Day 39: I am Thirsty

"After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfil the scripture), ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit." 
-John 19:38-30



 Jesus was a man who always knew exactly what to say.  He would spend hours preaching to crowds of people and pages and pages of my red line Bible are filled with the crimson words of my NASB translation.  He was not afraid to say exactly what those around him needed to hear, especially when they were searching for another answer.  This is especially true as the story of Holy Week unfolds.  He spent a good deal of time speaking to unwilling ears and telling them who he was.  

My favorite times Jesus speaks are not the long sermons.  It’s not the parables he tells.  Both are absolutely important and full of good things to learn.  I get something new from them every single time I read or hear them, but the heart of what I learn from the Gospels are in Jesus’ shorter interactions with people.  He gains followers simply by asking “What do you seek?”  He healed a lame man by simply saying “Pick up your mat and walk.”  There is power in His words.  Perhaps the most powerful of these words is found at the end of today’s Gospel reading.

“After this, Jesus, knowing that all things had already been accomplished, to fulfill the Scripture, said “I am thirsty.”  A jar full of sour wine was standing there; so they put a sponge full of the sour wine upon a branch of hyssop and brought it up to His mouth.  Therefore when Jesus had received the sour wine, He said, “It is finished!”  And he bowed His head and gave up His spirit.”  John 19:28-30

There was nothing left for Jesus to say.  He had said all He was there to say and done all He had come to do.  Jesus knew what was coming next and had told everyone what to be ready for.  After enduring the worst things humans can do to each other, he had two things to say.  First of all he asked for a drink.

The Bible is full of thirst.  Thirst for the spirit, thirst of knowledge and just plain thirst.   God poured water on a thirsty land.  Jesus offered the living water so that whoever drank it would never feel thirst.  Could it be that at the end he was simply thirsty?  Knowing what I know about the things that have been recorded about Jesus, I think it is partly true, but there is also a lesson here.  His last request was a statement.  He was thirsty.  This reminds me that even at the end of life, it is important to keep searching.

A few years ago, a patriarch at my church died somewhat unexpectedly.  He kept his illness quiet until just at the end.  That was who he was.  He didn’t want people fussing over him.  In life he had been a caring, quiet man who was always willing to share his story and knowledge with anyone if they asked, and he had lived a remarkable life.  My dad visited him in the hospital at the end.  The only thing he ever says about this meeting was that when he walked into the room, he was laying on the bed reading.  As they conversed, my dad leaned over to look at the book.  It was written in Greek or Hebrew or some other language most people in my home town have merely heard of but don’t understand.  Even at the very end of his life, he was still learning and still seeking something.

The last words Jesus says before his death on the cross are “It is finished!”  While the gospels don’t agree on his last words, this is what John has written.  These words have power.  As I read these words, I was reminded of the final speech Mr. Magorium gives in the movie Mr Magoriums Wonder Emporium:

“When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He’s written “He dies.” That’s all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is “He dies.” It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with “He dies.” And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it’s only natural to be sad, but not because of the words “He dies,” but because of the life we saw prior to the words. I’ve lived all five of my acts, Mahoney, and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I’m only asking that you turn the page, continue reading… and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest “He died.”

It’s as if these words could have come straight from Jesus himself.  The story of Jesus’ death on the cross is filled with emotion.  I am reminded of the story every year, and every year I watch my mom wipe tears from her eyes.  It is a passage I find easier to read silently than out loud for just that reason.  As Mr. Magorium says, we are “overwhelmed with dysphoria.”  We are sad because of the life that is lost.  The life we see unfolding in those four books in the Bible.  We are sad because of the cruelty we inflict on each other.  These are not the things we are asked to remember, though.  That is not what the Easter story is about.

We are asked to turn the page.  We are asked to keep the story going.  As Christians, we have the blessing of this story that we can use to help share who we are.  We can relate His life “in all its wonder.”  Then we can add, “He died on the cross for us.”

“It is finished!”

Heidi Galagan is 28 years old and from the Diocese of Wyoming. She is currently 
teaching at DCT Canon Andrea Mwaka Primary School, International in 
Dodoma, Tanzania where she enjoys teaching Standard 1 and Standard 4.

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Day 38: Humble Yourself

"Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table,* took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’ Peter said to him, ‘You will never wash my feet.’ Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.’ Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!’ Jesus said to him, ‘One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet,* but is entirely clean. And you* are clean, though not all of you.’ For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, ‘Not all of you are clean.’

After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you." 
-John 13:3-15

I didn't grow up in the Episcopal  Church.  I was raised Southern Baptist, and when I first started attending Episcopal services a few years ago, I remember thinking that some things Episcopalians do are a little strange, with the washing of the feet during the Maundy Thursday service being right at the top of the list.  I know it's a very meaningful part of the Lenten season, but you have to admit it's a little weird.  I'm just saying is all.

But peculiarity aside, it is easy to see the symbolic importance of this ritual.  Christ is teaching us about servant leadership.  You know - the last shall be first, anyone who wishes to be great must humble himself - all that jazz.  But this account of Jesus's last evening with his disciples is so much more than that.  It is a beautiful example of love in the form of friendship.

The twelve apostles were the people Jesus knew best in the world.  They were his constant companions, his coworkers, his BFFs.  He loved them like family.  And this image of Christ kneeling and wiping his disciples' feet with the towel tied around his waist - can you think of a more tender and intimate picture of friendship?  What kind of relationship would you have to have with someone in order to do such a humble service for them?

Christians are called to love the whole world, no exceptions.  But we don't see Jesus washing the feet of everyone He meets, and that is significant.  I don't think we're expected to offer quite this level of vulnerability to total strangers or to our enemies.  This type of love is special, reserved for our closest friends.  Christ has given us a beautiful example of how to honor the people who mean the most to us.

It isn't always easy to accept this kind of love either.  Look at Peter, who tries to stop Jesus from washing his feet.  I think that's a very natural reaction.  Christ isn't the only vulnerable one in this picture.  It takes a certain courage to accept this level of intimacy from a friend.  I'm a bit of a control freak (aren't we all?) and I have trouble accepting help at times, but mission service has a certain way of forcing you to humble yourself and admit that you don't have all the answers, you can't do everything alone.  I've had lots of opportunities to ask my South African friends and coworkers for help, and I like to think I'm getting better at it.  Practice makes perfect, and every time someone comes through for me I get a little bit braver, a little more willing to trust the people around me.

Just take a second to imagine what your relationships with those closest to you would look like if both parties were willing to offer and accept this level of intimacy.  Love that tender is a gift from God, and I can't think of any higher (or harder) calling than to love like Christ loved.

Keri Geiger is 27 years old and from the Diocese of Virginia.  She is a registered nurse 
in the United States and is working as the coordinator for
 inpatient services at Hawston Hospice in Hawston, South Africa.

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Day 37: The Peeps will Come

"Lord God, whose blessed Son our Savior gave his body to be whipped and his face to be spit upon: Give us grace to accept joyfully the sufferings of the present time, confident of the glory that shall be revealed; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen." 
-Collect for Wednesday in Holy Week




For the past week, everyday I arrive home at Sungkonghoe University, I get to feeling like I’m all of ten years old. Why? Well, the joy of the Easter promise of course. But not the whole Jesus-Easter-promise. No, no, no. My childlike anxiety is caused by the other Easter promise. The one of Peeps…glorious, fat, yellow, sugary peeps, thanks be to God. In other words, my mother has sent an Easter basket to Korea, and I am desperately awaiting its arrival.

But, in all seriousness, I’m 22 years old and have been living on my own for 5 years now, and my mom has never missed an Easter basket. I hope she knows how much that means. When I was a kid, Easter was my favorite holiday. There was a lot of pain and confusion growing up, and as any child of divorced parents knows, Christmas and like holidays can be complicated. I guess my family wasn’t religious enough for Easter to count as a complicated or sorrowful holiday.

And remember that fake, tacky, plastic Easter grass? I do. I remember one year experiencing an acute feeling of joy when I found the first piece inevitably embedded in the carpet during Holy Week. It meant mom had pulled down the basket and the peeps were on their final march to my belly.

No matter what the situation. No matter the stress, the loss, or the terrible fights that would pass between my mom and me. The Peeps would come, like a bright sprinkle covered ray of sunshine. More often than not, they would not arrive into a perfect household. The Peeps, throughout the years marched through death, divorce, depression, and now, thousands of miles. They never solved problems, but when the world feels like it has been pulled out from underneath you, the smallest consistency becomes very dear. And perhaps the best thing about Peeps is that they are always the same. They taste the exact same way now as they did when I was 9.

{*Nota Bene : I wrote this reflection on the train to work this morning. 

When I arrived home this evening, I discovered the Peeps had successfully completed their journey to Asia.}

And the way I have come to love Peeps, is so much like the way I love the Jesus that is presented to us during Holy Week. The Readings for today come passion and during this time, Jesus and his disciples will be thrown into the midst of despair. In the period of just a few days they will experience the betrayal of a friend, the death of a teacher, persecution by the government, self-doubt, the death of a son, a complete change in their world order, and even in case of Jesus, his own death. And it is a painful death; one that even he is his wisdom is scared of.

Take a moment, as lent closes to remember the pain in your own life. Reflect on those moments when it felt like God had abandoned you. And then try reflecting on the last days of Jesus’ life. Jesus is not outside of or above human suffering. He experiences it all with us. When his friend dies, he weeps. And he does not offer any explanation. He does not step away and explain that it is a blessing in disguise. He does not believe that it will simply get better. Jesus manufactures no coping mechanism for his disciples.

But He remains with them. Constantly.

There is misery in life. We feel it. And we are reminded of some of it’s forms throughout Holy Week. But Jesus is there with us in our sufferings. Understanding what we feel. He does not magically remove our pain, or reveal God’s plan. But he walks with us.

And likewise, the Peeps will come. They are constant and assured. They do not cure anything but they are a part of it all. Every year. No matter what. Their round and empathetic presence reminding me of the promise of next year and the hardship overcome in past years.

Dear God, this year, when we gaze upon Peeps, a wonder of Your creation, help us to remember that there is constancy. Help us to feel the promise Jesus made to be with us in all things human. Open our hearts to you may share with us in the sorrows that bear no expression in words, but can only be felt in the human heart.
Amen. 

Carlin Van Schaik is a 22 year old from the Diocese of Northwest Texas. 
She is currently serving in Seoul, South Korea teaching English 
and providing support for several social welfare organizations. 

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Day 36: Do Not Be Afraid

"And when the chief priests and the scribes heard it, they kept looking for a way to kill him; for they were afraid of him, because the whole crowd was spellbound by his teaching." 
-Mark 11:18






“For they were afraid of him.”

The leaders of the time were afraid of Christ Jesus. Their fear of losing power, fear of losing their followers, fear of change, fear of the unknown guided them to crucify God’s only son – to kill him.  Fear clouded all their judgment and pushed them off the cliff to murder.

They could have stopped and listened to the Good News of Christ. They should have paused to see who Jesus really was. They would have if fear hadn’t stood in their way.

We’ve all heard the saying, “shoulda, woulda, coulda.”

Now I’m sure they justified their actions to themselves and their peers. We can all find reasons or excuses whether they be legitimate or not.  We’ve all been afraid. We’ve all let fear at one point or another stop us from experiencing an adventure, saying ‘I love you’, opening up to one another, to seeing the world.

I could be at home right now telling people, “I could’ve done this amazing year in the Philippines assisting entrepreneurs grow their business, experiencing a new culture, and learning what life is all about, but I was afraid of this, this, and that and passed on the opportunity. I was afraid of the what ifs and unknowns.”

Life is full of unknowns – one being the unknown of when we will die. But Jesus through his resurrection has shown us that there is eternal life. “Everyone who lives and trusts in me will never die.”

Fortunately, I trusted in God. I found him by my side feeding me courage to pack up and travel halfway across the world to have an experience of a lifetime – to live fully. Jesus, also, found courage and power with God at his side to say, “I am the resurrection and I am life.” With God by his side he looked fear in the eye and said I am not afraid.

How many times in the Bible do we come across, “do not be afraid.” Fear holds us hostage from the possibilities, opportunities, connections, love, relationships, and experiences that God desires us to be a part of so we can share the incredible news, to come and see.

“For you, Lord are my hope: you are my confidence, O God,” proclaims Psalm 71 in today’s readings. When we are not afraid, we can hope. When we are not afraid, with confidence God can walk with us out of darkness and into the light of the world. When we are not afraid we can be more open to forgiveness, connection, love, and life.

For God asks us to not be afraid and we should respond, I am not.

Ashley Cameron is 23 years old and from the Diocese of Virginia. 
She greatly enjoys assisting farmers and small entrepreneurs grow their business through 
micro-loans by serving at the Episcopal Development Foundation 
of St. Mark's in the Episcopal Diocese of Santiago, Philippines.

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Day 33: Focus on God

"O Lord, you have enticed me, and I was enticed; you have overpowered me, and you have prevailed. I have become a laughing-stock all day long; everyone mocks me.  For whenever I speak, I must cry out, I must shout, ‘Violence and destruction! For the word of the Lord has become for me a reproach and derision all day long.  If I say, ‘I will not mention him, or speak any more in his name’, then within me there is something like a burning fire shut up in my bones; I am weary with holding it in, and I cannot.  For I hear many whispering: ‘Terror is all around! Denounce him! Let us denounce him!’ All my close friends are watching for me to stumble. ‘Perhaps he can be enticed, and we can prevail against him, and take our revenge on him.’  But the Lord is with me like a dread warrior; therefore my persecutors will stumble, and they will not prevail. They will be greatly shamed, for they will not succeed. Their eternal dishonour will never be forgotten.  O Lord of hosts, you test the righteous, you see the heart and the mind; let me see your retribution upon them, for to you I have committed my cause. 

Sing to the Lord; praise the Lord! For he has delivered the life of the needy from the hands of evildoers." 
-Jeremiah 20:7-13

We were warned in training for the YASC program that we would have cycles of high points and low points in our attitude and happiness throughout our year. This has certainly been the experience for me—I’ve had two brief breakdowns in my first eight months when I’ve questioned God’s mission for me in Haiti. Fortunately, these have been surrounded by longer stints of happiness and positive vibes. Given that I’ve experienced these ups and downs, it’s no wonder the bi-polar-like passage from Jeremiah was the reading for today that most spoke to me. I certainly don’t compare my low points during my time with YASC to the suffering that Jeremiah is known for having endured, but I can relate to the doubt he has in God and God’s mission for him.

The reading selected for today cuts short a section where Jeremiah is speaking to God after being persecuted by an officer. The selected reading begins with Jeremiah expressing frustration with God, but ends with high praising, “Sing to the Lord; praise the Lord! For he has delivered the life of the needy from the hand of evildoers” (20:13). Pretty uplifting, positive stuff. However, Jeremiah’s speech keeps going and ends like this:

Cursed be the day on which I was born! The day when my mother bore me, let it not be blessed! Cursed be the man who brought the news to my father, “'A son is born to you,' making him very glad. Let that man be like the cities that the Lord overthrew without pity; let him hear a cry in the morning and an alarm at noon, because he did not kill me in the womb; so my mother would have been my grave, and her womb forever great. Why did I come out from the womb to see toil and sorrow, and spend my days in shame?” (20:14-18)

Wow, what emotion! I’m not sure I’ve ever read anything that articulates frustration and anger with quite the same force as this passage. For me his words are dramatic and rather disturbing.

It seems to me that Jeremiah’s frustration and anger come through when he focuses on what is wrong in his life and with the people surrounding him. People mocking him, his proclamations of giving up, the whispering people watching for him to fall, being persecuted and placed in the stocks by Pashhur—he certainly has a long list of negatives on which to dwell. His journey as a prophet was riddled with forces working against him, doubting him, and trying to pull him down. When Jeremiah is focusing on these things, he is in outright despair.

But when Jeremiah focuses on the Lord as his warrior, as an army to judge the wicked, as a deliverer of the needy from the hands of evildoers, he sings of hope! And he commits his cause to God.

When we focus on the flaws of our world, the wrongdoings of our fellow humans, and our own personal shortcomings, we become despondent, resentful and angsty. When we focus on God, we see light and are invigorated to follow a righteous path. When we focus on God, we see the Warrior manifest in the virtues of ourselves and others. When we focus on God, we recognize how we are God’s army of peace, messengers of love, and doers of good things.

Alan Yarborough is serving in Cange, Haiti, representing the Diocese of Western North Carolina 
and the Diocese of Upper South Carolina. He's working in economic development
 for Cange and the surrounding area in the Central Plateau.

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Day 31: Renew in Us

"Almighty God, our heavenly Father, renew in us the gifts of your mercy; increase our faith, strengthen our hope, enlighten our understanding, widen our charity, and make us ready to serve you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen." 
-Collect for the Wednesday in the Fifth Week




When reading the collect for today, I couldn’t help but reflect on my time during the Catechumenate at my home church in Indianapolis. Not only was that a time of great spiritual growth for me, but also the beginning of my journey to service with the church.

I believe the sole reason I was brought back to the church was to fulfill each one of those things that are asked in the collect. “Renew in us your gifts of mercy”--being confirmed made me all the more aware of the gifts God has given us. No matter how far astray we are led or lead ourselves, God and his infinite mercy is there to reaccept us if we are willing to put our love and faith in him. “Increase our faith, Enlighten our understanding”--I would be lying if I didn’t say I wanted to be confirmed to satiate a hunger for knowledge of the Church. While that may have been the guiding light for me, the end result was something I never expected, a faith inside me that was awakened that I never knew existed. I now understood what people were talking about when they spoke of their faith and relationship with God. “Widen our charity”--While working towards confirmation, I joined the missions committee on a trip to Haiti. I had never once in my life done anything of the sort and fell in love with not only how I felt after helping others, but seeing what I could bring to those in need. The feeling was something that was addicting and lead to the last of the requests of God “make us ready to serve you”--Today as I sit in my room in Japan, I realize none of this would have ever been possible if I one does not ask God to give us the strength to realize our potential. It makes me believe that when you pray to God “Give me this/that” you will never see the fruits of your labor, but when you ask God “Give me the strength and skills for me to accomplish things in your name.”, now that is something you will see come to fruition. To me, the collect represents the journey of becoming ready to serve YASC.

Charlotte File is 25 years old and from the Diocese of Indianapolis serving the Diocese of 
Yokohama at the Kiyosato Educational Experiment Project in Japan. When she is not shoveling her 
way out of the snow still on the ground, she enjoys eating every new Japanese food she can find. 

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Day 30: Be a Light

"They said to him, ‘Who are you?’ Jesus said to them, ‘Why do I speak to you at all? I have much to say about you and much to condemn; but the one who sent me is true, and I declare to the world what I have heard from him.’ They did not understand that he was speaking to them about the Father. So Jesus said, ‘When you have lifted up the Son of Man, then you will realize that I am he,* and that I do nothing on my own, but I speak these things as the Father instructed me.  And the one who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do what is pleasing to him.’ As he was saying these things, many believed in him."  -John 8:25-30

Have you ever really thought about what it would have been like to live in the time of Jesus? Meeting Jesus in a time machine kind of way would be fantastic: go back, ask him all of the nagging theological questions, come back, write a book, immediately be appointed to Fordham’s (my alma mater’s) faculty. But to live in the time of Jesus? That would be terrifying. When I read this passage, I can feel the trepidation, the lack of comprehension, the feeling of “is this guy the real deal?”

Last summer I traveled to Capadocia, Turkey, which was one of the places where early Christianity took root. It is a stunning region, full of crazy rock formations and out-of-this-world food. It also has a UNESCO World Heritage Site that contains some of its cave churches. Visiting was a startling experience. Outside, they were just unassuming cave structures, like the thousands of other structures surrounding them. But inside, they were full of amazing murals depicting the life of Christ. Christians fled to this corner of the world and had to practice their religion in secret---even adding secret exits to many of the churches. If they got caught practicing Christianity, they could be killed. And yet they did it.  

{That's a Church!}

We usually think about God and Jesus and the Resurrection and Ascension through the lens of 2014 years of The Church. The Church has made this faith incredibly socially acceptable. But let’s go back for a minute to those who walked beside Christ, to those who walked just after Christ. They were rebels, they were rule-breakers, they were people who made tremendous personal sacrifice to be with this guy:  this Holy, Blessed, Godly guy. Sure, he had done some awesome miracles and there were tremendous rumors going around about him, but with all of these lingering questions, these doubts, these threats being put out by the government, would you have believed? Would you have dropped everything and followed him? Would you have fought for him?  Would you have worshiped in a cave?

Fortunately for us, we don’t have to answer these questions. But we can talk about how we live our faith: do we hide it under a bushel or do we let it shine like the mountain on top of a hill it is meant to be? Let us be a light to the nations and the city upon a hill.

Julie Burd is 23 and from the Diocese of Pennsylvania. She lives in Leogane, Haiti 
where, when not running away from charging goats, she teach 
English at a nursing school and work in a hospital. 

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Day 27: Images of God's Eternity

"and they did not know the secret purposes of God,
nor hoped for the wages of holiness,
nor discerned the prize for blameless souls; 
for God created us for incorruption,
and made us in the image of his own eternity," 
-Wisdom 2:22-23



A rabbi friend of mine once said that a piece of advice he’d heard for every Jew was to carry two pieces of paper, one in each pocket.  In one pocket would be the words, “Remember thou art dust, and to dust you shall return.”  In the other pocket would be the words, “For the sake of one man, God created the world.”

Remember thou art dust.  At the beginning of Lent, those impossibly busy weeks ago, most of us stopped and received ashes on our foreheads while our priests recited those words.  We are fallible, mortal, prone to mistakes and shortsightedness.   On a geological time scale all of humanity has occurred within an eye-blink, the flashing of a firefly.  We are the tiniest of creatures, within an achingly short lifespan.  And when we are done with that tiny life, yes, we do turn back into dust and earth.  Nothing we do can alter that fact.

Life is short.  I re-discovered a slip of paper I’d kept from our training weeks in New York, one in which I’d written several meaningful quotes from the weekend.  My favorite began with that sentence: Life is short, and we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts of those who journey with us.  So be swift to love, and make haste to be kind. (Henri-Frederic Amiel)

The follow-up of that quote is why it is still my favorite.  It leads right back into the second passage the good Jew should keep in his pocket, and into the quote from today’s readings.  God made our lives fleeting, but imbued with meaning.  We were created to be like God, to act with love towards everyone, to value the life of each person we meet as if they were worth the whole world.  We were made of dust to be bearers of love.  The immenseness of time, the hugeness of our galaxy and vastness of space isn’t simply a call for us to be ashamed, to humble ourselves against a world that is always larger than we can truly comprehend, a God bigger even than that.  It’s also a challenge to fill that space with what it is to be images of God.

That challenge to love deeper, purer, more fully, is as much a part of Lent as the challenge to forget ourselves and our self-importance.  Remember you are dust.  Remember you are the chosen child of God.  The call of humanity is the tension and truth in between these states.

Margaret Clinch is 28 years old and from the Diocese of Southern Ohio. 
She is serving as a teacher at Easter College in the 
Diocese of the North Central Philippines.

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Day 26: Worthy of Love

"The LORD said to Moses, ‘Go down at once! Your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have acted perversely; they have been quick to turn aside from the way that I commanded them; they have cast for themselves an image of a calf, and have worshipped it and sacrificed to it, and said, “These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!” ’But Moses implored the LORD his God, and said, ‘O LORD, why does your wrath burn hot against your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand? Why should the Egyptians say, “It was with evil intent that he brought them out to kill them in the mountains, and to consume them from the face of the earth”? Turn from your fierce wrath; change your mind and do not bring disaster on your people. Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, your servants, how you swore to them by your own self, saying to them, “I will multiply your descendants like the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have promised I will give to your descendants, and they shall inherit it for ever.” ’ And the LORD changed his mind about the disaster that he planned to bring on his people." 
-Exodus 32:7-8, 11-14



We all have a desire to make connections. We all have a desire to belong. We all have a desire to be loved. It’s part of being human. We are hardwired for it.

But how do we make these connections?

Vulnerability. In order to make connections with one another, we have to show up and allow ourselves to be seen.

Brené Brown, author of Daring Greatly and researcher of vulnerability, writes and speaks greatly about the importance of accepting vulnerability in our own lives. As she points out in her book and TEDxHouston Talk, nobody wants to talk about vulnerability but we can’t ignore it. To become numb to vulnerability is to become numb to all emotions.

“Our rejection of vulnerability often stems from our associating it with dark emotions like fear, shame, grief, sadness, and disappointment – emotions that we don’t want to discuss, even when they profoundly affect the way we live, love, work and even lead,” writes Brown. We need to realize vulnerability is the core of all emotions and feelings. Brown explains, “I know vulnerability is the core of shame, and fear and our struggle for worthiness but it appears it is also the birthplace of joy, of creativity, of belonging, of love.”

If we become numb to vulnerability, yes, we become numb to those dark emotions and fear nobody wants to feel. However, we also numb happiness, joy, gratitude, and then we become lost searching for our purpose and meaning. We lose our connections. We become disengaged. We live in fear. We think we are weak. We believe we are unworthy of love and belonging.

But why do we become numb?

We feel shame. We wake up every day and say, “I’m not _____(blank)”. I’m not thin enough. I’m not brave enough. I’m not pretty enough. I’m not good enough. I’m not perfect.

And it’s that feeling of imperfection that we all struggle with. It’s that desire to be perfect or bulletproof that stops us from feeling vulnerable. It stops us from sharing an unpopular opinion, to asking for help, saying no, trying something new, saying “I love you” first, and not knowing if you’re going to be loved back, having faith.

When I imagine God, I think of him as all knowing, untouchable, free of shame and vulnerability. However, God’s core is full of emotions. And in today’s reading of Exodus, we see God’s vulnerability out in the open. He opened himself up to make connections. He said, “I love you,” first to the Israelites, who began worshipping a cow instead of finding God worthy enough to worship. A cow! Well, that’s a little insulting.

Then the feeling of shame started bubbling up. God couldn’t let the Egyptians know he went through all this trouble to free, to engage, to connect with the Israelites only to be rejected by them. He couldn’t let them know he dared greatly and failed. But Moses comes to remind the Lord that everyone is worthy of love and belonging even these who worship the image of a calf. And so the Lord lets go of his shame realizing that opening the possibility of a connection with the Israelites is worth it even if he fails.

And throughout the Bible, God has the courage, becomes vulnerable, has faith to say “I love you,” “you are worthy of love,” and “you are worthy of this connection with me,” even if he’s unsure the people will accept him in return.

As Brown says, “vulnerability sounds like truth and feels like courage.” They may not always be comfortable feelings, but they are not weakness. The sense of courage allows for wholehearted living, a deep sense of worthiness. Courage comes from the Latin word “cour” meaning heart. The original definition when it first came into the English language was to tell the whole story of who you are with your whole heart. 

Throughout her years of research Brown found she could divide the people she interviewed into those who had a sense of worthiness and belonging and those who struggle for it, those who wonder if they are always good enough. Brown called the people with a sense of worthiness, the Wholehearted. They are the people who have had a spiritual awakening, a sense of belonging, and a sense of courage.

Brown defines Wholehearted living as “engaging in our lives from a place of worthiness. It means cultivating the courage, compassion, and connection to wake up in the morning and think, No matter what gets done and how much is left undone. I am enough. 

That’s what God is telling us day in and day out, “you are enough. I love you for who you are. I love you for all your imperfections. You are worthy of my love. You are worthy of your own love.”

Imagine if we all had this spiritual awakening. If we lived a while hearted life embracing vulnerability, not numbing our emotions. Not only would God tell us we are worthy of love and belonging, but we could tell others. We need to open ourselves up to connections and accepting ourselves and everyone else for their imperfections. Because we are all good enough.

Almighty and most merciful God, drive from us all weakness of body, mind and spirit; that, being restored to wholeness, we may with free hearts become what you intend us to be and accomplish what you want us to do; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. 

AMEN.

Ashley Cameron is 23 years old and from the Diocese of Virginia. 
She greatly enjoys assisting farmers and small entrepreneurs grow their business through 
micro-loans by serving at the Episcopal Development Foundation 
of St. Mark's in the Episcopal Diocese of Santiago, Philippines.

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Day 25: Coming Out of the Darkness

"...saying to prisoners, 'Come out', to those who are in darkness, 'Show yourselves.'...Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth; break forth, O mountains, into singing! For the Lord has comforted his people, and will have compassion on his suffering ones. But Zion said, 'The Lord has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me. Can a woman forget her nursing-child or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you." 
-Isaiah 49:9, 13-15



I’ve always been fond of Isaiah. There are so many wonderful verses in this lengthy book, and today’s readings do not disappoint—as per usual, there is much food for thought.

Isaiah 49: 9; 13: …saying to the prisoners, ‘Come out’,
 to those who are in darkness, ‘Show yourselves.’
 … Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth; break forth, O mountains, into singing!
For the Lord has comforted his people, 
and will have compassion on his suffering ones.


And yet…I can’t help but have a twinge of discomfort when I think about this reading, like really think about it. I mean, we gloss over it, we read it once, and perhaps consider how nice it sounds. But lately I’ve reflected quite a lot about darkness. Not in the sense of my YASC placement; I’m head over heels about being back in Brazil again. But just because things can go or perhaps are going well doesn’t mean we don’t have our own moments of being in darkness. Recently, someone very close to me had a few months’ bout of severe depression, enough so that their entire personality and communication was distinctly altered. It was a very difficult time through which to pass, even more so to come back to the U.S. and see her in that state.

I am so beyond thankful that due to modern medicine and caring, healing hands, that time has passed and that person has improved substantially, but when she was in the midst of it, the rest of us too felt like we were in some amount of darkness. Uncertain if it would pass. It brought back memories of my own struggles with depression in high school. The difficulties of coming out of that darkness, no matter how much I felt the calling to do just that. It’s easy to become used to the darkness, or to be so lost in it all that you wonder if it will ever end – even if there’s a light shining behind your shoulder.

It is so easy in times like these to feel as Isaiah continues:

14 But Zion said, ‘The Lord has forsaken me, 
my Lord has forgotten me.’ 


Lent has always been one of my favorite seasons, if for no other reason it compels us to slow down. To wait and reflect. We’re closing in on Holy Week—and though that means getting closer to Easter Sunday, first we must pass through Good Friday, and the darkness that comes with it. There are times we might feel the weight of that darkness more than others. And yet, as the aforementioned verse says, not only will the Lord comfort us, but He will have compassion. At its root, compassion means ‘to suffer with.’ Not only do we have a God who calls us out of darkness, but He will suffer with us through it.

15 Can a woman forget her nursing-child, 
or show no compassion for the child of her womb?
Even these may forget, 
yet I will not forget you.

Yes, we know the story that lies so soon ahead of us. We know how it plays out and that there’s a happy ending. But I take solace in the fact that we have our moments of darkness as well—the light would not seem so bright if we had nothing in which it could shine, and bring us to the joy that awaits.

Nina Boe is working in the Anglican Diocese of Rio de Janeiro, 
part time  in support of the Office of the Bishop and part time with the 
Church  of the Most Holy Trinity's human rights ministry and community outreach.

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Day 23: Expect the Unexpected

"When the two days were over, he went from that place to Galilee (for Jesus himself had testified that a prophet has no honour in the prophet's own country). When he came to Galilee, the Galileans welcomed him, since they had seen all that he had done in Jerusalem at the festival; for they too had gone to the festival. Then he came again to Cana in Galilee where he had changed the water into wine. Now there was a royal official whose son lay ill in Capernaum. When he heard that Jesus had come from Judea to Galilee, he went and begged him to come down and heal his son, for he was at the point of death. Then Jesus said to him, 'Unless you* see signs and wonders you will not believe.' The official said to him, 'Sir,come down before my little boy dies.' Jesus said to him, 'Go; your son will live.' The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and started on his way. As he was going down, his slaves met him and told him that his child was alive. So he asked them the hour when he began to recover, and they said to him, 'Yesterday at one in the afternoon the fever left him.' The father realized that this was the hour when Jesus had said to him, 'Your son will live.' So he himself believed, along with his whole household. Now this was the second sign that Jesus did after coming from Judea to Galilee." 
-John 4:43-54

Today is the 23rd day of Lent, but it is also a day that is very close to my heart: Today is the Opening Day of the Baseball's regular season. I know, I know. I had to ask myself the same question. Am I really going to bring Baseball into a Lenten reflection? Absolutely.

For many fans, especially fans living in Boston and New York, Baseball is an exercise of faith in and of itself. The start of a season is a time of reaffirmation about the teams we love. A time when fans reacquaint, and rededicate themselves to a new starting lineup. A time to say hello to new faces on the field, and reminisce about the legends that might have left last autumn. Oh yea, don't forget about all those crazy rituals and superstitions.

Go into any major city in America, and you will find those who agree with me. Baseball is a religion for many, however this idea is especially true for the fans of one particular team: the Chicago Cubs.

A lot of stuff has happened since the Cubs last won the World Series in 1908. The Ottoman Empire was still in power. The Titanic was not yet built. The world was a different place. And yet, 106 years later people are still excited to fill the stands of Wrigley Field for Opening Day. And for what? Are they expecting a new result? Are they expecting victory? Why should this season be any different than the last century of seasons? Sure sounds like faith to me.

I think Jesus could be preaching to Cubs fans in today's reading from John. He seems to be preaching to those in dire circumstances. To the official whose son is on the verge of death. To those who are clinging to hope.

This is the second time that Jesus has performed miracles in the town of Cana, so I think it is safe to presume that this official who has come asking Jesus for help has heard of him before. The official wants to believe in this man named Jesus even though he may have not have any proof. He wants to hop on the bandwagon. So he begs for help, and is met with this: 'Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.'

C'MON, JESUS!

I can't help but feel for the official after hearing this response from Jesus. Why not go and see the dying son? Then Jesus tells him: 'Go; your son will live.'

What happens next defies logic. The man believes - and believes without proof: "The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and started on his way." Lo, and behold, when the man arrived his son was on his way to a full recovery, and not just because of the divine power of Christ, but also because the official had the strength to believe in the midst of darkness. Because he didn't need to see signs and wonders to prop up his faith.

Jesus teaches us in this story that it is not completely crazy to expect the unexpected. It is not crazy to believe in miracles without accompanying signs and wonders. This goes for faith as well as many other things in life. Yes, even Baseball. I guess that's the reason why Wrigley Field is always packed on Opening Day. Sure, there is no reason to believe this is the year that the Cubs win the series, but that doesn't stop us from believing it could be. After all, it wouldn't be the first time a curse was reversed in the sport.

Will Bryant is 25 years old and from the Diocese of Western North Carolina. 
He is currently serving with the Mission to Seafarers in Hong Kong. 

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Day 20: Thin Skin

"But this command I gave them, ‘Obey my voice, and I will be your God, and you shall be my people; and walk only in the way that I command you, so that it may be well with you.’ Yet they did not obey or incline their ear, but, in the stubbornness of their evil will, they walked in their own counsels, and looked backwards rather than forwards. From the day that your ancestors came out of the land of Egypt until this day, I have persistently sent all my servants the prophets to them, day after day; yet they did not listen to me, or pay attention, but they stiffened their necks. They did worse than their ancestors did. So you shall speak all these words to them, but they will not listen to you. You shall call to them, but they will not answer you. You shall say to them: This is the nation that did not obey the voice of the Lord their God, and did not accept discipline; truth has perished; it is cut off from their lips." -Jeremiah 7: 23-28

Whenever I read verses, my first instinct is to use these words as a meter to reflect on my own behavior. And it usually isn't positive or encouraging. A dear friend and I Skyped yesterday, and we talked about how we feel we're losing our magic receptors (or in this case, the ability to "incline their ear") - that sacred perspective where there's nowhere to be, nothing to do... there is just a freedom and a graceful ease with which to relish the world around you. I call it "thin skin" - where you can listen with your whole body and the world floods in, swallowing you and your egotistical identity in the process.

But then work happens, or TV ads that reminds you you're too fat, or a friend's Facebook profile that says you really should get your act together on that grad school thing, or Buzzfeed's Top 10 Habits of Successful People and you only have 3 of them... it's exhausting, and there's no end. And so, as I read this verse, I want to protest but I'm doing the best I can! It's not my fault no one ever taught me HOW to listen!

Now, it always bothered me that the Bible seems to speak in big generalities: they did not listen to me... They did worse than their ancestors. How can I be extraordinary or good if you keep bunching me in with the rest of humanity? If we look around us, some people are clearly evil, some are saints, and some are the in-betweeners. But, like my first reading, this is still all about me. It's all about what I think of others, it's my own classification system of what's right and wrong. Here in El Salvador, I see human rights workers, I see corrupt politicians, friends who's boyfriends beat them in private, people who complain too much, people who are far too generous, people who I think are lazy until I discover what they do when I'm not watching, women who cook the best meal in the world and charge $2.50 a plate... at some point my categories are inadequate.

One of my favorite authors, Saul Alinsky (the Yoda of community organizing back in the 60s and 70s) has a great quote: "It is equally difficult for you to surrender that little image of God created in our own likeness, which lurks in all of us and tells us that we secretly believe that we know what’s best for the people." So long as we hold the ultimate authority between our ears, it's a lose-lose as often we are both our biggest advocate and our biggest critic. I will never meet my own standards, but I also will never stop pushing myself to try. But over these past few months, as my standards get higher and higher, I find I've lost that "thin skin." When there is always something more to do, I cannot listen. If someone truly was trying to reach me, "day after day," I doubt I would hear them.
And so I went back a few verses to figure just what command it was that humanity failed to obey:

Hear the word of the Lord, all you people of Judah, you that enter these gates to worship the Lord. Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Amend your ways and your doings, and let me dwell with you in this place. Do not trust in these deceptive words: ‘This is the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord, the temple of the Lord.’  (Jeremiah 7.2-7.4)

God only seeks to dwell with us. We do not surrender our egos to supplant it with another authority whom we blindly follow. We just have to give up the right to be right. It is the scariest thing in the world, to admit you don't know, but if we are to preserve our ability to speak truth, first we have to admit that we don't know it. We can't condemn others, and perhaps most importantly, we can't condemn ourselves.

Hannah Perls is 24 from the Diocese of Olympia, WA. She is serving with 
human rights NGO, Foundation Cristosal, in El Salvador. Other common names 
now include Hanoch, Hannah Montana, and Broccoli Top (Broc top for short).

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