Read Acts 1:4-9 (the beginning of chapter 28 of The Story) three times:

• First time, read through at a normal pace.
• Second, read slowly, noticing any phrases or words that stand out to you.
• Finally, read again, pausing at the phrases and words that stood out, considering why the Holy Spirit may be highlighting them for you.

Take a few moments to prayerfully consider the following:

Do not leave Jerusalem, but wait for the gift my Father promised… (v.4)     

• John Wesley believed in “watchful waiting” through means of grace. How might we practice a faithful kind of waiting - not passive, but prayerful and formational - as we seek the Spirit’s direction for our church today? What if our waiting is actually our preparation?

Are you at this time going to restore the kingdom…? (v.6)

• When we grow anxious about church decline or cultural resistance, do we find ourselves asking the wrong questions, like the disciples did? How can we shift from seeking control to seeking the Spirit?

Wait until you are…filled with the Holy Spirit. (v. 4-5)

• Bishop James Swanson shared “There is no transformation without formation.” How is the Spirit forming you? Are we seeking the Spirit’s power primarily to change the world - or first to change ourselves? How might we open ourselves more deeply to the Spirit’s work in perfecting us to love God and neighbor?

Read John 21:15–19 (the end of chapter 27 of The Story) three times:

• First time, read through at a normal pace.
• Second, read slowly, noticing any phrases or words that stand out to you.
• Finally, read again, pausing at the phrases and words that stood out, considering why the Holy Spirit may be highlighting them for you.

Take a few moments to prayerfully consider the following quotes from Jesus:

Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?

• Jesus asks us three times do we love him. What might Jesus be referring to for you when He says “more than these”? How does Jesus's question challenge your own affections?

Feed my lambs.

• How can you "feed" by nurturing and guiding those who are young or vulnerable in life and faith within your community?

Follow me.

• As you reflect on this passage, consider how Jesus restores Peter despite his past failures. How does this speak to the grace and purpose Jesus offers you, regardless of your history? 
• What areas in your life where Jesus is calling you to deeper obedience and trust?

Read John 13:6-17 (The Story pg 368) three times:

• First time, read through at normal pace.
• Second, read slower, noticing any phrases or words that jump out at you.
• Finally, read and slow down at the phrases and words that jumped out at you, stopping to consider why the Holy Spirit may be lifting those up to you.

Take a few moments to prayerfully consider the following quotes from Jesus:

You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand.

• As we approach Palm Sunday and Holy Week, how is Christ inviting you to reflect more deeply on the meaning of his humility and service? What does his example at the Last Supper teach you about the kind of King Jesus is?

I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.

• As Jesus journeys toward the cross, how is he inviting you to take up the towel and basin in your own life? What does sacrificial love look like for you this Holy Week?

Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.

• In this final stretch of Lent, what still needs to be surrendered to Christ for cleansing? What would do you need to give to Jesus in prayer to fully receive Christ Crucified this week?

Read Mark 10:17-22 (The Story pg 361-362) three times:

• First time, read through at normal pace.
• Second, read slower, noticing any phrases or words that jump out at you.
• Finally, read and slow down at the phrases and words that jumped out at you, stopping to consider why the Holy Spirit may be lifting those up to you.

Take a few moments to prayerfully consider the following questions:

• The man asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” In what ways do we, like him, try to earn God’s favor rather than receiving grace as a gift?
• The rich man had followed God’s commandments but struggled to let go of his possessions. What is one thing in your life that Jesus may be asking you to release this Lent in order to follow Him more fully?
• "Jesus looked at him and loved him." Even before pointing out what the man lacked, Jesus saw him with deep love. Imagine Jesus looking at you, and loving you "warts" and all. How does the the reality that Jesus sees and loves you shape/change your Lenten journey? Let the Holy Spirit guide this time, and be challenged by the images and thoughts where you're led.

Read Luke 10:25-29 (The Story pg 337) three times:

• First time, read through at normal pace.
• Second, read slower, noticing any phrases or words that jump out at you.
• Finally, read and slow down at the phrases and words that jumped out at you, stopping to consider why the Holy Spirit may be lifting those up to you.

Take a few moments to prayerfully consider the following questions:

• The expert in the law seeks to justify himself. Are there ways in which you, like him, try to justify yourself before God? Why do you think you need to? 
• Jesus responds to the expert’s question with another question: “How do you read it?” How is Jesus calling you to read and live out Scripture differently this Lent?
• If you ask “Who is my neighbor?", who would Jesus tell you is your neighbor? Let the Holy Spirit guide this time, and be challenged by the images and thoughts where you're led.

Read Luke John 1:35-39 (The Story pg 323) three times:

• First time, read through at normal pace.
• Second, read slower, noticing any phrases or words that jump out at you.
• Finally, read and slow down at the phrases and words that jumped out at you, stopping to consider why the Holy Spirit may be lifting those up to you.

Take a few moments to prayerfully consider the following questions:

• Jesus asks the disciples, “What do you want?” Lent is a time of deep self-examination. If Jesus were to ask you this question today, what would be the first thing you'd want to tell him?
• The disciples respond to Jesus’ question with another question: “Where are you staying?” How does Lent invite you to “stay” with Jesus?  
• Sit and consider Jesus' invitation in John 1:39: “Come, and you will see.” How is Jesus inviting you to a deeper faith this Lent? If anything is keeping you from responding to Jesus' invitation, share that now with the Lord in prayer.
• If you could spend the day with Jesus, what would you and him do? Let the Holy Spirit guide this time, and be thankful for the images and thoughts where you're led!

Read Luke 2:41-52 (The Story pgs 315-316) three times: 

• First time, read through at normal pace. 
• Second, read slower, noticing any phrases or words that jump out at you. 
• Finally, read and slow down at the phrases and words that jumped out at you, stopping to consider why the Holy Spirit may be lifting those up to you. 

Take a few moments to consider the following questions:

• Jesus’ parents were searching anxiously for him, yet Jesus the child was not anxious at all. In what ways do you find yourself anxiously searching for Jesus in your life? Consider where Jesus is patiently waiting for you? 
• "Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?" How does this statement call you to re-evaluate your priorities during Lent?
• Jesus "went down to Nazareth...and was obedient to (his parents) ... (Jesus) grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man." Spend a few minutes contemplating Jesus during childhood. Let the Holy Spirit guide this time, and be thankful for the images and thoughts where you're led!

A little “inside baseball” about my process for writing these blogs: As I read each chapter, I try to stay attuned to anything the Holy Spirit lifts up to me. I mark those moments and then revisit them a few more times, listening for any spark of where the Spirit might be leading. This week, I marked this passage—on page 279 of The Story, from Esther 2:20.

I found it interesting—and a bit surprising, if I may be so bold—that I identified with Esther hiding her true self, “her family background and nationality,” as the scripture references.  

Why did I connect with this? I thought I had gotten over my hang-ups about being a “Yankee pastor” (as a previous parishioner lovingly called me) serving, living, and raising my family south of the Mason-Dixon Line. In fact, I found this journey of coming to grips with my “family background and nationality” so important that I included it as part of my ordination paperwork.  

Yet, as I reflect on where I am now, I still long for home.  

Why do I long for home? After we moved from Benton to Jacksonville a few months ago, we reminded Cate and Molly (and ourselves!) time and again that home is not a building but wherever the four of us are together. And that is true, in a sense—just as the church isn’t the “building…or the steeple” but a people, home is where those you consider family reside. But if home were only that, I would be content with our current situation. Deep down, though, we know that the concept of home is more than just the people we love.  

As I wrestled with what my spirit was struggling with, I did what most good 21st-century theologians would do: I “Googled” to see where the wisdom of the internet would lead me!

My search led me to an unexpected place—a writing about Esther and Mordecai by a Reform Jewish rabbi living in Miami, FL. And it wasn’t just any rabbi—it was Rabbi Rachel Greengrass, a former elementary and middle school classmate of mine growing up in Fort Wayne!

Here’s Rachel’s writing about Esther and Mordecai from ritualwell website:

I find it fascinating that Rachel—a rabbi serving in a state south of our great Hoosier state—wrote about “loneliness, from the fear of a life that will ever be the same” when reflecting on Esther.  

As I read Rachel’s writing and pondered our shared experience, I found comfort. In my moments of fearfulness and searching for home, God sends Esther(s) and Mordecai(s)—people who come and save me from loneliness, from the fear of a life that will never be the same.  

I have encountered so many in our church and in my adopted state who have filled the role of Esther and Mordecai, whose who have saved me in moments of discouragement and homesickness—who point me back to my true home with Jesus. He reminds me that there will be times when I have no place to call home other than in and with Him. Thank you for your faithfulness and friendship!

If you are reading this today and are feeling homesick, longing for a home you can’t quite find, I hope this blog allows me to be your Esther or Mordecai and encourage you: wherever you are, you can always rest in Christ.

Turn to Him, and you will find the home you’ve been searching for.

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Thank you to those who have followed along with this blog through the first 20 chapters of The Story! As we enter the season of Lent, the blog will change slightly. In this space, I will highlight specific passages within each chapter of The Story for you to read, followed by reflection questions to guide your journey with Jesus to His cross. I pray for all of us as we join in this Lenten prayer as a church: Jesus, keep me near the cross!

I was reading Chapter 19, minding my own business, when the following verse literally made me stop and say, “Huh?” (Ezra 6:11)  

This verse was so jarring that I actually stopped reading and went to my notes from my Old Testament class in seminary to see if Dr. Fuller had covered it. (She had not… unsurprisingly!)

Scripture is filled with verses like this—passages that challenge our sensibilities and make us wonder how we should, or even if we should, try to live out biblical mandates. How do we make sense of them? In the preface to his collection of sermons for the early Methodist movement, John Wesley provided guidance on how to engage with Scripture. His approach can help us here:

Andrew Dragos interprets Wesley’s words this way:

Using Wesley’s instructions, here’s my attempt at understanding and applying Ezra 6:11 today:  

1. Read: The first step is to simply read the text in context in a bigger picture. Ezra 6 recounts King Darius’ decree, reaffirming an earlier order by King Cyrus allowing Jewish exiles to rebuild the temple in Jerusalem. In verse 11, Darius underscores the seriousness of his edict: anyone who opposes it will face brutal consequences.  

2. Pray: The severity of Ezra 6:11 is unsettling. We pause and ask God to help us see its purpose within the larger biblical narrative and its relevance for our lives today.  

3. Compare: Darius’ decree seems extreme, but it aligns with Persian legal customs, where severe punishments maintained order. (Remember Chapter 18 in The Story, when Daniel was thrown into the lion’s den by King Darius?) Yet elsewhere in Scripture, we see God moving through human rulers for His purposes: “In the Lord’s hand the king’s heart is a stream of water that he channels toward all who please him.” (Proverbs 21:1) The temple’s reconstruction wasn’t due to Darius’ threat of violence but to God’s providence.  

4. Meditate: Again, we pause and reflect: what does this passage reveal about God’s nature? The severity of Darius’ decree can distract us, but the greater truth is that God is sovereign over the affairs of nations. Ezra 6:22 confirms this for me: “For seven days they celebrated with joy the Festival of Unleavened Bread, because the Lord had filled them with joy by changing the attitude of the king of Assyria so that he assisted them in the work on the house of God, the God of Israel.”  

5. Consult: John Wesley encouraged Methodists to seek wisdom from the Church’s consensual understanding of Scripture. One example comes from Cokesbury’s Basic Bible Commentary (thanks to Glenna Cleek for donating these to the church!): “It was not Darius who, on his own, decreed that the temple be rebuilt, but the Lord, the God of Israel and the God of the whole world, who turned the heart of the king to be favorable toward the Israelites.” (p. 36)  

6. Teach: What can I take from this passage and share with others? I recognize that God works through history in ways we may not fully understand. Darius’ decree was severe, but it was God—working through an unlikely ruler—who ensured the temple’s reconstruction.

My thoughts are not authoritative, only Scripture is, so take this with a grain of salt! I’d love to hear your thoughts on how you interpret Ezra 6:11. 

Last week, after dropping the girls off at school, I began my trek to the church. On a good day, it takes about 45 minutes, but that day was not a good day—it was raining. As I merged onto I-30 westbound, crawling at 4 MPH due to the weather and half of central Arkansas trying to get to downtown Little Rock, I thought to myself, Kenda did this commute for 10 years—I can do this! I can do anything for a few years!

Then I read what Jeremiah told the exiles in Babylon (this is from Jeremiah 29:4-10. The Story picks up with Jeremiah 29:10 on page 261.)

I cannot do this drive for 70 years...

Per the prophet Jeremiah, Israel shouldn’t expect their captivity to be short. Not only must they endure their present situation, but they must also hold onto hope that one day it will get better, even as they wait patiently. They need to prepare for a long exile—one that will last more than a generation. This means they must learn to cope with life in a foreign land. They must be discerning about whom they listen to, learning to distinguish between true advocates and those who would cause them harm.  

They have to find a way to make a home, a place of comfort and sustenance, in this foreign land—for themselves and their loved ones. They can’t put their lives on hold until they return home. Instead, they must live fully within their “new normal”—falling in love, marrying, having children, and raising them. Finally, they are commanded to seek the welfare of their captors and pray for them because if their captors prosper, their own lives in exile will be better.  

Their struggles are a bit worse than my commute!

What must they have thought? Those who received this word from Jeremiah likely weren’t young, and life expectancy wasn’t what it is today. Many of them would never return to Israel. It would be their children and grandchildren who made it back. Those receiving Jeremiah’s letter would, in all likelihood, die in captivity.  

How do you hold on when you’re facing such a reality? How do people sentenced to life in prison without parole go on? How do those diagnosed with terminal illness continue? How do people living in the midst of war, natural disaster, poverty, or as refugees—losing hope that their circumstances will ever change—keep going? How do they live?  

God heard their cries. Immediately after Jeremiah reveals that the exile will last 70 years, we find Jeremiah 29:11—a verse many of us have committed to memory, if not on our greeting cards, candleholders, pictures on our walls, and other decorative items. Isn’t it ironic (don’t you think?) that, in the midst of one of the most devastating circumstances one could find themselves, God through Jeremiah speaks some of the most hope-filled, inspiring, and comforting words in all of Scripture:

While God's words through Jeremiah are significant, His actions are just as important—God listened, God encouraged, and God loved His people, even in exile.  

First, God listened. The very existence of the book of Jeremiah is proof that God heard the cries of the exiles and responded to their prayers. Jeremiah reminds them in verse 12: Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me. God listens before He acts.  

God encouraged. In Jeremiah 29:4-7, Jeremiah tells the exiles—who expected a speedy return to Jerusalem—to stay put, build homes in Babylon, and even seek the well-being of their captors. That wasn’t the answer they were looking for. Yet God's people weren’t to resist, resent, or reject their current situation. They weren’t to flee or fight. Instead, they were to put down roots, live productive lives in exile, and even pray for the welfare of their new neighbors. This was a revolutionary command—one they couldn’t follow without God’s help and encouragement.  

Finally, we see that God loved His people. He reminded them of a hope that is real and trustworthy. God gave His exiled people a promise when they had none; a love when they felt abandoned. But as we are reminded in 1 John 4, that's how the love of God is shared...

For the people of Israel, love comes from the very heart of the Lord. It is the secure knowledge that they are never alone in their struggles. Their God has not abandoned them. Even though they would not see their homeland for many years, they could still call upon the Lord, knowing He would hear them. When they searched for the Lord, they would find Him. Even in the face of suffering, they could take comfort in the truth that they were God’s beloved children.  

And we can depend on that, always. Even on (especially on?!?) I-30!

I was leading a Bible study on forgiveness. As I spoke, the same four people stayed engaged, while the rest of the group drifted in and out—some listening, others distracted by their phones, a few even dozing off. We reached a good transition point, so I paused and asked if there were any questions before we continued.

That's when "Barbara" raised her hand. 

Barbara never raises her hand. In fact, I’d never actually heard her speak. Before I could even call on her, she blurted out, “Yeah, but what about the things you’ve done that can’t be forgiven?”  

Before I could gently ask for an example, she started sharing her story—condensed here for our purposes: years in and out of jail on drug charges, until finally being diagnosed and treated for mental illness.  

“I’ve hurt people,” she admitted. “A lot of people.”  

Later, after the group session ended, I approached Barbara to thank her for participating. She grinned and said, “Boy, Chaplain, you sure know how to get people talking!” Then she laughed—a deep, unexpected laugh. And just like that, she began to open up even more.  

She told me about her son, “Brandon.” She had raised him alone in Little Rock, though she admitted she wasn’t much of a mother. Between jail time and chasing her next high, she was rarely there for him. When Brandon was in high school, there was a moment she became so angry she wanted to kill him.  

I chuckled and said, “Yeah, teenagers can do that to the best of us.”  

But Barbara’s face turned to stone.  

“No, Chaplain. I got a knife out of the kitchen. I was screaming at him to get his (butt) out of the bathroom so I could kill him. He called a neighbor to get me out of the apartment so he could escape. I wanted to kill my boy.”

She went on to tell me that Brandon had become a “chip off the old block”—in and out of prison, either chasing a high or waiting to chase it. She tried to tell him about what helped her, about how she found a way out, but he kept going back—to the same neighborhood, the same people, the same cycle.  

“I can’t be forgiven for that (poop),” she said. But she didn’t say “poop.”  

As I sat with Barbara, listening to a mother’s grief, seeing her dry bones laid bare, I didn’t have the strength or courage to prophesy to her. To give her hope. To tell her about the hope we have in Jesus.  

I just stared at her dry bones.  

But you know what happened?  

God sent someone else.  

“Sandy,” sitting a few feet away, scooted her chair closer and said, “Oh child, it’ll be okay.” And then she shared her own story—one so eerily similar to Barbara’s that I would have thought it was made up, if not for the tears in her eyes.  

And then God sent someone else.  

“Charles,” a gentle older man with one good eye, leaned in and shared his story. He had been exactly where Brandon was. “He has to hit rock bottom before he can even think about getting out,” he said. Then, with love in his voice, he added, “He may not make it out. You know that. But know that he can.”  

That day, as God is my witness, I saw a valley of dry bones come back to life.

We’ve been there. Our friends, our family, our own lives. Maybe not in the exact way Barbara has… maybe even worse. We hear people today express the same despair that the exiled Hebrews must have felt:  

- I feel spiritually dried up.  
- I haven’t heard from God in years.  
- My prayers feel like they never leave the room.  
- I’d believe in God if He’d just show up for me—just this once.  

These situations feel hopeless. No God. No end in sight.  

And yet, those cries of the heart—those feelings of spiritual death—are actually signs of life.  

Because in the place of death, Ezekiel knew that only God could bring life. When God commanded Ezekiel to prophesy—to speak—to the dead (page 246-7 in The Story), Ezekiel must have felt the same way we do sometimes: What good will it do? This is a hopeless situation!  

But God still commanded Ezekiel…commands us…to offer Israel the promise of new life to a lifeless people. Hope again. Restoration. This was God’s work of re-creating Israel. And for us, the real hope of Jesus’s resurrection is the same: the promise of new life to a lifeless people. Hope again. Forgiveness. Reconciliation. Restoration.

And if you look, you’ll be able to see God’s promise of resurrection in your story: the promise of new life when you were lifeless. Forgiveness. Reconciliation. Restoration.

Don’t just stare at dry bones - proclaim the hope of resurrection in the new life you’ve experienced!

Isaiah 6, commonly referred to as Isaiah’s Commission, is as inspiring as it is timeless. One of the most frequently quoted and cherished verses from this passage is Isaiah 6:8 (page 225 in The Story):

Isaiah’s commission is so compelling because it is so honest. In the presence of God’s majesty, one can only imagine the overwhelming sense of inadequacy and unworthiness. Though the phrase Isaiah uses may seem unusual, it is strikingly relatable:

Consider what Isaiah says in 6:5—"unclean lips." This phrase is incredibly evocative: insults, rumors, gossip, lies, unkind comments, thoughtless remarks, prejudicial statements, put-downs, profanity, name-calling, broken promises, telling people what they want to hear, making excuses, shifting blame. Of course, as “good Christian types,” we try to keep these things to a minimum (!)—but in big and small ways, we are all people of unclean lips, as well as unclean thoughts and actions.  
This idea isn’t just an Old Testament concept often associated with what some call a “judgmental God.” In Matthew 15, Jesus challenges us with a similar truth. He reminds us that it’s not what goes into a person that makes them unclean, but what comes out of their mouths.

So, what’s the solution to unclean lips? Scripture presents a rather extreme image—searing away guilt, shame, and impurity with a hot coal. Taken literally, it’s painful and terrifying. But short of cleansing fire, how can we become people of clean lips—free from guilt and sin, redeemed and renewed? The simple answer is that we can’t do much of anything except receive the free and loving grace of God that makes all things new.

One Sunday morning, a young homeless woman walked into a United Methodist church in St. Louis. She wasn’t a regular churchgoer, but she had run out of options and, uncertain of what else to do, slipped into the back row and sat alone. She listened to the service, struggling to understand what was happening. Her anxiety grew as she heard the preacher talk about something called “Holy Communion.” As the pastor extended the invitation and led the Great Thanksgiving, she decided that this ritual wasn’t for her. It wasn’t meant for someone like her. She liked what she was hearing, but deep down, she knew she was unclean—Communion, she reasoned, wasn’t meant for people like her.  
As she was lost in thought, she suddenly noticed a man and a woman walking toward her, carrying the bread and cup. Startled, she clasped her hands together and shook her head.  

“What’s wrong?” the woman asked gently.  
“I’ve never been here before. I don’t belong. I don’t even know what’s happening,” the young woman stammered.

Both the man and the woman smiled warmly. Then the man spoke:

“You don’t have to belong here. Holy Communion is for everyone.”  
“Not for me,” she whispered. “I’m not a good person.” She looked at the bread and cup, then shook her head. “That’s not for me.”

The woman knelt down beside her:

“This is especially for you,” she said. “None of us deserve this. Communion is a gift from God for all of us. You don’t have to be ready for it—Communion makes you ready. It allows you to experience God’s love.”

Tears filled the young woman’s eyes. Unable to find the right words, she simply nodded. Closing her eyes, she unclasped her hands, opened her lips, and allowed the woman to place the bread—dipped in the cup—on her tongue. As the sweetness of the juice and the richness of the bread filled her mouth, she was overwhelmed. She began to weep, whispering,

“Thank you, thank you,” over and over.

A week later, she returned—this time bringing five of her friends. Spotting the woman who had served her Communion, she quickly waved her over:

“When’s Communion?” she asked eagerly.  
“Oh, well…we serve Communion on the first Sunday of the month,” the woman replied.

The young woman’s eyes widened in shock,

“But we need it,” she said. “I haven’t felt anything that good in years, and I want my friends to feel it too.”

Communion is God’s gift to us—but it is not merely a gift for our own comfort or enjoyment. It makes us one with Christ, one with each other, and one in ministry to all the world. We are redeemed and renewed not for our own benefit alone, but for the sake of something greater. Like Isaiah, we are transformed so that we may be sent.  
And just as Isaiah, once cleansed, heard God ask, “Whom shall I send?”—so we, too, hear that question. Isaiah’s response? Immediate and bold: “Here am I. Send me!” (v. 8).  But such a response can only come when we allow the transformative power of God’s grace to touch our unclean lips, our broken hearts, our weary hands and feet, our minds and souls.  

We’re not good listeners, you and I. The dominance of speaking over listening reflects our worldview:

• at meetings those who speak the most are often the ones who get their way. 
• In our families, we are drawn to either the gregarious or the dramatic. 
• And let’s not forget our political leaders: those who speak the loudest usually get the most attention. 

We have assigned great value to those who can risk “putting themselves out there” by asserting themselves through words and persuasive arguments. We prioritize the speakers over the listeners because speaking is believed to be riskier.
There’s an old saying that I like to share (and try my best to follow): "God gave us two ears and one mouth" means that we should listen twice as much as we speak. This statement is even more crucial in our lives of faith, because we can easily miss what God is saying to us if we don’t stop flapping our gums! The prophet Elijah was a great risk-taking communicator, speaking God’s truth to power. At the beginning of Chapter 15 of The Story (1 Kings 18), he had declared the God of Israel’s superiority over the prophets of Baal, which resulted in the slaughter of hundreds of these prophets.

This sets us up for today’s scene (pgs 202-207 in The Story, 1 Kings 19) where Jezebel promises to exact revenge upon Elijah. Elijah runs for his life and finds a tree to sleep under, where he then pleads for God to take his life. Here the passage shifts from understanding Elijah as a risk-taking speaker to Elijah as a risk-taking listener. The angel of the Lord tells him to “get up and eat” two separate times. Elijah listens—even though he does not know what lies ahead—and is strengthened for his next journey.

Then the word of the Lord comes to Elijah, telling him to stand on the mountain while the Lord “passes by.” A great wind surges to the point the mountains begin to break apart and rocks are splitting in half. The earth literally shakes and quakes beneath Elijah’s feet, followed by a fire. BUT ELIJAH DOESN’T COVER HIS FACE. But here is the powerful moment: Elijah only covers his face in his coat when he encounters God in the “sound of silence.” The Story recalls it this way: “And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”  
God was not in the wind, the earthquake, or the fire. The very presence of God was in the gentle whisper Elijah encountered after the chaos. Elijah took the greatest risk not by covering his face during the chaos but by listening to God. In the midst of Elijah’s fear after encountering God through the still silence, he simply repeats what he said to God in verse 10: “I have been very passionate for the Lord . . .” This time, God responds with direct instruction: “Go.”
It wasn’t until Elijah took the risk to listen to God’s still, small voice that he knew what to do.

How many times have we been in the situation Elijah was in? When do you take the time to listen for God in the gentle whisper? Or has your life been so busy with swirling rocks and raging fires you haven’t given the Lord the opportunity to respond to your prayer? How many times have we attended to the still, small voice of God amid the chaos of our lives and come out on the other side realizing that it was worth it all along?

I invite you to pray with 1 Kings 19:11-13 (pg 207 in The Story) once a day for the rest of this week. When you get to “Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”” be bold and put your name in place of Elijah’s. Re-read it with your name, then listen to the gentle whisper of the living God who still speaks.

May we stop long enough to listen.

(Because we cancelled service on 1/12 due to winter weather, Bro. Keith will be preaching on Chapter 13. If you already read the chapter, you get a week off! If not, this is your chance to catch up!)
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As the New Year begins, I know many people include growth in their faith and devotional life as part of their resolutions. I wanted to share a practice that has been meaningful for me:

I came across this prayer cycle in an article by a Baptist theologian (GASP!) I read some time ago. It’s been a wonderful way to focus my prayer time. The cycle offers a daily specific prayer intention (for myself, my family, etc), while still being simple and general enough to allow the Holy Spirit to guide my thoughts and prayers in the moment. If you decide to use it, I’d love to hear what you think!  

One of the joys of using this prayer cycle is when a scripture I come across in a devotional aligns perfectly with a prayer intention. When that happens, I jot down the scripture next to the corresponding intention in the prayer cycle. This way, I can revisit that scripture in future weeks as part of my prayer.  

For example, Chapter 13 of The Story features one of those scriptures that resonates deeply with me:

In 1 Kings 2, as King David prepares for his passing, he shares his final wishes with his son Solomon. When I read this scripture during my devotional time, I realized it expresses everything I want for my daughters as well! On most Tuesdays, I reread 1 Kings 2 while praying for my family. I even adapt the passage by removing the “act like a man” phrasing and inserting Cate and Molly’s names in place of Solomon’s. This practice reminds me of how powerful it can be to make scripture’s stories our stories and, by extension, our families’ stories.  

Chapter 13 of The Story also marks a critical transition for Israel. A successful shift of power occurs within the royal family as David passes the throne to Solomon. At that time, the tabernacle—a portable tent used for worship during the Israelites' wandering—was still in use. However, the establishment of a kingship brought with it the need for something more permanent. This chapter tells of King Solomon constructing and dedicating the temple, signaling the end of the tabernacle era and the transfer of its sacred symbols to a more enduring structure.

God blessed the work of these kings, enabling Israel to consolidate its power, reduce internal conflicts, and take its place as a significant player on the world stage. God also made a covenant with David and his descendants to establish their lineage forever—conditionally. Every sign, as noted in Chapter 13, pointed to God conditionally blessing the kingship. And what was the condition?  

Let’s hear it from King David himself. In his final wishes to Solomon, David shared the covenant and the condition attached to the blessing:

The success of Solomon, the temple, and the people as a whole hinged on one vital condition: if they remained faithful to God and lived according to God’s commands. David explained it clearly: “If your descendants watch how they live, and if they walk faithfully before me with all their heart and soul.”  

This work of leadership and worship demanded discipling their successors—their children and future generations. This echoes something we as Christians know well. Jesus, in what we now call the Great Commission (Matthew 28), instructed His disciples:

The mission of the Church, as reflected in the words of King David, the work of King Solomon, those who built and worshipped at the temple, and the Great Commission, is to form our children and those who are unfamiliar with the Church into disciples of Jesus. The continuity of our ministries depends not on us alone, and our efforts must not ultimately center on us: God’s blessings for the Church will always rest on our willingness to invite the next generation into discipleship.  

Moving forward, everything we do as a church—from the smallest task to the largest event—must align with this challenge: Does this (act, class, worship service, service project, etc.) invite children or those unfamiliar with Christ into discipleship?  We need to begin asking this question seriously and living out our response, starting today.

Welcome back friends! I hope your Christmas and New Year’s were joyous and restful (both true for our family!) As we get back into the swing of reading a chapter of The Story week-by-week, we restart with Chapter 13 - The King Who Had It All. Because we took a break for Advent and Christmas, this week’s blog is a reminder of what we’re doing as a church:

• Starting January 12th, your clergy will begin again preaching on an aspect of one chapter of The Story each week. We will finish our journey on May 26th.
• The following Sunday School classes will be studying The Story in their Sunday morning gatherings. This would be a wonderful opportunity to connect with a Sunday School class:
  • Dorcas
  • Wesley-Covenant
  • Context
  • Common Ground
  • Piecemakers
  • Shewmakers
  • Friendship
  • Open Hearts
• Bro. Keith does a Facebook live on Tuesdays, recapping what was discussed in the previous chapter and transitioning us to the following chapter.
• Bro. Garry & Bro. Keith will lead a Wednesday night Bible study on the chapter the church is studying that week.
• And if you’re reading this blog, you know what I’m doing: I write a weekly blog on the chapter at hand, sharing my brilliant mind, unique takes, and witty writing with thousands. Possibly millions…

We don’t expect everyone to do everything that was listed, but this is your opportunity to do a couple of things:

• First - committing to reading the bible with others. I know for some, you have read the bible cover-to-cover multiple times. For some of you this is your first attempt to read the entire bible. But I imagine for many of us we’ve tried and failed, started and stopped, in attempting to read the entire bible. And you may have started and stopped and fell behind in the fall as well…if this is you: take heart! This is your opportunity to recommit to reading one chapter a week. Three suggestions for reading:
  • While you can break up the reading evenly over six days, I would suggest reading each chapter in one to two settings so you get the thrust of the chapter.
  • While reading, have a writing utensil handy to underline verses that strike you (for whatever reason), take notes in the margins, and to write down names/situations that come to mind when reading. Allow the Holy Spirit to guide your thoughts as you read, and jot things down so you don’t forget them!
  • Take a day or two to answer - to the best of your ability - the Discussion Questions on the chapter you read (the Discussion Questions start on page 473 in the back of the book). Your answers don’t have to be full paragraphs or complete sentences, just a few thoughts that will help you remember what you read, and will allow you to live into the next opportunity…
• Second - utilize this opportunity to connect in a deeper way with your church. Reading The Story as a church is not a fix-all, but is an opportunity for us to come together, study God’s word together, and figure out yet again what it means to be the Church in the heart of Saline County. I want all of us - emphasis on all - to commit to finding one additional way to connect with others at the church:
  • If that means joining (or rejoining) a Sunday School class, great!
  • If that means coming to Wednesday night fellowship meal and bible study, great!
  • If that means watching Bro. Keith’s facebook Live or reading this blog and chatting with others in the “Comments” section, great!
  • If that means committing to not missing a Sunday worship service in-person or online, great!

My invitation for us is the same one I shared when we started this journey together in September: to pray to God to prepare our church, our leaders, and one another as we re-enter into this journey of reading The Story together. Pray for people by name. Pray for yourself. Pray for your pastors. And pray for our church that we see the Holy Spirit leading us forward into a place already prepared for us!

As many of you who regularly attend the 8:30 and 11:00 AM worship services have noted, one of my unofficial roles during worship is “acolyte wrangler.” With my seat positioned directly beside the acolytes, I’m often the one they turn to with questions.

These questions range from the practical—
“When do I go up to get the offering again?”  
“Can I go to the bathroom?”

—to the inquisitive—  
“How far do you think this paper airplane could fly?”  
“Why is there a vent right behind our chairs?”

—and sometimes rhetorical—  
“How can Bro. Keith talk this long?”

This past week started as usual, with the usual flurry of questions, but then it took a turn. The acolytes not only answered one of their own questions but also reminded me of something timeless in the process.  

At the start of the service, after the acolytes brought the light of Christ into worship, they dived into their “worship bag,” prepared by Ms. Jessica. Inside, they found a worksheet connecting the day’s scripture to various activities like coloring and dot-to-dots. This past Sunday, the worksheet featured a fill-in-the-blank activity about young King David:

Molly, our youngest daughter, was acolyting alongside Emily, and Molly quickly appointed herself spokesperson.  “Hey, Dad, what word is this? … How about this one? … And this one?” After a while, she noticed my patience running thin and added, “Last one, Dad, I promise! What’s this word?”

The hint read: A gift given to God and the Church.  
O__ __ __ R __ __ G

I froze. I couldn’t think of any word in the English language that fit those letters. (You can probably guess I’m not very good at Wordle. Side note: have you ever noticed “Wordle” isn’t even a five-letter word? What’s up with that?) As I sat there squirming, trying to save face in front of two 9-year-olds, Emily leaned over and loud-whispered, “I got it! It’s O-F-F-E-R-I-N-G!”  

This moment with Emily and Molly came to mind while reading Chapter 12 of The Story. David, now nearing the end of his life, tells his son Solomon how much he had hoped to build a temple for God. However, David explains that the burning God laid in his heart was to prepare his son for the task (1 Chronicles 22:5-13; The Story p. 170),

Emily’s confident answer to the fill-in-the-blank reminded me of something profound: it’s not up to me to have all the answers, solve every problem, or fix every issue. My role is to remain faithful to my calling, preparing the way for others—like the Mollys and Emilys in our church—to live out their callings. Through their gifts, and our gifts, we get to help bring God’s kingdom to earth as it is in heaven.  

The Church, our church, is called to this same faithfulness. We are to offer our gifts—our O-F-F-E-R-I-N-G—to God and trust Him to use them for His purposes. We may not see the full picture, but our faithfulness paves the way for future generations of saints to step into their callings.

Reflect on the following - and I LOVE hearing your responses: How is God calling you to offer your gifts, your O-F-F-E-R-I-N-G, to prepare the way for others in the Church?

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I’ve loved writing this blog and sharing thoughts on The Story this fall! As we approach the Advent and Christmas season, the church will pause The Story (December 1 – January 5, 2025) to focus on preparing for the coming of Christ. During this time, we will celebrate Emmanuel, God with us, in worship, song, and community.  

The blog will resume on Thursday, January 9, 2025, as we pick up with Chapter 13 The Story . In the meantime, I hope you’ll join in as we all prepare our hearts for the Christ Child’s arrival and offer our gifts of worship and love.

I was in Indiana from Wednesday through Saturday last week, celebrating the life of my mom’s third oldest brother, Herb Summers. Herb was an interesting character, to say the least! My memories of him are mostly from family gatherings: he was a gregarious man, often in a suit, tape recorder in hand, and full of questions for a pretty uninterested kid (he always began his “interview” by asking, “Say your full name, age, height, and weight.” I’m not kidding!). These encounters left me with an image of my Uncle Herb as something of an absent-minded professor: brilliant, kind, with a sharp rhetorical mind and cutting wit, but also a man I might see downtown, sweating in the same suit, holding up a sign about some politician in the middle of July.

Many family members hold another image of Herb in tension with this one: as a young man, he was top of his class, an incredible athlete (voted one of the best in the city), earned a track scholarship to Ball State University, and served in the Navy. The image that best represents this part of Herb’s life is one he reminded me of every time he saw me in high school: “Hey Waltie, have you got your picture on the wall at North Side yet?” He was referring to the wall surrounding the gym at our high school, North Side, where photos of championship teams were displayed. Herb was the star of the 1963 North Side High School State Track Championship team. I remember that picture vividly: Herb, front row left, lithe in his track singlet, sporting his “pineapple cut,” mouth slightly open, as if the picture was an interruption to practice.

For me, that image—literally hanging on the wall at North Side—painted a vastly different picture from the one of him in the sweaty, ill-fitting suit with his tape recorder. The athlete, the student, the sailor: the hero who could do it all in a track singlet. I know many who loved Herb found it challenging to hold these two images in tension, and at times, I, too, failed to honor my uncle’s journey, sometimes painting him as a caricature.

I thought of Herb when I read the first paragraph of Chapter 11 in The Story:

Samuel, the prophet who anointed Saul as king of Israel, now has to anoint “one of Jesse’s sons” as the new king. Samuel expresses hesitation in 1 Samuel 16:2, saying, “How can I go [anoint another king]? If Saul hears about it, he will kill me.” I imagine Samuel struggling with two images of Saul: the anointed king and victor in battle for Israel, and the disobedient man who lost God’s favor.

Samuel is left with the same tension that many of us feel toward loved ones who are “out there.” And yet...while my family and I sometimes struggled to hold both images of Herb, Herb was able to accept and honor the person he was. While preparing for his service, I found a YouTube video of “Patty’s Page with Patty Hunter” from Access Fort Wayne Public Television in the early 2010s, in which Herb was a guest. Within the first few minutes, Herb reflects on his identity as a “nonconformist,” quoting William James (if Herb was anything, he was well-read). If you want to watch, start at 3:00:

After the quote, Herb says this: “Now this is the essence of life, what we’re getting into. Everybody we know has pluses and minuses, and what we do is we concentrate on one of them. [So] which is the Herb Summers? Well, the Herb Summers is both.”

Just like you and me, just like Saul, Samuel, and King David—and like each of our loved ones who are “out there”—Herb wasn’t just a plus or a minus. He wasn’t just the good or the bad; he was a collection of all his experiences: the track singlet and sweaty suit, the willing soldier and the anti-interventionist, the hero, the interesting, the tragic. Through it all, Herb was a kind and loving person who treated everyone with respect, ready to share a sly smile and a joke, willing to give the shirt off his back to anyone, writing poetry for his nieces and nephews, and so much more. When we remember that our loved ones aren’t merely a sum of their actions, we can hold them in faith, trusting that they are loved, valued, and ultimately saved through grace in Christ.

I pray for your “out there” family members and friends whom you thought of while reading this week’s blog. When you struggle to hold the pluses and minuses of your own “Uncle Herb” in tension, remember the promises shared in Romans 8:

What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? 
Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, "For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered." No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (ROMANS 8:31–32, 35–39)

In the beginning of Chapter 10 of The Story, we find a young Samuel serving in the temple under the guidance of Eli, the high priest. One night, Samuel hears a voice calling his name. At first, Samuel mistakes the voice for Eli, but he eventually realizes that it is the Lord calling him. What a sweet story about discerning the voice of God, right?! But wait…

The message Samuel receives is one of impending judgment on Eli - his mentor - due to his sons' sins and Eli’s failure to restrain them (pg. 122 in The Story. You can read what Eli’s sons did in 1 Samuel 2:12-25 here).

Ouch.

As hard as this story is, it holds a mirror up to our lives, revealing a sobering truth: that sometimes God’s voice brings us news we’d rather not hear. Yet, the way Eli responds to this difficult message can teach us about humility, openness, and the posture required to listen to God even in challenging times.

Our former bishop, Gary Mueller, shared a devotion in 2018 that has stuck with me. In the devotion he asked, “How do you react when you see another person, especially if that person is poor, a different color, speaks another language, or comes from a country where struggling to survive is harder than you can begin to comprehend?” Bishop Mueller pointed out that it’s all too easy to be dismissive or judgmental, but “the fact of the matter is that too many people think this is an appropriate - even worthy - way to respond. But it’s not. It never is. In fact, it’s sinful.” Bishop Mueller reminds us that God loves each person so much that Jesus died on the cross for them, just as He did for each of us. This love leaves no room for superiority, only shared dignity and value in God’s eyes.

In order to hear God as Samuel or Eli did, we must approach God with this same humility. We cannot begin to listen to God, let alone hear Him speak through scripture, spiritual revelation, or the spark of another of God's beautiful creations unless we first face what separates us from God and from each other. And that means bringing the worst of ourselves to God - the darkest, most painful, most shameful parts of our lives. Only when we are brave enough to lay our sin at God’s feet, saying, “I’ve hidden nothing from You. Nothing separates us now,” can we genuinely say, like Samuel, “Speak, Lord. Your servant is listening.”

This humility is not the polished, performative kind, but the raw, real acceptance of our need for God. In facing our sins and flaws, we stop acting as our own god and start letting God shape us. This was a truth Eli came to know. When Samuel courageously told him God’s message, Eli responded simply, “He is the Lord; let him do what is good in his eyes” (pg. 132 in The Story, 1 Samuel 3:18). Eli’s humility, even in facing the harsh reality of his own failings, allowed him to accept God’s will. It is this posture - one of full openness to God’s refining fire - that invites God to work through us, no matter how challenging or uncomfortable His message may be.

When we let go of our need to be right, to be powerful, or to control how God works, we begin to see God’s hand in all areas of life, even through the people we may have overlooked. Bishop Mueller’s words remind us that God loves the people we struggle to love - whether they look, live, or believe differently than we do. God loves each person so much that Jesus went to the cross for them. And because of this love they’re just…like…you!

In humility, we are invited to see God’s image in others, knowing that they, too, are cherished by God. Through this lens, we are reminded that God’s voice may sometimes call us to love more deeply, challenge our prejudices, and make uncomfortable changes in our lives. When we open ourselves fully to God’s transformative power, we can echo Samuel’s response: “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.” I invite you to take a moment to pray:

Lord, help me come before You with a humble heart. Show me where I have strayed, reveal the sins I have hidden, and give me the courage to bring all of myself to You. Help me to listen to You, even when Your words are challenging, so I may grow closer to You and love others as You have loved me. Speak, Lord, for Your servant is listening. In Jesus’ name I pray - Amen.

Some of the best movie lines make us laugh, some make us think, or some give us a lump in the throat. But among the countless lines that have been captured on film, a few have actually changed the way we talk.

In The Wizard of Oz, released in 1939, Dorothy says to her dog, “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” People quote that line whenever they feel like the world around them has changed. In 1948, the movie Casablanca gave us one of the most romantic phrases of all time, “Here’s looking at you, kid.” It works best if you imitate Humphrey Bogart when you say it. Cool Hand Luke, released in 1967, gave us the words, “What we’ve got here is a failure to communicate.” You’ll hear that one when people are struggling to connect. What's a movie line or phrase that's made in your daily vernacular?

The Bible is also full of great phrases that are remembered and quoted in a variety of situations. Psalm 23 gives us the comforting verse, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want” (v. 1). From Jeremiah we get the assurance, “For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope” (29:11). First Corinthians offers the insight, “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude” (13:4-5). In Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we find the uplifting words, “I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (4:13). And in his letter to the Romans, we are promised, “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (8:28).

Another classic comes from our text in the book of Ruth - Chapter 9 from The Story - “Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay; your people shall be my people and your God my God” (Ruth 1:16, pg. 122 in The Story). What’s so special about these lines from the Bible? For starters, they are true - these biblical verses are concise summaries of bigger truths, in the same way that movie lines reveal something essential about their characters.

But great lines also shape us because they capture an entire story. When Dorothy says, “We’re not in Kansas anymore,” you know that she has entered the strange new world of Oz. When Ruth says, “Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay; your people shall be my people and your God my God,” it captures the entire story of the book of Ruth, bringing to mind the faithfulness of Ruth to her mother-in-law Naomi which, in turn, is a picture of God’s faithfulness to us. Her comment mirrors God’s faithfulness to us. For Christians, it should reminds us of Christ’s promise to never leave us or forsake us.

Why is this important? Because this Sunday - All Saints’ Sunday - we remember and celebrate God’s faithfulness to the people we’ve lost over this last year. We celebrate God’s faithfulness in the lives of our saints. I know a pastor who made it practice in worship after infant baptisms to walk down the aisle holding the child and introducing him or her to the people with the title “saint” before the baptized name. Like, “Saint Brooklyn” or “Saint Auggie.” It was a little jarring to hear “saint” applied to the name of a baby; this pastor also routinely calls the members of his churches “saints.” But this pastor calls his people “saints” because of God’s faithfulness, not because of what they have accomplished.

Do you see the distinction? God chose us to be faithful, not the other way around: it is God’s initiative that made us holy, to make us saints, not ourselves. And because of God’s faithfulness, the saints that we celebrate at this Sunday’s service responded in their lives as best they could through their faith in Jesus Christ - just like you and I continue to do.

So I offer to you again the great line of scripture from Ruth: “Where you go, I will go; where you stay, I will stay; your people shall be my people and your God my God.” Let that line change your life this week as we give thanks for the saints who we still share life with through the always-faithful God we know in Jesus Christ our Lord!

“The Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord.”

Did you notice that phrase throughout this chapter? Throughout the Book of Judges, as covered in Chapter 8 of The Story “A Few Good Men…and Women,” we hear the familiar refrain, “The Israelites did evil in the eyes of the Lord.” This phrase appears seven times throughout Judges, underscoring the repetitive nature of Israel’s disobedience (Judges 2:11, 3:7, 3:12, 4:1, 6:1, 10:6, 13:1). Each time, Israel’s turning from God leads to oppression by foreign enemies, followed by cries for help. In response, God raises up a judge to deliver them—a striking example of God’s persistent mercy to Israel.

The English word judge is a somewhat misleading label for those raised up by God. We today would probably call them more military leaders rather than our understanding of a judge. They are charismatic figures, in the sense that they are not officeholders to begin with, but are chosen for the task of dealing with a crisis because their abilities are recognized. And as you may have noticed, they are not necessarily chosen for their virtuous life…!

One of the most interesting and inspiring judges in this book is Deborah, a prophet and leader, whose story is found in Judges 4-5 (pgs 105-106 in The Story.) At a time when Israel was oppressed by King Jabin of Canaan, Deborah was both a spiritual guide and military strategist. She called on Barak to lead Israel's forces against Jabin’s army, even though Barak was hesitant and would only agree if Deborah accompanied him. Deborah’s trust in God’s power and her willingness to lead highlights the courage required to fulfill God’s calling.

Deborah’s story is particularly meaningful from a United Methodist viewpoint. In her, we see that God’s deliverance can come through unexpected means, as God calls both men and women to serve. This aligns with our tradition’s affirmation of women in ministry, recognizing that the Holy Spirit empowers all people to carry out God’s work. In 1956 full clergy rights were granted to women in The Methodist Church (more info here), and still to this day women are full participants and leaders within our denomination. Deborah’s leadership and reliance on God’s strength encourage us to trust in God’s grace, no matter how daunting the challenge.

Chapter 8 of The Story reveals a pattern that should resonate deeply with all of us. Israel’s repeated failures mirror the human condition—a propensity to drift away from God. But the message of Judges is not one of hopelessness; rather, it is a message of hope rooted in God’s enduring grace. Every time the people cry out in their distress, God responds with mercy. This constant call back to faithfulness is a reminder that God never gives up on us, no matter how many times we fall short.

In our own lives, we experience similar cycles of faithfulness and failure. Like the Israelites, we may stray from God’s path, but God’s grace is always working to bring us back. This is an invitation to participate in God’s work of sanctification—the process of growing in holiness and love. The Book of Judges reminds us that even when we fail, God’s grace is sufficient, and His call to return is always open.

What’s your favorite Bible verse? For some it’s Psalm 23. Others John 3:16. Philippians 4:13 is a good one as well. Mine is Galatians 6:2. For Katie, a church member at a previous appointment, it was Joshua 1:9 (page 89-90 in The Story.)

Katie passed away early on in my time serving the church she attended, so I didn’t know much about her. But as I visited with her family, they shared a prayer card that was in her devotional bible with me. It says “Katie” up top and the word “pure” right below it. Below the word “pure” is the verse from Joshua. None of her children knew where she got it. I kept it in my Book of Worship (what I use at funerals) ever since.

As I prepared for her service I kept coming back to this prayer card in her bible. Because this is not a popular verse for many, I wondered how this scripture verse spoke to Katie over the years…

…I wondered if this verse spoke to her when she was growing up in Rose City, as one of nine siblings. Growing up and having one brother or sister is hard enough, but having eight others - vying for attention, getting a word in edgewise, or even an extra serving of food at the dinner table must have been a challenge! Did God’s words to Joshua, as one of the multitude walking for 40 years in the wilderness, to not be dismayed, not to be discouraged, speak to Katie to keep faith and find strength during her adolescent years?

…I wondered if these verses spoke to Katie during her young adult years. As a wife and a mother to three boys, did God’s words in Joshua speak to her differently then? While I am sure the three boys were angelic growing up...ahem...I wonder if this verse strengthened her and brought her courage as a mother and wife, leading and assisting her family as best she could to the promised lands that lay in her son’s futures.

…I wondered if this verse spoke to Katie as a charter member of the UMC church I served later in life with her, stepping out in faith to serve in a new place God was calling people to serve in. Katie was a woman of strong faith, finding opportunities to serve the church every time she could. She loved attending the local summer camp meeting and singing out of the old Cokesbury hymnbook, singing all the hymns in their “original” form! I wondered if God’s words to Joshua, comforting him as a leader by assuring him that God was with them wherever they went, if that comfort spoke to Katie as she stepped out in faith as a faith-filled person again and again in her life?      

…I wondered if the verse from Joshua spoke to Katie in the later years of her life. I wondered if Katie saw the situation Joshua was in, losing Moses after being with him in the wilderness, wandering the desert for many years together, sharing hundreds of joys and heartbreaks together, and knew how he felt after her husband died. I wonder if she found strength to lead her family into the future even without someone she so loved and cared for?

…I wondered if from God’s words in Joshua she found strength to even care for her family in the last few months, weeks and days of her life. Even in the last days of her life, she was caring for others - she had all her final plans in place, and she even helped design today’s worship, knowing full well that God was with her wherever she went, even in the valley of the shadow of death. I wonder how God’s words from Joshua spoke to Katie…

We all have a favorite verse/verses of scripture because the words written thousands of years ago still impact our lives in powerful ways today! Like Katie, I wonder how your favorite scripture carried you through meaningful parts of your life. I would love to hear your favorite verse and why it’s your favorite. BUT…I encourage you to share your favorite scripture with others (maybe with this blog post), and why it is meaningful to you.

I wonder how your favorite scripture can affect someone else’s life for God’s glory…kind of like Katie's favorite scripture does today. 

Sometimes it feels like no matter how much faith we have, no matter how many promises we’ve heard, and no matter how many signs God has provided, we have moments where it is difficult trusting in God. We aren’t the first ones in history to feel this way...

In Chapter 6 of The Story, the Israelites seem to have trust issues. After spending many months walking in the wilderness, the Israelites were tired. They were frustrated. They were thirsty. They were starting to have doubts, not just about their present situation, but about their future. They were no longer trusting that God really was going to lead them to a new and better place.

Now I want to remind you these were the same people who were given manna and quail from heaven very recently (the quail story is one of my favorites to imagine; pages 72-73 in The Story). Yet, we read that the fear of the unknown future has overwhelmed the Israelites’ faith from the past to bring their journey forward into the wilderness – commanded by God no less – to a stop.

We encounter these moments in our lives – when our faith is overrun by fear – and life as we knew it stops. This time of dread, some short, other times longer, sometimes consists of an existential fear that God has abandoned us and God no longer can be a refuge for us. The Church fathers and mothers coined these times “Dark Nights of the Soul.”

These “Dark Nights” – times of no consolations, when our previous ideas about God become cloudy, and there seems to be no rest within the old structures of our faith – can and do happen to the faithful. We struggle when we are in the midst of a "Dark Night," yet it is through the stories of those who hold on can we begin to understand what these “Dark Nights” can be for us – not as punishment, but as purification and as grace. Look back at pages 77-78 in The Story. The people are crying again, this time for water. God provided yet again for His people, this time with water from a rock. At the end of the reading, we see Moses’ hope for the people by naming this miraculous place Meribah, “…where the Israelites quarreled with the Lord and where he proved holy among them.”

The dread and fear the Israelites had in their Dark Night were as real as any we have today. They both are expressions of our insecurity in this earthly life; a realization that all that is “ours” can completely fail us. Yet for many of us, when we hold on through those “Dark Nights” of our life we realize the opportunity to trust all the more in God and his grace right now, regardless of what surrounds us.

That takes a deep and profound appreciation of what we are trusting in. And even then we can falter. Look at the Israelites. They’ve experienced an active God split the Red Sea in two, give them heavenly food, and lead them through the wilderness by cloud and lightening. And yet they still doubt God?! Does anyone else wonder how that is even possible? That proves to me we need to show ourselves and others much more grace and understanding than we do when our faith falls short.

So what, then, is it that we trust in? Or, a better question – who?

Yes, we will falter in following Jesus. That’s when many of us will find ourselves in those moments of Darkness. Those dark nights come when we trust in what Dietrich Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace.” Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline. Communion without confession. Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ.

The opposite of cheap grace is costly grace; the grace and love found in the life and love of Jesus. Costly grace confronts us as a gracious call to follow Christ. It comes to us as a word of forgiveness and encouragement to the broken spirit and the contrite heart. It is costly because it compels a person to submit to the yoke of Christ and follow him, even when we have to humble ourselves to persons we disagree, when we are obedient to unjust laws, yet are strong enough to stand up to them while showing the other dignity; when we die a death of embarrassment, of shame, of dishonor – and for some, a physical death – not suited for any of God’s created order. When we follow Jesus, the name above all names, we trust in that his life, death and resurrection can and does cover any darkness in our lives. There is nothing else in this world can we trust in more.  

Our journey of faith will inevitably bring us to moments where trust seems difficult and darkness feels overwhelming, just as it did for the Israelites. Yet, through these "Dark Nights," we are given an opportunity to deepen our reliance on God, moving away from superficial faith and toward a profound trust in His grace and provision. Like the water from the rock in the wilderness, God's grace flows even in our most desperate moments, reminding us that we are not abandoned. When we embrace the costly grace of Jesus Christ, we find that His love and sacrifice are enough to sustain us through any challenge. The question we must ask ourselves is not whether the Lord is with us, but whether we are ready to trust fully in Him, even when the path is uncertain.

Was anyone struck with how much Moses did similar things that Jesus did…or Jesus did similar things that Moses did? In The Cradle, the Cross, and the Crown, authors Andreas Köstenberger, L. Scott Kellum, and Charles Quarles suggest that one of Matthew’s primary goals in writing his Gospel was to present Jesus as the new Moses: “Matthew’s Gospel stressed four aspects of Jesus’ identity … (one of which is that) Jesus is the new Moses, the deliverer and instructor of God’s people” (p. 191). As we read chapter 5 of The Story, there is no denying the comparison between Moses and Jesus! Btw: I'm not the first person with this thought...below is one of many comparisons/parallels you can find on the interwebs when you search "Moses Jesus comparison"! But three images from chapter 5 really stood out to me.

First, both Moses and Jesus experienced God in unique ways. In The Story page 67 (also Exodus 33:18), Moses asks God, "Show me your glory," reflecting his desire for a more intimate connection with the divine. God grants this request in part, allowing Moses to see His back as He passes by. This encounter shows Moses' unique relationship with God, one where the divine is revealed in awe-inspiring yet partial ways. This reminded me of Jesus’ Baptism, where the heavens open, and the voice of God declares, "This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased" (Matthew 3:17).

Second, Moses’ fast of forty days and forty nights on Mount Sinai, as recounted in The Story page 69 (Exodus 34:28), signifies his preparation to receive God’s Law for the people of Israel. During this time, Moses’ communion with God is so deep that he receives divine instruction, which shapes the moral and spiritual life of the nation. Jesus, too, fasts for forty days and nights in the wilderness (Matthew 4:2). During this period, He is tempted by the devil but emerges victorious, confirming His identity as the Son of God and preparing Himself for His public ministry.

After Moses spends time in God’s presence, we read that his face becomes radiant, a physical sign of the divine encounter he has experienced (The Story, p. 69; Exodus 34:29-35). His face shines so brightly that he must cover it with a veil when speaking to the Israelites. This radiance marks Moses as one who has been transformed by God’s glory. In Matthew’s Gospel, we see a similar but even more profound moment in the Transfiguration (Matthew 17:1-2). Jesus’ face shines like the sun, and His clothes become dazzling white, revealing His divine nature to Peter, James, and John. And if you continue to Matthew 17:3, “Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, talking with Jesus.” Unlike Moses, whose radiance was a reflection of God’s glory, Jesus’ transfiguration reveals that He is the source of that glory (Matthew 17:5).

These moments illustrate sanctifying grace - that through faith, grace can transform us in holiness and Christlikeness, perfectly loving God and neighbor. Both Moses and Jesus show us what it means to have a close, transformative relationship with God. The Lord spoke to Moses “as one speaks to a friend” (Exodus 33:11, p. 67 in The Story), and Jesus embodied an even deeper, intimate relationship with the Father. These stories remind us that we too are invited into this friendship with God - a relationship marked by grace, transformation, and a deeper understanding of who God is, which is love.

As we reflect on this week’s reading, I hope you allow the Holy Spirit to draw you near to God, to experience His glory, and to be transformed by His grace. Spend some time in prayer this week on question #6 in the “Discussion Questions” on p. 475: The Lord spoke to Moses “as one speaks to a friend.” What steps can you take to gain a deeper understanding of who God is?

I will take you as my people, and I will be your God. You shall know that I am the Lord your God, who has freed you from the burdens of the Egyptians.  — Exodus 6:7

Every time I read Exodus 6 (which is on page 48 of The Story), I think of Blake Bradford. In early 2009, a few months after I had separated from the Air Force, Kenda and I moved to Arkansas. I had begun the process of becoming a clergy person in the Arkansas Conference of the UMC. We had joined a local church, I had navigated the necessary steps within our new congregation, and I was placed on the list of candidates to meet with the Central District’s District Committee on Ministry (DCOM) — the board that determines whether one can take the next step toward licensed and ordained ministry.

Blake, now the Senior Pastor at Fort Smith UMC - at the time, he was an associate at Saint James UMC in Little Rock - was just one of the many faces around an excessively large table at the conference office. The meeting felt like standing before a judge, jury…and executioner!

The meeting went as well as possible — it was more of a “get to know you” and encouragement session. I was answering their questions confidently. Then Blake asked me a simple question:

A softball question, or so you’d think! At that moment, I didn’t have an answer, so I made one up to appease the committee (which, thankfully, it did). However, after the meeting, I was left shocked by my lack of clarity about Jesus’ place in my life and started searching for answers.

And search I did. I found answers while sharing life with marginalized people in the communities I served. I also grew spiritually through spiritual direction, allowing another Christian sojourner to journey with me so to help me reflect and deepen my relationship with the Lord. But I truly believe that Blake's question — “Where is Jesus in your life?” — sparked a fire within me. It allowed me to see how God graciously revealed Himself in tangible ways, especially in moments of weakness: once when I was half-asleep, and once when I was overwhelmed with anxiety. God’s grace — Jesus’s presence and power — took hold of my life and delivered me, even when I wasn’t seeking it. This deliverance was exactly what I had longed for!

So, you may be asking yourself, “What does any of this have to do with Exodus or Chapter 4 of The Story?” Good question! In my search for answers to Blake’s simple question, I discovered that Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s promise to Moses and Israel in Exodus 6:7. In Exodus, God heard the cries of Israel while they were in bondage under Pharaoh and spoke to them: “I will take you as my people, and I will be your God.” God made a covenant with Israel to be their God, and for Israel to be His people.

This covenant, as recorded in Exodus 6:7, is relational. God promises to be Israel’s God and for Israel to be His people. God delivered Israel from slavery to freedom in the Promised Land. As we are reminded in our communion liturgy, Jesus Christ is the eternal fulfillment of that covenant relationship. Jesus is the way by which God ultimately delivers His people:

Karl Barth, one of the most profound and important Protestant theologians (certainly of the 20th century), expressed this far more precisely than I ever could:

For as in Jesus Christ there breaks out as truth the original thing about God: 'I will be your God,' so in Jesus Christ there breaks out as trust the original thing about (humanity), 'Ye shall be my people.' That was and is the distinctive mark of Israel, which at the end of the history of Israel became event in Jesus Christ, and in that event is revelation — the divine revelation of the destiny of (humanity), of all (humans), as their determination for him… Just as there is no God but the God of the covenant, there is no (human) but the man of the covenant.
(Church Dogmatics CD IV/1, pp. 42-43)

I hope and pray that you have an answer to the question Blake asked me 15 years ago. If not, I invite you to begin the journey today. Yes, this question is one God has already answered, but He is waiting for you to discover the answer for yourself alongside your church family...

I don’t like the older brothers being the foils of the Joseph story. And before you ask: no, it’s not becauseI’m the oldest of three brothers…! Of course I’m not jealous when I look at my two younger brothers and they now both tower over me (“Tower” in this case is 1-2 inches taller than me!) Growing up, I was the older, supposedly bigger sibling, and now they’re the ones looking down at me—literally!

Okay, okay, there's a bit of jealousy on my part that comes with that because they like to remind me of it every chance they get - even if it's in good fun (I think?) But it reminds me a lot of the story of Joseph and his brothers in Chapter 3 of The Story—how roles and fortunes can completely reverse, often in ways we don't expect.

In Chapter three from The Story - which coincides with Genesis 37-50 - we see a lot of role reversals, especially in families. Joseph, the eleventh son of Jacob (also known as Israel), was the *last* person you’d expect to be favored (The Story, p. 30; Genesis 37:2-3). Culturally, the firstborn son was supposed to receive the family’s blessing, but that’s not how things went. It’s like how I sometimes feel when I see my younger brothers surpassing me in height—it wasn’t supposed to be this way! I’m the oldest, I should be taller, right? But God’s plans often flip our expectations.

Joseph was his father’s favorite son, even though he wasn’t the firstborn. His father gave him a special coat, and this favor made his brothers jealous—so jealous that they sold him into slavery (p. 32; Genesis 37:23-28). What’s amazing is how God used that jealousy and betrayal to bring about an unexpected redemption for Joseph and his entire family. Despite everything, Joseph became second in command in Egypt and saved his family from famine (p. 38; Genesis 41:39-40). His brothers, who once looked down on him, now had to rely on him for survival.

But the story doesn’t stop there—another reversal happens when Joseph’s younger brother, Benjamin, comes into the picture. Once Joseph is gone, Benjamin becomes Jacob’s favorite (p. 35; Genesis 42:36, 43:3-14). And even when Joseph is in power, he shows special favor to Benjamin, giving him five times more gifts than his other brothers! It’s almost like Joseph sees himself in Benjamin, but the reversal of roles is clear: the youngest is getting the most attention (p. 39; Genesis 43:34, 45:22).

This idea of role reversals comes full circle when Jacob, at the end of his life, blesses Joseph’s sons. Instead of giving the greater blessing to the oldest, Manasseh, he crosses his hands and blesses the younger, Ephraim (p. 41; Genesis 48:13-19). Even Joseph tries to correct his father, but Jacob knows what he’s doing. God had different plans, just like how He always seems to flip our expectations in life.

When I think about my own life, and yes, even my brothers’ heights, I realize how often we get caught up in where we *think* we should be. We’re always measuring ourselves against each other, just like Joseph and his brothers did. But the story reminds me that God works in unexpected ways. The last can become first, the youngest can be lifted up, and even in our jealousy or frustration, God is writing a bigger story.

So next time I find myself a little envious of my brothers, I’ll remember that God has His own way of blessing each of us, even when it doesn’t make sense to me right now. And maybe I’ll even stand a little taller, spiritually, sadly not physically!