Scripps Sundays

    for when the unthinkable happens God, I am blindsided. What I thought was impossible …happened. Is there language for this disorientation, God? The unraveling of my sense of order. The way each familiar thing looks strange to me now. Sometimes it seems that the gravity that held the earth in place has been suspended. It feels like a kind of unmooring. Fairness, undone. Justice, undone. Trust, undone. This life I loved, unmade. I am trying to inch up to even the thought that this is final. Unfixable. Over. My mind is stumbling, God, as if trying to rouse itself from a terrible dream. When all I want to do is sleep. My God, help me to know what to feel, what to do, what to pray, what to need, what to hope for, next. Blessed are we who ask and wait, and ask again. Blessed are we who let reality in though the body shudders. God, you are the only story about the world where truth and love make any sense. Remind me again. Show me the enormity of the sky again, stretched above me...

  for when so many are suffering (and you don’t know what to do) “Praise be to the God…of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” —2 Corinthians 1:3–4, NIV Oh God, so many are suffering beyond what they can bear. Come quickly with help that is stronger than death. You see the vulnerable, who face what we find hard to imagine. Blessed are we, still in our relative ease, still jars of clay, yet broken, who give to others what we yet can give, who pray, boldly, and love fiercely. This is the very ground of our being— God’s love for us and love working through us. God, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Spirit, have mercy. Amen.

  holding you and your community there close, Anna.... 💓 for this grief-stricken day God, we are heartbroken in the face of so much grief. Comfort us in our sorrow. Blessed are we who allow ourselves to feel it— the impossibility of what was possible a second ago— the light decision, the casual stroll, the easy exchange and ordinary duty, a decent choice or a banal one, the sweep of hours on a day that was like any other, until it wasn’t. This is the place where nothing makes sense. This is the place where tears flow in earnest now. Blessed are we who allow our hearts to break, for it will take some time for brittle unreality to release us from its grip, for the long and slow dissolve until we fully see what never should have been. Blessed are we who ask you, God, that grief find its way to move among us and be felt together, that comfort may flow in bonds of affection unbroken by this fresh tragedy. Though grief and tragedy and pain try to convince us otherwise, remind us that we...

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding; in all your ways know him, and he will make your paths straight. "  — Proverbs 3:5–6   “Success” is often portrayed as a matter of setting one’s goals, making an agenda, and working strategically to reach a chosen destination in life, whether it be a matter of study, career success, or some other mark of status. The contrasting vision in Proverbs 3 is an open attitude entrusting our future to the Lord - “success”, it seems, is not about succeeding in my plans, but rather responding faithfully to the opportunities presented to us. - Dr. Bill Cayley  

 I remember many years ago when you and Taylor were little that I went through the training to be a teacher for the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd classes at Christ Church downtown in Nashville. This was for the Sunday school classes at St. B's, and it was quite a bit of training (90 hours required!).  I don't think it was your favorite thing to go to while I was in the training, but there was always a great lunch served after and then we would go to the Frist Art Museum across the street to do art for a fun little outing.  in the parking lot at Christ Church in Nashville  at the Frist Art Museum afterwards  At one of the classes, they were teaching about the sign of the cross. The way they would teach us is that the facilitator would lead the lesson, and all the adults would circle up on the floor as if we were children in the class to listen and learn. When they told us about the subject, I did not think there would be much to share as it seemed quite straigh...

Dear Wonderful Anna, What a special day here in Chicago with the gift of YOU, Jason, and Janie here to cheer along the way (along with the incredible crowds here in the Windy City). While I had some pretty intense leg cramps to run through for a long stretch, my body gave me the gift of running with a smile through the miles and of finishing feeling strong.  I was grateful for quite a few fun quick stops along the way for photo ops with you to soak up the joy of it all (see below for some of my favorites). I will say that there was one point early on in the race when folks were cheering, “Go Wonder Woman!” at the top of their lungs as I ran by, and I got a lump in my throat wanting you to hear those words FOR YOU. So, below is my effort to pass along that blessing to you (written for you based on my reflections through the miles with you all in mind in the style of  Kate Bowler’s blessings ). Blessed are we when we remember that no one does this journey alone and tha...

This is from a book by Barbara Brown Taylor that I read this summer for one of my classes:  "Over the next five years, I struggled with the ordination question. I read books, prayed, made appointments with my bishop, and canceled them. I entered diocesan programs and dropped out of them. I worked as a seminary administrator and a hospital chaplain. I took part-time jobs at churches. I moved a thousand miles away and back again in eight months. I listened for voices in the night and searched the sky for signs. If lasting preoccupation with the church constitutes a call, then I was called, but called to what? To be a priest, or to be a Christian?  One midnight, I asked God to tell me as plainly as possible what I was supposed to do.  ‘Anything that pleases you,’ That is the answer that came into my sleepy head. ‘What?’ I said, waking up. ‘What kind of an answer is that?’ ‘ Do anything that pleases you ,’ the voice in my head said again, ‘ and belong to me .' That simplified...