”They went out and fled from the tomb for terror and amazement had seized them and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Peter’s sermon Sunday reminded me that as people of God we are amazed, fearful, hopeful, despairing and willing all at the same time. We can fly in fright then turn around and walk into those fears in faith.

He is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Did you hear the laughter of people and the giggles of children in the Sanctuary? Joy and love abound! The sounds of choir, congregation, and brass lifted the good news out of the sanctuary and into the world to join with so many other congregations celebrating the news of Jesus arising. We gathered in love and friendship – hugs all around.

There’s been a recurring question popping up a fair mount lately, “are you better off today than you were four years ago?” The questioners of course are trying to make comparisons between the leadership of our country and between two very different administrations. In trying to answer the question, we’re quick to remember that four years ago, the world was firmly in the grasp of a pandemic primarily defined by unknowns and uncertainties. For our devotion today, I offer the concluding passage of the sermon that I preached for Easter morning, four years ago:

“When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land…”  A dramatic detail worthy of the start of any good story, script, or screenplay.  And it could serve as the beginning of a news account that will chronicle the events of the coming solar eclipse, set to happen in a little over a week.

We’ve finally arrived at Holy Week. This past Sunday we got a look at what’s to come and sang “Jesus Remember Me” during communion. It’s a hymn that reminds me of one of my favorite Bible verses in Luke. In the Gospel of Mark the two crucified with Jesus both taunted Jesus: “Those who were crucified with him also taunted him” (Mk 15:32b); but in Luke 23: 39-43 it reads, “One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’

“Even when they call us mad, when they call us subversives and Communists, and all the epithets they put on us, we know that we only teach the subversive witness of the Beatitudes, which have turned everything upside down to proclaim, ‘Blessed are the poor, blessed are those who thirst for justice, blessed are those who suffer.’” In these stirring words of Bishop Oscar Romero shared with us on Wednesday night, we were reminded of the profound connection between discipleship and sacrifice.

The longest speech Jesus makes in the Gospel of Mark is chapter 13. We heard portions of it on Sunday, but with its length, we skipped over the middle third of it. As an apocalyptic text, it is supposed to comfort us and give us hope in dire times of wars, persecutions, natural disasters.

This scripture reading sounds rather depressing. We hear of the destruction of human accomplishments; we hear of war; we hear of natural disasters; we hear of famines.

In reflecting on the poetry of Mother Teresa that was shared with us this week, I was drawn into wondering about the essence of Christian service, as it contributes to the cost of discipleship. Mother Teresa’s words encapsulate the sacrificial nature of love, echoing the teachings of Jesus Christ himself.  Am I ready for that kind of sacrifice?  Are you?

What’s with this “ALL IN” as my title territory? I’m never quite sure if I understand current cultural jargon, but I think this two-word phrase is used to convey the most thoroughgoing commitment to something–a project, a proposal, a possibility. Well, that’s the turf traversed in Mark’s text here.

Last week it was the Pharisees that came to test Jesus.  They had asserted themselves, in concert with the civic ruling authorities, to be the primary arbiters over the theological integrity of religious practice.  And they didn’t much appreciate Jesus’ challenging their traditions, let alone their theology.  Change, especially when it’s prompted by others, can be a threatening catalyst.

In reflecting on the profound writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer that were shared on Wednesday, we are invited into a deeper understanding of what it truly means to live as disciples of Christ. Bonhoeffer’s journey toward faith led him through the realization that true faith is not found in striving to live a saintly life apart from the world, but rather in fully engaging with the complexities and challenges of life itself.

”They went out and fled from the tomb for terror and amazement had seized them and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Peter’s sermon Sunday reminded me that as people of God we are amazed, fearful, hopeful, despairing and willing all at the same time. We can fly in fright then turn around and walk into those fears in faith.

He is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Did you hear the laughter of people and the giggles of children in the Sanctuary? Joy and love abound! The sounds of choir, congregation, and brass lifted the good news out of the sanctuary and into the world to join with so many other congregations celebrating the news of Jesus arising. We gathered in love and friendship – hugs all around.

There’s been a recurring question popping up a fair mount lately, “are you better off today than you were four years ago?” The questioners of course are trying to make comparisons between the leadership of our country and between two very different administrations. In trying to answer the question, we’re quick to remember that four years ago, the world was firmly in the grasp of a pandemic primarily defined by unknowns and uncertainties. For our devotion today, I offer the concluding passage of the sermon that I preached for Easter morning, four years ago:

“When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land…”  A dramatic detail worthy of the start of any good story, script, or screenplay.  And it could serve as the beginning of a news account that will chronicle the events of the coming solar eclipse, set to happen in a little over a week.

We’ve finally arrived at Holy Week. This past Sunday we got a look at what’s to come and sang “Jesus Remember Me” during communion. It’s a hymn that reminds me of one of my favorite Bible verses in Luke. In the Gospel of Mark the two crucified with Jesus both taunted Jesus: “Those who were crucified with him also taunted him” (Mk 15:32b); but in Luke 23: 39-43 it reads, “One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’

“Even when they call us mad, when they call us subversives and Communists, and all the epithets they put on us, we know that we only teach the subversive witness of the Beatitudes, which have turned everything upside down to proclaim, ‘Blessed are the poor, blessed are those who thirst for justice, blessed are those who suffer.’” In these stirring words of Bishop Oscar Romero shared with us on Wednesday night, we were reminded of the profound connection between discipleship and sacrifice.

The longest speech Jesus makes in the Gospel of Mark is chapter 13. We heard portions of it on Sunday, but with its length, we skipped over the middle third of it. As an apocalyptic text, it is supposed to comfort us and give us hope in dire times of wars, persecutions, natural disasters.

This scripture reading sounds rather depressing. We hear of the destruction of human accomplishments; we hear of war; we hear of natural disasters; we hear of famines.

In reflecting on the poetry of Mother Teresa that was shared with us this week, I was drawn into wondering about the essence of Christian service, as it contributes to the cost of discipleship. Mother Teresa’s words encapsulate the sacrificial nature of love, echoing the teachings of Jesus Christ himself.  Am I ready for that kind of sacrifice?  Are you?

What’s with this “ALL IN” as my title territory? I’m never quite sure if I understand current cultural jargon, but I think this two-word phrase is used to convey the most thoroughgoing commitment to something–a project, a proposal, a possibility. Well, that’s the turf traversed in Mark’s text here.

Last week it was the Pharisees that came to test Jesus.  They had asserted themselves, in concert with the civic ruling authorities, to be the primary arbiters over the theological integrity of religious practice.  And they didn’t much appreciate Jesus’ challenging their traditions, let alone their theology.  Change, especially when it’s prompted by others, can be a threatening catalyst.

In reflecting on the profound writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer that were shared on Wednesday, we are invited into a deeper understanding of what it truly means to live as disciples of Christ. Bonhoeffer’s journey toward faith led him through the realization that true faith is not found in striving to live a saintly life apart from the world, but rather in fully engaging with the complexities and challenges of life itself.

”They went out and fled from the tomb for terror and amazement had seized them and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Peter’s sermon Sunday reminded me that as people of God we are amazed, fearful, hopeful, despairing and willing all at the same time. We can fly in fright then turn around and walk into those fears in faith.

He is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Did you hear the laughter of people and the giggles of children in the Sanctuary? Joy and love abound! The sounds of choir, congregation, and brass lifted the good news out of the sanctuary and into the world to join with so many other congregations celebrating the news of Jesus arising. We gathered in love and friendship – hugs all around.

There’s been a recurring question popping up a fair mount lately, “are you better off today than you were four years ago?” The questioners of course are trying to make comparisons between the leadership of our country and between two very different administrations. In trying to answer the question, we’re quick to remember that four years ago, the world was firmly in the grasp of a pandemic primarily defined by unknowns and uncertainties. For our devotion today, I offer the concluding passage of the sermon that I preached for Easter morning, four years ago:

“When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land…”  A dramatic detail worthy of the start of any good story, script, or screenplay.  And it could serve as the beginning of a news account that will chronicle the events of the coming solar eclipse, set to happen in a little over a week.

We’ve finally arrived at Holy Week. This past Sunday we got a look at what’s to come and sang “Jesus Remember Me” during communion. It’s a hymn that reminds me of one of my favorite Bible verses in Luke. In the Gospel of Mark the two crucified with Jesus both taunted Jesus: “Those who were crucified with him also taunted him” (Mk 15:32b); but in Luke 23: 39-43 it reads, “One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’

“Even when they call us mad, when they call us subversives and Communists, and all the epithets they put on us, we know that we only teach the subversive witness of the Beatitudes, which have turned everything upside down to proclaim, ‘Blessed are the poor, blessed are those who thirst for justice, blessed are those who suffer.’” In these stirring words of Bishop Oscar Romero shared with us on Wednesday night, we were reminded of the profound connection between discipleship and sacrifice.

The longest speech Jesus makes in the Gospel of Mark is chapter 13. We heard portions of it on Sunday, but with its length, we skipped over the middle third of it. As an apocalyptic text, it is supposed to comfort us and give us hope in dire times of wars, persecutions, natural disasters.

This scripture reading sounds rather depressing. We hear of the destruction of human accomplishments; we hear of war; we hear of natural disasters; we hear of famines.

In reflecting on the poetry of Mother Teresa that was shared with us this week, I was drawn into wondering about the essence of Christian service, as it contributes to the cost of discipleship. Mother Teresa’s words encapsulate the sacrificial nature of love, echoing the teachings of Jesus Christ himself.  Am I ready for that kind of sacrifice?  Are you?

What’s with this “ALL IN” as my title territory? I’m never quite sure if I understand current cultural jargon, but I think this two-word phrase is used to convey the most thoroughgoing commitment to something–a project, a proposal, a possibility. Well, that’s the turf traversed in Mark’s text here.

Last week it was the Pharisees that came to test Jesus.  They had asserted themselves, in concert with the civic ruling authorities, to be the primary arbiters over the theological integrity of religious practice.  And they didn’t much appreciate Jesus’ challenging their traditions, let alone their theology.  Change, especially when it’s prompted by others, can be a threatening catalyst.

In reflecting on the profound writings of Dietrich Bonhoeffer that were shared on Wednesday, we are invited into a deeper understanding of what it truly means to live as disciples of Christ. Bonhoeffer’s journey toward faith led him through the realization that true faith is not found in striving to live a saintly life apart from the world, but rather in fully engaging with the complexities and challenges of life itself.