Congratulations! If you live in Central Florida, you have just survived the first week of school! Whether you’re a student, a teacher or school staff, or you’re like me and just need to reconfigure your life around the school bus schedule, it has been a week. I like to get a temperature check on the congregation during our Wednesdays Unplugged service; and this week, the overwhelming sentiment was exhaustion. So if this is you, you are in good company. Even when we are not directly impacted by a large-scale change like an entire community returning to school, the indirect impact is still quite palpable. We are communal people, and as such, what is felt by our neighbor is also felt by us. Despite the mutual exhaustion, I hope you have found joy and excitement in this week when we get to celebrate first school photos; meet new teachers, colleagues, and friends; and begin to feel the shift into the Fall season (even if the weather isn’t quite there yet). 

This season has all the feels; and whenever there is a shift like this, it is important that we care for ourselves. I get it, you may be thinking I’m making much ado about nothing, but I’ll let you in on a little secret—when we are proactive about our self-care and attend to it during the tiny disruptions, it is that much easier to care for ourselves during the big disruptions.

Self-care, or Sabbath in “churchese,” was the first thing God hallowed at the beginning of creation. Everything else God made, God called “good” or “very good;” but when God proclaimed Sabbath on the 7th day, God “hallowed” it (Genesis 2:3, NRSVUE). Thus, self-care is a holy act. When we care for ourselves, we nurture and honor that which God created: our very being—physical, emotional, mental, spiritual. 

Often we believe we don’t have time for self-care. Our lives are moving a million miles an hour, we have obligations and deadlines, and carving out just five minutes sounds like an impossibility. I get it. And I’ve learned that self-care doesn’t have to be a monumental task. It doesn’t need to be a multi-day vacation. In fact, when we focus on tiny acts of self-care throughout the day, that often has a greater impact than doing one big thing every once in a blue moon. I would argue that one of the most impactful self-care practices is simply shifting our focus in the here and now to that which is life-giving. In Philippians, Paul writes, 

“Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” 
~Philippians 4:8, NRSVUE

No matter what is going on in our lives, no matter how overwhelmed or exhausted we feel, no matter how bleak our outlook, there is always something that is true, honorable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable, excellent, or worthy of praise to which we can shift our focus, even for a moment. And in that moment we find gratitude, we find peace, and we find God. 

Last night, I made a salad, poured myself a glass of wine, and took myself out to eat on my back patio while the sun was setting. This meal was bookended by school work on one side and church work on the other, but this few minutes I took for myself to enjoy a healthy meal in the midst of beauty was a precious, necessary, and holy act of Sabbath. 

Enjoy moments of looking out your office or classroom window at the trees. Listen to a beautiful song while driving. Laugh while making dinner. Be present when you’re with loved ones. Practice gratitude. Find Sabbath. It is quite possibly the most important thing you will do for yourself today. 

​

We are in the midst of a sermon series on The Bread of Life Discourse, found in the second half of John 6. In this Discourse, Jesus presents the idea that He is the embodied Bread of Life that provides everlasting life to anyone who receives and consumes Him.

Bread is a fairly universal symbol of provision, and it is used throughout the Bible to illustrate the ways God provides for humanity. Focusing on this Gospel Discourse has had me thinking a lot these past few weeks about God’s promise of provision.

“Do not keep seeking what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying…your Father knows that you need them. Instead, seek the kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.”  ~Luke 12:29-31

So if we believe that God provides for all, why is there still hunger in the world? Why are children dying of malnourishment? Which is true: the reality we see all around us or what Jesus tells us and is recorded in the Bible?

I would argue that both are true. There are people in the world who do not have enough, and yet we believe in a God who provides enough for all. The key is in how this provision is distributed, and that is up to us. God created a world that has enough and is enough for all to thrive; but our first sin was not being satisfied with what we were given. Adam and Eve sought outside of God’s provision and took something for themselves that was never meant for them. Throughout history, humanity continues to struggle with the same sin of greed. We hoard resources and pollute the earth with the waste we produce while others struggle to survive. Our sin of greed is why there is still hunger in the world despite God’s promise of provision.

This question of provision came to mind as I inventoried the school supplies so generously donated by The Hearth community this week. Does a school supply drive solve the problem of thousands of children returning to school next week without the tools they need to engage in a meaningful way in their education? Unfortunately, no. However, a school drive is one way we can participate in sharing the excess resources on loan to us by God with those in need. And this school drive will absolutely change the academic experience of many children at Catalina Elementary School. 

It is a privilege to be in a position where God invites us to share what we have with others, ensuring that the promise of God’s provision is true for all people. May we always be grateful for all that we have; and may we be generous stewards of what we have been given. ​

At the beginning of this week, my sister reached out to me to invite me into a season of prayer with her. I agreed immediately. It’s always a good idea to have someone praying for you regularly. Each morning this week, we texted each other our prayer requests, and then at 10am we both entered into prayer on opposite sides of Florida. 

About midweek we had a check-in phone call and chatted about our philosophies on prayer. My sister mentioned the Persistent Widow, whose pleas were answered by an unjust judge simply because she kept coming back. It’s one of those parables that has always made me think. This parable is found in the Gospel of Luke, chapter 18:

Then Jesus told his disciples a parable about their need to pray always and not lose heart. He said: “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my accuser.’ For a while he refused, but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect of anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.’”

And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says, And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them?” 

A couple Sundays ago, I preached a sermon on the difference between a relational God and a genie God (if you’re wondering, our God is the former). God does not exist for the sole purpose of answering our prayers like a Genie grants wishes. Our God created us to be in relationship with Him, and part of that relationship is sharing our intimate fears, desires, anxieties, and hopes.

The judge in the parable is neither a genie nor relational. He is described as neither a man of faith nor of the people. He just answers the widow’s prayers because he is annoyed with her. Consider how a relational God may respond to this same pleading - a God who loves us and compassionately hears the intimacies of our prayers. This God answers our prayers not out of annoyance but out of the love He has for us. Matthew records another metaphor Jesus uses for prayer in his Gospel:

“Is there anyone among you who, if your child asked for bread, would give a stone? Or if the child asked for a fish, would give a snake? If you, then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in Heaven give good things to those who ask Him!”

I believe in the power of prayer, persistently brought to the Divine. I believe in the way prayer moves God’s heart and changes our own. I believe the relational nature of prayer between us and God is a gradual convergence of what we desire and what God desires for us.

I don’t believe God gives us everything we want, but I do believe prayer aligns our wants to God’s. Sometimes explicitly praying for that is a growth opportunity in our prayer life and our relationship with God.

“Lord, we believe you have the power to do all things, and we pray for this specific thing now. However, if it is not your will for this to happen and there is a plan far greater than my own, please change my heart’s desire to align with Your will. Amen.”

When my brother was a child, he loved Thomas the Tank Engine. We had two large plastic tubs that contained Thomas and his other train friends along with all their wooden train tracks that, when spread out across the floor, took up about half the living room. My brother was very particular about how the trains moved along the tracks and would correct anyone playing with him if their train wasn’t where it was supposed to be. 

The most important place where your train absolutely needed to be in the right place at the right time was at the railroad switch. This part of the track was where two separate tracks would merge into one track so that two different trains could start from their own train platform and eventually ride the same railway. In order to prevent collisions, railway signals would illuminate when the path was clear for your train to enter the single railway. Sometimes my brother would decide that several trains were going to enter the single track from his platform, leaving my train to wait at its platform for what felt like forever. But had I moved my train from the platform before the signal turned green, it would have collided with my brother’s trains. So I had no choice but to wait until the path was clear. 

Sometimes this happens in life. We get stuck on a platform. We know we are being called from the platform, but we have no idea where we are being called to. What results is a frustrating state of limbo where we feel that we are not living into our purpose, but we don’t yet know what that purpose is. We begin to feel burnt out or lose motivation. We are no longer passionate about what we are doing, and we feel that our gifts and talents are not being utilized. We feel like we are wasting time.

Or maybe the train track just isn’t clear yet.

Perhaps there are a few more things we need to learn before we are prepared to live into our purpose. Perhaps the job we are being called to is not open yet or hasn’t even been created. Perhaps the place we are supposed to be living into our purpose is not yet ready to receive us or our work. Perhaps there is one big train still on the tracks that we have to wait to move. 

Trying to start the journey or go our own way before God has prepared us or the way will result in dead ends or train wrecks. In those times when you feel like your life is at a stand still, know that you are not wasting time. You are being called to be still, to wait in place, to prepare yourself to receive the call in God’s perfect timing. And when you do receive the call, you will know it is the right time because the path will be clear and the direction certain.

For now, just breathe and be still, for “God has made everything suitable for its time.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Maybe we just need to have a little party on the platform while we wait (Ecclesiastes 3:12-13). ​

During my time in Germany, I had the opportunity to visit Buchenwald Concentration Camp.
I have no photographs to share because it did not seem right to photograph a place so sacred - in all the horrors that had existed on those grounds. Although Buchenwald wasn’t a death camp, over 56 thousand prisoners died of starvation, over-work, failed escape attempts, or execution. On the silent bus ride back from Buchenwald, I wrote to process my experience. I am sharing this reflection with you this week.

​
Buchenwald

Walking through the gates of Buchenwald, the air seems to change. 
It’s as though the trees themselves are holding space for death and remembrance. 
The only eye-witnesses to the atrocities committed on these grounds.
It is quiet. 
The birds and the wind are the only sounds.

I was expecting arid, dead earth on this site. 
It seemed that would be fitting. 
Instead, the camp is surrounded by lush forest and grasses, 
tiny wildflowers blanketing the sites where the prison barracks once stood. 
It is as though God was cloaking the fields with flowers in lament, 
as God once clothed Adam and Eve in lament of their exile. 

Our God, allowing us the choice to love, 
knows that at any moment we may choose the opposite.  
Standing in a concentration camp, the physical embodiment of the Holocaust, 
we face humanity’s collective choice not to love.
We see the fallout of humanity choosing death instead of life, 
destruction instead of creation. 
And in response to this cooperative destruction… 

Jesus weeps. 

Jesus wept when the barbed wire fences were constructed. 
Jesus wept when the first guards entered the camp.
Jesus wept when the first prisoner walked through the gates of Buchenwald 
and never walked out. 

And so we stand on hallowed ground, 
blanketed by the tears of our Lord who cried out in anguish at the suffering of His people. 
And every Spring God lays flowers down in memory. 
Reminding us that even in spaces of death and destruction, 
God will create life anew.  

All around Buchenwald, buildings are decaying. 
But life encroaches between the bricks, 
grass growing through tile and stone. 
As though God is reclaiming with life this camp of death.
As God reclaims us, over and over again.

​

What keeps you from having your friends and family over more often?

For me, it's the paralyzing and unrealistic expectations I have on myself to be the perfect hostess in an immaculately clean house with a Michelin-Star menu. Yep, I don't have people over much. What this has done is create barriers between me and making space for community in my home. I've allowed myself to get in the way of my relationships.

Can you imagine if Zacchaeus had responded to Jesus inviting Himself over with, "Sorry, Jesus, I haven't had time to clean up. I haven't had a chance to go grocery shopping, and I just don't have any food in the house." No, Zacchaeus without hesitation, "welcomed Jesus gladly." (Luke 19:5-6)

What if this was our attitude towards hospitality?

When we open our homes up to guests just as we are (in sweatpants and hair undone) and just as our house is (dishes in the sink, and our floors not mopped), our guests know that it's okay to come over just as they are. A level of intimacy develops when we stop hiding behind our masks of perfect host and gracious guest, and instead live into the reality that we share the same messes, the same bad days, the same imperfections. Building authentic relationships requires the vulnerability to let people in, even when we and our homes are a mess. ​