How's Your Spirit?

It seems we're at war. 

During my hospital chaplaincy training, one of our instructors shared that when she entered a patient's room, she would often ask, "How's your spirit?" It was an open-ended enough question to get a conversation going.

So I ask you, "How's your spirit?"

There is a story of a three-year-old girl, the firstborn and only child in her family. Her mother became pregnant again, and the little girl was super excited about having a new brother or sister. The family welcomed a healthy, sweet baby boy, and after only a few hours at home with the new baby, the little girl asked her parents for some alone time with her new baby brother. Specifically, she asked that this be in his room with the door closed. Her insistence on privacy made her parents a little nervous, but then they remembered that they had installed a new baby monitor, so they could keep an eye on things. If anything seemed suspicious, they figured they could quickly get to the nursery.

So, the parents walked their young daughter to the infant’s room, shut the door, and then raced to the monitor. Holding their breath, they watched the little pajama-clad body moving toward the crib. With only the back of her tiny head in view, she poked her face through the bars. The parents leaned closer and listened as the child whispered to her new sibling:

“Tell me about God. I’m starting to forget.”^[1]

How easily it is to forget that pure awareness of who we are, and whose we are. Which is why I firmly believe religion is still relevant, and spirituality, for today and tomorrow’s Christian, is no longer only an option, but a necessity. Both can serve as reminders of our Christian identity. Together, religion and spirituality can help us mature our faith. 

I asked EpiscoBOT, an AI resource developed by and for the Episcopal Church, for working definitions of religion and spirituality:

• Religion is the organized, communal expression of faith: beliefs, doctrines, rituals, worship, and institutions (churches, sacraments, creeds) that shape a people’s life together.
• Spirituality is the personal, interior life of relating to God (or the sacred): prayer, conscience, experience of the Spirit, and the ways a person grows in love, meaning, and holiness.

Not bad, EpiscoBOT!

While the three-year-old little girl in our story and, certainly, the writer of the Gospel of John, also known as the Spiritual Gospel, have a grasp of the importance of a healthy spiritual life, I am not so sure about the protagonists in our two Gospel passages.

See what you think.

Nicodemus, a leader in the Jewish community, has heard about Jesus. For reasons unknown to us, he comes to Jesus by night to ask some questions. He’s curious, intellectual, and eager to learn.  He’s respectful, too, flattering even, but Jesus doesn’t take the bait. Instead, Jesus takes their private conversation from the religious to the spiritual, the mundane to the transcendent. No one can see (perhaps more to the point, sense) the Kingdom of God without being born again, anew, or from above. (We have some choices here.)^[2]

Bewildered and perhaps a bit bewitched by the charismatic rabbi, Nicodemus, taking a literal approach, wonders aloud how one might physically enter back into one’s mother’s womb to be born again. It’s comical. Jesus elaborates using wind as an example of the spirit’s mystifying movement. One can only imagine Nicodemus’ confused facial expression, in the flickering candlelight, as Jesus presses the issue, with more symbolic imagery and language that leave the poor Pharisee more in the dark than he was when he first arrived.

And just like that, John leaves Nicodemus to ponder this clandestine exchange for several more chapters. He’ll be back in chapter seven to testify on behalf of Jesus. And in 19, he brings a hundred pounds of myrrh to the tomb to anoint Jesus, on the presumption that his body will remain dead. 

The Spirit forms us as disciples over time, it seems. Sometimes.

A woman walks toward a well, empty bucket in hand. It’s noon. She’s alone. Again. Perhaps a single crow caws in the distance. I imagine even the field mice have scurried off to cooler places. There’s nowhere to hide in the blazing desert sunlight. Because noontime shadows tend to be forgiving, this is her private time to replenish.

Traditionally, wells were early-morning gathering places where gossip was exchanged, and laughter rang out, signs of kinship and vital community. In the ancient world, wells were where God did new things. Even all alone with her thoughts, perspiration dripping down her back, she senses the promise of new life bubble up when she comes to dip her bucket in the water. As she approaches, she braces herself spotting a male figure sitting on the edge of the well. She notices the tassels on his tunic. A Jew. They would not speak. Jews and Samaritans do not socialize. 

“Give me a drink,” he says.

“You talking to me? A Samaritan?” 

“Yes, and if you knew who you were talking to, you would have asked me for a drink,” Jesus says.

In the longest conversation Jesus has with anyone in scripture, male or female, back and forth they go, like a fiercely competitive singles tennis match.^[3]

Jesus serves. “Go call your husband.” 

“Sorry, don’t have one.” 

“You are right. You’ve had five.” 

Jesus gives voice to her uncomfortable truth. How could he know?

Stunned, she drops everything and runs into the village to tell anyone she can find.

“Come and see someone who told me everything I have ever done!”

This woman has nothing to lose. She was ripe for transformation.^[4]

What might we glean from these two characters for our own spiritual life as disciples of Christ? 

Perhaps that laying down our stories can be the hardest, best thing that can happen to us. That the timetable for our spiritual awakening can be fluid, that gender is inconsequential. 

God so loves the world, the whole world, that God sends Jesus, the word, the truth, the light, the bread, the vine, the way to eternal life. Based on our two examples, a genuine encounter with Jesus will be life-changing. And our response to that encounter will be unique. Like Nicodemus, some of us will participate in the background. Like the Samaritan woman (St. Photini, whose feast day is February 26), some of us will bear public witness. If we’re serious about following Jesus, what happens in the dark will eventually come to light. And, finally, we would do well (pun intended) to expect the unexpected.

At its very best, organized religion supports our discipleship in community. At its best, spirituality also supports our discipleship, especially when accompanied by a spiritually mature, inclusive, expansive theological imagination and regular prayer and practice. 

Without religion, spirituality can become unmoored, subjective, or exclusive. Without spirituality, religion can become empty ritual or mere tradition. The Christian life calls for both: faithful practice in private and in community, and an interior life of repentance and prayer, leading to compassion in action.

 

In this dangerous and unpredictable time, we can no longer afford to be religious but not spiritual. Our spirituality can form us to be the disciples we are called to be – blessed to be blessings, partners with God, serving in ways that seek to love and heal the world so that we may never forget the sweetness of God’s lavish love for each and every one of us. May it be so.

Amen💛

Watch this sermon here.

 

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.
Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.

Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated and read by Joanna Macy
Book of Hours, I 59

---

^[1] Marcus J. Borg, The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2015), 113–14.

^[2] Amy-Jill Levine, The Gospel of John: A Beginner’s Guide to the Way, the Truth, and the Life, 1st ed (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2024), Ch. 2.

^[3] Lindsay Hardin Freeman, Bible Women: All Their Words and Why They Matter (Cincinnati: Forward Movement, 2014), 518.

^[4] Rachel Held Evans, Inspired: Slaying Giants, Walking on Water, and Loving the Bible Again (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Incorporated, 2018), 142–46.

Treasured Transmissions and Temporary Tattoos

I’ve never considered myself quite cool enough to have a tattoo, but currently, over my left triceps, the word “bad,” a bit blurry and a little smudged, still lingers a week after surgery… as a reminder of just how quickly our lives can change. Not at all unlike the ashes we will soon receive on our foreheads.

 

During those first few painful nights as I recovered from a busted wrist after being rudely taken down by a slick patch of black ice, I lay wide awake in the middle of the night with so many thoughts in my head. “I am so stupid. Why me? Why now?” Cliché, I know.

 

At that point, I wasn't really addressing God. I was taking full responsibility for both the accident and the healing. And then, sometime around day two or maybe three, it hit me how dependent I really was as I tried to navigate the world with right arm only. That’s when the pity party got underway. And, not gonna lie, it wasn't pretty.
 
I’m not proud to admit this, nor do I expect any emotional response from you in making this confession. God knows, we’re all carrying something - some things, heavier than any of us can imagine. But perhaps there is something here that might resonate. Perhaps there’s a morsel of something to carry us into a holy Lent together in the hope of initiating lasting changes to our lives with Christ.

 

Call me crazy, but I think Ash Wednesday might just be my favorite day in our church calendar. Ash Wednesday – Ash Wednesday is when we’re called to get really real with ourselves and God. We’re called to acknowledge our most frustrating fallibility, our limitations, and our maddeningly inconvenient mortality, before God and one another. Ash Wednesday can be intense. And I humbly submit to you, with “good” arm outstretched, that it can also be a gift.
 
As we enter into our “holy Lent,” we are called to perennial practices like prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Perhaps you already have a Lenten intention or practice in mind as we gather this Ash Wednesday to ponder our finitude and our walk with Jesus on this perilous and potentially slippery slope that is this life. If you do, wonderful! Thanks be to God. 

 

If not, I got you.
 
Thanks be to God for EarPods and YouTube videos of Father Thomas Keating, who accompanied me through several of those first painful, sleepless nights when I just couldn’t seem to get comfortable. One of the founders of the contemporary contemplative prayer movement, I love Fr. Thomas for many reasons, not least of which is that he reminds me of my dad. His humor, his kindness, and his voice all conjure memories of my earthly father, and so it wasn’t difficult to imagine our heavenly father as, perhaps, somehow responsible for this treasured transmission. As I listened to his talks during those long, pain-soaked nights, Jesus’ words from the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew came alive for me. “Go into your room and shut the door,” Jesus says to his followers.^[1] 

Poor, first-century hearers of these words would have been lucky to have a door, let alone a room, so we can be modestly certain Jesus was speaking symbolically. Go inside yourself. Shut down any distractions. Quiet the monkey mind, as best you can. Just be with me in the stillness. 

 

Feels like peace to me.
 
Unless it doesn’t. Often, it can feel more like chaos in that room, Keating warns. What comes up can be incredibly painful to encounter. Keating calls these arisings our emotional programs for happiness, our human desire for control, esteem, and power, the very temptations Jesus faced in the wilderness after his baptism. 
 
I’ve listened to Keating speak on this passage from the Gospel of Matthew many times before, but suddenly it became very personal. Let’s be honest, who doesn’t love to feel powerful and in control? Who doesn’t want to be admired and looked up to? These days, the problem seems so pervasive, almost intractable. And yet, Keating is optimistic that this “disease of the human condition, or the false self, which is apt to trample on the rights and needs of others, can be dismantled through contemplative practice.”^[2]

 

Jesus was so smart. He had a way of knowing just when to step away from the outside world, to be still, and reconnect with God. As author Caroline Oakes puts it, this regular practice prepared Jesus to “respond to demanding and confrontational situations, not with reflexive flight, fight overreactions, but with intentional statements and actions of deep listening, compassion and insight…grounded in the presence and grace of God.”^[3]

 

Thank God for Lent, which invites us to pause. Thank God, even, for seemingly inopportune opportunities to stop and reexamine our relationship with the Creator of the universe, to look squarely at that which distracts us and tempts us to conform to the stressors of this age. Thank God for the gift of contemplative practices, which Thomas Keating calls divine therapy, that can help wake us up and transform our minds and hearts. (See Romans 12:2) But wait, there’s more: According to Harvard researcher Sara Lazar, PhD, regular meditation can also help reduce stress and improve our brain health.

 

If you feel called to practice Contemplative Prayer this Lent, here’s a link with more information. Or check out Insight Timer for lots of free guided meditations, like this one. And this one designed as a daily Lenten practice.

 
I thank God for Ash Wednesday and for the temporary discomfort that reminds me of just how much I need God. And for temporary tattoos, reminders of our mortality and immortality. We can wash them off, hoping against hope to remember what they signify. But we probably won’t - not for long anyway.

Amen💛

---

^[1] “- YouTube,” accessed February 14, 2026, https://www.youtube.com/watch?si=C26_5h3TmrEV5wgN&t=217&v=x_3pGUmFhVs&feature=youtu.be.

^[2] Thomas Keating, Invitation to Love: The Way of Christian Contemplation (New York: Continuum, 1995), 153.

^[3] Caroline Oakes, Practice the Pause: Jesus’ Contemplative Practice, New Brain Science, and What It Means to Be Fully Human, 1st ed (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Augsburg Fortress Publishers, 2023), 15.2023), 15.

Adulting

Lately, it seems, I've heard many young adults lament that adulting is hard. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I actually think I might agree with them. Adulting is hard. Especially in these times.

Anne Lamott, always a good source of wit and wisdom in tumultuous times, recently wrote:

Life is much wilder, sweeter, violent, heartbreaking, weirder, richer, more insane, awful, beautiful and profound than we were prepared for as children, or that I am comfortable with as a grownup. In my Sunday School classes, after tragedy, we always spend extra time making art cards for children in the towns where tragedies took place, or for the people in the regular church whose hearts are broken. Someone said that art is the greatest expression of the human spirit: my kids are glitter glue cantors. We’ve made garlands out of coffee filters to string in our fellowship hall, to remind people of peace and buoyancy. The paradox is that, in the face of our meager efforts, we discover that in the smallest moments of taking in and making beauty, and in actively being people of goodness, mercy, and outreach, we are saved.

~~Anne Lamott

I agree, Annie. For those of us living in our second acts, what wisdom might we offer young adults feeling a little shaky right now? In response to our current unstable world, I'd like to offer a class for any struggling young adults. All are welcome, as we Episcopalians are known to say. I would offer the following curriculum: Beauty 101, Kindness, Justice, and Mercy, and Self-Care for Troubled Times. There would, of course, be yoga. Tuition would be free with the caveat that students would promise to pass on the wisdom to the next generation. 

What might you teach?

I would also sit them down and share Jesus' famous words to the crowd who gathered to hear his wisdom in similarly tumultuous times.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. 
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. 
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. 
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom
 of heaven. 
“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil 
against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you."

~~Matthew 5:1-12

Barely an adult himself, by today's standards anyway, Jesus could likely relate to the stressors of a first-century life of fear, persecution, poverty, and political instability. I imagine his words must have been a balm. Jesus was so chill.

Can we all just agree that adulting is sometimes hard? That we don't have to go it alone is a very grown-up realization. (We did that! Good for us!) 

Also, we are blessed. We are blessed at every single stage of our lives. 

Thanks be to God!

Amen

Trying for the Kingdom

 He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches. ~~Mt. 13:31-32

The Kingdom of Heaven (aka the Kingdom of God) is a difficult concept to grasp. But oh, how we Christians try. And try. And try…

And you know what they say about trying: If at first you don't succeed...

Just what is this enigmatic kingdom the Gospel writers point us to? Is it even a what? Is it a place? If so, where is it? Can it be found on a map? 

Obviously, these are facetious, rhetorical questions. 

Jesus describes the Kingdom of Heaven in many different ways to help us better understand and perhaps draw closer to its true essence. Easy for him, Jesus lives there. Jesus embodies the kingdom, this enlightened way of being that is not of this world. He offers it graciously, making it accessible to us. He lays it out in his teachings, his actions, and indeed in his very body. Like the disciples, Jesus invites us to follow him. By his very public death, Jesus demonstrates how we have all but lost the plot. By his death on a cross between two criminals, Jesus stares injustice, shame, blame, pain, suffering, and grief right in the face. He does this for us and for all humanity.

“Forgive them,” Jesus prays. They just do not get it. 

All these years later, sadly, we still don’t seem to get it.

But we can do this. We can follow the way of Jesus into the kingdom here and now. I believe in us. 

What if we still ourselves enough to feel our bodies and our breath again? What if we took just a few moments each day to reconnect with the powerful force of love that brought us here to this very moment?

What if, like Jesus, we listened regularly for the voice of the Spirit? What would we hear? What if we took time daily to be still, as the psalmist writes, and know the generous, loving presence inviting us to become the love, the true essence, of who we were created to be.

Will you try with me? Start by closing your eyes. 

Imagine yourself in a beautiful environment, your favorite place or something even better! Go a little rogue here. Let your imagination run wild. 

Notice your surroundings. What do you see? Feel the temperature of the air. How does it feel against your skin? What do you hear? What do you smell? How does the air feel as it enters your nostrils in this magical place? Allow yourself to settle in. Feel the support of the surface beneath you. You are safe here. Feel the spaciousness all around you. You have room to grow here. 

See if you can find a still point here to just breathe deeply of this sacred environment.

As you exhale, soften the body wherever you can. As your next breath fills you with fresh, enlivening energy, will you accept the fullness of this gift? Pause to notice your initial response. 

As you exhale again, a bit more slowly this time around, notice how it feels to let go of the breath you held inside in the previous moment? Just notice. Try again. Thankfully, we get to keep trying.

Allow the breath to flow more naturally now. Try to stay still. Linger for just a little longer, if you are able.

Listen for the whisper of the Holy. 

Like God, this meditation is always here for you. Keep practicing, trying for the kingdom, my friends. The world needs your presence, perhaps now more than ever.

We are living in a world that is absolutely transparent, and the divine is shining through it all the time. — Thomas Merton💛

Beauty and Bravery

 

So I’ll tell you a secret no one wants you to know.
You do not have to be good to be brave.
You just need to know how to love.
You just need to unfold your heart
and recognize where you stand
and who you are.

From Beauty and Bravery by Nikita Gill

Ice Climbing 101

Jesus invites the would-be disciples to "Come and see…”

A young man climbs a 1667-foot skyscraper, all 101 floors, without a rope or net.

Onlookers marvel at his remarkable fearlessness, focus, flexibility, and strength.

Agile feet and fingers grip glaciers of glass.

We look away and then back again, strangely compelled.

Come. And See.

Another tragic death at the hands of immigration “officials.”

Reports are these folks are innocent protesters; others say they are obstructing justice.

We look. We look away. 

Icy winter weather slams across the continent.

A comfortable home walls out the cold.

A warm, safe space should not be a luxury. 

Some will succumb to exposure tonight.

A world away, the climber stops to take in the view. 

People appear small from higher up.

What are we looking for, Jesus? 

Following Christ demands focus, flexibility, strength, fearlessness... 

An averted gaze can, I suppose, feel like a survival tactic.

Come. And. See. 

Faith without works is dead. Curiosity without compassion can be deadly. 

Confession is good for the soul.

A lone climber gazes upward at the challenge before him.

"It feels infinite," he says, and begins his ascent.

What Are You Looking For?

A Sermon for Epiphany 2

Watch this sermon live here.
Lectionary readings are here.

Olympic Judo champ Eve Aronoff Trivella is certainly not the most well-known Olympic athlete. A member of the historic first women’s Olympic Judo team in 1988, Trivella credits her success to her coach, Rusty Kanokogi, who spearheaded the effort to get women’s Judo into the Olympics. Trivella said her coach didn’t believe in excuses. Her motto? “Unless you’re dead, do another pushup!” Coach Kanokogi never got a shot at the Olympics, but her protégé, Eve, did.[1]

This Epiphany season, what if we took training for our life in Christ as seriously as an Olympic athlete? 

This week, our scriptures seem to be calling us to get in shape! For this, we could sure use a coach. This morning, we heard three unique voices shining a light on Christ, who came to wake us up to who we really are. What if these guys were our coaches? What are you looking for – in a coach, that is?

Imagine, if you will, the prophet Isaiah, the Apostle Paul, and John the Baptist not just as ancient, enigmatic biblical figures, but as three experienced and enthusiastic applicants, each with a distinct coaching style and program for getting us into the best spiritual shape of our lives. 

Take the prophet Isaiah, for example, whose vision and ministry to ancient Israelites in exile is legendary:

(Steve as Isaiah)

“From the womb I called you”—that’s how my pitch begins. My coaching is identity-based. I don’t start with a checklist; I start with who you are. You are spoken for. Even before you knew your gifts, God had named and formed you. My program helps you remember your origin story: called, shaped, and appointed to be a light to the nations. When you struggle to keep your promises—when your resolutions falter—you might need someone to remind you that your life is part of a larger story. That reminder re-orients your motivation from duty to vocation. Keep your baptismal vows because you are who God says you are.

(Connie)

Our second coaching candidate is the Apostle Paul, whose stunning encounter with the light of Christ on the road to Damascus rendered him temporarily blinded. In the intro to Paul’s letter to the community in Corinth, we heard words of encouragement. Let’s see what encouragement coach Paul has for us.

(Steve as Paul)

“Grace to you and peace… My style is that of a coach who gives you tools and a team. I (certainly) don’t rely on willpower alone. I point to the gifts you have been given and to the community that surrounds you. Your baptism was not a private resolution; rather, a communal covenant. We will remind one another of the promises, pray for one another, and practice the disciplines that form us. I promise you this: God is faithful. You are not alone. I will give you practical rhythms—prayer, scripture reading, confession, service, small groups—so that your baptismal resolutions are sustained not by grit but by grace working through people and practices.

Thank you.

(Connie)

In today’s Gospel, John the Baptizer makes it clear that his job is to shine a light on Jesus. I present the one and only, wilderness-dwelling, locust-eating prophet himself, John the Baptist.

(Steve as John) 

My coaching is urgent and incarnational. I point you to Jesus and say, "Repent, turn, and follow.” I don’t waste time on clever programs when the matter is this: are you willing to change now? I’m the “come-and-see” coach—follow the Messiah, follow where he leads, and your life will be re-ordered. I will push you out of complacency. If your spiritual life is stuck in a rut, I will demand a fresh turning toward the Son of God.

That’s all. Ciao.

(Connie)

Three coaches. Three different approaches. “What kind of coach are you looking for?” The Greek word for looking, zeteo, also means seeking, searching, striving, or desiring… what is it you seek? Jesus wants to know.

• Identity? —do you need to be reminded that you are called, that you belong? Isaiah may be the coach for you.
• Are you looking for tools, a team, some steady rhythms to sustain you? Paul’s got your back!
• Want more immediate change—repentance, a radical reorientation? Sounds a lot like John the Baptist to me.

 

Any good coach will tell us that training demands regular practice. We might start with our baptismal promises:

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

• Isaiah reminds us: we are called out of our exile and into community.
• Paul gives our community a practical structure: gather, pray, break bread; share equitably. Hold one another accountable.
• John insists: Come NOW! The light of the world is here with us!

 “Will we persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever we fall into sin, repent and return?” 

• Isaiah’s vision of God’s faithfulness gives us our WHY. God’s still in charge of history.
• Paul’s insistence on mutual support gives us the WHO. It’s a team effort!
• John’s blunt challenge offers us the WHEN: Which is NOW.

 “Will we seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves?” 

·      Isaiah teaches that our vocation is for the nations—that Christ’s love, our love, makes a difference.

·      Paul reminds us that the Spirit equips the community to serve—and that our gifts are also for one another.

·      John calls us to action: show up, change things for the better, serve. 

 

We’ve got some solid coaching candidates here. Thankfully, we don’t really have to choose. Coach Steve, can you make this actionable for us?

(Steve)

• Sure, I can do that. What’s one positive change we can make now? Start small. Create a concrete, focused practice. If your promise is to persevere in prayer, begin with five minutes each morning. If it’s to seek and serve others, commit to one small act of kindness each week.
• Find a team for accountability. Tell one person (or small group) what you’ve chosen. Ask them to pray for you and check in.
• We can ask Jesus’ question daily. What am I looking for?”—let that question reorient us. Are we looking for comfort, approval, control—or for Jesus? Practice answering the question with honesty and intentionality, then do the next right thing. We can also turn the question inward, asking What is God looking for in me?”

 

(Connie)

 

Olympian Eve Aronoff Trivella said when she entered the tunnel leading into the Olympic stadium, at first, everything was pitch dark, but as she walked on, likely feeling the support of her coach and her teammates, the light grew and grew until it was almost blinding.[2]

It can take a moment for our eyes to adjust to such a bright light. And while the source of the light may not be visible to human eyes, we see what the light lights up…You see?[3]

I imagine that as athletes from around the world gather for the opening ceremonies, the stadium lights reveal what is most thrilling about the Olympics. And it’s not the competition. 

We don’t have to try out to be on the “J Team.” And nobody here’s keeping score. Point is to create a level playing field, so everyone can shine just as we’re made, for the benefit of all, and the glory of God. Jesus, the Lamb of God who willingly offers himself to shine a light on our human predisposition to violence and scapegoating, came to show us how to play this worldly game from a much higher perspective. 

What are you looking for? It’s okay not to be sure. Jesus says so. Just keep showing up at the table. Come and see. Come and see. Come and see. Amen.💛

Divine Light,
Lover of the universe
Love incarnate
Love that is alive all over
our world today:
Warm our hearts and
melt our indifference.
Ignite love within us
that is big enough
to overcome our
smallness, and
big enough to extend
to all the earth
and all our
more-than-human
neighbours.
Luminous Love,
shine deep within,
with a light that
shares the darkness
with a graciousness that
does not overpower.
May we, too,
be bearers of the Light.
Amen.
- Wendy Janzen, Burning Bush Forest Church 

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[1] “‘She’s Probably the Strongest Woman You’ll Ever Meet.’ Remembering the Mother of Women’s Judo,” StoryCorps, accessed January 14, 2026, https://storycorps.org/stories/shes-probably-the-strongest-woman-youll-ever-meet-remembering-the-mother-of-womens-judo/.

[2] Ibid

[3] Frederick Buechner and George Connor, Listening to Your Life: Daily Meditations with Frederick Buechner, 1st ed. ([San Francisco]: Harper, San Francisco, 1992), 225.