They were stewarding the mysteries God had show them.

Who has demonstrated this kind of steadfastness toward us, remaining present even in our sorrow? Whose presence has reminded us that we do not have to navigate grief alone?

Lots of food for thought here!

For those who have come out of faith communities that had high expectations of attendance and participation, those questions stir up feelings that are hard to ignore. “Where have you been” feels like it has an undercurrent or hidden meaning of “why have you missed so many Sundays?”

I met God / somewhere between Sunday School / and Big Church.

May we resist interpretations of Scripture that make violence easier to dismiss, and may we practice a theology that takes seriously the agency, dignity, and humanity of all Bathshebas, whose stories have too often been relegated to the margins.

Yesterday in church we read a portion of the David and Bathsheba story. It was not pretty.

This past Sunday we talked about ‘Rahab the prostitute,’ named such over and over in Scripture. And we asked questions about when names and labels can hurt and when they can heal. We explored the power of claiming our own stories and the way we remember and tell them, the good, the bad and the messy.

Shame can convince us that there is something wrong with who we are. It can make us feel responsible for other people’s choices, systems we did not create, expectations we could never meet, and circumstances that required us to survive rather than choose freely.

When you’ve got the strength for it, sit down and read Genesis 38.

Safe Spiritual Space to Land by Kelley Barton. Have you ever landed in a spot in your faith journey where you think should you should just throw it all out? Have you been hurt deeply and can’t separate God from the faith community that has caused you so much pain? Do you need a neutral space to work through it but don’t want to do it in isolation?

There are seasons of encouragement and seasons of discouragement…

I believe that since work is part of God’s good creation, then there is something sacred about all the work we do (even in the brokeness): making art, cooking a meal, picking up a piece of trash, caring for our bodies, studying, tending to a garden, caring for another person.

How is hiking radical rest, you might ask? It doesn’t feel restful to the body, especially the 9.5 miles we did one day. But every time our trail came over a ridge and displayed yet another stunning alpine lake,  or when we spotted a small waterfall, we paused to admire it with a sense of awe for God’s creation.

How does God rest, and how does that impact how we see our own rest.

I think these moments of radical honesty in the midst of pain are worth paying attention to. People come to God with headaches and exhaustion, with hunger and thirst, with wounds and fevers, with aching bones and failing strength.

You are the light of the world.

Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. - Matthew 5:7