A Piece of Heaven

I think that I felt close to heaven physically when I flew over Mt. McKinley’s ice fields by helicopter. I had never seen a mountain range so majestic. The mountains possessed a presence, a grandeur that I had not experienced when I saw them from below. The color and quality of light was different, and the colors contrasted from brilliant white when the sun was shining on the snow to charcoal grey from the weathered rocks, to slate blue and dark blue in the shadows, to turquoise for the glacial streams and lakes.

Being so high up gave me a unique perspective. Brown bears were the size of peanuts on grassy meadows at the foot of these monoliths, and the smoothness of the glacier was a long swath of white that spilled over the plane of rock like a blanket. I could begin to understand why mountains were held to be sacred and holy. They were a different worship area, vast and full, under a vault of piercing blue. My mind struggled with the seemingly infinite sight of one peak after another. It didn't seem real to zip along with the high noise of rotors spilling into the cabin. The picture spread below us belonged in a book. A tiny red plane in the distance parked on the sloping glacier looked like it had fallen out of a Crackerjack.The ethereal vastness of those ice fields moved me in a way that was new to me.

I was living a National Geographic special outside the plane’s window, but with all the emotions that I never had felt while sitting and watching one on TV. I was confronted with my smallness, and with a power greater than I was—a geologic power, but a power nonetheless. Forces moved mountains, created upheaval, but there was more.

I sensed that there was the power of God that could be found just beyond the brilliance; God had created mountains to make us look up and marvel, to ascend to a different realm. Heaven was never so close between the intersection of sky and granite. I felt power and majesty, intense light and even a type of holiness too.

God was near. God dwelt in the expanse of glittering snow and the intense blue of the sky. It was an unforgettable experience for me.The irony though is that God isn't also located there; He is with each of us in our hearts and souls, a constant companion on our journey. It’s just that sometimes His glory comes to us in the sweep of mountain radiance and clear sky, in the expanse of frozen geology, and in the never-ending wonder of this planet.

- S. Becker

Message for the fourth Sunday in Lent.

John 9:1-3 As (Jesus) walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2 His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” 3 Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. 4 We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work.

Every time she starts to lovin' she brings eyesight to the blind. “Tommy” by The Who.

The wealth of thought which could be unpacked from these three verses could fill several pages. Among other things, verse 3a is one answer to a key question in the book of Job. Verse 3b signals that Jesus’ cure is one of the “signs” so characteristic of the Gospel of John. The notion of sight invites a big segue to the film Avatar. I am mightily resisting the urge to go in that direction.

Verse 4 is the money shot for today. One can go in several directions with this, but I choose on this day to point out that if one pledges one’s faith to Jesus, and Jesus tells you to love God and love your neighbor as yourself, it implies that God’s work should have a certain priority in your life. Lots of other things are important too. Raising a family and improving one’s skills and even rest (remember the third commandment) are all totally fair. As long as you don’t leave out those things which raise the name of Jesus to the heavens, and work to amplify that message, rather than sing along with the congregation. Money is necessary. Money is needed! But busy hands and active talents employed in his service carry much weight. And your time is limited. That book is closed when this life is over.

"Sheep May Safely Graze"

I love listening to “Sheep May Safely Graze”, by Johann Sebastian Bach.  The music is very comforting to me, evoking beautiful pastoral scenes and bestowing a feeling of security and peace.  It makes me think of John chapter 10, in which Jesus describes his followers as his sheep.  He explains that he is the gate by which the sheep enter their safe enclosure.  “I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved. He will come in and go out, and find pasture.”  Jesus also tells us that he has come “that (we) may have life, and have it to the full.”  (John 10:9 and 10, NIV)

Through his preaching, teaching, and healing, Jesus showed us how to live in openness, trust, and abundance.  Through his living example, as well as through the resurrection hope we have received, we are assured that we are always in God’s care and are beloved children of God’s kingdom.  When we follow Jesus Christ, we enter a pasture where we are kept safe, even when the terrain becomes rocky or when we come upon a patch where the grass is not as lush and green as we had expected.  Jesus guides us to safety, provides for our physical nourishment, and most importantly gives us the food of abundant life in him.  During this holy season, it is comforting to remember that Christ is the gate to God’s kingdom, inviting us to “come in and go out, and find pasture.”  Are we ready to respond to his invitation?

Separation of Church and…

“Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” Mark 12:17

It’s common to talk about the separation of church and state. And I’m all for it. Many of us think that our own church could do a good job influencing the government, but wouldn’t want another person’s church to. So the designers of our nation’s system have made a wise choice.

But I wonder how often we assume that there should also be separation of church and life? And not just the entity the church, but God? Should God be separate from my job? From my family? From my finances? From my health? From my free time? Should I box up a percentage of my time, money and attention for God, and set the rest outsisde of God’s oversight and influence?

Most people of faith would say, “Of course not! God should be part of all of my life.” But we don’t necessarily act as though that were true.

Not just during these days of Lent, but every day, how would my life change if I really believed God should be part of every aspect of it?

--Laura Howell

They bounce out of bed and, a few minutes later, run downstairs and into the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to go. Their slightly sleepy teenage brother is already at the table, sipping juice and munching granola and yogurt. The younger two grab homemade smoothies and muffins and sit down to eat, and then get up, help pack their lunches, and get their backpacks and coats ready. We glance at the clock and, unusually for us, realize that there is actually ten minutes before we need to go out the door. Everyone seems motivated and even eager to get to school. Not exactly what one would expect for PSSA testing week. 

Only one can really expect to do well on all of the tests and none of them like the actual testing. I think they like the rest of the day – extra snacks, movies or games, extra reading time, and little or no homework. Mostly, they like any extra minute that they get to converse or to be with their friends. For the older two, this all has become routine. Parents and teachers may complain about it all at times; they just deal and make the best of it without complaining.

I do a much poorer job of facing the tests and challenges in my own life, spiritual and otherwise. I whine like the Israelites in the wilderness, even though God has always been with me to give me what I need. I focus on the difficulties and fail to see the resources around me that could help me not only survive, but even find joy in the midst of seeming deprivation. Oh, God, in this Lenten season of spiritual testing, help me to focus on your presence with me in the desert, and in the hearts and hands of those who walk through it with me, so that, when I fall down and fail, you may pick me up and give me renewed strength and life and joy. Amen.

- Kathleen Knaack

I restrain my feet from every evil way,*
that I may keep your word.
-Psalm 119:101

Earlier this week, I went for a hike in the mountains on a trail somewhat familiar to me.  It was one I have hiked several times, but had not done so in more than a month.  The last time I had been on the trail in this particular location, the snow was deep and fresh and I followed turkey tracks into the brambles and along the creek bed. 

This day I was excited to be back as this is a favorite and secret place of mine.  But alas, just after I had pulled into the usually empty parking lot, a man and a woman stepped out of a van from the local casino and headed into the woods.  Wait a minute.  I had planned to take a quiet hike BY MYSELF and here were interlopers making a mess of my fine plans.  I nearly left.  But “Wow, really?  I said to myself.”  Yeah, I’m not proud of it, but those were my thoughts, fine readers.  A little nudge told me to  get over myself, so I did, and I skipped down the path, past the turkey tracks, past the vultures, and into the woods.  I met the couple just as I hit the tree line.  They were turning around and walking back.  I nodded, smiled, and said hello, now disappointed for their departure. 

Taking a breath of the mountain air, I crunched across the snow, over the footbridge and into the hemlock grove.  Kerplunk!  Dazed and confused, I sat for almost a full minute before realizing that I was sitting down on the ice.  It had been so long since I had last hiked this path that I was unaccustomed to walking on the hardened snow.  Some places where the sun had melted, feet had trampled, and cold had refrozen, it was obviously ice covered.  However, plenty of other patches looked safe enough but were just as treacherous. Glad that I had been ice-skating recently and my muscle memory clearly remembered how to fall properly, I began to pick my way down the path. 

Soon I was quite confident in my knowledge of how to navigate the icy bits and how to identify the parts that looked safe but were not. I was beginning to enjoy the steady, if rather plodding, pace, when Kerplunk!  REALLY?  AGAIN?  I looked up into the sky and laughed!  “Thank you God for bringing me out into this beautiful playground”, I thought.  Then I sat down on the icy snow and, like a penguin, I descended, slipping and sliding all the way.

At the close of the loop, I found myself grateful for the reminder that putting one foot in front of the other was a lesson in humility.  I may think I know what is coming; I don’t.  Dear God, thank you for a playful relationship.  Thank you for help finding fun on the path, and avoiding the trap of anger, bitterness, and resentment, which are snares, set by the evil one. 

- Ellyn Siftar

Walking with Moses

I think that it is very difficult for us to face the unknown.  I know that I like to know what is coming beforehand in order to prepare for it.  When I was a child, we prepared for the end of society by building fallout shelters.  At least, we thought that we were preparing ourselves in the face of a catastrophe, the dropping of a bomb.

The truth is that all of us wish we could see ahead to prepare ourselves for the loss of a loved one, the loss of a job, the onslaught of a disease, or any other eventuality that we hope we could have known about beforehand in order that we can mitigate its effects. Sadly, we don’t see the future, and actually, no one knows if we could prevent a loss even if we did know what might happen.

Turning to the Bible, I have always been impressed with Moses’ great faith, that he believed so much in God that he followed God’s instructions about what to do about Pharaoh to lead the Israelites out of Egypt.  God provided Aaron to speak for him; He let loose the plagues to convince Pharaoh of His cause.  If we look closer at the story, we see that God only gave immediate instructions, not necessarily the gritty details about how Moses would tackle every problem that arose.

As each situation presented itself, like the protection from the last plague to the pillar of light to guide the Israelites by night and day, those details were revealed.  It occurred to me that no one had a clue how day-to-day living was going to take place, especially if Pharaoh reneged on his promises.

I wonder if Moses worried, just a little bit, when it came to the day when they would all have to cross the Red Sea or Reed Sea, or whatever the body of water was called.  Was he afraid or confident that an answer would be forthcoming?  The Bible seems to tell us that he had faith, even though he continued to have an open conversation with God.

And here is where God’s influence was felt.  God provided, whether or not Moses knew what was coming.  God provided a way, in this case a path.  He held the raging Egyptian army at bay, while the sea opened up, and then ultimately, drew it back to kill all of the soldiers to save the Israelites. 

To me, there’s a lesson here.  When I don’t know what’s ahead, and I am afraid, I think of Moses, and that wonderful miracle that provided safety to all of Moses’ people.  They were God’s people, and He saved them.  I can only imagine that not one of them could conceive such an occurrence.  It was totally outside of the realm of their experience, no different than what I fear or could possibly consider.

That gives me great comfort.  Often I don’t know how events or situations will turn out; but if I have faith in God, then He too will provide an answer, a way, a path.  It will be something much better than I could ever conceive, a road out of my difficulties, a safe haven onto “dry land.”

S. Becker

Thoughts for Sunday, March 23, 2014

John 4:13-14   Jesus answered and said to her “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again; 14 but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

“Because something is happening here but you don't know what it is.
Do you, Mister Jones? – Bob Dylan “Ballad of a Thin Man”

Some night before this noon encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well, Jesus detected that the Pharisee Nicodemus was clueless about the meaning of the Spirit which scripture was written to impart. The woman, without formal learning, was far more willing to understand Jesus’ message, and she gets it, becoming a female disciple of the Lord.

            In this passage, it becomes clear that Jesus’ precious water does not simply quench thirst, it changes the person so that the thirsts of the spirit, meaning anxiety, depression, grief, and hopelessness will all be kept at bay, through one’s own deep spring, from which hope is refreshed every day.

Luke chapter 4 describes Jesus’ experience in the wilderness and then tells of how he preached in his hometown, where he met with violent rejection. The crowd was ready to throw him over a cliff, “but he passed right through the crowd and went on his way.” (Luke 4:30, NLT). Jesus “went on his way.” The passage uses these words to mean that he continued on to Capernaum, but I think there is a deeper meaning in this passage as well. After such a violent rejection in his hometown of Nazareth, how could Jesus continue his ministry without giving up in fear or discouragement? What enabled him to go “on his way”, and what is that way? 

Jesus’ experience in the wilderness surely prepared him to face such trying circumstances. It also would have confirmed his conviction that his ministry was from his heavenly Father, and that his Father would enable him to fulfill these tasks, however demanding. If this were not so, he could not have continued his ministry after almost being killed. Without a deep and abiding faith in God, Jesus certainly would have acquiesced to the authorities rather than face the suffering he endured at the end of his earthly life. The way of Jesus, then, is the way of enduring faith and trust in God, which provides the courage and conviction to follow where God leads, no matter how daunting that may be. Jesus—the Way, the Truth, and the Life—empowers us to go on our way as we follow God’s call. May our times of prayer and self-examination help us to follow the Way of Christ so that we, too, can fulfill the tasks God calls us to pursue.

- Stephanie Stover

Holy Tradition

I have been pondering tradition. Certainly the wonderful, rich traditions of the church, which are especially present to us in the somber purples of Lent and the exuberant whites and golds of Easter. But also the traditions that are part of our individual lives--traditions from our families, our ethnic groups, our workplaces.

Tradition ties us to our own history and makes strong connections with others who share the same tradition. It transmits knowledge, fosters identity, and creates comfort. It seems to me that the groundedness in tradition is a universal human trait. But tradition can also isolate and play into our human tendency to feel superior to others: “the way we do things is the right way”. And there are traditions that are death dealing: exiling lepers, burning witches, shooting political opponents, come to mind.

At its best, tradition is a living system, rather than a fossilized set of dusty rules. The traditions of the church are constantly producing new shoots, as the life of the Spirit finds new outlets. New imaginations and new environments discover new ways to be true to the traditions of faith. And, after all, in God’s eternity, it is all new all the time. (Rev. 21:5) (Ecclesiastes 3:15) That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and God seeks out what has gone by.

“You gardeners are an optimistic bunch,” my husband said to me as I switched off the grow light. “You have seedlings growing in your basements in the hope that spring is actually going to come in time to plant them.”

This winter the act of sowing seeds does seem like an act of faith, particularly when the spring equinox has come, but the weather forecast hints that the gray desert of winter might extend for another month. It is good that Easter is late this year; Mother Nature seems to be in a mood to linger in a Lenten mode. Even the tiny seedlings growing indoors seem unusually hesitant to unfurl their first leaves. It does take hope to believe that conditions will ever be right for future growth.

To me seeds themselves are a kind of miracle. They are actually alive, but in a kind of suspended animations, waiting for just the right conditions of heat and light and moisture to call forth the life within. Most are made to outlast the long cold of winter; some even need it in order to germinate. It does not really take that much to coax them into growth.

I think that to God we are seeds, living, but holding within us some greater, fully possibility of life that is waiting to be called forth by God’s love and the love of God in those around us. That is our heat and light and water, and the life that comes forth is our spring and our Easter joy.

God is the most optimistic gardener.

- Kathleen Knaack

Christian biographer James Keifer writes of St. Joseph, the Guardian of the Lord, “In the face of circumstances where a man of lesser character might have reacted differently, Joseph graciously assumed the role of Jesus’ father.” 

I’ve spent the past several days visiting the home of a friend who is fostering M., an abused dog who is mother to six 3 day old pups.  One who assumes  the role of foster parent of unique as they have no biological claim to the young one but loves and cares for them just the same.  Adoption is a conscious decision to take responsibility where none is required. 

I wonder what might have happened to this sweet mama dog and her pups had they not been rescued and given a warm and loving home? What might have been the fate of Mary and the unborn Jesus had Joseph made a different choice?

- Ellyn Siftar

“Say, my love, I came to you with best intentions… Love, you drive me to distraction…”

These words, which open the song “Two Step” by the Dave Matthews Band, capture so much of our lives perfectly. We’re driven to distraction by the thousand and one things which HAVE to be done. Whether it’s shuttling the kids to sports practices and music lessons, schoolwork, grocery shopping, or playing with our toys, these things have a tendency to drag us away from what we truly value.  I’ve been struggling with this for a long time, especially late at night. I often find myself having to disengage actively from a book or whatever game I started playing to help shut my brain off because I simply lost track of time. The consequences come mainly in lost sleep, but I know it isn’t such a good thing in the long term, either for my health or my ability to be present with the people whom I serve.

We might be able to say the same thing about how our relationship with God can be a distraction, too. We come before God with the best of intentions, and in turn, can find ourselves pulled away from the things we thought we valued. However, if we, as Christians, are really living into what we say about having God and his Christ at the center, being dragged in that direction, and away from the thousand and one things which the world insists are more important, might not be such a bad thing after all.

- Amy+

Walking with the Holy Spirit

How many of us pray to the Holy Spirit?  We say the “Our Father” every time Mass is said; we probably prayed to Jesus from our youth.  When do we pray to the Holy Spirit exclusively?  Of all the persons in the Trinity, the Holy Spirit, I think, is the most elusive.  It is hard to imagine Him, and so we conceive of Him on the default setting of seeing Him as a dove, a remnant from our childhood.

In the back of the church, we have two bookmarks that offer prayers to the Holy Spirit.  One begins with “Come Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in us the fire of your love…”  The other is a prayer from Bianco da Sienna, “Come down, O Love Divine…”  Unless a compilation of prayers are used, generally the Holy Spirit is tacked on the ritualized ending of other prayers, like the “Glory be…”

Just as it is difficult to know which pronoun to use in His reference, so is it difficult to attempt to know His personality.  He is evident, present, but is He an entity or an energy?  We speak of the Holy Spirit within us, that our bodies are temples of the Spirit, that the Spirit moves us as He is shown to do with Christ’s encounter in the desert or at His appearance at Pentecost.  We pray to Him in the Nicene Creed, but do we make an effort to include Him in the prayers we say during the day or at night before we fall asleep?  Is it His Spirit that animates us, the fire of the Spirit that we house in our bodies when we take our first breath or that leaves us when we die?

Wisdom is associated with the Spirit.  We pray for wisdom; we associate it with the flames of Pentecost, and how the Spirit inspired the disciples of Christ to preach the Gospel to foreigners, to the point that they could speak in different languages so that many nationalities could understand them. The Spirit was a necessity for the spreading of the Gospel.  Perhaps we can ask ourselves how integral is He to our lives?  On what occasions could we pray for His guidance?  I have found that when I need help in self-expression, clarity of thought or speech, I pray to the Holy Spirit, and that He makes me better than I am.

So perhaps this Lent, we might say a prayer to the Holy Spirit so that He too can guide us in our daily pursuits and become close to us in our hearts.

This is one prayer that I have created.  I encourage you to compose your own.

May the Spirit of God flow in me, around me, and rush through my soul

   With a holy fire of intent,

        Of love and responsibility,

        Of wisdom and compassion.

Come, Holy Spirit,

Renew me,

Replenish me,

Revitalize my intentions,

Infuse my soul with grace.

Be with me always, Spirit of God.

Direct my ways, my words,

        My hopes and desires.

Bless me with your presence

         In my heart and mind.

Inspire love in me always.

Amen.

S. Becker

John 3:1-3, 8

   Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.” Jesus answered him, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born form above... The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.

“The answer my friend is blowin’ in the wind; the answer is blowin’ in the wind. – Bob Dylan.

Nicodemus probably knew every word of the Torah. He probably recited it from memory every Shabbat. But as John’s gospel cleverly points out, he was still in the dark about what the instruction of scripture really meant.

It is ever so common to say that the three Abrahamic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, are religions of the Book. How can that be clearer than in the opening of John’s Gospel, which said “…and the Word was God.” This is why Jews and Muslims go to such an effort to read and memorize scripture in their original languages. Many Christians take a passage a day, memorize it, and reflect on it all day. It is even more focused by the Protestant principle that all faith must be based on scripture.

This principle, from Martin Luther, creates great scholars, and it has guided me for decades. But that is not the whole story. How do I know? Because the Bible tells me so. You can know all the words, but somehow, the music can escape you. Speak the words, shout the words, and sing the words until the words become one with your breath, one with your spirit.

- Bruce Marold

Philippians Chapter 2, verses 5 – 8, is a very good passage of Scripture to reflect on during Lent: “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human
likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself to the point of death—even death on a cross.” (NRSV) 

We may not be called to sacrifice our life in service to God, as Christ did, but we are called to imitate Christ and live in obedience to God. How can we empty ourselves, so that we can be of the same mind that Christ was? With so many demands continually tugging at us, this is not easy. But I think Mary Oliver gives us an important clue in her poem entitled “Thirst,” which states, “Who knows what will finally happen or where I will be sent, yet already I have given a great many things away, expecting to be told to pack nothing, except the prayers which, with this thirst, I am slowly learning.” If we continually thirst for God and seek to follow the way of Christ, we can empty ourselves of the unnecessary burdens we carry and open ourselves more and more to him through prayer. Then we truly can cultivate the mind of Christ and follow his way of humble service. May we ask for God’s continual help to do so. 

- Stephanie Stover

Praying in the Interruptions

It has been one of those weeks. Things that absolutely, positively had to be done last Monday are still left undone on Friday afternoon. And even this reflection is 7 hours late. A good reminder about why we ask forgiveness in the confession for all those things left undone ....

The furnace has problems, the women's toilet doesn't work, someone is very ill, someone needs transport to the doctor, a schedule needs changing, a lawyer wants a check, the cook called off, a parishioner who moved away years ago is moving back and needs housing, and Morning and Evening Prayer are ready to be read. A blessing to have so many and so varied kinds of people (and jobs) in my days. But sometimes, Morning and Evening Prayer are the only islands of quiet that let me gather my wits (and spirit) enough to do the next thing.

In other words, a life just like all our lives. But in the 10-minute drive to the post office, or the 3-minute wait in line, the seconds before sleep claims me, or the silent waking at 4:00 a.m., God is there. Always ready for me to take a break and share some time of grace. Thank you for those holy distances between interruptions.

Psalm 139:2
You trace my journeys and my resting-places *
and are acquainted with all my ways.

Psalm 107:33-37

He turns a desert into pools of water;
And there he lets the hungry live;
They sow fields, and plant vineyards, and 
A parched land into springs of water.
And they establish a town to live in;
Get a fruitful yield.


I have never really looked forward to the trip into the desert that is Lent. As the children are told are told in Godly Play, “the desert is a dangerous place” and I fear the hunger, the thirst, and the sandstorms.

My daughter, however, stands at the threshold of the wilderness season and draws. In her vision dunes of sand the color of sunshine, of molten gold, roll across the page, A house, brilliant orange, stands in the middle and, within the house there is a table, and on the table sits a bucket.

“What is in the bucket?” I ask. 

“Water from the lake,” she answers.

“Where is the lake?”

“Behind the house next to the beautiful garden.”

Not for the first time she is wiser than I am. She knows the stories of the people of God and the desert is where God provides all that is needed. Water, food, love, and beauty bloom in the midst of barrenness that is transformed by God’s presence. This desert is a place where I can walk and pray and live.

- Kathleen Knaack

1 Corinthians 2:9-10

But as it is written-

‘What no eye has seen, nor ear heard,
   nor the human heart conceived,
what God has prepared for those who love him’—
these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit; for the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God .

This morning, my class steps out of the van and into the snowy woods, the clear, warm sunshine on our backs.  I expect to bask in the rays.

We measure the trees together, taking turns looking into the prism, which reveals whether a particular tree in our lot is worth measuring and, later, harvesting.  Without the dressing of the leaves to help us identify the species, we are left to guess, by way of bark and branches.  The deeply grooved bark of the red oak, the slight dropping of the shagbark hickory’s branches, the smooth skin of the beech, the opposite branching of the maple.   We rejoice when we finally begin to recognize their uniqueness.

Standing in the midst of a forest, I circumscribe the final lot and the worth of this place is revealed.  Loggers may see the monetary value, but the stewards of God’s creation see the worth of the beauty of this place, from the moss and lichen, to the ferns and sleeping salamanders, the diversity of the plant and animal community has more value than just how many reams of paper it will produce. 

I cannot exactly calculate the value of beauty or the exquisite efficiency of the biosphere, but when I stand here in this wood, in this place of tangible magic, even when my feet are wet and frozen, I am aware and in awe of the greatness of God’s infinite creative spirit, the depths of God’s love for all creation.

- Ellyn Siftar

"Arise, shine, for your light has come..." (Isaiah 60:1)

Spring is trying to fight its way into town. The signs are everywhere. There are buds on the tree outside my office window. The snow piles are finally shrinking to reveal pavement pockmarked by moon-like craters. The late-afternoon cacophony of birds can be readily heard. After a long and cold winter, they are emerging as signs of hope – hope that we will, once again, be able to bask in the warmth of the sun, and enjoy God’s creation, without a need for heavy winter coats and gloves to protect us from it.

Lent calls us to be attentive to these signs of spring, not only in the world, but within ourselves as well. Like the buds on the trees, potholes, and birds, noticing their presence means taking a moment to stop, look, and listen. What newness is growing in us, waiting to burst forth into the world with its fragrant colors and sounds?

- Amy+