Sermon for the 4th Sunday of Easter

I love the fact that the Easter season lasts so long
and we can continue to celebrate the greatest and most important event
in our faith -- the Resurrection.

50 days 8 Sundays
Pentecost Sunday being the last day of the Easter Season.

And from that day on, the day of Pentecost,
the Resurrection Spirit of Jesus has been poured out into all the world,
and all those who have been baptized into his Name
are filled with Holy Spirit for empowerment
to carry on the earthly ministry of Jesus, the earthly ministry
of proclaiming salvation,
of acts of mercy and compassion,
of reconciliation,
and of loving one another as he commanded us to do.

So during the Easter season in place of a story from the Old Testament,
the Hebrew Bible,
we get a story from the Acts of the Apostles
showing us the impact of the Resurrection on the disciples of Jesus
and how their ministry was empowered.

We can see that quite clearly in today’s reading from Acts. It begins:

“Those who had been baptized devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of the bread and the prayers.”

Sounds familiar? I hope so.

I hope you can recognize this as the biblical source for the first question asked
after the reciting of the Creed in the Baptismal Covenant.

We are specifically asked to do the same thing as the earliest faith community:
“Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship,
in the breaking of bread and in the Prayers?”
“I will, with God’s help.”

As a congregation here and now,
as a collective of each of us responding to this charge
in the Baptismal Covenant,
have we done what we said?

Well, we certainly haven’t done what the Acts reading states here:
“…many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles.
[and] All who believed … had all things in common;
they would sell their possessions and goods
and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.”
Wouldn’t that be something to see here?!
That’s a guaranteed way to attract new members and add to your number.

Now, there’s no requirement that we practice a form of Christian communism,
such as our religious orders of monks and nuns do,
but it does call us to some self-examination regarding our own giving,
which seldom go past our personal comfort level,
except in times of disaster that directly involves us by its proximity.

“Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship,
in the breaking of bread and in the Prayers?”

The apostles’ teaching…
As associate rector for spiritual formation in this parish
I like to point to this as a direct mandate to be actively involved
in life-long learning and growing in the faith.
If you are not attending the adult ed. class at 9:15,
or in a study group or a prayer group of some sort,

then I would love to be able to assume that you are then
engaged in personal Bible reading and study
or other spiritual practices to deepen your faith – each and every one of us.

If in response to the baptismal question you said, “I will, with God’s help,”
then by enlisting God’s aid, you will continuously be given opportunities
for growing and learning and increasing in faith.

“Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship…” fellowship

You’ve got to know that the word “fellowship” here means more than
what we do on Sunday morning after the Eucharist out there in the Narthex.
There may be no wonders and signs being done,
and while friendliness at the coffee hour may add to the numbers initially,
if that’s all fellowship is, then there’s no impetus
for coming the rest of the way in through the door.
The best church growth programs in the world will bring people to the door,
but it is the Resurrection Spirit of Jesus, the Lord, who adds to the number
those who are being saved.

A sad illustration: Two weeks ago I was in California with my family,
and on Sunday morning I went back to visit the congregation
that had sponsored me for ordination.
It had been 30 years, and I didn’t expect to find many still there from that time.
But 30 years ago
that congregation had been engaged in some exciting church growth work.
It was the fastest growing church in the diocese,
and had around 1,200 members.
Today it is much smaller in number.

When I arrived I was greeted with a smile and handed a bulletin,
but not a word was spoken to me.
So I lingered at the door and finally told someone I was a visitor
and would like to sign the guest book.
People greeted me warmly at the Peace,
but at the end of the service
the same people who had passed the Peace with me
now said not a word to me.

I introduced myself to the clergy, and they talked with me,
and I found one couple I had known before and talked with them.

No signs and wonders there.
No Spirit of the Lord adding to the numbers those who were being saved.
No lasting effects from even the best church growth techniques.

But let’s not congratulate ourselves that we are not like them.
The operative word in this is that Lord added to the number.
It’s more than simply good hospitality.
It’s about being saved.

One of the areas identified for attention by your vestry
has been a perceived need for more communication
and ways to get to know one another here –
fellowship that goes beyond the coffee hour
and that connects us with each other
so that we can give and receive mutual support for living out our faith,
to express compassion and act out of that compassion with one another,
and truly love one another as Christ has loved us.
And just stop and think for a minute about how Christ has loved us,
to what extent he went in loving us.

Let me tell you something about
what is going on with this vestry-identified parish goal.
The staff here – Hunt and myself and Jack and Anna, Dorian and Jon –
are spending some time each Wednesday sitting down together
and deeply engaging in conversation with each other.
This is very much like what I used to do in working with small congregations
with the Total Ministry model
where we would identify a leadership team for the congregation
and they would meet regularly in a care conference,
working collaboratively, identifying needs and planning ministry.
Our staff here at Emmanuel is a team.
We listen to one another and share ideas and concerns.
We are in a constant discernment process about our reason for being here
as disciples of our Lord Jesus.
It’s exciting to be a part of such intentional spiritual work.

But this is not an exercise we are doing just for ourselves.
We’re looking at how to engage everyone in the parish
in more substantial fellowship that will also serve deepening in faith
in such a way that we can offer effective ministry in the world.
We’re working on a plan
and as preliminary to that we want to use the summer
to try out some ways for us to be together
in configurations that would provide opportunity
for more personal sharing with each other in small groups,
and for exploring and discussing together relevant questions of faith,
and to do this in the setting of breaking bread together, shared meals.

We may look sort of wimpy
in comparison with that first century faith community
who had just been empowered in a very striking way
by the Spirit of the Risen Lord,
but I would really want us to look at this example from Acts
to catch a vision of what might be possible for us too.

The Resurrection Spirit of Jesus has been poured out into all the world,
and all those who have been baptized into his Name
are filled with Holy Spirit for the purpose of empowerment
to carry on the earthly ministry of Jesus
of proclaiming salvation,
of acts of mercy and compassion,
of reconciliation,
and of loving one another as he has loved us.

This Resurrection presence is the reality of the Gospel,
but can we recognize the potential potency for effective mission,
let alone Holy Spirit present and within us?
Will you recognize it? Will I?

One might say that we could be as dumb as sheep about not seeing this.

Which leads into the Gospel for today.
The 4th Sunday of Easter is always Good Shepherd Sunday,
and in each of the three years in the lectionary cycle
this Sunday has a portion of the 10th Chapter of John for the Gospel reading.

This year one of the great points of the Good Shepherd passage
is that even dumb sheep are capable of recognizing their shepherd’s voice
and following it.

“He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out…”
These have been words of great comfort and encouragement for two millennia.

But notice here in this part of the whole passage
that Jesus is calling himself the Gate, the Door
for the sheep, for those who follow his voice.

“I am the gate for the sheep…
Whoever enters by me will be saved
and will come in and go out and find pasture.”

He is the Door, much as he is the Word who was in the beginning with God.
Through him all things came into being,
the Door at the Source of our being,
the Door for coming to be born and coming into the world,
and the Door for going out, for leaving this world.
We are utterly his, the whole of our lives.

As we heard in the Epistle reading from 1 Peter:
“By his wounds [we] have been healed.”
And so if you feel as though you have been going astray like a sheep,
do not hesitate to “return to the Shepherd and guardian of your souls.”

Listen!
Listen for his voice calling your name.
Listen,
and follow.

Sermon for the Easter Vigil

Now listen carefully! This is going to be short – but important!

Here we are at the Axis Mundi,
the Center of the Earth, indeed the Center of the Universe,
at the heart of our Faith.
Right now we are connecting in with an eternal moment of priceless worth,
because this is the pivotal point for all our Holy Week and Easter commemorations,
at the center of what gives us reason for being as Christians.

The Easter Vigil is poised between the death of Good Friday
and the resurrection of Easter Day,
weaving it all together in what has been called in the Apostolic Tradition
as the Paschal Mystery.

This is the liminal place between Christ’s death and resurrection,
and it is the most apt time for baptism.
that in-between place,
the transition between one day and the next,
at the end of the darkest night of death
and the beginning of the brightest day of new life.

For those of you who were here Palm Sunday,
you may remember what I said in the sermon:
I said Palm Sunday represents delusional hope,
and Good Friday is then the collapse of all our delusional hope,
crushed and nailed to the Cross.
Yet Good Friday is the necessary and beneficial collapse
of that delusional hope.

And then the Resurrection is the transcendence of this collapsed, delusional hope.
Easter is a revelation which could not be anticipated.
But we can’t get to Easter, to resurrection, by any other way
than through the collapse of delusional hope and the Cross of Good Friday.

Now we are at the transcendence point
represented for us in the sacrament of Baptism.
Baptism, I would like you to note, is not a one time event,
but rather it is an ongoing sacrament;
it is a state of being.

In baptism, the Apostle Paul tells us,
we are united with Jesus in his death and resurrection.
Baptism is the sign of our union with him,
the outward expression of what Jesus was talking about
when he said, “I am the Vine and you are the branches.”
In his letter to the Colossians, Paul wrote:
“You have died, and your life is hid with Christ in God,”
and in Galatians, “I have been crucified with Christ;
it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”

The implications of these statements are profound.
What does this say about our own lives, our deaths?
Jesus took the death for us.
In that one death, death has happened for all of us.

How can this be? Here we all are, sitting here very much alive.
Aren’t we too going to die? We see a lot of people dying all the time.

Well, yes, the body will die. We know that for sure.
But who we think we are in terms of our consciousness, our very essence,
has already had that kiss of death.
In the water of baptism we are buried with Christ in his death,
and by it we share in his resurrection.
The life we now live is resurrection life.

When this body wears out and falls away,
life is not ended; life is changed.

So now, at this moment, this very moment,
we are living in the resurrection.

Everyone needs to discover this for themselves,
and not just be told it.
For resurrection is transformation of our conscious awareness,
so that we get it, so that we realize
the truth and power of life in Christ.
Everyone needs to discover this for themselves.

Alleluia! Christ is risen.
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Sermon for Holy Monday, April 18, Emmanuel

Text: John 12:1-11

Blessed are you who are here on Holy Monday
taking advantage of the opportunity Holy Week gives us each year
for engaging more closely that which is at the heart of our faith.

When we bring ourselves here to participate in these liturgies this week,
we are opening ourselves in invitation to the Holy Spirit
to enlighten our eyes, to give us deeper experiential knowledge
of just what it is that God has down for us,
for all humankind,
for all creation,
in the comprehensive action of the Cross.

Yesterday we participated in the commemoration of the events of Palm Sunday,
and then took part in the reading the whole of Matthew’s Passion,
plunging us immediately into the entire story.

Now each day of this Holy Week
we explore with more depth various segments of the story,
beginning today, Holy Monday, with the story of the anointing of Jesus
by Mary, sister of Martha and Lazarus,
the one who would sit at his feet for his teachings
rather than observing the duties of hospitality
that were her proper place and responsibility.

I have always been drawn to this story
in which a woman ministers to Jesus,
anointing him and using her hair.

There is a form of this story in each of the four gospels,
each with some significantly different details,
but the main elements are the same.
In each of the four there is objection that is made to what is happening.

Objection!
How can anyone object or begrudge a loving gift
lavishly poured out on someone so deserving of love?
And yet that is exactly what happens.
The complaint is raised, “Why this waste!”

Yes, the nard was extraordinarily expensive;
it was worth a whole year’s wage.
Recall what you put down on your income tax forms for last year’s income.
Imagine spending that entire amount on one jar of perfumed ointment.
And then you use it up, use it ALL up, in one application,
and that’s it, it is all gone.

What does this say about the Person who receives such a gift?
What does this say about the one giving such a gift
and what the giver’s attitude, thoughts and feelings are
about this Person?
Obviously this Person is worth the wasting of all that expensive nard,
the profligate spending of a whole year’s labor.

Such abundant generosity gives no thought to tomorrow.
There is only now and the Beloved present,
and this waste becomes the most appropriate and true thing to be done
right now.

If we can’t see this, then we’re no better than Judas.
We are no better than Judas,
locked in the littleness of our scarcity perspective,
so lacking in faith that our head is in tomorrow
and we totally miss the incredible power of this moment.

Those feet so lovingly anointed by Mary of Bethany,
so fragrant from the perfume,
would but a few days hence be pierced by a large spike of a nail
as his feet were hammered onto a wooden cross.

But now is the moment of devotion.
Now is the opportunity for the expression of love.
Now is the time for intimate connection.

And it is all life-giving, life-affirming, life-expanding.
It is totally salvific.

Palm Sunday, April 17, 2011, sermon, Emmanuel, Mercer Island

Crowds and mobs
Egypt, Libya, Syria, Bahrain –
a Middle Eastern vortex with its geographic center in
Jerusalem

The world has been hopeful for political change
but rarely is it entirely successful.
Listening to the voices in the Cairo square now
reveals the edges of disillusionment.

Palm Sunday represents delusional hope.

There is a good parallel with another Gospel story:
just after Peter declares that Jesus is the Messiah
we then hear Peter rebuking Jesus for his passion prediction.
No! No, not that kind of Messiah!
We disciples see the Kingdom of God coming
when Jesus will be recognized as Son of David, heir to the throne,
and we will have 12 thrones of our own to judge the nations.
See how those Romans like them apples!

Palm Sunday represents, we could say, delusional hope.

There were all sorts of assumptions about what this parade
would accomplish: hopes for the future, yet delusional hopes.

Some had the hope that Jesus was the long awaited Messiah
the one who would free them from foreign oppression.
As I said, the disciples hoped for the Kingdom of God to come.

Some hoped that the Romans would see Jesus as a revolutionary
and would arrest him and get him out of the picture
so that they could return to a safer status of coping with and living with
the enemy in their midst,
so that they could manage to carry on with the upcoming Passover festival
in the oppressive shadow of the occupying military forces.
Passover – the celebration of the oppressors’ defeat by the Hand of God
and the liberation of the Israelites from slavery.

And the Romans, they hoped to keep spontaneous demonstrations and riots
from erupting in the city square, and to hold onto control.

Recent events in countries ringing Jerusalem would indicate that
the ancient hope of political power and control will only last so long.
Whether for an oppressive dictatorship or for a popular uprising
the outcome rarely turns out to be what was hoped for.
And how many times do we watch the oppressed throw off their chains
only to become themselves oppressors of others.

Palm Sunday represents delusional hope.

We are beginning a week of liturgical events
that if we were to pay attention to them
they could take us out of the confinement of our current understanding,
our current religious confinement,
and would open our awareness to vastness of life
and all of its liberation, empowerment, joy, and love
which is our inheritance in Jesus.

I will unabashedly urge you to attend all the liturgies of this week,
and most especially what we call the Triduum, the 3 Days:
Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil.

This is the central week of the whole church year, our highest holy days.
What we do this week in liturgical form is to place ourselves into the story,
and thus we can come first of all as a faith response
to what the Epistle reading from Philippians refers to as
the self-emptying, the self-giving of Jesus.
As you take part in this holy week’s events, drop religion.
Drop the compartmentalizing of seeing this only as liturgical observance,
a narrow slice out of our whole life experience.
Drop religion and all its side interests
that can be so self serving, and therefore subject to politicizing.
Instead what assumptions and hopes do you have in your life that get battered?
How are they shown up as empty and disillusioning?

Whereas Palm Sunday represents delusional hope,
Good Friday is then the collapse of all our delusional hope,
crushed and nailed to the Cross.
That is where we are going at the end of today’s liturgy.

But when we read together the Passion Account for St. Matthew ,
be willing to look at the hard words of that Gospel
full in the face,
and as much as lies in us to be conscious of what we see. Pay attention!

Brothers and sisters, this story of Jesus’ death is not a tragic account
of suffering beyond all measure.
Jesus knew what he was doing;
this was the outcome he anticipated for the parade.
And he knew that what he was doing was essential,
all in service for you, for me, for every living being.

Good Friday is the necessary and beneficial collapse of all our delusional hope.

And then the Resurrection is the transcendence of this collapsed, delusional hope.
Easter is a revelation which could not be anticipated.
But we can’t get to Easter, to resurrection, by any other way
than through the collapse of delusional hope and the Cross of Good Friday.
From delusional hope to transcending that hope with what cannot be anticipated
that is what’s up for us these next few days.

I guarantee to you that if you come and take part
in all these liturgies of Holy Week,
with a willingness and trust to bring all your own
hopes and sorrows, shame and pride, suffering and inner questioning with you,
that Love of God, Love which is God, will be at work in you,
transforming wounds, bringing healing, and revealing to you great truth.

Let your participation this week
be simply responding in faith,
trusting wholly in what Jesus did for us,
surrendering to the completeness of what he did.

In our devotional response to Jesus
there is no self aggrandizement,
no need to prove a point or make a statement,
no status attained for having participated in all the worship of the week,
just humble acceptance and the expression of our hearts.

As we heard in the Epistle reading for today from Philippians,
5 Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
6 who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited,
7 but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
8 he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death—
even death on a cross.

Sermon for Last Epiphany, Emmanuel, Mercer Island

From the Epistle 2 Peter 1:16-21 reading for today, verse 16:
“We did not follow cleverly devised myths
when we made known to you the power and Presence of our Lord Jesus Christ,
but we had been eyewitnesses of his majesty.”

I am taking this opportunity of the 25th anniversary of my ordination
to tell my story,
a story about God’s Presence in my life, the Call
and my response and interaction with that in the setting of the Church.

The point is not simply to talk about myself,
but instead to direct attention to the One who initiates the Call
and who carried out the fulfilling of the Call, and the work of ministry
- then and now.

I am a child of the Church.
I was baptized at age 6 weeks,
and as far back as I can remember my parents brought me to church
week by week.
Even as a small child way before I could articulate it
I could sense that this was a holy place that we went to
and what we did in that holy place filled me with a sense of belonging,
a sense of awe and peace, and a strange sense of being drawn there
that seemed utterly trustworthy to me.

This continued powerfully in my young life
despite one incident after another that could have snuffed it out:
- being told to stay outside the altar rail, only the priest could go there
- being told to stop reading aloud along with the priest during the Eucharistic Prayer
- being told that only boys could be acolytes
- being told to wait until I was 12 and confirmed before I could receive communion

Yet all that time I truly believe that the Holy Spirit was at work
in the process of my spiritual formation
despite the blocks and frustrations of the institutional church,
because by the time I was 16 and had gone through a significant period
of searching for answers to questions about what this church,
what this religion, what this faith was all about,
the breakthrough came as a gift of revelation
not in church on a Sunday morning or in a Sunday school class
but as a personal encounter with God one afternoon when I was alone.

And after that the way of faith seemed to easily and effortlessly unfold before me,
as those important questions of life that I had had
started finding answers that connected directly with Jesus.

So my calling to ministry came
when out of the gratitude and joy that I was experiencing I said to God,
“You have done so much for me; is there anything I can do for you?”

And the response came immediately and clearly.
It was as though I had heard someone say, although no voice was heard,
“Thank you. Offer accepted.”
as though it were already decided,
and God was simply waiting for my cooperation.

The problem was I knew exactly what this meant – if I were a boy.
But I was a girl and this was 1963,
and it wouldn’t be until 1977 before women would be ordained priests.

So it became a matter of waiting for the institutional church
to catch up with the Holy Spirit.

Now, as an aside let me say this about children in church.
All this is why I will not refuse a child communion if they ask for it
or deny them access to the altar.
Jesus said, “let the children come to me and do not forbid them…”
and “If you cause one of these little ones to stumble,
it is better for you that you tie a millstone about your neck
and be dropped into the sea.”
Drastic, terrifying consequences, for standing in the way of our children’s faith
so pay attention to the children.
One of them may be your priest one day
and will be preaching the sermon at your funeral.

Back in those early days of the ordination of women
it was hard just to get into the process,
to get a bishop’s approval and the Commission on Ministry’s consent.
There was no model for a woman priest
and applying the criteria that applied to men
made for some tremendous frustration among us women.
We were looked at far more closely and had more expected of us.
We were subject to discrimination, sexual abuse and suppression.
Yet we women brought with us into the priesthood
and into the institutional church
a new model of wholeness and integration very much needed
if the Church was to continue viable and relevant and have a witness in the world.

It took me four tries and two different dioceses
before I even could become a postulant.
And I added two years beyond my Master of Divinity degree
doing a clinical pastoral internship in the hardest place I could find:
the trauma hospital in the Texas Medical Center in Houston,
all in order to have undeniable credentials in the eyes of the institutional church.

So finally the Church ordained me conceding to and complying with
the call of the Holy Spirit from 23 years before.
The question comes up:
How could I have stayed in the Church in the face of all the ways
in which I experienced suppression and rejection?
But the revelation of God’s love through Jesus breaks through despite it all
and I was able to see the potential and the biblical model, the ideal and the goal.
So the only way I have been able to stay in the Church
has been to be actively engaged in changing it.

The institutional church, organized religion is a glorious mixture
of life-giving, life-changing, life-transforming
encounter with God through Jesus
in the face of all the ways we seek to contain that revelation
within liturgy and theology
and all the ways in which we make ourselves comfortable and secure
despite this closeness of God,
all the ways we would try to domesticate our salvation.

Why would we want to do that?
Why would we want to domesticate,
to put a damper on the saving action of God in our lives?
Because even though the action of the cross and resurrection
ultimately brings all that our souls cry out for in spiritual hunger
- love, life, joy, peace -
the road to get there is challenging
and first takes us to places where we must face what it is we are being saved from –
all the ways in which we lie to ourselves, ignore and hide from
our dark places, our places of wounding
and our self-interested, self-centered, self-protective mechanisms
that inflict hurt on others and leave us isolated from God.

So for many years I worked in small congregations
that were on the verge of collapsing,
because there, out of necessity,
people were willing to change the way they “did” church.
There was the openness to the Gospel, to the good news of Jesus.

There, instead of vain struggles to preserve a model for being the church
that could not be sustained because of lack of resources,
we experimented with being more like the first century church,
much more relational, more shared ministry, more becoming self-responsible
and more in the process of discipleship with Jesus.

This all may beg the question: Why then am I here? What am I doing here?

I think the Holy Spirit was very much involved in that
for MY sake – and hopefully for yours too.
I needed to come to and serve in a place that is more spiritually dangerous,
where the old model of how we are as a congregation still works well enough,
so that the challenge would be greater
for leading people to opening to gospel revelation and conversion.

It is not that this is a terribly sinful place;
it is that the spiritual danger to our souls is much, more subtle,
and therefore more dangerous,
cloaked successfully by our ability to keep functioning in old familiar ways,
so that the power of the Gospel is not readily apparent to us.

But we are sitting in this place in the midst of huge symbols of huge meaning,
eating bread and drinking wine
unconscious of the Body and Blood of our Lord.

You see, after all these years I have come to realize
that the call I heard as a 16 year old girl
was not about being ordained a priest after all.
The call was and is about responding to the mercy and grace shown me
for wholeness of life for myself
and for empowerment and compassion for serving others.
That is really why I am here, and that is what I preach and teach
and hopefully live out with a certain amount of integrity.
That is what we are all called to.
That is part of the package when we dare to baptize or to be baptized
into the Name of Jesus.
This is what we are all called to.
The writings of Roland Allan, an Anglican priest and missionary,
greatly influenced my own formation as a priest
and my understanding of the mission of the Church.

As early as 1924, following his reading of the Acts of the Apostles, Roland Allen said:
"A Christian community which has come into being
as a result of the preaching of the gospel
should have handed over to it
the Bible, the Creed, the Ministry and the Sacraments.…

The Holy Spirit,
working on the human endowments of the community's leaders
is sufficient for its life.

A Christian community that cannot do these things
is not yet a Church;
it is a mission field."

So what is the connection here at Emmanuel?
What in this is bringing us here into truth in the light of the Gospel?
Are we a Church, a real community of faith?
Or are we yet a mission field
to whom the personal and individual revelation of the Gospel has not yet come?

Sometimes we act like a faith community,
but more often we are still a mission field.
And until we come to conversion
how will we recognize that the Holy Spirit is calling each of us
into greater faithfulness and service?

I stand here as a priest,
but I speak to you as a sister in Christ through our common baptism.
There is nothing to celebrate here if today is just about 25 years on the job.

What is to be celebrated is how I am one example of the transforming work of God
through the mercy and grace of our Lord Jesus.
What about you?
What is your encounter with the risen Jesus?
Will you let him into more of your life?
Will you let him liberate you from what binds up your life?
Will you let his love overcome fear and anger?
Will you let him touch you?
Will you hear him calling your name?

From the Epistle for today, verse19, heed these words:
“You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place,
until the day dawns and the morning star – Jesus – rises in your hearts.”