Sacred Ground

The last bit of Christmas

The house is peaceful.  The boys are away with their Dad getting haircuts.  The dog and cats are sleeping.  There is jazz playing quietly.  This should be a time of relaxing for me.  Instead, it is an emotional rollercoaster - I am putting away the outward signs of Christmas.  The tree came down already - ornaments packed and stacked.  Tree dissassembled and squashed back into the box in the garage.  Now it is time for the rest to be put away - the snowglobes, the glittery mantle tree and tall yulebuck, the nativities and gold painted pinecones.  I find myself gripped by melancholy.  

It never used to bother me to return the house to its pre-Christmas state.  I was and am always eager for the end of winter and the first signs of spring.  But now it does.  I think about the people who made Christmas special for me as a child, and wish they were closer.  I think of my Grandparents who are no longer on this earth.  Especially, I remember my Grandmother Gardlund.  She liked to take Christmas down right away.  For her, it was not an act of anticipating spring.  I believe she took the decorations down because they reminded her of people who were now far away.   The grandkids had gone home, some nearby, but some not so close.  Her daughters were back to work.  Her son gone home to Michigan.  Christmas reminds us of family and laughter and happiness - but it also reminds us of endings and goodbyes.  I'm not as good at good-byes as I use to be.

And time is relentless.  I see the paper ornaments from four Christmases ago that my children made - their handprints look impossibly small.  And I know that Christmas at home with them as joyous, crazy kids will not last forever.  As much as we strive to recreate Christmas and memories of the past every year, it is always different.  Kids grow up.  Members of the family die.  And new members are brought in.  The hard part, for me, is allowing all this to be okay.  Life shouldn't be stagnate and static.  It should be about movement, light, growth and change.  But I still want to be in charge of the changes!  So frustrating that I am not.

I put away the Advent calendar my Grandma and Pop-pop Smith sent my husband and I when we were first married.  We didn't have kids, yet.  But, they were always hopeful we would have children soon.  My mind wanders back to the excitement of going to the airport to meet Grandma and Pop-pop when I was very young.  Grandma always had the heaviest suitcase and Pop-pop had hidden treasures in the pockets of his big overcoat.  

Christmas at home in Michigan meant snow - usually - and fires in the fireplace - always.  I loved the thrill of the cold air rushing into the family room when Dad went outside to get firewood.  He would bring it in and then roll newspapers into logs for kindling.  We would sit with our backs to the fire to get warm - and still our toes would be cold.  Home or away from home for Christmas meant church on Christmas eve and Christmas morning.  It meant candy and big dinners and time to read by the fire.  Mom would bring out the record player and we would decorate the tree to music of Christmas carols.  One Christmas the pipes froze and we spent a good portion of the day with hair driers trying to warm the pipes inside - while Dad did mysterious things to the pipes outside.  

I can't go back and live it all again.  And, I can't hold on to this year's Christmas - as lovely and as joy filled as it was.   We live in the light of hope.   And hope looks forward.  So I will put away the vestiges of Christmas with love in my heart and allow the melancholy to be dispelled by God's grace.  

 

 

 

Deliver us from dying suddenly and unprepared

Some days bring more than their share of sadness.  Today I officiated at the funeral of a young man, 18 years old, shot to death by a family member.  I didn't know the young man and I barely knew the family.  They belong to a different Episcopal church that does not currently have a priest.  But, this young man was known to many in the community.  The church was full of family and friends.  It was also full of a enormous range of emotion.

I think there is a special wisdom in the Great Litany of the Episcopal Church when we pray that the Good Lord would deliver us "from all oppression, conspiracy, and rebellion; from violence, battle, and murder; and from dying suddenly and unprepared."  This young man died suddenly and unprepared.   For him, his life on earth was ended too soon, yet, he is now whole and with God in heaven.  What is left that is so devastating, is the impact his death is having on the people who loved him.

At his funeral, there was naturally, plenty of grief and sorrow.  There was a starkness to the expressions on the people in the congregation.  And, there was some raw anger.  Funerals (and weddings) tend to bring out the dysfunction in families.  Where there is unhealed brokenness and unreconciled hurt, this can be overwhelming.  Instead of coming together and grieving, members of the family find an outlet to their grief by deepening the alienation that already exists.  And words of peace and comfort,  instead of providing a cushion for the soul, fall like drops of ice on hard, frozen earth.

This makes me consider, very carefully, the relationships in my own family that are important to maintain.  I cannot lay claim to perfection when it comes to family relationships.  We are separated by distance and experience.  And some of that separation comes from hurt feelings - by things said and not said, things done and left undone.  It is often so hard to forgive certain things, not only directed against ourselves, but that which has hurt those we love.  However, there is a standard of living to which we are called:

If possible, so far as it depends on you, be at peace with all people  (Romans 12:18).

It may not seem to be so important for you today to be in harmony with your family and others close to you.  But, life is fragile.  We don't know what is coming tomorrow.  Maybe we should keep near our thoughts this prayer, also from the Great Litany:

That it may please thee to give us true repentance; to forgive us all our sins, negligences, and ignorances; and to endue us with the grace of thy Holy Spirit to amend our lives according to thy holy Word.

We do beseech thee to hear us, Good Lord.

 

 

 

 

The Spirituality of Certain Places

We are standing on holy ground.  And I know that there are angels all around.

There are many places on this earth that feel holy to me, where God seems somehow closer.  These places are sometimes called "thin places"  where the veil between this world and that greater reality of the presence of God seems transparent.   It is as if you could just about touch the edge of heaven.   I feel this way often in sacred places of worship - places where people have sang and prayed and worshipped God with all of their heart.

I feel this too during communion, when the ancient practice of blessing and sharing a meal seem to echo through the ages.  There is mystery and joy, completeness and peace.  Often, when we gather around someone who is dying, and we pray that he or she would go with God, there is that sense that the things unseen are far more real than anything we can see with our eyes.  It is frightening and comforting simultaneously.

I think also of places where I have felt great love:  my home;  the homes of my parents and grandparents; places where I have had holy conversations; space made sacred by the love of God and of neighbor.  These places still feel sacred to me, even when the occupants are gone.

Just about any clear stretch of beach, where the ocean waves pound and the seagulls cry, that too is holy.  As is the top of a mountain peak covered with tall pine and sprinkled with wild flowers and refreshed with the run off from melting snow and ice. Anywhere that reminds me of my own insignificance compared to the majesty of God.  Anywhere where the Spirit blows away the remnants of harsh words and brings the healing of a kindness unasked.  

I think God wants us to find these places.  If we seek to make sense of this life we are living, we need holy places.  Places that remind us of our hope for something greater.  Of our desire to be the person we are called to be.  Whether it be in the context of a community at prayer and worship, or in the midst of those who love you, or in the beauty of a place that calls to your soul:  seek after it.  And be sure that wherever that place is for you, God is already there.

Out of step and Benjamin Button

My husband and I recently watched "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button," a movie based loosely on the story by F. Scott Fitzgerald.   Moments from that movie have been lurking around my brain ever since.  The premise of the story is that because of a clock set to run backward, a child was born who was destined to live his life in reverse.  His body started old and became young, while his mind and personality developed normally.  He was perpetually out of sync with the rest of humanity.  While young he couldn't play with the other kids because of the advanced age of his body.  He grew up with a girl who became his greatest love.  But, they had only a short time together as he grew younger and she grew older.  It was a very painful story of love and age and youth.  

This fictional story has echoes of reality about it.  It strikes me that many people live lives that are out of step with those around them.  I am thinking about those who are mentally ill or who have been born with a severe disability.  I also think particularly about a friend of mine, Sarah, who has brain cancer.

Sarah is a few years older than I.  She is warm hearted and good natured.  She likes to organize events and to be surrounded by family and friends.  She has a loving family, parents who love her, a brother and sister who are both married with kids of their own.  But, for her, the last two decades have been spent battling cancer.  Most of my time with Sarah has been spent while visiting her in various hospitals or skilled nursing centers.   I have never heard her whine, but I have heard her wistful.

The greatest desire of her life was to have a family of her own:  a husband and children.  It is with joy and regret that she sees her nieces and nephews.  This part of life has been denied her.  Her cancer is back with a vengeance and it is unlikely that she will live much longer.  And this fills me with inexplicable sadness.  I saw her in the ICU a day or so ago.  She hasn't been able to talk for a couple of weeks.  I don't know what she is thinking, but I see her eyes follow me across the room.  Just looking.  Seems like the very essence of who she is wants to be free from the prison of her body.  A body that has betrayed her.

I don't want her to die.  I want her to have that life that she wished to have.  I want her to see the sunshine and walk under the blue sky and feel the wind touch her cheek.  I want her to hold hands with the love of her life and kiss her babies to sleep.  It is hard to die when life here is unfinished.

The other day I presided at a funeral for a woman who was in her 90s.  She had chosen the passage from scripture that speaks of Jesus at the tomb of his friend Lazarus.  Martha says to him, in essence, if you had been around my brother would not have died.  Where were you Jesus?  Jesus reminds Mary of the resurrection and life that is found in God.  And he weeps.  

Jesus knew more than anyone the pain of death and grief.  He saw the way disease and infirmity separated people from living "normal" lives.  I wonder if he felt the weight of all the sorrow of this life.  I wonder if he sensed the bitterness of the tears of those who would mourn the loss of loved ones in the years to come.  I wonder if he knew how many tears would fall on his own behalf.  He, too, led a life out of sync with those around him.  He led a life pulled by the presence of God.  Yet, he laughed and made friends and taught and healed and changed the world.

I hope Sarah knows that she too has changed the world.  She has brought laughter and joy to her family and friends.  She has brought healing and taught patience to those around her.  It was not the life she would have chosen for herself, but it is her own.  And, I am the better for knowing her.

 

I Honor You

There are certain words that are weighted with such overwhelming importance, that they ought to be reserved for very special occasions.  We should become used to saying "I love you" or "I forgive you" or "I'm sorry."  Those words do so much towards creating and maintaining relationships.  But, there are other words that need to be used with care.

The other night I presided at a wedding.  I love weddings!  There are few privileges given clergy, I feel, which equal that of witnessing up close the exchange of promises and the intensity of feeling present at a marriage service.  Of course, weddings do bring out interesting family dynamics, for better of for worse.  But, whatever else may be going on, when two people commit themselves to each other, until death do they part, that moment takes precedence.

At this particular wedding, the bride and groom made a deep impact on my memory.  They were good looking, intelligent, and motivated.  But, many young couples fall into those categories.  What caught me was the depth of feeling that rose to the surface from the very controlled and analytical groom.  He was the one who was always preparing for the future.  He invests wisely and plans things out, from work to vacation.  But, he never shows an over-abundance of emotion.  His bride, on the other hand, is often passionate and spontaneous and, yes, emotional.  That night, however, she had no problem sailing through the service, smiling, calm and cool, handing her soon to be husband tissue after tissue, because he stood there and wept.

I wasn't sure he was going to get the words out for the vows.  It took tremendous effort on his part to repeat after me.  And then, we got to the loaded verse:  with all that I have, and all that I am, I honor you.  This was so soul shaking for him, I could almost feel the intensity of his effort to say the words.  And say them, he did.  And he meant them.  He was pledging himself to her with no holding back.  

I honor you.  I hold you in great reverence.  I love you more than I do myself.  

There were only two times that this 27 year old man had cried since childhood.  The first time was in sadness a year previous saying good-bye to his grandmother.  The second, because of the great joy in marrying the one person who completed him, was on his wedding day.  

Thanks be to God.

Remember to Breathe

Being a preacher, I have this habit of looking for metaphors and parables in the world around me, all the time.  My most recent experience with this phenomenon took place while doing round kicks.  This, being a rather new practice, had me concentrating more on actually hitting the bag, than, well, breathing.  Mr. Potter, my instructor called out often, "remember to breath."  I think he was concerned that I might pass out.  Which, besides being embarrassing, would have totally defeated the purpose of working out.  It is proven to be very hard to get anything out of a work out while passed out on the floor.  So, I try very intentionally to remember to breath.

But, hold on, why should I have to?  I mean, we all come into the world knowing how to breathe, right?  After we scream and kick and breathe in air for the first time, this breathing becomes automatic.  No one has to teach us how to breathe.  We just do.  However, as with so much in this life, it is the quality and intensity of the action or thought or desire, that makes the difference.

I remember 5 years ago fighting a serious case of pneumonia.  It hurt to breath.  Every breath caused me to cough uncontrollably and painfully.  I spent several days in the hospital and many weeks recovering.  Since then, I wonder if I have been unconsciously, breathing shallow.  Holding back from breathing deeply.  Maybe we do sometimes need to be reminded to breathe.

So, I have been working on it.  Not just when I am doing round kicks!  I try focussing on breathing when my kids are arguing pointlessly in the back seat.   I breathe deeply while in prayer or when listening.  I breathe slowly when I am feeling anxious or angry or frustrated.  I walk with the dog at dusk and practice: breathing.

And, in between the breaths I take, I pray that the Spirit of God is teaching my spirit how to breathe. How do we keep from living tentatively into the way of the Cross?  By letting our spirit breathe in new life.  It is a healing breath, this breath of God, that mends the broken places in our souls.  This wind brings mercy and forgiveness and love.  God's Spirit carries encouragement, wisdom, peace and challenge as well.  Following God is not automatic.  We make choices everyday that reflect, positively or negatively, upon our relationship with God.  To bring about the Kingdom of God on earth takes practice and intention.  We do not do this on our own.  We breathe with God.

O Gracious Light!

One of my favorite prayers in the Book of Common Prayer, is the Phos Hilaron or O Gracious Light. It is the earliest known Christian hymn recorded outside of the Bible that is still being used today.  Those early Christians understood Jesus as an extension of the eternal brightness of God.  Just thinking about God as a gracious light is very helpful to me.  The song is really a love prayer to the Trinity: 

O Gracious Light, pure brightness of the ever-living Father in heaven, O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed.

We say it during Evening Prayers.  It is a reminder to us of God's graciousness at the end of the day. God is the light to our darkness; the One who illumines the beauty of forgiveness and mercy; the One who is set apart to be praised at all times.

Now as we come to the setting of the sun and our eyes behold the vesper light, we sing your praises, O God:  Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

I find it is also helpful in putting the day back into perspective.  The focus is taken off of my world, my thoughts, my problems and transferred back to God, the One who gave us all life.

You are worthy at all times to be praised by happy voices, O Son of God, O Giver of life, and to be glorified through all the worlds.

(For those of you who like things in their original form:

Original Ancient Text

Φῶς ἱλαρὸν ἁγίας δόξης ἀθανάτου Πατρός,

οὐρανίου, ἁγίου, μάκαρος, Ἰησοῦ Χριστέ,

ἐλθόντες ἐπὶ τὴν ἡλίου δύσιν, ἰδόντες φῶς ἑσπερινόν,

ὑμνοῦμεν Πατέρα, Υἱόν, καὶ ἅγιον Πνεῦμα, Θεόν.

Ἄξιόν σε ἐν πᾶσι καιροῖς ὑμνεῖσθαι φωναῖς αἰσίαις,

Υἱὲ Θεοῦ, ζωὴν ὁ διδούς· διὸ ὁ κόσμος σὲ δοξάζει.)

Thoughts on Pentecost

We live in a world that doesn't have much use for powers that cannot be seen.  Except, of course, for the scores of TV documentaries on the paranormal!  Yet, the most amazing gift ever given to humans is one that no one has ever seen or touched.  That gift is the gift of the Holy Spirit.  The Spirit promised by Jesus, who causes us to remember the things of God.

Personally, I think the Spirit speaks in whispers and gentle nudges.  One would assume that someone as powerful as the Holy Spirit would come and knock us off our feet and speak to us in loud, authoritative tones.  Yet, my experience has been that of subtlelty and nuance, when it comes to the Spirit.  

In contrast, today is the day of Pentecost.  This is the day that the Spirit came with great power and obvious presence.  Tongues of fire, rushing wind, and burning hearts accompanied this new way of being with God.  The Spirit came on those frightened friends of Jesus and drove away all darkness and grief.  God was with them once again and would never leave them alone.  When the disciples left the dark room in which they were hiding, they went out to proclaim the love of God to everyone on the street.  And when they spoke, everyone could understand them, even foreigners could understand in their own tongue.  This was the beginning of the way of being with God that transformed the world.  And the Spirit still is moving among us, reminding us of the things of God.

Maybe you have heard that Spirit whispering your name and moving you to act.  Have you felt that gentle push to do or say something to someone, and it turned out to be exactly what they needed to hear?  Or when praying, silently or out loud, have you felt your heart warming and found it easier to forgive and be forgiven?  I appreciate the Spirit the most, when I feel confirmation in what I am saying to one or to many.  Or, when I read a passage of Scripture, and the words dance off the page and make sense in an entirely new way.  This is the work of the Spirit.

Or, when I am doing nothing holy at all, just walking the dog and thinking about how perfect the night is, I sometimes feel the Holy Spirit walking right along with us. Just being.  Looking for fire flies in the mystery of the forest or admiring the neighbor's day lilies or hibiscus.  I think that is what God wants to be to us - that constant presence helping us to see the world differently or deeper.  It is easy to forget to pay attention to that presence or take it for granted.  I would suggest, however, that a little more attention to the details of the Spirit will lead to a transformation of the darkness of our own hearts into something that is bright and pure.

 

From Tulsa, OK to Joplin, MO

    In response to the horrendous tornado in Joplin, MO, the Episcopal Churches in the Tulsa region came together to collect donations for the victims.  Four churches were chosen as donation sites:  Trinity Episcopal in downtown Tulsa, St. John's in midtown, Christ Church in the south and St. Patrick's, in Broken Arrow.  Pictured on the left are clergy representatives from those congregations who blessed the truck on Wednesday morning:  The Rev. Kristina Maulden, Trinity; The Rev. Everett Lees, newly called to Christ Church; The Rev. Irv Cutter, St. John's, and the Rev. Shelby Scott, St. Patrick's.

    We were able to fill, not to the top, but nearly, a 14 foot U Haul with donations of food, water, clothing, toys, diapers and personal hygiene items.  Many thanks to Jim Hinds from Trinity and to those who helped at the other churches to load the truck!!

    As we drove through Joplin, the damage was devastating.  It was hard to believe that anyone could have survived inside these homes.  One woman, who lives nearby in Baxter Springs, told us that she had lost 18 friends in the tornado.  

    It was not uncommon to see cars being driven or parked in lots with all the glass gone from the windows.  A very eerie sight to me, was the remains of a gas station - no building or pumps - just the wiring poking up from the ground.

    We brought all the donations to The Hope Chest Thrift Shop.  Most locations were no longer accepting clothing - but they were.  Any victim of the tornado could come there and pick up clothing and other supplies for free.  They had also reduced the prices on their regular items for those who had not lost their homes, because they realized that everyone was affected by the storms.

    We saw many signs of hope amidst the destruction.   Business had signs offering free services to help clean up the mess.  There were messages of unity and messages that announced that they would survive and rebuild.  Some businesses that had their buildings destroyed had found temporary locations.  It was strange to see directions to the new locations written in spray paint on the demolished buildings.

    Like other tornadoes, the damage path was very clear - everything torn apart, trees uprooted.  Yet, not 500 ft away, a completely untouched building.  

    It is hard to imagine the amount of emotional energy that will be needed to move beyond this.  Not only is there tremendous grief over loss of life and loss of dreams, there is also the guilt that many feel who had homes that were spared.  Life in Joplin has been over-turned.  The unbelievable power of the wind stripped the trees not only of their leaves and branches, but also all the bark.  They stand like bare, broken sticks poking up at the sky.  That storm also stripped away from the people of Joplin, their sense of security and safety.  One young girl told us, as she weathered the storm in a church that was damaged extensively, that she now feared tornadoes.  

    Take a moment today to give thanks to God for your life and your many blessings.  Ask God to continue to build up the spirits of the people of Joplin and the other communities around our country and our world who are facing chaos due to natural disasters and human conflict.  I give thanks to God that we have the resilience to rally and to carry on.  But, I wish we didn't have to.

    Thank you to Cynthia and Andy Zeiler and Chris and Hannah Middlebrook who came with me to help with the unloading of the truck.  Thank you also to all who donated items for the truck.  Your offerings are much appreciated!

                            The Rev. Kristina Maulden

The Gift of the Spirit of Truth

This is my sermon from Sunday, May 29, as best as I can remember it...

Todays readings have many familiar phrases in the them.  In 1 Peter, the author speaks of being able to give an accounting for the hope that is in us.   I find that phrase to be very important as we live our lives in the midst of people who do not believe in God at all.  And if that hope is so important, from where does if come?    What is this joy that triumphs over sadness and despair?  The other two readings for today inform that very question and shed some light into how to live into that hope.

In Acts 17, we find Paul at the Areopagus in Athens.  He is a very diplomatic evangelist.  He spends time getting to know the beliefs and practices of the people before addressing them.  He compliments them on their obvious religious practices.  He does not put them down or hold them in disdain.  Instead, Paul finds a common starting place:  the Athenians have an altar to an “unknown” God.  Those Athenians wanted to make sure they had covered all the bases.  Paul lets them know that this unknown God does indeed want to be known.  And, from there, he tells them about the God who created the universe, who has spoken through the prophets, and who is revealed in the person of Jesus.  God is one who wants to be known and has revealed himself to humankind throughout the history of the world.  God wants them to know of his mercy, love and forgiveness.  And God has revealed these qualities of God’s own character through a special revelation.

We have experienced that unique revelation of God in the person of Jesus.  That very same Jesus who is offering his farewell discourse to his disciples in the Gospel reading today.  This farewell holds many elements that would be included in any good-by:  instructions, comfort, final words of love.  But, as is typical with John, his writing tends to go in circles instead of in a nice linear fashion.  He writes that if you love Jesus you will obey his commandments.  Then, he writes, those who obey his commandments, love him.  He writes also that we need to abide in Jesus, as Jesus abides in us, and as Jesus abides in the Father, so we too abide in the Father.  It is in these circles of thought that we are to catch a glimpse of God.  It is as if John wants us to approach God sideways, through the cracks in our tangible reality.

One of the best illustrations that I can think of for this, is from C. S. Lewis.  C.S. Lewis was a powerful theologian of the 20th century.  We call him Anglican, even though he did not affiliate himself with any particular denomination.    He wrote on many theological topics, including this idea of coming to God sideways, or through unexpected ways.  CS Lewis created a world called Narnia, which is a world that four children fall into through the back of a wardrobe.  This Narnia became the place for those children to discover God and hear from him, through the character of Aslan the Lion.  In this place, they heard God whisper their name, and see how the power of God can turn a frozen tundra into a green paradise.   They learn how to recognize the things of God even when they return to their own world.  The Chronicles of Narnia provide a beautiful metaphor of how our approach to God is not always logical or straightforward.  Sometimes we just find ourselves in God’s presence and our own world never is the same.

 In todays Gospel, Jesus promises his disciples, and by extension, us, that we will never be orphans.  The first image that might come to us is Little Orphan Annie or some other child that is without parents.  But, anyone of us who has lost both parents, either as a child or as an adult, is an orphan.  As the years pass, we cannot remember everything about that person.  For children who grow up without their parents, they might remember a touch, or a face or a lingering scent.  They don’t remember the details.  Nor do we, after someone who we love is gone, remember all the details.  We don’t remember they way they sounded when they spoke or their favorite movie or how they walked.  We forget, even as much as we would desire to remember, because by remembering we keep them close to us and alive in our hearts.  Jesus was saying to his friends, I will not leave your bereft. You will not forget the words I have spoken to you, or the things you have seen, or the new revelations of God that you now hold in your heart.    You will not forget all the important things about me and the amazing things that you have seen and been witness to.

 Jesus does this by promising that he will send to them the Spirit of Truth, to be a guide for them.  And because of this they will not be orphans.  Which, actually, on the surface, makes absolutely no sense.  Why would a Spirit of Truth keep anyone from feeling like an orphan?

 Well, let me tell you.  Truth here comes from the Greek word aletheia.  The first part “a”, simply means “not”.  Not - letheia.  Letheia refers to the river Lethe in Greek mythology.  This is the river from which the dead would drink to forget they were dead.  They would become oblivious to their true state.  Instead of oblivion and forgetfulness, we have disclosure.  When we are filled with Spirit of Aletheia, we are reminded of the very presence of God in our lives.  Our inmost being is reawakened with the promises of God and our spirits are made alive.  We are no longer the dead walking around oblivious to our own reality.  The things that we cannot see are confirmed in us.  Moments of God’s grace and power are nudged out of our subconscious. We remember the things that we know are true about God.  We remember that we are not orphans, but beloved children.  No longer are we those who walk in darkness.  Paul speaks of those who grope for God.  It is only in the dark that we blindly grope.  When we stand in the light, we can see and grasp that which is in front of us. 

I see this happening in prayer, when we are open to listen to the spirit of God.  We may never see the effects of our prayers, but our faith is encouraged and our spirits rejoice.  I find this to be true in studying scripture as well.  We often treat the Bible just like any other book.  We open it and start to read.  Many who approach the Bible this way, remain frustrated.  If we, instead, invite the Spirit of Alethia to help illumine and open the words of Scripture for us, the experience is very different.  We expect to find God in the words of the Scripture, I have found God through the reading of scripture as the Spirit speaks to my heart.  

This coming week, we have the opportunity to participate in the life of the Spirit.  Be open to the moving of the Spirit in your own life.  You may feel far from God.  You may feel that your life has no joy.  If that is so, invite the Spirit to remind you once again of your first love for God.  This is the hope for which we may need to give account:  remember that God calls each of us by name, that we are all loved as God’s children and that we have an anchor in heaven.  Remember, also, you will never be alone.