdened her every day since, a story that left her alone and guilty. She learned painfully what the psalmist expresses in today’s passage: While I kept silence, my body wasted away…your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer (vv. 3, 4). Silence is sometimes golden, of course. But when silence is the result of guilt, silence is a curse. Fortunately, breaking the silence in the right way lifts the curse. The right way to break the silence, of course, is not by posting our sins on Facebook. Rather, we should follow the psalmist’s example: Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and I did not hide my iniquity (v. 5a). Our confession is, first of all, a confession to God. The psalmist’s transfiguration begins right then and there. The poet names the sin and lays it before God. Then he writes that God forgave the guilt of my sin (v. 5b). Selah, adds the psalmist. And God keeps forgiving. Selah, indeed.

Consider Describe your most powerful experience of God’s forgiveness.

Pray God, transfigure us and cleanse us by the power of your forgiveness. Amen. Sunday, March 1 Mark 10:17-22

Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life? (v. 17)

I can’t be sure, but I suspect the man talking to Jesus is a “three” on the Enneagram personality test. As a recent student of the Enneagram, a tool that helps us understand ourselves and others, I enjoy “reading” people to guess their number. This bad habit has resulted in fun dinner party conversations and a few annoyed looks from family members. When considering someone’s personality type, you speculate on the “why” behind their actions. Not only is it fun, it gives insight into what someone’s personality looks like in healthy and stressful situations. Enneagram “threes” are known as “achievers”—distinguished role models who get the job done. Jesus is embarking on a journey when the man encounters him and asks a self-centered question. He wants Jesus to reduce the grace of God to a measurable achievement that he can attain. He makes himself the center of the conversation, asking, What must I do? Jesus refuses to give this man an A+. Instead, he redirects the man’s attention from what God offers to who God is. Next, he calls the man to recognize that grace lies beyond what a person can achieve. Even with all the commandments he’s kept, this man will never attain perfection. Perfection, however, is not necessary for experiencing God’s love. Jesus, looking at him, loved him (v. 21). God’s love challenges us to grow in unex- plored ways. Jesus sees this man with his mental checklist and loves him exactly as he is. Jesus’ challenge upends the man’s desire for measurable achievements and calls him to transform his practice and perspective.

Consider When have you experienced Jesus having your “number” and loving you just as you are? When has Jesus loved you in a way that challenged you to grow?

Pray God, whose love is beyond measure and beyond our capabilities, lead us to follow you in risky, challenging ways. Amen. Monday, March 2 Mark 10:23-27

“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast!” the Queen responds when Alice says she can’t believe in impossible things (Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass). Things in Wonderland don’t make sense to the girl. While I like to think I have as much imagination as any storybook character, I sympathize with Alice’s confusion. I also understand why Scripture calls the disciples perplexed in today’s passage (v. 24). When Jesus talks about camels kneeling to enter a tiny space, perplexed sounds about right. What in the world? With a grin and a wink, Jesus could have told the disciples: “I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast,” before pointing out that he is all about what seems to be impossible. His claim begins with an upside-down, illogical thought. The very idea that wealth would prevent access to a space doesn’t make sense! Wealth is what usually affords access and power. Jesus turns that idea around to point out wealth’s weighty burden, and the ways that God’s kingdom does not operate by the powers usually at work in our world. As the confused disciples furrow their brows, Jesus confirms that his call is impossible, but he reminds them that God does the impossible. God’s kingdom will not be limited by our limited understanding of it. Jesus talks about a community of God’s people that expands widely enough to encompass everyone, even people we despise, people who frustrate us, and people we don’t understand. Jesus says that the boundaries of God’s kingdom have nothing to do with how we understand power and access. Any time it seems impossible that “even these” people could be a part of God’s community, I imagine Jesus with a wink and a shrug.

Consider When have you been perplexed by the ways God’s kingdom is shaping up? When have you been challenged to believe that God does impossible things?

Pray Gode whos kingdom is ever-expanding, guide us to know the impossible wide- ness in your mercy. Amen. Tuesday, March 3 Mark 10:28-31

But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first. (v. 31)

“Who was the line leader today?” I asked my young son. Last year in kindergarten, whoever was the first at something became the major headline of the day. I was surprised to learn that in first grade there was no daily line leader. My son explained that no one fussed or argued about whose turn it was to be first for the day, because they lined up at their classroom door in a different way. “Everyone gets a number,” he said. “Everyone gets their own spot.” I wondered how he felt about not having the chance to be at the front of the line, since being first is an exciting delight sometimes. He said he simply listened for “numbers six through ten” to be called out, and he knew he had a place to stand. There is much to be said for the certainty of knowing you have a place. I’m afraid that when it comes to following Jesus, I favor the “line leader” approach. I’m more like Peter in this text, and less like my content and happy first grader. Peter begins by arguing that he has certainly earned his place in God’s kingdom, saying, “Look, we have left everything and followed you” (v. 28). But Jesus is dismantling the system Peter is using to determine who deserves what. Instead, he says, the first is last and the last is first. Everyone is counted and everyone has a place in the kingdom of God. Thanks be to God.

Consider How could these words from Jesus help you to feel more content?

Pray Gracious, welcoming God, lead us to see the ways that everyone is counted and each of us matters in your kingdom. Amen. Wednesday, March 4 Psalm 19:1-4a

Yet their voice goes out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. (v. 4)

“I’m so happy that you decided to spend a Saturday morning in this sacred place,” world-renown cellist Yo-Yo Ma said to the crowd. He wasn’t playing in a cathedral or a concert hall. He was standing in a park near the Juarez-Lincoln International Bridge, by the US-Mexico border. This concert in Laredo, next to the Rio Grande, was part of his two-year tour, performing Bach solos in 36 locations around the world. This area was hardly heralded as a sacred space. It’s commonly known for refugee travel, human need, and heated rhetoric about border issues. On this day, though, a concert interrupted the usual clamor. People in all the areas surrounding the Rio Grande border heard the captivating music of his cello. The music didn’t stop at the border’s edge. With zero respect for political barriers, notes resounded over the river and throughout the land. The psalmist claims that the witness of God’s glory belongs not just to one people, but to all creation. The whole sky covers every nation telling of God who loves and creates beauty. The whole span of time, from past generations to us today, tells how God creates and recreates. The psalmist reminds us that some forms of beauty don’t follow the boundaries we set up and, by defying them, remind us who God is. Stars that fill the sky, children that laugh with their families, and people who sing together with one voice proclaim the story of God. We hear it when music fills the space of a border town, and makes it sacred.

Consider When have you seen an unexpected moment tell the glory of God? When has an instance of disregarding boundaries reminded you who God is?

Pray God, you welcome us to spaces that we never saw as sacred. Invite us into those holy moments and places that speak your glory. Amen. Thursday, March 5 Psalm 19:4b-6

I was trying to comfort my teenage niece over the phone as she worked through an anxious moment. The best I could offer her on that late- night call was a strategy I know from experience: the 5-4-3-2-1 exercise. As she listened to my quiet voice and found her breath, I guided her to think about things she could see, touch, and experience, making them reassuring signs she would be okay. “Find five things you see around you. A pillow, a picture frame, whatever,” I said. As she named items aloud, she began feeling steadier. “Name four things you can reach out and touch.” She continued with three, two, and one, using her senses to ground her and return her to a calm state. Naming tangible things we see around us reassures us and grounds us in the present. Noting what we can touch helps us feel centered when circumstances feel overwhelming. I don’t know why the psalmist names the sun rising in the sky each morning and setting each evening. Maybe it helps to remember that the largest thing we see each day—the powerful sun and the wide sky—are under the reign of God, who made them. Maybe naming this predictable rhythm to each day reminds us of a sure thing. Perhaps the psalmist wants to name God as the maker of this huge gift of a sun. We can’t be sure. What I do know is the truth of what my friend says on a day when she feels like life is out of control. “The sun is still in the sky. That’s all I’ve got.” She finds comfort in claiming that no matter what else happens, some rhythms continue. She can still breathe; she will be okay. I think the psalmist understands.

Consider How do you ground and center yourself in times when you feel anxious? How do you know God’s presence in these moments?

Pray God who made the sun and its rhythms, center us in your reassuring presence. Amen. Friday, March 6 Psalm 19:7-10

The law of the Lord is perfect, reviving the soul; the decrees of the Lord are sure, making wise the simple. (v. 7)

“Come look at this,” my husband said to me with tears in his eyes. He was holding the Bible that belonged to our friend Jimmy. Jimmy’s funeral was the next day, and his wife had loaned his Bible to my husband to help him prepare for the service. Inside its well-worn pages, Jimmy had tucked notes and special bulletins and underlined passages. Hand-written prayers were folded beside beloved passages. My spouse showed me a certificate that indicated this beautiful leather Bible had been rebound several years ago because it’s cover had fallen apart from use. Our faithful friend had worn out his Bible. When Jimmy used his Bible, it looked nothing like the way I’ve sometimes seen people exalt Scripture by making it unapproachable. He wrestled with the stories. He questioned his theology. His study shaped his questions rather than pinpointed his answers. He honored the witness of Scripture by engaging it with both his doubts and his reverence. His use of Scripture was a lifelong practice. The law of the Lord revives the soul, the psalmist claims. The psalmist says reviving, rejoicing, and enlightening are the gifts of God’s law. These gifts sound nothing like a constrained, restrictive view of Scripture. They don’t result in a dusty book that sits unopened on a shelf. This psalm tells us that God’s law is life-giving when we wrestle with it and engage it. Jenee Woodard offers a blessing that reflects the kind of Bible study our friend Jimmy knew so well: “May the peace of Christ be with you, and may your study be prayer.”

Consider What does a faithful use of Scripture look like to you? How has the law of God brought revival, rejoicing, and enlightenment into your life?

Pray God who invites our questions, doubts, and hopes, lead us to know Scripture in ways that revive the soul. Amen. Saturday, March 7 Psalm 19:11-14

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer (v. 14).

Many preachers pray this Scripture aloud before a sermon. In my preaching class, I heard this so often it almost sounded like a magic phrase, as if praying these words would make the sermon stronger. I believe these prayers were sincere. The preachers’ heartfelt words were an offering to God. I always wonder, though, about the acceptable to you part. What makes a servant’s offering acceptable, anyway? The psalmist focuses on the servant’s heart, praying that it be uncovered, unconcealed, and open for examination. Being vulnerable is the servant’s task. Being unpolluted by falsehoods is the goal. Being authentic seems like a must. So, if someone does all of that, and checks off all those boxes, what will that “acceptable” offering sound like? It sounds like a contribution that is uniquely, authentically you. Nothing else will do. No one else’s artistry or giftedness or ability is an adequate substitute. My sister Ashley once stepped up to the pulpit, bowed her head, and began: “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts. . .”, looking up with a mischievous grin, she continued, “set our souls to dancing!” How might we paraphrase this psalm-prayer to reflect the authentic response of what we will offer God? “May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts ______.” Do we pray that our words will shake up the congregation, surprise the neighbors, settle our souls, or dislodge our certainties?

Consider What does a vulnerable, authentic offering of your own look like? How will you complete this prayer: May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts ______?

Pray God, you know our hearts. May our offerings reflect our whole selves. Amen. Sunday, March 8 Mark 10:32-34

My 32nd birthday present was a positive pregnancy test. I took it during a lunch break as my co-worker waited eagerly outside the door of the coffee shop restroom. I’d been waiting for this moment long enough to feel shocked when it finally happened. When I saw those two blue lines, I burst breathless from the stall in astonishment...and terror. This mixture of awe and terror didn’t end with the test. While moments of pregnancy felt miraculous—like the first scrape of feet and hands across my insides—my body changed in ways that horrified me, outpacing much of my joyous expectation. The mix of awe and fear didn’t end with the birth either. When our midwife left us alone to keep this tiny alien alive, I felt more like a baby than a mother. I now realize that the challenge of parenthood—and of life itself—involves struggling to lean into awe and away from fear when difficulties arise. As they walk toward Jerusalem, fear threatens the disciples. Jesus takes the twelve aside to lovingly prepare them for his death. He doesn’t spare the difficult details, but he also promises a hopeful outcome. Because he is honest with them about the terror to come, they can trust his words about the resurrection he will experience. In the difficult times when fear feels more powerful than hope, we still hear Jesus telling his disciples of every generation to lean into awe. We can trust that God walks beside us saying, “Look, terrible things are going to happen sometimes, and you will think that you can’t handle them, but I know you can. How do I know? Because I’m the one who rose again, and I am with you. Because we’ve spent a lifetime preparing for this, together.”

Consider When have you been confronted with something you felt you couldn’t handle only to realize that God had prepared you better than you had imagined?

Pray God, we forget how you strengthen us for the challenges we face. Help us trust the preparation and courage you give us; help us cling to awe. Amen. Monday, March 9 Mark 10:35-40

Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you (v. 29).

My high school summers were all about community theatre. Producing three shows in three months meant lots of work and a shortage of workers. My friend Marguerite and I spent long days working on sets and costumes, returning nightly for rehearsals. Our gifted, intimi- dating, demanding director enthralled us. We found the work fun, but our eyes were set on a prize: playing the leads in the summer’s final show, The Boyfriend. This wasn’t implausible casting, but we had an atti- tude. We thought we’d earned these roles through our hours of labor. Unwilling to trust the director, I took matters into my own hands. While painting a set I blurted, “We have it all figured out about how you should cast the show. Marguerite should play Polly and I should play Maisie.” Brash as this was, I expected the director to embrace my recommendation on the spot. Instead, she stopped working, looked me in the eye and said through tight lips, “Well. Thank you for sharing that. I will think about it.” I returned to work in mortified silence. In the end, a newcomer landed the role of Polly, Marguerite was a radiant Maisie, and I played a chorus member with a show-stopping second act duet. It wasn’t the community theatre glory we aspired to, but we were clueless about the director’s vision. She, however, was wise to our particular gifts. When I read this request from James and John, I cringe, vividly remembering that day in community theatre. Like me, the two disciples missed the point. Like me, they were put in their place. Like me, they were reminded that they had a lot to learn.

Consider When have you overstepped because you were unwilling to trust God?

Pray God, help me learn from the cringe-worthy moments in our relationship so that I will become the kind of disciple you need. Amen. Tuesday, March 10 Mark 10:41-45

When I read these verses as a young person, I think I misunderstood them. I assumed that serving others rather than being served meant staying out of the limelight, letting others lead, always playing a supporting role. You must be slave of all seemed like a pretty clear instruction to refuse assuming any authority at all (v. 44). But now, many years later, I read this passage differently. Some leadership expresses itself through service. Leaders can collect the best thinking within a group and synthesize it to find a solution that works for everyone. Some will answer every petition, becoming leaders who trouble themselves to minister to people’s needs no matter what their status. Some follow Jesus’ model of servant leadership, noticing how he hears, engages, and solves the dilemmas of those waiting for him in crowds or by the roadside. It seems my earlier confusion over verse 44 has informed many of my choices. Like a backcountry hiker, I decided that my life’s goal was to make no mark, leave no trace. What do I do now, having firmly placed myself on the side of insignificance? Does service really leave no trace? I can listen for God to call me to the next step forward. Servant leadership can begin wherever I find myself. Taking responsibility for making things around me go well is always possible, whether I occupy a position of power or am simply in the rank and file. Change happens within us when we encounter the one who came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many (v. 45). When those of us who long for a changed world—less hunger, war, racism, confusion—listen for the Spirit, we hear it invite us to new ways of serving everyone we meet.

Consider In what ways are you growing as a servant leader?

Pray God, help me take the steps I need to care for all people, whatever my role may be. Amen. Wednesday, March 11 Mark 10:46-49

As I try to picture Bartimaeus sitting by the roadside begging, my own face appears in the scene as well. Would I experience him the way I often experience the homeless on NYC streets and subways? Would he be unwashed, disheveled, and sick? Would his bold request for food or money intimidate me? Do I turn my eyes away to avoid the sight of his humanity that might move me to act on his behalf? In this story, many sternly ordered him to be quiet (v. 48). Would I have been one of those many? Am I one of them? Bartimaeus cannot be quieted, saying, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” (v. 48). As he continues crying out to Jesus, I wonder at his words. Why not proclaim, “Restore my sight” right away? He might have asked for food, money, or healing, but he asks for mercy instead. Is that the greatest, most important request? Jesus responds compassionately, not turning his eyes away. He does not seek to quiet or ignore the beggar, but shows him mercy, inviting Bartimaeus to come to him. I rarely see my own need for mercy as well as this blind beggar sees his. I turn my eyes away from the brokenness and need for healing that lies within me, refusing to name that unmet desire. Bartimaeus seems to understand that experiencing wholeness requires mercy, so he seeks that from Jesus. His story reminds me that Christ offers God’s mercy to all of us. Jesus does not look away from our need; he’s not repulsed or surprised by anything he sees in us. He understands our inner darkness and our need for healing and compassion better than we do. In his mercy, he calls us to himself.

Consider How well do I know my own need for Christ’s mercy? Where do I need to experience the healing touch of Jesus’ compassion and forgiveness?

Pray God, help us to not fear the broken places within us. Remind us that Jesus’ mercy restores us and sets us free. Amen. Thursday, March 12 Mark 10:50-52

What do you want me to do for you? (v. 51)

Just 15 verses earlier, Jesus asks James and John, two disciples we might label “Type A,” another version of this question. He denies their request for prestige, telling them it’s not his to grant. The incident ends with at least ten angry disciples and words from Jesus about who they should think they are. Not far down the road, Jesus asks Bartimaeus this question, then fulfills the blind man’s request. The one who cries for mercy and asks to see again receives physical sight and is blessed with spiritual sight also. Jesus gains another follower as he makes his way to the cross. What do you want me to do for you? How would I answer this question if I’d been following this baffling, charismatic rabbi on the dusty road from Jericho to Jerusalem? I’d like to think that I would answer, “Show me how to love God and love my neighbor.” Or perhaps, “Teach me how to put aside old hurts and love those who don’t love me.” Or even, “Help me to find my way into the kingdom of God.” What I’m afraid I would have said is: “A hearty lunch and a cold beverage would be great about now.” Or, “I could really use a new pair of sandals.” Or worse yet, “I don’t like the sound of what’s ahead—I’d be so grateful if you’d tell me that I can skip this next part.” What does Jesus want me to answer? What would it take for me to see my need to be whole again, and ask for healing to help me follow Jesus the rest of the way?

Consider What do I want Jesus to do for me?

Pray God, help me seek the wholeness you offer so I will follow you forever. Amen. Friday, March 13 Psalm 34:1-10

I can’t stop watching a kite surfer out in the water. The white-capped waves roar way up the beach, where they only break when a storm is coming. It looks as rough as it did before Hurricane Sandy. He should come in, I think. It’s too dangerous and no one’s protecting him. He struggles ashore, drops the shoulder harness that holds his sail, and strides towards four children in the cabana below ours. The father hugs the youngest, grabs a handful of chips, tells a joke, then instructs the oldest who’s watching the rest of the brood. He stares warily at the pounding surf. Did he just look to the heavens? Don’t go back out, I will him. Pack it up for today. But he hefts the sandy harness onto his shoulder, grabs his board, and launches into the sea for another bruising round. Faithful. Dogged. Brave. When I read the psalmist’s lines about seeking God, who delivered me from all my fears, this kite surfer comes to mind. Most of us retreat on dreary days, packing up our belongings, vowing to try again on a more peaceful occasion. But my surfer, and the psalmist, suggest a way to live that’s born from knowing a greater power is on his side. I look back and see him still aloft, grinning and riding those brutal waves. Loading up my car, I notice his truck has “9/11: Never Forget” stickers on the bumper and the FDNY insignia in the rear window. The firefighting kite surfer and the psalmist learning to fear only God inspire me to try something new today, to take a risk as the threatened rain begins to fall.

Consider When has trusting in God led you to live with more joy and less fear?

Pray God, I trust in you. May faith lead me to live radiantly. Amen. Saturday, March 14 Psalm 34:11-22

Even when we cannot choose the circumstances of our lives, we can still choose the theme of our story. The psalmist’s theme rises from a situation in David’s life. The inscription explains: “Of David, when he feigned madness before Abimelech, so that he drove him out, and he went away.” The poet describes fears, and God’s deliverance from them, the crushing realities that evildoers inflict, and the assurance thatwhen the righteous cry for help God hears and delivers (v. 17, NIV). Scripture does not sugarcoat the difficulties with which people struggle. Yet our texts from this week speak to our power to turn from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it (v. 14, NIV). When I hear the teacher in this psalm offer instructions for living in a troubled world, I recall the day I sat in Miss Serle’s class and heard the news of President Kennedy’s assassination over the loudspeakers. Looking back on that scene, I realize the great influence our grade school teacher had on us. We were stunned, and her tears confused us, but we learned from her response, composure, and presence. She helped us focus on our future at an uncertain time and grow as students and as a community. She taught us that no matter what our home plight was (and mine was in dire disarray), we were united as a class as we bore this change in our country. We would need a lifetime to process this loss, but we started processing it together as her students. I read the full psalm and remember the inspiration and care my teacher invoked in me. We found a refuge in her classroom, and she mercifully surrounded us with a way to seek peace and pursue it.

Consider Who teaches you how to live with hope in a troubled world?

Pray God, in complicated days, keep us focused on seeking peace and pursuing it. Amen. Sunday, March 15 Mark 12:1-3

Do we have anything in common with the treacherous tenants in Mark’s story? Would we ever reject someone who carefully builds the place we occupy, then entrusts us with it? On this side of the parable, we’d never admit it if we did. We label tenants like these abusive, dangerous, unbelievably self-centered, and worse. We might call them entitled, but that could hit too close to home. Haven’t we all, at some moment in time, felt that we were owed something that we weren’t given—or even promised? Recognition for a good deed, a promotion, a job offer, or a college admittance? Have we ever felt cheated out of what we believe we truly deserved? Maybe sometimes we are cheated out of what should be ours, but we also need to see how the desire for more can quickly become an obstacle to living abundantly. After laboring in the vineyard, the tenants forget whose vineyard it is. Do they really believe the owner should not receive his share of the produce? Their greed poisons what could have been a life-giving relationship and escalates this story to a tragedy. Their story helps me identify the entitlement in my own life. I wanted to have a child and believed I deserved a healthy baby. When my coworker was pregnant, I felt deeply envious. When I finally admitted this to her and apologized, I found that God’s love was great enough to comfort us both. The good news about being on this side of the tenant’s parable is that we can choose a different response from theirs.

Consider How often does our sense of entitlement obstruct God’s good intentions for us?

Pray God, help us let go of whatever troubles our relationship with you. Help us to clearly see all you give us and live in gratitude for it. Amen. Monday, March 16 Mark 12:4-5

I manage an urban public library branch. Occasionally I’ll be in my office when a coworker calls and says, “There’s someone cursing people out, can you come tell them to leave?” I stand up, mutter “here we go,” and step out to confront the person. Whether it was the mentally unstable man making sexist remarks, the drunk man trying to enter our shed, or the person who threatened my staff, I know some good phrases that usually work to defuse things. All in a day’s work, I tell myself, feeling a little tough. And needed. These confrontations make me feel like a servant to the community, my staff, and even the person I must confront. However, I wouldn’t relish being this landlord’s servant, on a mission to talk to these tenants. The story raises all kinds of questions about the relationship between the vineyard owner and his messen- gers. Why does the landowner keep sending servants into a situation where they are likely to be abused? Are there no other options? Does he believe that the tenants will finally understand what’s at stake, change their behavior, and salvage this bad situation? And do the tenants really think that their violent actions will have no negative consequences? If you’re the servant’s parent or friend, what would you tell them to do? The sage advice, “don’t engage,” comes to mind. If such instructions were applied to the Christian life, our faith would lose its meaning. Following Jesus means losing our lives to find them. How will we respond when God leads us to love those who might treat us unjustly? Being servants of Christ in a world with tenants like these requires constant prayer.

Consider When has your faith led you to do something risky?

Pray God, help me discern what matters in life and pursue that purpose without distraction or fear. Amen. Tuesday, Mark 17 Mark 12:6-8

As a young child, I shared goodnight prayers with my Dad. Sitting at my bedside, he touched my feet and said, “Lord, guide these little feet to safe places.” I also remember being sent on errands to the homes of neighbors or to shopkeepers. “Tell them I sent you,” Dad said. I bear a striking resemblance to him and I always went on these errands with confidence. I knew that just as my father was warmly received, I could expect the same greeting. The vineyard owner, the parable tells us, is a father who loves his son. When he sends him to the calculating, brutal tenants to collect what they owe, we can only reason that the father believes they will see his son and gladly receive him. Surely they will notice the family resemblance, or the kindness of his son’s nature. Perhaps they will view this son’s journey to do business with them face-to-face as a sign of respect. When we read that they murder the son, we are aghast. All kinds of questions rise from this story. Why are the tenants evil? Why would the owner endanger his son? What produce or payment gained from the tenants could ever compare to the value of his son’s life? As children created in God’s image, we all bear a holy likeness to our Creator. Like the vineyard owner’s son, we too find ourselves sent into a hostile world to be of service. When those we encounter observe our actions and hear our words, will they recognize who we represent? Will they be able to understand God’s presence and love through us?

Consider What gives you the confidence to serve God?

Pray God, no matter how difficult the task, help us magnify your glory, love, and grace in our words and actions today. Amen. Wednesday, March 18 Mark 12:9-12

Her home was like a Garden of Eden… of fabric. My great-grandmother Clara was truly a craftswoman extraordinaire. From sewing and crocheting to making intricate Spanish lace, her skill and imagination knew no bounds. I’ll never forget her craft room: floor-to-ceiling cascades of effervescent colors, pulsating prints, and inviting textures that would instantly widen your pupils and tickle your soul with delight. Beside her trusted pedal sewing machine there were always bags of scraps from previous projects, scraps that others might have discarded but which were, for her, the foundation of future projects. We often sifted through the bags together with all the unbridled exhilaration of a magic treasure hunt. She handled each scrap with a smile and the most delicate touch, gently smoothing it out, then gazing into the potential of each piece. Waves of seafoam silk were layered beside lush burgundy velvet; frayed yellow paisley found itself soulfully stitched alongside lavender taffeta and sack cloth. Cotton, linen, rayon, lace—no piece was ever cast out. Instead, they all came to life in vibrant living room cushions and curtains, and the most exquisite quilts. In Clara’s home, every piece of cloth received a warm welcome and had a place in her tapestry. Jesus reminds us that God chose the one who was rejected to build the kingdom of heaven. Christ is forever teaching us to see that those we cast out and consider the least of these have a place in God’s tapestry.

Consider How have we knowingly—or unknowingly—passed judgment on others, or made them feel unwelcome because they are different?

Pray God, help us remember that the kingdom of heaven belongs to everyone, in particular the least of these. May we welcome them with open arms. Amen. Thursday, March 19 Mark 12:13-17

When our daughter Lena was five, she explained how she knew her younger sister Cora before they were born. I’m not certain she remembers what she described, but she felt she had imparted distinct wisdom to me. The brilliant thing about young children, who are closest to the event of creation, is how in tune they can be with the unadulterated meaning of life that sometimes just streams out of them. Adults can enjoy this truth too, but it takes concerted effort to wade through our jadedness, brokenness, and fear. Under the guise of seeking truth, some try to trap Jesus with a tax question. He shows them a denarius and instructs, Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s (vv. 17). Jesus’ brilliant response turns mean-spiritedness into a visionary conversation about how to live in God’s image. We are formed in God’s likeness, marked with the inscription of our Creator. Giving our lives back to God seems daunting. My initial reaction is to demand my individuality, to revolt against the notion that I owe anything back. I feel this strongly when God seems absent. But if I’m courageous enough to work beyond such rebellion, I see that rendering to God what is God’s is not a demand that I become someone I’m not. It’s the direction I need to claim the good, just, passionate person God created me to be and to find my place in the body of Christ. We fall for the lie that we’re each an island, and that the estrange- ment we may feel with God, others, and even ourselves is the real truth. In reality, we are made to connect with God and each other. If we follow Jesus’ instruction, we too find ourselvesutterly amazed at him (v. 17).

Consider What does giving your life back to God look like for you today? What creative activity or compassionate act of justice might you pursue?

Pray God, we marvel at your creation, amazed that you ask us to participate in wondrous things. Grant us courage to work through individual despair and connect with your community, so that your Spirit will flow through us. Amen. Friday, March 20 Psalm 86:1-7

Google Query: “Twenty-something needs career improvement, more friends, love, and meaning.” Enter.

ZocDoc: “Therapists specializing in millennials. Must take Aetna.”

Siri: “Find cooking classes near me with social component for recent college graduates.”

Reddit thread: “NYC entry-level jobs for physicists with good benefits.”

Lord, if you are there, please turn up the volume. I am poor and needy. I know we don’t talk that much, but I’m asking for my son. He’s experiencing first love, first job, first rent, first real life. I’m worried he’s lonely, hungry, and stuck. Adulthood has set in and when he hurts, I hurt. I need your help here. If we’re being honest, I trust you most consis- tently on airplanes and during medical tests. I try to serve you though. I go to church, donate money, help neighbors. Does that count? In any event, I need you to have mercy on me. I’ve tried Siri, the search bar, and I even dipped a toe into Reddit. This child ignores my search results, Lord, and my texts and emails. So, I’m asking for your help directly. I lift up my soul to you. Have mercy on me, Lord. That therapist does not take Aetna, the cooking class was full, and Google shows no job openings. Maybe I should have gone to you first before searching the world for ways to improve his mental, physical, and emotional health, but here we are. In the day of my trouble I call on you, for you will answer me (v. 7). Incline your ear, please, Lord. I’m turning to you.

Consider How could you turn to prayer as much as you turn to other sources of help?

Pray God, create in me a prayer life so I will share all of my life with you. Amen. Saturday, March 21 Psalm 86:8-17

But you, O LORD, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness (v. 15).

God becomes visible in our everyday lives when we exercise compassion, patience¸ and self-control. Practicing those divine characteristics helps sustain the human community God intends for us and changes us for the better. But trying to live this way is challenging. As secretary to the board that manages my New York apartment building, I regularly listen to our residents air their grievances. When it comes to complaining, however, one woman is in a class by herself. Her bitterness knows no end. When the city required extensive upgrades to our building’s elevator, forcing it to be shut down indefinitely, we knew it would be a hardship for any resident to climb six flights of stairs to their apartment. For this woman undergoing chemotherapy, and for her frail husband, the stairs were impossible. In the middle of working on this matter with our board, I thought about how our pastor once challenged each member of the congregation to help someone they disliked. My complainer and I both share the dreaded diagnosis of cancer. So, one day I decided to listen closely to her problems. She appreciated the information I offered about alterna- tive housing in our building. But it was the sincere offer of compassion that day that prompted her to burst into tears of grief and gratitude. This surprising moment filled me with joy and freed me of some of my own self-destructive anger. It made me wonder if compassion is God’s chosen instrument for keeping communities together.

Consider Which of God’s characteristics noted by the psalmist do you most need to practice?

Pray God, showing compassion makes the world more like you. Help us practice kindness and realize that you are especially near when we do. Amen. Sunday, March 22 Mark 12:28-31

As Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time, the religious leaders question him again. But one scribe who hears the dispute [comes] near to Jesus. Something within him stirs, and he finds himself looking for a dialogue rather than an argument. He diverts from wherever he was planning to go, draws closer to Jesus, and engages him in conversation. Shouldn’t we draw closer to Christ whenever we desire conversation rather than argument? God sends Jesus into the world to be near us, to engage us in a crucial discussion. We always have the choice of drawing near for dialogue with God or continuing on our path. By coming closer, the scribe engages Jesus in a way that leads the man to a greater understanding of how he needs to live. Christ is open to our questions and ready for crucial conversation. Seeking honest dialogue in prayer will lead us to greater revelation. Recognizing how much we have to learn deepens our relationship with God. This kind of prayer is essential to our spiritual growth. Jesus’ response to the scribe after their dialogue encourages us. You are not far from the kingdom of God, Jesus tells him (v. 34). When we move closer to Jesus, we are not far from God’s kingdom. As you dialogue with Christ this week, take note of whatever wisdom you gain. In doing so, you are not far from the kingdom of God.

Consider Think of a specific time when you know you came near to Jesus. What wisdom did you gain? How could you devote yourself to experiencing that kind of prayer again?

Pray God, help us draw closer to you so we can have the conversation we need. And help us recognize that you have come near to us because your kingdom is all around us. Amen. Monday, March 23 Mark 12:32-34

Years ago, a church launched an extensive outreach ministry to the children in their neighborhood. In order to get to their afterschool program space, the children had to walk through the church sanctuary. Before long the sanctuary carpet began to show signs of wear and tear. People started getting upset. Many felt it was time to stop the afterschool ministry. So one Saturday, the pastor went to the church and ripped out all of the carpet. When the congregation arrived for worship the next day, they stood on grooved cement instead of beautiful flooring. The pastor said that if carpet was going to keep the body of Christ from sharing the love of Christ, they wouldn’t have it. The church continued their outreach ministry and didn’t replace the carpet! Jesus is talking with the religious leaders in the Temple compound when a scribe asks, Which commandment is the first of all? Jesus answers by reciting the Shema. Then the scribe restates Jesus’ words by using his own. Speaking this way in the Temple is courageous, not only because he sides with Jesus, but because he adds that this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices (v. 33). He stands in the Temple compound and says that loving God and loving neighbor is more important than what is happening within the religious institution. Sometimes we get caught up in our sacred traditions and forget that their foundation, and our fundamental practice, is expressing our love for God and our neighbor. Throughout Scripture, God tells us that religious practices are not what pleases the Almighty, but how well we love.

Consider What religious practices within your context might keep someone from fully experiencing God’s love? How could Jesus’ words empower you to love those around you?

Pray God of love, may we love our neighbor as you teach us to do, not just toler- ating our neighbor, but truly loving them as we love ourselves. Grant us grace when we fall short, and help us to extend that grace to others as well. Amen. Tuesday, March 24 Mark 12:35-37

Have you ever heard such uncontrollable squealing that you checked to see whether they were laughing or crying? Last summer I was walking along the shores of Virginia Beach when I heard such squeals. A little boy was holding his dad’s hands as the waves continuously crashed against him. They would have knocked him down if it were not for his dad holding on to him. When I heard his squeals, I had to look to see whether they rose from delight or fear. Fortunately, he was overwhelm- ingly excited! As Jesus teaches in the temple courts, a large crowd gathers around him. Jesus, the Messiah, is teaching about the Messiah. The people listen intently as Jesus explains David’s relationship with God and the way the people’s favorite king understood that relationship. As Jesus tells of David speaking with God through the Spirit, the crowd listens with delight (v. 37). God calls us to listen to Jesus with this same delight. We are to listen with the kind of great anticipation that the little boy at the beach felt as the waves came nearer and nearer, knowing that the impact was imma- nent and would bring great joy. I hope that you experience this same eager expectation as you listen to God. May your experience lead you to respond freely, unreservedly. May your response lead others to look closely at your reaction, understand what causes it, and share in that joy themselves.

Consider Do you listen to Jesus with great delight? Why is this an important practice?

Pray Loving God, help us listen to you with great delight, knowing that waves of joy and love are heading our way. Amen. Wednesday, March 25 Mark 12:38-40

Beware. We expect to see this warning in certain places: on yellow signs above wet floors, on electrical boxes, on fences outside of certain homes. We don’t expect to see it on the doors of religious institutions. But this is what Jesus says to the scribes: Beware. The teachers of the law wanted to be recognized. They coveted the honor and the respect that they received when they were out in the marketplace, or in the synagogue, or at banquets. These were the ones who oversaw the religious institution. They were the men responsible for carrying out the law and helping others to do the same. They were also, however, the men responsible for ensuring the care of the widows, orphans, and immigrants. Later, Jesus will warn that their religious institution will be completely destroyed, with not one stone left on another. And he will call it a den of robbers because it no longer cares for the marginalized of society, as Yahweh commands that it do. Why does he say this? Because when we glance ahead we see that there in the temple treasury is a widow, giving all that she has to an institution that has nothing to offer her, an institution that is supposed to care for her, and one that exists to do so. She will give all that she has, though it does not deserve her gift. It is already condemned. It will be abolished. Jesus comes to save, not to destroy, and the church, the body of Christ, exists to share this love of God with the world. We can still heed the warning Jesus offers. Through God’s Spirit we can still care for the marginalized as we are called to do.

Consider God asks us to love and care for God’s children. What are some ways that you could better receive those whom God places in your life?

Pray God, as your body—your hands and feet—may we come together and lose our lives to that which the world deems unworthy. Amen. Thursday, March 26 Mark 12:41-44

She is a woman. She is poor. She is a widow. She tosses in, or perhaps just lets go of, all that she has. She is marginalized. This means that she is the very one that God is commanding the people to care for. “Care for the widow, the orphan, the immigrant” is the instructive call from Yahweh, via the prophets. Yet here she is, standing in the temple treasury, giving up all that she has. Did you know that the poor were not required to give? She is not giving out of obligation. Yet here she is. She is a woman. She is poor. She is a widow. What we forget is that God doesn’t need our money. God is concerned about our hearts, what we give and why. Are we giving our lives (all that we are)? Or are we giving out of obligation (that which we can do without)? God isn’t counting what we put in. God is counting what it costs us to give it. Are we giving extravagantly? Extravagant generosity, that’s the goal. And that is what this woman does when she gives all that she has. That is extravagant. What she gives reflects her commitment to God. And Jesus calls her gift greater than the others because her gift makes a greater impact on her life, and on ours.

Consider Why do you give? How does your giving affect your life and the lives around you?

Pray God, move in us, that we might see you are worthy of all that we are and all that we have. Teach us that all we are is yours already—every minute, every dollar, every drop of energy, every skill. Help us give in ways that change our lives. Amen. Friday, March 27 Psalm 89:1-4

Why do we love music so much? Music expresses our emotions in ways that words alone cannot. Sometimes when I can’t find the words to express myself, only music will do. Praise becomes the way we express our love for God. We sing of God’s goodness. We declare with song, as the psalmist does, that God’s love is forever and that God is faithful. When God promises David that his family will always rule over Israel, how does David respond? He sings! He proclaims the good news of God’s love, which he knows firsthand. He doesn’t have to understand why God makes this promise. He doesn’t have to understand how God will be able to keep it. The psalmist could not have imagined that this promise would lead to Jesus, the Son of God, who comes to live among us, ruling the earth and bringing God’s people into a new covenant with God. The writer doesn’t have to understand it all to sing about the truth that the poet does know and to proclaim the faithfulness of God that the people have experienced. At times, we find it difficult to sing. In those circumstances we rely on our family of faith to help us. We are meant to sing about God’s faithfulness even in our despair. We are to sing of God’s faithfulness even in our doubt. Doing so strengthens our faith. Our song grows more powerful. By singing we carry God’s light into the world and proclaim truth’s message. God calls us to sing.

Consider What words do you have that need to be sung? What message does God want you to proclaim?

Pray God, take the words of our hearts and help us form a song we can sing. Help us sing about you and the way you faithfully love and save us. Amen. Saturday, March 28 Psalm 89:5-18

As the psalmist sings about God’s faithfulness and declares God’s promises for those yet to come, God’s strength and glory emerges for all to see and hear. The poet details God’s victories and acknowledges the greatness of God’s creation. And then, right there in the middle of this song, the singer reveals its centerpiece: Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne (v. 14). To worship God is to remember this foundation of our faith. To live in the light of Christ is to live in the light of God’s righteousness and justice. They are one light. The righteousness and justice of God’s Kingdom exalts love and mercy over power and control. This looks a lot different from the way of the world. Remember when Jesus tells the story of the workers who came late but still received the same pay? That one’s still hard for us to wrap our minds and hearts around. Righteousness and justice are foundational to God. Are they foundational to us? Could everything in our lives trace its source back to God’s righteousness and justice? When we strive for this kind of life, we will find ourselves joining in the psalmist’s song:

Happy are the people who know the festal shout, who walk, O LORD, in the light of your countenance; they exult in your name all day long, and extol your righteousness (vv. 15-16).

Consider What is righteous and just in the eyes of God? Is this how you see righteousness and justice? When we declare that things aren’t fair, are we relying on the world’s standard, or God’s more inspired vision of justice?

Pray May justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Amen. Sunday, March 29 Mark 13:1-8

I once took a children’s group to Baylor University for their first arche- ology lesson. Bruce Cresson, a religion professor, talked to us about “digging up Israel.” He told us to think about how hard it is to put a 100-piece jigsaw puzzle together when some of the pieces are missing. Then Dr. Cresson challenged us to consider something even more impossible: “What if you had a hundred puzzles with 100 pieces each and they all got mixed up together? What do you do then? Imagine how long it takes to figure out which pieces belong together. That’s the kind of work our students do when we find hundreds of pieces from dozens of broken pots.” We looked at some pots that the students had reassembled after grouping the pieces that belonged together. Even with the cracks— maybe especially with the cracks—these pots were beautiful. We realized that when a loving hand joined the old pieces together, powerful art could emerge once again. The beauty we saw didn’t come from restoring the pots to their original shape and appearance, but from helping them become new creations. Jesus sits with his disciples looking at the temple and tells them about a time when the grand structure they see will break into thousands of pieces. This disturbing news astounds his followers, who want all the details. But Jesus directs the conversation away from the imposing structure’s future demise to the truth that God is always creating something new. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs (v. 8), says the one in whom we become a new creation.

Consider Think of a time when something in your life broke into what seemed like a thousand pieces. What do you remember about the process of moving toward wholeness?

Pray God, with your loving care, restore what is broken in me. Out of my grief and pain, birth something new. Amen. Monday, March 30 Mark 13:24-27

In the small book Children’s Letters to God, a child named Harriet Anne asks God a big question: “Are you real? Some people don’t believe it. If you are, you better do something quick.” This may be the best remedy Harriet Ann can fathom for getting people, who are probably a few decades older than she is, to believe in the God she believes in. She wants God to “do something.” And quick! What miraculous event does God need to enact to turn people’s eyes to the Almighty? Does it need to be powerful and glorious? Does God need to orchestrate the moon and the stars and the clouds into some kind of miraculous show? Does this need to be played out on a big stage, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven (v. 27)? Does God need to spread a picnic before every hungry family? Does God need to install air conditioners in all the detention centers along the border? Does God need to bless us all with the ability to speak multiple languages with ease, endowed by Pentecost power? Does God need to cure all of the people in hospitals? If God listens to Harriet Ann, will God do something “quick” to save people from suffering? Our church is in another interim season when things seem to happen at a snail’s pace. We get caught up in questions like, “Why haven’t we named a search committee yet?” I find myself turning to the beautiful words of Teilhard de Chardin: “Above all, trust in the slow work of God.” Human nature seems naturally impatient. We want to reach our destination without delay and skip the intermediate stages because we don’t enjoy being on our way to something unknown, something new. We pray our own version of Harriet Ann’s letter all the time.

Consider When have you felt impatient concerning events in your life? How have you known that God is real in the times when you have needed to wait?

Pray God, you seem to favor slow work, yet you are with us even in our fast-paced lives. Thank you for lending us your patience when we must wait. Help us receive the signs of your presence at whatever time you send them. Amen. Tuesday, March 31 Mark 13:28-31

I once looked at a house that was for sale just down the street from me. It was small compared to others in the neighborhood, but it had good curb appeal—enough to welcome me through its front door on the Sunday afternoon of its open house. I moved through the living room and the front bedrooms, but quickly discovered that the real “living” area of the house was a central patio space dedicated to a fig tree, of all things! No, I didn’t buy the house, but I’ve been fascinated by my memory of the Fig Tree House ever since. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have the chance to look out each window in that house and see that grand tree? To be blessed by its bounteous dark green leaves in the wintertime, whether or not they had produced enough fruit in the past year for even one “figgy pudding”? To study the branches in the spring, trying to determine whether they could foretell a coming fig harvest? To hover over the branches again at the beginning of summer, lamenting that figs are a late summer fruit? And then, finally, to taste and see a bounteous supply of luscious figs! Denise Levertov wrote, “How could we tire of hope—so much is in the bud!” In this Lenten season, hear Jesus’ lesson of the fig tree and form a habit of looking carefully and gratefully at the buds of God’s new life in the world.

Consider What buds of hope do you see within you and around you?

Pray Creator God, you continue to tell us the story of new life, beginning with the budding signs of spring. We look for your promises of resurrection and your words of hope. Thank you for creating all of this. Amen. Wednesday, April 1 Mark 13:32-35

No one knows. No one knows the day. No one knows the hour. I learn the reality of those three words almost every week. If I’m taking Tuesday afternoon off, it’s just as likely that something important will happen then as it will during Friday morning’s office hours. Someone asked a young chaplain which day of the week is least busy at the hospital. “Is it Thursday? Nothing ever happens on Thursday, does it?” The chaplain thought differently. No one knows when the time will come for unexpected visitors, or a work shift change, or a difficult diagnosis, or a birth, or a death. In Everything Happens for a Reason, Kate Bowler describes her journey through Stage 4 colon cancer as “living scan-to-scan.” She explains:

I’m in the managing-illness phase. I’m still figuring it out as I go along. And part of it has just been learning to see horizons in a beautiful way. I think part of the unexpectedness of life gives people more free license to do whatever they want without always imagining the consequence. So it’s been an odd mathematics to live life very intentionally.

We spend our days with an eye on the clock and the calendar. Even our prayers lean toward the result, or answer, or final outcome. Maybe we presume this is what intentional living means. But Kate Bowler makes me think that living intentionally means that we spend our best days actively and purposefully looking for God’s presence. Over and over and over again, through prayers and scans and blessings and challenges, we learn that life doesn’t pay attention to the schedules we design. We also learn that day by day, hour by hour, God keeps watch with us.

Consider When were you aware of God’s presence at a time when you didn’t even expect God to show up?

Pray God, I don’t want to sleep through your presence beside me. I want to stay awake, so I may see you when I least expect you to show up in my life. Amen. Thursday, April 2 Psalm 102:12-13

This seems like a perfect verse to read at the beginning of worship: You, O LORD, are enthroned forever; your name endures to all generations (v. 12). The psalmist praises the God of ages past, and sings to the God of years to come. The interjection But that begins verse 12 signals a change. When I read verse 1, I discover that this psalm is actually a lament. The psalmist is afflicted and faint, pleading before the Lord. The writer cries, “Hear my prayer, O LORD; let my cry come to you” (102:1). This afflicted one describes days that “pass away like smoke;” bones that “burn like a furnace” (v. 3). The psalmist is “like a little owl of the waste places . . . like a lonely bird on the housetop” (vv. 6-7). Taunted by enemies, derided by those who use the psalmist’s name for a curse, the psalmist laments, “I eat ashes like bread,” saying his tears “mingle…with my drink because of [God’s] indignation and anger” (vv. 9-10). It seems God has thrown this woeful one aside to “wither away like grass” (v. 11). What a backstory! How could anyone endure more derision and trauma than what the psalmist describes in the first eleven verses of Psalm 102? To read verse 12 without the preceding narrative is like going to the Easter service without participating in Good Friday. Thankfully, these experiences of pain lead to a firm conviction: despite the things we grieve, God does not change. God is beyond our lament and deepest anguish. God’s name endures to all generations (v. 12).

Consider With Easter only ten days away, what are you experiencing now that you pray the compassion of the Risen Lord will transform?

Pray O God, my help in ages past whose presence has never left me to get through my struggles alone, I believe that you carry me through my suffering and give me reasons to claim strong faith in you. Amen. Friday, April 3 Psalm 102:14-15

I remember the last time I drove through my hometown, two years after selling the only home I had ever known. My car seemed to tiptoe down the street. It slowed to a standstill half a block away from the house. Peeking at the new storage shed in the backyard and the shutters that were no longer blue was all I could bear. My father built the white wooden house in 1950 when my parents married. My mother lived there until she died in 2013. No matter that it had no central heat or air, or that its closets could barely contain all the old clothes, toys, and family photos, I loved that home. As tenderly as we could over two hot summers, my brother, sister, and I dissembled the family possessions it held, then put it on the market. My memories of the home I loved echo the way the psalmist describes the Temple: for your servants hold its stones dear (v. 14). They love it for the joy it gives them. They love it for its holy space where they gather with God’s people. They even claim meaning in its crumbling stones. Things fall apart. They fade, crumble, and break. They tear, lose their luster, and turn to dust. Earthly things have meaning for us, yet those meaningful things do not last forever. Worn smooth by years of use, the things we treasure remind us of the places where we met God. May we each claim these treasured stories in the temple of our hearts.

Consider What do you carry with you that helps you remember an important place in your life? Why does the thing you carry remind you of God’s presence and care?

Pray God, thank you for those things that help us live our daily lives and for the treasures that remind us of your presence within and beyond our earthly stories. Amen. Saturday, April 4 Psalm 102:16-17

For many years, Deborah came to our church to worship and sing. She offered the anthems and hymns she had composed. She shared honest, healing prayers. She came to church for other reasons, too: to ask if we could help with her rent, to see if someone could bring her a meal from the church supper, to ask if anyone had work she could do (her depression inter- fered with her ability to do certain jobs). She asked if someone could take her to the oncologist in Dallas. She sought healing prayers on her behalf. Often, ideas crystallized in Deborah’s mind long after most of us had gone to sleep. Many of her middle-of-the-night emails included hymns or prayers she composed. They spoke of whatever was keeping her awake and often began, as the psalms do, by naming her current trouble. They closed with a line from a hymn, like, “O love that wilt not let me go, I hide my weary self in thee,” or “Saviour, Like a Shepherd lead us, much I need thy tender care.” Despite what kept her awake, the Spirit worked within her, guiding her pen with hope, as she always claimed God’s promises. A favorite prayer of mine, written in darkness by this woman looking towards the light and noting God’s many gifts to her, ended, “These celebrations are the very windows through which I glimpse Life beyond time and space, only gratitude remains…”

Consider What line from a hymn is your prayer for today? What line from a psalm could you claim as your hymn?

Pray Healing God, you hear the cries of the afflicted and answer their prayers. We trust your presence in the darkness and in the light. Amen. Sunday, April 5 Mark 11:1-11

Jimmy Buffett is a balding 73-year-old musician whose Coral Reefer Band is mostly made up of AARP members who don’t show up on the jumbotron and a couple of dancers in their twenties who are regularly featured on the gigantic screen. Most people in the crowd have been to multiple concerts. Grown-ups wear parrot noses, parrot heads, shark fins, straw hats, flowered shirts, and hula skirts. They know the words and sing along. Beach balls fly through the air. On their way to the concert, fans think, “I like it when we play with beach balls. I’ll stop and buy one.” They do this knowing there is no chance that they will be bringing their beach ball home. Once they launch it at the concert, it’s not coming back. They buy the beach balls to contribute to the party. When you know you’re going to die soon, you can start the funeral early—which can be the right choice—or you can throw a party to celebrate all the good you’ve known. Jesus decides to throw a party. As he enters the city, people throw coats and branches in front of his colt. If they had confetti, they would have thrown it. They know the words and sing along: Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! (v. 9). Palm Sunday is a good day to open ourselves to exuberance—to sing along, dance, and pretend to be younger than we are. Wave some greenery. Shout “Hosanna,” “Hallelujah,” and “Yay!” We plan, program, process, work, worry, argue, and disagree. We do not laugh enough. We need to sing and smile. We need to do something fun. This is a great day to give thanks for God’s joy.

Consider How can you cut loose and celebrate?

Pray God of hope, God of love, God whom we adore, help us give ourselves over to joy. Teach us to share the gladness of your presence. Amen. Monday, April 6 Mark 14:3-9

Mark either does not know her name or does not think it’s worth mentioning. Even after Jesus says, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her (v. 9), her name does not make it into the story. Simon the leper, who owns the house, gets his name in—though I’m sure he would rather be known for something other than his disease. This woman cares for Jesus when he most needs to be cared for, and no one bothers to remember her name. Even the Bible, like so much of literature and history, often names the rich person and leaves the poor, kind person anonymous. The Gospel of Mark also praises other women who love God, but does not print their names in the program—a woman with a flow of blood (5:25- 34), a Syrophoenician mother (7:24-30), and a poor widow with two coins (12:41-44). We know the names of the Avengers, the starting lineup of the New York Yankees, and the cast of Grey’s Anatomy, but we don’t know the name of the person who delivers our mail. We have conversations where we pretend to know the person to whom we are talking. We have conversations with people who act like they know who we are, but do not. Knowing someone’s name is a way to acknowledge their importance. We need to know the names of those who, as Jesus says, perform good service (v. 6). This could be the day to learn the name of a cashier at your grocery store or a teacher at your child’s school. Introduce yourself to a trash collector, mechanic, nurse, librarian, or traffic cop. Show kindness, knowing that God remembers each of our names—even if no one else does.

Consider Why do you need to learn the names of those who help you?

Pray God, help us live with kindness that pours itself out in love for Christ, Amen. Tuesday, April 7 Psalm 118:25-29

Don’t you suspect the writer of Psalm 118 was old? Old people are just better at some things. We know how to read analog clocks, polish shoes, iron shirts, manage money, and spell correctly. We can sew on a button and multiply without a calculator. We know the number of feet in a yard. Old people are better at using words like “extol.” When we are young, we want to accomplish great things. We work to impress and strive to achieve. We long for success and try to look good. This drive to realize our potential is a gift of God. But by the time we are old—if we do it right—we learn to value other gifts of God. We figure out that we look about as good as we are ever going to look. Employers do not return the calls of people our age. (They’re probably confused that we’re calling and not texting.) Our focus shifts from doing to being. We move from achieving to appreci- ating. We plan less and trust more. The psalmist sings, I will give thanks to you, you are my God, I will extol you (v. 28), then calls us to praise, exalt, admire, adore, and worship God too. This may be easier for old people. Giving thanks for God’s steadfast love is simpler when we can look beyond ourselves to the goodness that surrounds us. The best response to the Light that encircles us is an old response: extol God, giving ourselves to gratitude that is bigger than anything we can accomplish.

Consider What keeps you from being thankful in a way that does not ask, “What’s in it for me?”

Pray God, help us to find our way to gratitude that is not self-serving, but is a genuine response to your steadfast love. Amen. Wednesday, April 8 Psalm 116:12-19

I am your servant, the child of your serving girl (v. 16). My mother did the things she thought Christian mothers should do. She took me to church with ridiculous frequency. She kept me away from age-appropriate sins. She bought two boxed sets of The Chronicles of Narnia. And, when she was not trying, she showed me how to be a Christian. She baked pies for newcomers, visited the sick, and played with children. She laughed with her friends and cried over strangers’ heartaches. I am the child of God’s serving girl. At the end of the Last Supper, Mark’s Gospel tells us Jesus and the disciples sing a song (14:26). The traditional Passover hymn is the Hallel (Psalms 113–118), so on the night before he dies, Jesus probably sings, “I am your servant, the child of your serving girl.” Jesus’ mother took him to the synagogue. She worried about Jesus getting into trouble. She shared the stories of God’s people. Mary was amazed by the shepherds’ account of the angel chorus. When she could not find twelve-year-old Jesus on the trip home from the temple, she panicked. At the wedding at Cana, she worried that no one would ever know how wonderful her child was. Then it got complicated. Mary and her son had some testy exchanges. Mary’s heart broke when she heard Jesus say, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” (Matt 12:48). But on the night before he dies, Jesus sings about his mother. Some of us are fortunate enough to be God’s grandchildren. We have been raised by God’s servants. God blesses us with faithful people who lead us to ask, What shall I return to the LORD for all his bounty to me? (v. 12).

Consider Who are the people who show you how to live for Christ?

Pray God, help me spend today as one of the faithful ones who serve you. Amen. Thursday, April 9 Mark 14:22-31

After the Last Supper, Jesus could have said, “I know you’re feeling down, but I promise that you will all get away. I want you to be safe. It wouldn’t do any good for you to die, too. You need to be careful. It’s okay to look out for yourself. After I am raised up, I will meet you in Galilee, and we’ll have a big reunion.” But instead Jesus says, “You will all become deserters” (v. 27). “Deserters” is harsh. Jesus could have let them off the hook by telling them not to worry about leaving him alone, but he chose to tell the truth and break their hearts. When we read this part of the story, we are supposed to recognize that we too are deserters. Like the disciples, we are careful and look out for ourselves. We desert Christ when we eat the bread and drink the cup without letting it break our hearts, when we place our comfort above the needs of others, and when we wish for more things even though we already have more than 95% of God’s people. We desert Christ when we forget the needs of the world—the creation that needs more care, the nationalism that threatens refugees, and the hunger that kills children. We desert Christ when we ignore the problems of our nation—racial prejudice, religious bigotry, and increasing income inequality. We desert Christ when we overlook the heartaches of those around us—broken relationships, frustrated hopes, and shattered dreams. Sometimes we need to feel bad. We need to admit how we fall short. If we skip straight from Palm Sunday to Easter without any honesty in between, we will miss the big reunion.

Consider How could confessing our sins lead us to a better life?

Pray God, we admit that we’d rather not think about the ways we fall short. Help us to see that acknowledging our wrongdoing is a step toward your grace. Amen. Friday, April 10 Mark 15:16-39

At the beginning of Alice Walker’s The Color Purple, Celie suffers through a horrible life and feels no joy. Her only goal is survival. Then her friend Shug points out the color purple to Celie: “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it. People think pleasing God is all God cares about. But any fool living in the world can see [God] always trying to please us back.” The color purple suggests that God is present in tiny details. In the midst of Celie’s pain-filled life, purple is the promise that God is there. The soldiers put a purple robe on Jesus. They put a crown made from a thorn bush on his head. They mock him: “Cheers to the King of the Jews!” They hit him in the head, spit on him, and kneel down pretending to worship. The purple robe is a cruel joke. The robe they used may have been a soldier’s old coat, a poor imitation of the robe worn only by the emperor. But the purple still symbolized royalty and the kingdoms of God’s world. The crucifixion of Jesus is the worst event in history. Darkness covers the whole world. Jesus has good reason to feel abandoned by God (v. 34). And yet, in this most forsaken moment, the story contains a hint of purple. Even in the midst of pain and horror, there is the color purple. On Good Friday, we see the worst that human beings can do, but we see it knowing that God is present. When we are overwhelmed by darkness, we know that God is still with us.

Consider When our lives are at their worst, what signs of God’s love remain?

Pray God, help us to grieve as we should on this worst of days. Help us to grieve knowing that you share our sorrow. Amen. Saturday, April 11 Mark 15:40-47

The family and friends sit in folding chairs under a green canopy. Some who usually cannot stop talking do not know what to say. A few who did not cry at the funeral are crying now. The minister reads Psalm 23 and talks just enough to feel like she has done her job. She closes with a prayer and a benediction. Friends form a line to hug the family and say something comforting. The cemetery workers lower the casket into the ground. A family member throws dirt on the coffin. People slowly drift away. She is the last one at the grave. She has waited until everyone else has left. The last one there is often the one who wants to be there the least. She wants to cry without being seen. She wants to remember. She wants to talk to the deceased, because he would understand what she’s feeling. She isn’t ready for life without the one she loves. Joseph, a respected member of the Jewish Council, asks the Roman prefect if he can bury Jesus’ body. When Pilate receives confirmation that Jesus is dead, he gives Joseph permission. They take Jesus down from the cross, wrap him in a linen shroud, place him in the tomb, and roll a stone across the opening. After everyone else has left, Mary Magdalene and Mary, mother of Joses, stay. This is a good day to stand alone in the cemetery, cry without being seen, and talk to Jesus, because he understands what we’re feeling. We need to remember and give thanks for what Jesus did for the world. We need to hold on to the hope of Christ.

Consider What do you need to think, pray, and remember on the day before Easter?

Pray God, help me find my way to the solitude of Christ’s grave, to contemplate your love and hope. Amen. Sunday, April 12 Mark 16:1-8

On Sunday, October 30, 1938 at 8:00 pm, the CBS Radio series The Mercury Theatre on the Air broadcast its 17th episode, “The War of the Worlds.” This reading from H. G. Wells’ novel tells the story of a Martian invasion of Earth. Howard Koch, who adapted the story for radio, changed its setting from 19th-century England to the contemporary United States. Orson Wells narrated. Unfortunately, some listeners missed the introduction indicating that this was a work of fiction. A portion of the audience believed that the broadcast was actually a news- cast reporting the start of a Martian invasion. On Sunday, early in the first century, three women make their way to Jesus’ tomb. What they find is far from what they expect. No body lies within the tomb to receive their care; instead, a messenger meets them to declare that Jesus has been raised. When the women leave the tomb that morning, they are under no delusion. Something of divine propor- tions has happened, something Jesus talked about throughout his ministry. They say nothing to anyone, for they are afraid (v. 8), perhaps afraid no one will believe them. Had they been around on October 30, 1938, they might have said that a Martian invasion would be easier for people to believe than the story of the resurrection. The women are right about what they saw, however, and eventually they do tell the almost unbelievable story of the empty tomb. The story we tell of God’s work in our lives can sound too good to be true. Love so amazing, so divine, transcends even death itself to hold us close. That sounds unbelievable to many, but it’s a story we must be unafraid to tell.

Consider When did the story of the resurrection become meaningful for you? How do you share God’s redeeming work in your life with others?

Pray Open our eyes, hearts, and minds, God, so we’ll experience your loving presence among us. Open our mouths and hands to share what we find . Amen. Monday, April 13 John 20:1-10

When I read this text, I shake my head and mutter, “Boys.” First, John outruns Peter in a footrace to the tomb (and mentions that fact twice). Then he hesitates. Peter catches up, and rushes in as he always does. They find the tomb empty. That’s the news that gathers us early on Easter morning with trumpets, lilies, and “Alleluia” songs. Christ is Risen. He is Risen indeed! But no joyful shouts of praise fill John and Peter that morning. The text says they believe, but what they believe isn’t clear. They might only believe what Mary told them: the body is gone. An empty grave proves nothing to them yet. So they go home. They go home! Once again, I’m shaking my head. Each reading of Scripture offers new understanding, not because the text changes, but because we do. My father has recently died. In the days following, my family had much to process. Good support from family and friends surrounded us, held us up, and held us together. But I longed for home. Psychologists say that our bodies and minds “want to come home: that’s where energy is conserved for the marathon of life, where learning is consolidated, where resources are built rather than expended, and where pains and traumas are healed.” For me, home is not a physical place, but a spiritual one, that place of “quiet rest near to the heart of God.” At home, I start understanding what Jesus means by resurrection hope. I’m not shaking my head at the disciples anymore. At home, everything Jesus told them begins to make sense. His words “I am the resurrection and the life” become real.

“Having a Sense of Home,” Rick Hansen, Psychology Today .

Consider How do you know when you are home? When has Scripture come alive with new meaning for you?

Pray God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast, and our eternal home, may we find peace with you. Amen. Tuesday, April 14 John 20:11-18

In movies and media today, savvy viewers know to look for “Easter eggs.” Reminiscent of the egg hunts we experienced as children, movie directors and software creators offer these Easter eggs as inside jokes, hidden messages, or even secret clues to a deeper meaning or revelation of what might come next—usually in the next installment of that particular show or movie. Along with beautiful poetry, vivid imagery, and meaningful contrasts such as light/dark, ordinary/extraordinary, insiders/outsiders, death/life, John’s Gospel is full of Easter eggs. Look back to the first verse of this chapter. As is often the case with this gospel, John’s account of Jesus’ resurrection is a little different from those in the other gospels. The other narratives begin at sunrise, but John drops an Easter egg with “while it was still dark” (20:1), conjuring up Genesis and the beginning of everything: “in the beginning… the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep” (1:1-2). Mary and the rest of Jesus’ followers are suffering the deep pain of death and separation. Perhaps the loss of their friend pales in compar- ison to the loss of their hope. Darkness has settled in. John drops a second hint of what is to come, however, as Mary mistakes Jesus for a gardener. In the garden of creation and in the garden of the tomb, God is at work in the darkness, bringing forth new life. Could new life begin anywhere else? As Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “new life starts in the dark. Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark.” Much of God’s best work begins in the darkness.

Consider When have you been aware that God was at work in a dark time? In what ways has God shown you new life, a new beginning that started in the dark?

Pray Loving God, open our eyes to see your presence with us in times of light and times of darkness. Send your Holy Spirit to create new life in our dark places. Amen. Wednesday, April 15 Psalm 118:1-9

Worshipers recited Psalm 118 as they entered the temple for Passover. The psalm tells of God’s deliverance and their exile. Current congre- gations also use it. The leader calls out, “Let Israel say,” and the people respond, “His steadfast love endures forever” (v. 2). The minister proclaims, “Let the house of Aaron say,” and the people respond, “His steadfast love endures forever” (v. 3). The minister affirms,“Let those who fear the LORD s a y ,” and the people respond, “His steadfast love endures forever” (v. 4). Worshipers grow more confident in their faith when they experience this psalm’s power. Before it became a worship litany, its words were the quiet chant that brought courage in a crisis. The LORD’s steadfast love endures forever. When facing opposition, God’s people learned to say, The LORD’s steadfast love endures forever, and found their anchor in overwhelming circumstances. The LORD’s steadfast love endures forever. When we repeat those words enough, and live into them, we find ourselves echoing the psalmist’s confidence,What can mortals do to me? (v. 6). Many think Psalm 118 inspired Paul to write, “If God is for us, who is against us?” (Rom 8:31) and, “Death, where is your sting? Grave, where is your victory?” (1 Cor 15:55, paraphrase). On hard days, faithful courage stammers, The LORD’s steadfast love endures forever. This is the message of Easter.

Consider When have the words “The LORD’s steadfast love endures forever” been on your lips? How do you live into those words?

Pray God of deliverance, despite our fears and faults, despite our anxiety and short sightedness, we want to believe in whatever way we can that your steadfast love endures forever. Help us even in our unbelief to stammer those faithfully confident words, “The LORD’s steadfast love endures forever.” Amen. Thursday, April 16 Psalm 118:10-14

A rabbi asked students how to tell when a new day has dawned. One said, “When there is enough light to see the difference between an apple tree and a pear tree.” It was a good answer, sensible to the core. Another said, “When you can look down the road and tell whether the animal up ahead is a fox or a dog.” Another fine, practical answer. The rabbi paused, then finally said, “It is a new day when there is enough light that allows you to see the face of another human being, and looking upon that face, you see your brother or sister. Until that happens, it is still night.” His answer was full of broad-eyed hope. Clear-eyed realism is useful for simple, daily problems. Broad-eyed hope brings perspective and meaning to our larger dilemmas. Psalm 118 connects the two approaches. It begins with clear-eyed realism as the psalmist, confronted by enemies (v. 10), acknowledges, “I am surrounded and pushed hard.” Yet even before God acts, the psalmist embraces a hope larger than his situation, “They surrounded me; in the name of the LORD I cut them off!” God has yet to act, but the psalmist is already living into a hope broad enough to pay those “bees” (v. 12) no mind; they are cut off and of no concern. The writer affirms that through this hope, “the LORD helped me” and “has become my salvation” (vv. 13, 14). All of us who stand on this side of Easter can say the same.

Consider What have you experienced that’s been like the “bees” in the psalm, leading you to ask God for strength and hope?

Pray God, help us recognize the hope you hold out for us to receive. Teach us to focus on the ways you are always at work within and around us so that we might truly know you. Amen. Friday, April 17 Psalm 118:15-19

From the horrors of WWII came many examples of art by persecuted and murdered innocents, especially in the Theresienstadt ghetto and concentration camp, also called Terezín. Over 15,000 children passed through that camp and 90% of them died. A few of their poems were later found beneath floorboards and pressed into cracks in walls. One poem, “Birdsong” by an unknown child, is unique in its hopefulness:

“When dewdrops sparkle in the grass And earth’s aflood with morning light, A blackbird sings upon a bush To greet the dawning after night. Then I know how fine it is to live.”

In the face of unspeakable tragedy the young poet still cradles whatever beauty or hope is near. The psalmist, too, amplifies the powerful truth that hope can still prevail despite the most severe experiences. The testimony of the young poet and the elder one claims the promise of life even in the presence of death. When atrocities occur at the hands of those who forsake God’s vision, God’s hope finds ways to persist. Whether it enters the pain of a concentration camp or a psalmist’s anguish or a crucifixion, hope is forever able to live because it belongs to God.

Sources: “Theresienstadt,” United States Holocaust Memorial Museum . “Birdsong (Poem 8),” Gloria Lee, Terezin Children’s Cantata .

Consider When have you experienced God’s persistent hope?

Pray God, your grace makes hope possible even in times of sorrow. Through your grace, show us that persistent truth in our lives. Amen. Saturday, April 18 Psalm 118:20-29

As this psalm ends, it returns to the themes with which it begins. Its rich imagery confidently declares the central truths of Scripture that has inspired musicians and writers across the ages. Though rejected, God has become the chief cornerstone of salvation, the psalmist declares. “This is the day the LORD has made,” and “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the LORD,” and “his steadfast love endures forever” (vv. 22, 24, 26, 29). Verse 24 is the chorus that I sang in Vacation Bible School and during Youth Camp, and its page is well worn in many hymnals. Almost every time I sing this with a group, we divide into two so that each line can be echoed. When you sing your assigned part, standing is required. The song ends with both parts in unison and all singers on their feet together, declaring that this day belongs to God. This is the day the LORD has made is a profound declaration, yet the Common English Bible translation offers another layer to its depth of meaning. It renders that first line:This is the day the LORD acted. That nuance clarifies the message of this section of the psalm: God’s actions have changed the course of history. God decisively acts through Christ Jesus. Salvation has come and forever changed our lives. God’s decisive act in Christ changes everything! The magnitude of a gift that changes everything is hard to compre- hend, especially when we did not earn or deserve such a gift. So may we take our cues from the psalmist, giving praise and taking assurance that God’s actions on our behalf make clear that God’s “steadfast love endures forever” (v. 29).

Consider When has God acted decisively in your life? How have you said thank you? Christ-followers can make a significant difference for others. What gift might you offer someone else?

Pray God, for the joy of Easter we give thanks. For those whose lives are gifts to ours and for those whose lives could be gifted by our own, we are grateful. Empower us to receive and to give gracefully. Amen. Sunday, April 19 Acts 1:1-5

This Scripture passage summarizes all the amazing things that the Gospel of Luke describes, and it’s tempting to get caught up in the flurry of activity. Yet, the message is clear about what to do next: wait. Wait? Really? After all that? I don’t like to wait. I like tending to my to-do list. I like being productive. I like knowing what to do next and then jumping in and doing it. But verse 4 says to wait. And this wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order. This Scripture speaks to our day. I’m worried. A lot of people are panicked. We’re witnessing great changes that trouble our public life. We’re also recognizing that some of the things that need to change are mired in name-calling, bickering, and threats. Yet this is the perfect time to slow down, to open ourselves up to God’s stillness. To wait. I do this through meditation and centering prayer. These two spiritual practices are similar in some ways but also very different. Both of these practices help me learn to be still and let go (meditate) and also to center myself and open up to God’s mystery (centering prayer). Whenever news events get more upsetting, I slow down even more. I become still. I wait. I discern through the stillness when I need to act and what to do next. It’s helpful for us to remember that “those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength” (Isaiah 40:31).

Consider How do you incorporate stillness into your day? How do you wait to discern your path?

Pray God, help us to slow down and be still. Open us up to your presence. Amen. Monday, April 20 Acts 1:6-8

No matter where you go, you are a witness. In what you say, in how you say it. In what you do and how you do it. We tend to underestimate our power. We think that power belongs to a celebrity or someone in a leadership position. While those in the limelight have more visibility, we each have power. It shows through our words and actions. After the sudden death of my dad a few years ago, I was shocked and in great pain. He collapsed on our vacation, the night before my son was to move to college. Even though I gave my dad CPR, I couldn’t save him. Many people surrounded us. They brought us food. They provided words of comfort. But one person stood out to me during that difficult time. She was a friend who came and sat with me. She never said a word. She didn’t bring food or a card. She just showed up, looked deep in my eyes, and stayed with me. Her calming presence helped me to open up. While all the other interactions were helpful, I realized that they were often about the other person offering comfort. My friend, the one who only sat with me, was the one who gave me the power to talk, to grieve, and to share my experience. Now when difficulties arise in other people’s lives, I no longer worry about what to say or what to bring. I go right away. I show up. I look deeply into their eyes and sit with them. After a while, a conversation often develops. There’s great power in being present.

Consider How are you a witness?

Prayer God, remind us to be mindful of our words and actions and the impact they have on everyone around us. Amen. Tuesday, April 21 Acts 1:9-11

Look closely at this Scripture. It stretches us to imagine what this scene might have looked like to those who witnessed it. How did they describe the event to their family and friends at the end of the day? Was this the only verse that could describe an experience that must have been inde- scribable? What do you see as you read verse 9? What’s really there? Notice what’s not there. This Scripture is about the Ascension. It’s about Jesus going into heaven, disappearing from the disciples’ sight. Too often commentary on the Ascension includes details about Jesus’ Second Coming and the final destruction of the earth. This passage mentions the first event, but makes no references to the second. Jesus has just told the disciples not to worry about what many now make a living speculating about because “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority” (v. 7). In fact, verse 11 asks, Why do you stand looking up toward heaven? Yes, this is an amazing moment for the disciples, but it’s just one moment. Once the Ascension ends, the new chapter of their work on earth begins. And so does ours. Our job is not to destroy the earth, or wait for it to be destroyed, but to live faithfully. Everybody finds different ways to live faithfully. Some advocate for social justice. Others work to create a caring community for everyone. Some spend a lot of time in prayer or studying the Bible. Others share their gifts: their music, their art, their teaching. What’s essential is to live faithfully in ways that fit you best so that you don’t burn out and you don’t lose heart. Yes, the Ascension was an amazing moment. There is the hope of the Second Coming. But we’re not here to stand looking up toward heaven. We’re here to live faithfully on earth.

Consider How do you live faithfully?

Pray God, help us to discern faithful ways to live as committed disciples. Amen. Wednesday, April 22 Acts 1:12-14

Who is in your community? How often do you get together? What do you do together when you meet? This Scripture passage is about the importance of gathering together; it’s about the power of community. It’s also about acknowledging what the community is going through. This group of disciples has been through a lot. They have just witnessed the Ascension of Jesus, and they have experienced the weight of one of their members betraying Jesus. It’s a lot to take in. Yet, they come together without bickering or fighting. Their community does not break up. It gathers and grows stronger. We’re part of many communities: church, neighborhood, families, work, and other places where we spend time. Which of your communities are strong enough to continue coming together no matter what happens? Which deepen their ties to each other in order to weather the ups and downs of community life? I’ve adopted the mindset that every community I’m in is a community of care. My task is to get to know the people in my community and to express my care for them. It’s when I don’t take the time to get to know people that mistrust can arise. The more I get to know them, the more I realize that we are all living complicated lives and doing the best we can. When we support each other on our journeys, we can build stronger communities and develop more stamina to keep moving forward.

Consider How can you help your community come together and deepen the ties within it?

Pray Thank you, God, for each other. Help us to care for one another and build a strong sense of community. Amen. Thursday, April 23 Acts 1:15-20

What kind of a disciple do you want to be? In today’s passage, it’s clear who you don’t want to be: Judas. Peter doesn’t hold back in telling the truth about the one who betrays Jesus. He stands up in front of a crowd and is clear about what happened. Judas made a choice that changed everything, and Peter condemns it. Judas’ fatal choice, however, must have been more complicated than it initially seems. At what point did he begin falling away from following Christ? Was it that moment when Jesus praises Mary for anointing his feet with costly perfume ( John 12:1-8)? Was it the difference in their personalities, or their purposes, that began to get under Judas’s skin? Did Judas start to think that he could straighten out the world more effectively? Did greed overcome his better judgment? Judas’s story is an opportunity to ask ourselves how closely we follow Jesus. At what points are we tempted to step away from the cost of discipleship? When do we close ourselves off from Christ and refuse to share honestly what we are thinking and feeling, as Judas does? Our actions, choices, and words reveal much about the faith in which we live. Discipleship is not without struggle and missteps. Scripture makes sure we know about Peter’s denial and Thomas’s doubts because their stories of forgiveness, grace, and community offer us hope. Judas’s self-centered choices along the way lead to tragedy.

Consider What kind of disciple do you want to be? What does it mean for you to stay faithful to Christ?

Prayer God, help me to wisely discern the choices I need to make to follow you. Amen. Friday, April 24 Acts 1:21-26

The disciples have a tough task in this passage: discerning who will take Judas’s place. They narrow the selection to two before making the final decision. William Barclay says that we learn two important truths about being an apostle from these verses. First, the function of an apostle is to become a witness with us to his resurrection (v. 22). Secondly, they were looking for someone who had accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among us, beginning from the baptism of John until the day when he was taken up from us (vv. 21-22). The criterion for becoming an apostle involves being part of their community. Discipleship is not a solo act. Apostles, like followers of Christ today, cannot fulfill their purpose alone. We need each other. We need community. This involves more than just showing up to observe a worship service. It means engaging in activities that build Christian community, participating in small group studies or service and mission projects. It could mean planning a fellowship, hosting a dinner for newcomers, getting involved in church groups that excite you, or starting a ministry that brings you joy and meets a need. As they look for the person to take Judas’s place, they consider those who have been part of their story all along. In what ways could taking on a new role deepen your witness? Let’s find new ways to strengthen the Christian community.

Consider How do you find community as a person of faith? How do you deepen those relationships?

Prayer God, remind us not to go it alone but to find the companionship and guidance of a Christian community. Amen. Saturday, April 25 Mark 6:6b-13

Chances are your day will be full of distractions: an unexpected phone call, an unscheduled request, an addictive game on a smartphone, click bait articles on the Internet. We find it easy to get off course. Chances are a particular fear will be part of your day. The news may scare us into focusing only on selfish concerns. We may be tempted to care solely for ourselves, stocking up on what could easily become too expensive or scarce, worrying about the future in harmful ways. Distractions and fears have always challenged Christ’s followers. That’s why this text is full of advice about how to not get distracted, how to not cling to safety nets, how to shake off disappointment and stay focused on what matters most. The apostles have a specific mission to share Jesus’ ministry by doing work they have seen him do. They give people the chance to start over, confront what harms them, care for illnesses, and restore health and wellbeing wherever they go. I see Christ followers in our churches today who devote themselves to those specific tasks of Jesus’ mission. I admire how they find their callings and remain faithful to their paths. One church member calls and visits homebound members. Another leads in worship by playing in the bell choir. One meets with state legis- lators about social justice issues. Our callings can change over time. At one point, I led Christian education classes. At other times, I did a lot of mission projects. Now I play the flute and do dramatic readings during worship. Even if you’re not sure what your specific mission should be right now, showing up in your congregation is a helpful way to discern your path. See what intrigues you. Distractions and fears will always be with us, but when we find our focus, we’ll know that we’re on the right track.

Consider How do you keep yourself from being distracted from what matters most?

Pray God, help us to not be tempted by our distractions or fears, but to remain focused on and steadfast in our calling to your mission. Amen. Sunday, April 26 Acts 3:1-10

While playing the board game Risk a few months before he made history, Neil Armstrong passed a note to his younger brother, Dean. On it he had scribbled the line he would eventually declare for the world: “That’s one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.” For months, Armstrong carefully considered what he would say and what he would do with humanity’s very first steps on the moon. We can’t measure his level of anticipation for such a momentous event, but he clearly spent a lot of time imagining how it would go. I wonder if the lame man in this story could relate. For an entire lifetime, he has been confined by the need for stretchers and by other people’s schedules. How many times has he envisioned his first steps? After Peter looks him in the eyes, he grabs the man’s hand and, in the name of the risen Jesus of Nazareth, raises him to his feet. The story says the man begins walking and leaping. I don’t know what video footage of those first steps would look like, but I like to imagine it resembling those first moon bounces—awkward, fun, and uninhibited. We live in a time of disunity and division. It’s hard to rejoice when so much injustice exists in our world. Yet this man’s response is a lesson for each of us. His unrestrained joy bears witness to the hope of resurrection. He offers his joy, maybe even more than the miracle of his walking, to those around him and those picturing his story, a glimpse of God’s kingdom breaking in on earth. Humankind needs more of that, more of us taking small steps of faith and giant leaps of joy.

Consider When’s the last time you leapt for joy in body or in spirit? What’s holding you back?

Pray God of life, remind us how to rejoice. Amen. Monday, April 27 Acts 3:1-10

Have you ever played a version of this game: If you could have any superpower what would it be? My answer usually depends on whether flying would require exerting much physical effort. After all, I hate running, so would I really like flying? The other question I usually have is whether this superpower is innate or learned. It seems like most superheroes and heroines must learn how to use their newly discovered powers. What about the man in this story? He was born without the ability to walk; he depended on his friends and strangers to help him get around. When he asks Peter and John for money to get by, Peter looks into his soul with near X-ray precision. Like granting the man a new superpower, Peter gives him a greater gift of charity than any coin he could offer. Without missing a beat, the man jumps to his feet and begins walking and leaping. Remember, he hadn’t become paralyzed as an adult after a tragic car accident; he wasn’t a veteran wounded in war. This man was never able to walk. Which means that not only was he healed of his affliction, he seemingly skipped right past the toddling phase and straight into the long-jump competition. The reality is that he probably fell down a number of times in all the commotion, maybe like a wobbly newborn giraffe learning to stand. But after a lifetime of being unable to get up through his own strength, there may have been as much dignity in his rising up from his exuberant stumbles as there was joy in his walking. This is a good reminder for each of us: sometimes our greatest strength is learning that we can get up when we fall.

Consider What was a moment when you discovered your own superpower of resilience and courage?

Pray Holy Spirit who raised Christ from the dead and the disabled man from his mat, raise up courage in us so we’ll keep trying even when we stumble. Amen. Tuesday, April 28 Acts 3:1-10

When I was traveling in Morocco, I took way too many pictures of doors, arches, and city gateways. They captivated me with their beauty— detailed mosaics of teal and blue tiles against white or clay-colored walls. I have a number of city arches in mind when I read this week’s Scriptures about the man left by the “Beautiful Gate.” I imagine the gate was called beautiful because it was. But what made it beautiful? Was it lined in similar mosaics of vibrant colored tiles, or perhaps ivy covered its arches? Maybe the name was about the physical appearance of the outer facades, or maybe it symbolized the beauty of what was inside the gate. Even so, this man was on the outside of that beauty, physically, literally, and metaphorically. The generosity of people who carried the man to the gate every day, and the kindness of strangers who gave him money on their way, was all surely beautiful. But he was still on the outside looking in and, from his vantage point, looking up. So, Peter and John, in full view of those around them, chose to make clear what walls and gates and traditions often obstruct: the God of resurrection and Pentecost is on the loose in our world, redrawing the lines of who is in and who is out. In this case, the man literally runs through the gate and into the temple. But in many ways, it signaled that the Spirit of God was loosed beyond that gate and into the world. That sure sounds beautiful to me.

Consider What “beautiful gates” or fences in your life keep you from fully engaging in the work of God in the world?

Pray Spirit at work in this world, draw us out of our comfort zones and into the beauty of your world. Amen. Wednesday, April 29 Acts 3:1-10

When I was in junior high, I visited my uncle in Utah. He took my brother and me fishing, but we were so bad that he changed the plan. We left the river and went to a fish hatchery instead. I don’t remember much about that day, but I do recall that as soon as I dropped the bait and line (is that what it’s called?) into the water, I’d get a bite. We must have caught 20 fish each that day. I suppose my uncle thought he was teaching me how to fish so I’d eat for a lifetime. Maybe Peter, ever the fisherman, thought as much when he healed the man in today’s passage. In the verses just preceding this story, we read that the disciples pooled all their money and resources together for their fledgling faith community. It’s likely that Peter and John really didn’t have any money when they saw the man because they’d shared everything with those in need. In fact, this man was probably one of those people they’d helped before. Chapter 2 says they went “day by day” to the temple, and chapter 3 says this man was there “daily.” Perhaps Peter decided that instead of giving this man alms every day, he’d teach him “how to fish,” or how to walk, as it were. Today, we might expand this saying to speak about equity, recognizing the unjust systems that keep some people in need from having “fishing poles” or access to a “river” to begin with. Perhaps the miracle is that they didn’t just give him alms like everyone else, or hand out food at the pantry, or take a shift at the shelter, but instead they went straight to the root of the problem. The man received a miraculous healing; today, “how to fish” might be affordable housing, a living wage, or affordable childcare.

Consider: What steps can you take to learn more about injustices in your community?

Pray May justice flow down like a river, and right living like an ever-flowing stream. Amen. Thursday, April 30 Psalm 62

Growing up we had three versions of the same kind of game: Sardines, Marco Polo, and hide-and-seek. You know the premise of hide-and-seek; Marco Polo is much the same. Someone is “it,” with their eyes closed, trying to find the others, except they say the word “Marco,” and everyone who is hiding (usually in a swimming pool) responds with “Polo.” It continues until the Marco tags the Polo they found by listening for their voices and moving into their vicinity. Sardines is a reverse of hide-and-seek. One person is “it,” but they hide while everyone else counts. Then everyone takes off to find the “it” person. When they do find “it,” they join them in their hiding spot. The last person to find everyone becomes the new “it.” Three different versions of the same kind of game. It seems like there’s something innate to human nature that we need children to remind us of: we love being found. Today’s psalm speaks to the same desire. No fewer than eleven times, the psalmist describes God as salvation, rock, fortress, refuge— all different versions of the same state of existence: being found. When challenges arise, when we’re experiencing oppression or loss or failure, when we’re afraid, when we’ve lost our way, the psalmist reminds us that we are never really forgotten. Our hope has always been finding ourselves at home in God. Just when we think we’re hidden and God needs to find us, we discover that it was really the other way around all along. God knew where we were; we just needed to keep searching for God.

Consider How does your need to be found show up in your life?

Pray God, remind us that we are never lost, but always found in you. Amen. NextSunday Studies provide adult Bible studies on a wide range of topics, all of which are useful for individual or group study. A printed Study Guide offers four, five, or six lessons with in-depth commentary and Bible background material. A free, downloadable Teaching Guide features a wealth of options, questions, and ideas for teaching each lesson. Building Confronting Easter a Unified Brokenness Confessions Church in the Church

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