Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost

Luke 21:5-19 

I don’t know why, but I was surprised when I went to the grocery store last week and there were candy canes and Christmas decorations. Halloween was two weeks ago and seemingly overnight, while the trick or treaters were sprawled on the living room floors at home, trading for their favorite sweets,

the stores got ready for Christmas,

bypassing the whole month of November,

when the focus is on gratitude and giving thanks for the abundant life we have.

So, in today’s gospel, when I heard Jesus admonish his followers, “Beware that you are not led astray” I heard a warning, urging us not to get swept up in worldly distractions. Don’t get distracted by the bright lights, the tinsel and the ornaments; they’re beautiful and festive, but they are not our focus.  

Let’s remember where we are in Luke’s gospel. In the previous chapter, the religious leaders questioned Jesus’ authority and Jesus responded, calling out the teachers who “devour widows’ houses” (20:47).  

This chapter began with a scene where we witnessed a widow offering “all she had to live on” (21:4) And then Jesus rebuffed the Sadducees when they tried to trap him with a question about the resurrection.

Jesus has been telling his followers how the systems and institutions are imperfect and demonstrating how they exploit some of their most vulnerable neighbors, and still, here, in today’s gospel, when the disciples and he are outside the temple, they are gushing about its rich façade and splendor, impressed by the temple’s grandeur and outward appearance.

And instead of echoing their praise,

Jesus tells them it’s all about to fall and be destroyed.

We can imagine their shock and surprise.

Their panic.

The urgency they may have felt to stop what now appeared inevitable. 

Just as Jesus’ announcement may have prompted panic and urgency in his audience, today’s news and headlines often carry a “drumbeat of finality” that appears to demand an immediate response.[i]

It’s not a new experience.

Twentieth century theologian and author Howard Thurman told a story about Frederick Douglass and Sojourner Truth that went back to the early 1850s.[ii]

Frederick Douglass was born into slavery around 1818 in Maryland. He escaped in 1838 and eventually made his way to New York. He became a famous orator, writer and statesman.[iii]

Born into slavery in 1797 as Isabella Bomfree, Truth’s freedom was bought in 1827. By the early 1830s, she participated in the religious revivals that were sweeping the state and became a charismatic speaker. In 1843, she declared that the Spirit called on her to preach the truth, renaming herself Sojourner Truth.[iv]

A year after the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 had emboldened slave catchers and abolitionists were filled with despair, Douglass addressed an antislavery meeting. He delivered a bleak and somber assessment and wondered aloud whether there was any hope left for justice. It was at this point that Sojourner Truth, sitting in the audience rose and called out,

“Frederick, is God gone?”[v]

I believe that, like Sojourner Truth in her question to Frederick Douglass, Jesus is calling us back to the center,

helping us focus on God’s kingdom among us,

on what God is doing in the world with us and through us.

Our world is hurting.

There are real problems that should concern us and that as Christians we are called to respond to with compassion and love.

But we do not despair.

Lutheran pastor Kendra Mohn writes,

There is really no such thing as getting through unscathed. The question is how people of faith are to respond, and where we find our refuge.[vi]

In his essay titled “Every Day is not the Last Day”, pastor and executive director of The Ministry Collaborative, Mark Ramsey asks the question we wrestle with in tumultuous times:

How do faith communities hold both urgency and patience, responding to real crises without succumbing to perpetual crisis mode?[vii]

Jesus says that the temple’s destruction and all that will come before and after, will give the people “an opportunity to testify.” (v. 15) The word “testimony” means telling what we have seen.

It is bearing witness to our experience.

And before we can express our doubts about our eloquence or whether our words will matter, Jesus also says,

“I will give you words and a wisdom” (v. 16)

In these circumstances, our testimony will be inspired or given to us by God.

Remember that Luke’s gospel was written after the actual fall of the temple, so rather than hearing these words as harbingers of what is coming, Jesus is saying these things to help us understand what has happened, to make meaning of things that seem to defy reason and understanding.

Wesleyan minister Patrick Oden writes:

The destruction was not evidence of God’s rejection and disfavor. Rather, it was the fulfillment of God’s plan… What might bring terror should result instead in trust: Jesus said these things would happen.[viii]

That is Good News!

Martin Luther is often quoted as saying, “Even if I knew the world were going to end tomorrow, I would still plant an apple tree today.” Although the words haven’t been found in his writings or those of his peers, they nonetheless bear witness to the hopefulness that endures in our faith.

Ramsey, again, encourages us to “[act] with steady confidence that tomorrow is coming, and it will need faithful people who built wisely today.”[ix]

I wonder, how God might be inviting you to hope, beyond what your eyes see?

How will you give testimony or bear witness to God’s transforming presence and love in your life?

Even as we recognize challenges in our congregation, community and world, we also have opportunities to respond with compassion and love.

To have a holy imagination for what God is doing in our lives and through our words and actions.

And to sustain our hope because even when the news is bad, or things feel like they are falling apart,

God’s steadfast love for us will not go away.

Thanks be to God.

[i] Mark Ramsey, The Ministry Collective.

[ii] ibid

[iii] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Douglass

[iv] https://www.womenshistory.org/education-resources/biographies/sojourner-truth

[v] Ramsey, ibid.

[vi] Kendra A. Mohn, workingpreacher.org

[vii] Ramsey, ibid.

[viii] Patrick Oden. Connections: A Lectionary Commentary Series. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2019.

[ix] Ramsey, ibid.

Vigésimo Segundo Domingo despues de Pentecostés

I first preached this sermon in Spanish; the English translation is below.

Lucas 20:27-38

Oremos… Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean agradables a tus ojos, Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

Leyendo el evangelio de hoy, tan pronto después de la temporada de Halloween, con casas embrujadas y sustos, me dan ganas de gritar:

“¡Es una trampa!”,

para advertir a Jesús que se aleje de los saduceos.

Los saduceos eran líderes religiosos que se aferraban a la Torá —los primeros cinco libros de la Biblia— y no creían en la resurrección. Sin embargo, aquí le preguntan a Jesús sobre la resurrección.

No están haciendo preguntas porque quieran aprender de él; en realidad, le preguntan para tenderle una trampa y que diga algo con lo que puedan contradecirlo y desacreditarlo.

Cuando Martín Lutero escribió su catecismo, solía presentar una idea y luego preguntaba: “¿Qué significa esto?”. Eso es lo que hace Jesús aquí. Básicamente les dice a los saduceos: “Muy bien, si quieren hablar de la resurrección, esto es lo que significa”.

Jesús no cae en su trampa. En cambio, utiliza una historia del Éxodo,

de la Torá,

de las Escrituras que los saduceos afirman como autoridad.

Jesús les recuerda que cuando Moisés se encontró con la zarza ardiente, oyó la voz de Dios, y Dios dijo: “Yo soy el Dios de tu padre, el Dios de Abraham, el Dios de Isaac y el Dios de Jacob” (Éxodo 3:6). En el evangelio, Jesús argumenta que Dios no habría incluido a Abraham, Isaac y Jacob, todos muertos, a menos que estuvieran vivos para Dios (Stoffregen). Nuestra lectura termina con Jesús diciendo: “Él no es Dios de muertos, sino de vivos, porque para él todos viven” (20:38).

La promesa de la resurrección es que resucitaremos a una nueva vida en Cristo después de la muerte. Será una plenitud de vida que no podemos comprender con términos o ideas terrenales, lo cual es una de las razones por las que la pregunta que le hicieron a Jesús es tan absurda.

Al leer el Evangelio tan pronto después del fin de semana pasado, con motivo del Día de Todos los Santos, el Día de los Fieles Difuntos y el Día de los Muertos, soy muy consciente del vínculo especial que existe entre nuestras vidas y las de nuestros seres queridos que nos precedieron. Estos vínculos especiales son aquellos lugares donde podemos reconocer con mayor facilidad lo sagrado en nuestras vidas. A veces son lugares físicos, como la comunidad de Iona en Escocia, o un laberinto de oración. Pero creo que otras veces son momentos, lugares en el tiempo, como hoy, que celebramos el bautizo de Isael Andrés Solano.

Hoy estamos reunidos con todos los santos, incluyendo a su abuela Ana y a su bisabuelo Salatiel.

Esa es una de las imágenes que más valor del Día de los Muertos: que los santos de todos los tiempos anteriores están reunidos con nosotros. Juntos celebramos el don de la fe que Isael recibe de Dios, y nos regocijamos de que su fe, sembrada por sus antepasados, crezca aquí en nuestra comunidad, con sus padres, padrinos, familia, amigos y la Iglesia.

Al hacer promesas a Isael, a Josué y a Lilliana, reafirmamos nuestro compromiso de ser una comunidad que da vida, donde la fe está viva y se manifiesta en el amor.

¡Gracias a Dios!

Luke 20:27-38

Reading today’s gospel so soon after “spooky season” with haunted houses and scary tricks, I want to scream, “It’s a trap!”,

to warn Jesus away from the Sadducees.

The Sadducees were religious leaders who adhered to the Torah – the first five books of the Bible – and did not believe in the resurrection. And yet, here, they ask Jesus a question about the resurrection.

They aren’t asking questions because they want to learn from him; instead, they are asking trying to trap Jesus into saying something so they can disagree with him and discredit him.

When Martin Luther wrote his catechism, he would introduce an idea and then he would ask, “What does this mean?” That’s what Jesus does here. Basically he says to the Sadducees, “Okay, if you want to talk about the resurrection, this is what it means.”

Jesus doesn’t fall into their trap. Instead, he uses a story from Exodus,

from the Torah,

from the Scripture the Sadducees affirm.

Jesus reminds them that when Moses encountered the burning bush, he heard God speak, and God said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” (Exodus 3:6) In the gospel, Jesus argues that God wouldn’t have included Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, all of whom had died, unless they were alive to God. (Stoffregen) Our reading ends with Jesus saying, “he is God not of the dead but of the living, for to him all of them are alive.” (20:38)

The resurrection promise is that we will be raised to new life in Christ after death. It will be a fullness of life that we cannot understand in earthly terms or ideas, which is one of the reasons why the question asked of Jesus is so absurd.

Reading the gospel so soon after last weekend’s All Saints Day, All Souls Day and Día de los Muertos, I am keenly aware of the “thin place” between our lives and the beloved people who lived before us. Thin places are those places where we can more readily recognize the holy in our lives. Sometimes they are physical places, like the community of Iona in Scotland, or a prayer labyrinth. But I think other times they are moments, places in time, like today, when we are celebrating the baptism of Isael Andres Solano.

Today, we are gathered with all the saints, including his grandmother Ana and his great-grandfather Salatiel. That is one of the images I cherish from Día de los Muertos; that the saints from all the times before us are gathered with us. Together we celebrate the gift of faith that Isael is receiving from God, and we rejoice that his faith, planted by his ancestors, will be nurtured here in our community, with his parents, godparents, family and friends and the church.

As we make promises to Isael and to Josue and Lilliana, we are affirming our commitment to be a life-giving community where faith is alive and active in love.

Thanks be to God.

"Living as the Beloved" Midweek Reflection (Week 7)

John 21:15-19

Colossians 3:12-17

The final chapter of Henri Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved is where we discover the challenge of both living in the world and claiming the gift of God naming us “beloved.”

God sends each of us, wholly beloved by God, into the world and our lives becomes witnesses to God’s mighty works in and through us.

Not because of what we do,

but because of God who loves us and claims us as God’s own.

Because of God who equips us and sends us out.

God doesn’t only call us Beloved, God also asks, “Do You love me?”

And, like Peter in John’s gospel, we get to say,
“Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.”

Nouwen writes, “…life is a God-given opportunity to become who we are…to say “Yes” to the One who calls us the Beloved.” (133)

That is the spiritual life that we are called to,
a life to which, as we hear in Luther’s explanation of the third article of the creed, “the Holy Spirit has called [us] by the Gospel, enlightened [us] with His gifts, sanctified and kept [us] in the true faith.”

Nouwen reminds us that “The Spirit of God, the Spirit that calls us the Beloved, is the Spirit that unites and makes whole.” And that we can recognize God’s Spirit in “moments of unification, healing, restoration, and reconciliation.” (135)

Living as the Beloved then is choosing the life of God’s Spirit each day and listening to that voice that calls me the Beloved. (139)

Reformation Sunday 2025

John 8:31-36

Let us pray…
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
 
Like the Israelites listening to Jesus in John’s gospel, many of us might balk at the notion that we ever have been, or are now, enslaved. Like them, we have short memories.
 
I say that because we often begin our worship with the rite of confession and forgiveness, saying to God, “we confess that we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves.” We name how sinfulness is the very nature of our human condition. And then we forget.
 
God doesn’t forget, but thankfully, God does not leave us there in the muck and mire of our sin. Because God loves us, God forgives our sin and frees us from bondage. It is completely God’s action for each of us, and it is pure gift.
 
Until we understand the size or volume of our sin, we cannot grasp the magnitude of God’s action for us. We fall back into thinking we need to believe more, do more and earn God’s favor.
 
Unless we accept that the cross upends the way we think the world should work, we will continue to underestimate what our freedom in Christ means for us, and for our neighbors.
 
Because freed from sin,
slaves to no one and to nothing,
we are called to be servants to all.
I often say faith is never only about me and Jesus. It is always a cross shaped relationship, between God and us, and between us and our neighbors, community and world.
 
Which brings me to my question for us today as we remember Luther’s teaching and the movement of the Reformation more than five hundred years ago:
“What does faith free us to do that we cannot do alone?”
 
Faith frees us from fear. One of the stories we hear about Martin Luther is how his understanding of who God is was transformed by his reading of Scripture. When he studied St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, his image of a vengeful and punishing God was replaced by a God of mercy and grace whose awesome gift for us is the righteousness of God flowing to us that brings us into God’s presence. We are to “love and fear God” not because God is wrathful but because God’s grace is beyond our comprehension.
 
Faith frees us to follow God’s will, keeping Christ at the center of our lives. When we accept our chosen-ness by God, and God’s abundant love for us, we can stop competing for approval in the world and its terms. We can, like Luther, stand up and boldly claim, “I am a baptized child of God” with confidence that God is with us in all of the ups and downs we experience. Abundant life in Christ is found in relationship.
 
Faith frees us to stand with our neighbors. At Grace we have a history of more than four decades of showing up in our community, partnering with ministries who provide food, shelter and assistance to people living without basic needs. In any given week, you can see Grace members volunteering at the Rescue Mission, at Interfaith Assistance Ministries, the Thrive Clubhouse, and Habitat for Humanity, as well as at Safelight, the Storehouse and the Free Clinics. In the book study we just wrapped up, we heard stories from the global church where faith has empowered communities to build schools, to provide health education and prevent diseases like malaria and to work across ecumenical and even interfaith divisions to address needs. Faith says that none of us are whole unless all of us are whole, and when one suffers, we all suffer. Faith frees us to love selflessly.
 
Today as we celebrate the freedom given to us in our faith in Christ Jesus, we are also celebrating the affirmation of baptism milestone for Dustin and Kaylee, young adults whose faith has been nurtured and formed here in our congregation and by their family. They completed their confirmation instruction but had not yet participated in the milestone and expressed a desire to do that.
 
On this Reformation Sunday, let us celebrate that we are joined together in faith and commit to living in the freedom faith gives us for the sake of the world God loves.
 
Amen.

"Given" Midweek Reflection (Week 6)

Mark 14:22

John 12:24-26

Throughout our study of Henri Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved, we have been learning how to receive the gift of God naming us “beloved.”

Nouwen uses four words to describe the movement of the Spirit among us: taken or chosen, blessed, broken, and given. Tonight, my reflection is focused on this last word: given.

When I introduced these words, I shared that they echo the words used when we describe the Eucharist. At the Table, the bread - that is the Body of Christ - is taken, blessed, broken and given. And in our Christian lives, where we too are a part of the Body of Christ,
we are given.

Nouwen writes about the joy found in giving our lives and ourselves to others, saying that “our lives find fulfillment in giving ourselves to others.” (108) And not only fulfillment, but Nouwen says, “true joy, happiness, and inner peace.” (109)

He emphasizes that he is not talking about giving from what we have, or even what we can do, but making a gift of our presence.

When the North Carolina Synod had our leaders’ convocation last week, the keynote speaker told the story of having spent a year in Ethiopia where she learned to prioritize relationships over timetables and schedules. If she encountered a student on her way to class, they stopped and visited, and if that made her late, that was a cost she was willing to pay. It sounds foreign to many of us who may have heard as children, “If you arrive on time, you’re already late.”

But what would happen if we decided to prioritize our relationships ahead of the next task, appointment or meeting? What if we live as if we believe our presence is a gift, and the person in front of us is the recipient?

Nouwen writes, “When I ask myself, “Who helps me the most?” I must answer, “The one who is willing to share his or her life with me.” (113)

The second point Nouwen makes is that not only are our lives gifts, but also our deaths. It’s a startling claim at first, but he illustrates his point with the example of St. Francis, whose influence continues more than eight centuries after his death. “His life goes on bearing new fruit around the world. His spirit keeps descending upon us.” (121)

Listening to Nouwen and to John’s gospel, we are reminded that the fruitfulness of our own lives, the harvest of the fruit we bear, will likely be realized after our deaths.

Could we trust that our gifts are multiplied when we give them away? (123)

Like Elisha giving twenty loaves of barley to a crowd of more than one hundred and then gathering the leftovers (2 Kings 4:42-44) or the feeding of the five thousand that we hear in all four gospels (Matthew 14:13–21; Mark 6:31–44; Luke 9:12–17; John 6:1–14), God multiplies and God uses what we offer.

May we respond to the call to give ourselves for the sake of the world around us, and to give joyfully, without reluctance or hesitation.

"Broken" Midweek Reflection (Week 5)

Romans8:26-28

Hebrews 4:15-16

Throughout our study of Henri Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved, we have been learning how to receive the gift of God naming us “beloved.”

We have reflected on two of the four words that Nouwen uses to describe the movement of the Spirit among us. We are “taken” or “chosen” by God and God calls us “blessed”.

The next word Nouwen uses is broken.

Some twenty years before writing Life of the Beloved, Nouwen wrote The Wounded Healer. In that book his premise was that one who is ministering to others must look after one’s own wounds but at the same time be prepared to heal the wounds of others. He recognizes that we all bear wounds and we all are broken.

In this book, he writes,

Our sufferings and pains are not simply bothersome interruptions of our lives; they touch us in our uniqueness and our most intimate individuality. (87)

He continues, writing,

The way I am broken tells you something unique about me.
The way you are broken tells me something about you. (87)

And he urges us not to be afraid of our brokenness,
but to accept our brokenness as readily
as we accept our chosen-ness and blessedness.

One of the first ways we can accept our brokenness is to name it.

“Loneliness, isolation, insecurity, frustration, confusion…all these are forms of brokenness.” (Week 5, Study Guide) And I wonder,
what kind of brokenness feels most present or challenging for you right now? (pause)

Writing this book to his friend, Nouwen says choosing to share our brokenness with each other, to share our deep struggles, is a sign of deep friendship or relationship. (86)

I think one of the beautiful parts of friendship is when we can sit with another person and listen to them share their brokenness without denying it or trying to fix it.

Once we accept our brokenness Nouwen suggests two practices for us to respond to it: befriending it
and putting it under the blessing. (92)

Ignoring or hiding pain or suffering doesn’t erase it or reduce its effects. When we are fearful, our fear magnifies the obstacles and the challenges we face seem even larger.

Nouwen suggests instead that we need to step toward our pain and live through it. (95)

There’s no way to go around it. But we do not face it alone.

[We] need someone to keep us standing in it, to assure [us] that there is peace beyond anguish, life beyond death, and love beyond fear. (95)

As siblings in Christ, we help each other transform our suffering.

And when we do that, we also bring that suffering out of the shadows and bring it to God.

The shadows or what Nouwen calls “the curse” is our temptation to understand the brokenness we experience as confirmation of our un-worthiness.

It is what happens when we forget we are God’s beloved,
when we forget we are chosen by God as God’s children,
and when we forget we are blessed by God
for the sake of the world God loves.

I think of Adam and Eve in Eden in Genesis, when they hide from God.  Genesis 3, verses 8 and 9 say:

⁸ They heard the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God among the trees of the garden. ⁹ But the Lord God called to the man and said to him, “Where are you?” ¹⁰ He said, “I heard the sound of you in the garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.”

I wonder how often we hide among the trees, hoping to hide something about ourselves from the God who created and loves us? (pause)

Nouwen urges us instead to put our brokenness under the blessing of God, trusting God to use our experiences to strengthen us and to see the pruning or winnowing as a natural part of our growth as disciples. (98)

Like joy, sorrow “becomes [part of our] desire to grow to the fullness of the Beloved.” (99)

That reminds me of Peter after the crucifixion.

John 21 tells the story of Jesus and the disciples cooking breakfast on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias, and Simon Peter and Jesus are having a conversation where three times Jesus asks Simon Peter whether he loves Jesus. And each time, Peter insists, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” And Jesus does know. And he knows Peter faltered and denied him three times before his crucifixion. And he forgives him.

Truly, nothing is hidden from God and nothing, not even our brokenness, separates us from the love of God and our lives as God’s beloved.

"Blessed" Midweek Reflection (Week 4)

Galatians5:22-26 

Matthew 5:1-12

Throughout our study of Henri Nouwen’s Life of the Beloved, we have been learning how to receive the gift of God naming us “beloved.”

Last week we reflected on the first of four words that Nouwen uses to describe the movement of the Spirit among us. We heard we are “taken” or “chosen” by God.

The next word Nouwen is blessed.

When he talks about “Blessed-ness” he isn’t talking about the kinds of material or superficial blessing that we might see in pop culture and in the world around us.

Nouwen describes blessing as hearing God speaking with “a small intimate voice saying, “You are my Beloved Child, on you my favor rests.” (77)

God has spoken these words before.

In Genesis 12, Scripture tells us that God says to Abram, ² I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.

And in tonight’s reading from the Sermon on the Mount, we hear Jesus declaring the blessed-ness of all different peoples.

But even as we remember how God blessed our spiritual ancestors, Nouwen acknowledges how often in our lives today, that voice can be drowned out by competing claims, by condemnation and by blame or shame. (69,73)

And then he suggests two practices for us to learn to receive the gift of our blessed-ness: prayer and presence.

We often define prayer as a conversation with God.

Nouwen challenges us that “the real “work” of prayer is to become silent and listen to the voice that says good things about me.” - not to be self-indulgent but to be disciplined enough to push aside the “many voices that question my goodness” and trust God’s voice. (75-76)

I have taught the contemplative practice of centering prayer and sitting in stillness to listen to God. Sometimes it’s maddening because your mind wanders, and you can feel like you are wasting time. But teachers will tell you that the distractions are part of the practice. You learn to let the random thoughts float by and let them go, without grasping at them and engaging them.

Nouwen describes how he uses the prayer of Saint Francis, whose feast day was just last Saturday, as a sacred word or prayer to return his attention to God. Others might use a single word or phrase or recite the 23rd Psalm or the Lord’s Prayer. Finding words to repeat slowly helps ground you in the silence and prepare you to “listen to the voice of love” that is God. (78)

The second suggestion he makes is a practice of presence. Mary Oliver has a poem where she said, “Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.” (“It was Early”, Evidence.)

When our lives are busy or we are distracted, we may not notice what is right in front of us.

An easy example for me is how I sometimes forget to really take in the beauty of this sanctuary; it can become a backdrop for whatever activity is taking place, but I don’t really see it. But take a minute to look around and to notice, the stained-glass windows, the vaulted ceiling and the soaring cross, just to begin to name the ways that this space is especially adorned for worship. 

Along the same lines, when our hands are full, we cannot receive anything more. I wonder what we might set down to be open to receiving what God offers? How can we change our posture to be open to the blessing that others may offer, and to learn to bless others in turn? Nouwen tells the story of being asked for a blessing by someone just before a prayer gathering, so he began to automatically make the sign of the cross, but the person stopped him. She said she wanted “a real blessing”, so he took time in their gathering to embrace her and call her by name, saying,

“I want you to know you are God’s beloved daughter. You are precious in God’s eyes. Your beautiful smile, your kindness and your actions show what a beautiful human you are. When you have sadness, I want you to remember who you are: a very special person, deeply loved by God, and all the people here. (71)

And then there was a cascade of people who witnessed that blessing who asked to receive a blessing.

We ache to know we are loved, and when we can receive the gift of our blessing, we can then bless others.

As I reflected on Nouwen’s words, I thought of just the past ten days or so, and the many blessings I have witnessed. Several of us went to Bat Cave for a house blessing for a house that was built for a family whose house was destroyed in the hurricane last year. And then Jill and I talked with a couple of preschool families about faith practices that include teaching their children simple blessings. And on Saturday, a friend gifted Ada with a blessing bowl at Denny’s memorial service and guests wrote out their memories of Denny to share with his family. At Sunday’s worship, Rita gave our benediction in German, and later that day, I led a blessing of the animals outside.

It makes me wonder if we can practice this attentiveness to God’s movement in our lives, through prayer and presence.

Would you experiment with praying in stillness and quiet? I’ve printed the words from 1 John 4:7-8 for you; try reading them slowly and letting them sink into your heart as you listen for God’s blessing for you.

Could you find one person whom you can bless? It can be as simple as telling them, “God loves you.” Or “It is good that you exist.”

And then let’s see what’s different when we’re together again.