You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
What’s the good of a monarch who has no power? Sure, she or he might be effective as a symbol, or as a focus of resistance, but in stories, unlike in tabloids, kings have ultimate power. We claim God does too. So what kind of God allows his son to die a horrible death, in utter defeat? A God who knows that weakness can provide the best cover for strength, vulnerability the best ground for true power.
This theme runs all through the Bible – over and over we see God triumph through the younger, the weaker – Jacob, Joseph, Moses, David. Again and again God gives victory in battle to the smaller, weaker forces – if they will follow his instructions. Gideon overthrows Jericho with just a trumpet; David vanquishes Goliath with a mere slingshot. Keep your armor and your weapons – the battle belongs to the Lord.
This principle is most powerfully displayed in the life and ministry of Jesus Christ, who had no earthly power or resources beyond his God-given charisma and absolute authenticity, yet built a movement that has endured for over two millennia. The theme recurs in the church's birth, as the Book of Acts shows us a small band of apostles able to spread the Gospel and plant churches through a vast geographical area in the face of persecution and hardship. It is from this experience that St. Paul speaks the insight he received when God told him, “‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”
This caused Paul to go on: “So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong.”
This has helped me when I've felt daunted by some challenge or defeated in some endeavor in which I hoped to prevail; eventually I remember, “Oh yeah! When I am weak, it makes room for God’s strength. And this needs to be God’s work.”
Let’s uphold this principle now, as climate calamities becoming ever more frequent and people continue to refuse to prioritize saving the earth for our grandchildren; as poverty persists in a world of plenty; as gun violence grows ever more rampant; as political fault lines continue to deepen. What on earth can we do in the face of challenges so massive? Remember, when we are weak, God is strong.
Can God’s strength be made perfect in our weakness, God’s love revealed in our vulnerability rather than our militancy? Can we stand up to injustice without calling everything a fight? What does reconciliation look like in this time? How are we to be "ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us?"
God has given us strength, as individuals and as communities. Yet we are never so powerful as when we lay down our own strength and make ourselves vessels for God’s power and might. That takes faith, so much faith.
But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary, walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:31)
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-20-25 - Whose King?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Christ the King Sunday can generate some cognitive dissonance in Anglican churches. On the one hand, we do what you do around royalty: dress up, parade around and sing grand, triumphal music – hymns like “Crown him with many crowns” and “Hail to the Lord’s Anointed.” But the gospel reading clashes with the liturgy, showing us a Jesus who couldn’t seem less like a monarch. Here he is, powerless, dying the death of a common thief or militant. And no one there seems willing to claim him as their king.
“Who made you king of anything?” is the attitude of the leaders watching Jesus die. An inscription hangs over him, “This is the King of the Jews,” angering the religious leaders who assert, “He is not our king! We have no king but the emperor.” The soldiers supervising the execution mocked him, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" Pilate interrogated him about his kingship, and Jesus only gave him cryptic answers like, “My kingdom is not of this world.” No one knew what kind of king this could be.
And Jesus is still not that kind of king, though risen and ascended and seated in glory at the right hand of the Father. He still exerts power through the frail and humble flesh of the likes of us. He doesn’t fix elections or football games; doesn’t bring down the mighty from their thrones the way we’d like (at least until we notice what we're sitting on...). What he does is bless, empower, illumine, heal.
Do we think of Jesus as king? Is he king (boss, chief, higher power…) in your life? Let’s imagine for a moment we live in a feudal, monarchical system – how do you feel about Jesus being the highest authority in your life? Are there any places, or topics, or people over which you’re unwilling to cede power to God? Why?
If you are willing, have a conversation with Jesus about that. I do believe he will listen and not make a grab for what you have not offered. He’s an amazingly patient king that way…
And if you are willing to acknowledge Jesus as King in your life, where do you find the blessing in that?
King of kings and Lord of lords… and the Holy One who wants to meet you for breakfast. That’s our king.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Christ the King Sunday can generate some cognitive dissonance in Anglican churches. On the one hand, we do what you do around royalty: dress up, parade around and sing grand, triumphal music – hymns like “Crown him with many crowns” and “Hail to the Lord’s Anointed.” But the gospel reading clashes with the liturgy, showing us a Jesus who couldn’t seem less like a monarch. Here he is, powerless, dying the death of a common thief or militant. And no one there seems willing to claim him as their king.
“Who made you king of anything?” is the attitude of the leaders watching Jesus die. An inscription hangs over him, “This is the King of the Jews,” angering the religious leaders who assert, “He is not our king! We have no king but the emperor.” The soldiers supervising the execution mocked him, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!" Pilate interrogated him about his kingship, and Jesus only gave him cryptic answers like, “My kingdom is not of this world.” No one knew what kind of king this could be.
And Jesus is still not that kind of king, though risen and ascended and seated in glory at the right hand of the Father. He still exerts power through the frail and humble flesh of the likes of us. He doesn’t fix elections or football games; doesn’t bring down the mighty from their thrones the way we’d like (at least until we notice what we're sitting on...). What he does is bless, empower, illumine, heal.
Do we think of Jesus as king? Is he king (boss, chief, higher power…) in your life? Let’s imagine for a moment we live in a feudal, monarchical system – how do you feel about Jesus being the highest authority in your life? Are there any places, or topics, or people over which you’re unwilling to cede power to God? Why?
If you are willing, have a conversation with Jesus about that. I do believe he will listen and not make a grab for what you have not offered. He’s an amazingly patient king that way…
And if you are willing to acknowledge Jesus as King in your life, where do you find the blessing in that?
King of kings and Lord of lords… and the Holy One who wants to meet you for breakfast. That’s our king.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-19-25 - Paradise When?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Popular culture tells us that, at the moment of our death, we will “cross over” to our eternal dwelling, where we are welcomed by those we have loved in this world. Bible interpreters might take a more sober view, citing many prophetic texts about the “Day of the Lord.” “Day of the Lord.” And then there are Jesus’ own references to the great sorting at the final judgment, and Paul’s eloquent depiction of the sleeping dead rising “in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.” (I Cor. 15:52; No, it’s not the zombi-pocalypse... it's resurrection.)
This interpretation suggests that at death we go into rest like the “sleep mode” on our computers, to be reactivated when “the trumpet shall sound.” And here is Jesus, confusing us all with this promise to the repentant thief dying next to him on the cross: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
It is a bit surreal, this recorded conversation among three men dying a ghastly, torturous death: One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" But the other rebuked him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."
Some years ago I heard Charlie Grady, who runs anti-violence initiatives in inner cities, speak. He spent 27 years in law enforcement, during which he arrested some pretty dangerous criminals. One evening he was in a restaurant, and saw two men he’d sent to jail come in. Soon enough they spotted him and clearly recognized him. He began to sweat. Then the waiter approached and said, “Those guys would like to buy your table a round of drinks.” He accepted, and then raised his glass to them. At that point they came over and said, “We know you were just doing your job. We were the ones doing wrong – it was your job to catch us and put us away. We know that now; we’re not the same people.”
That’s pretty much where this thief is. Hanging there next to a man he knows to be good and holy gives him a true perspective on himself. And when we see ourselves clearly, we start to see a lot of things more clearly. That is the beginning of repentance – clear vision. It’s not everyone else’s fault, even if some have contributed. It’s us. And when we speak from that truth, we create space for grace.
Even on the cross, Jesus is able to extend that grace to a fellow-sufferer. “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” At the end of this day, all three of them will be dead. They will no longer dwell in this world. In the face of that, in brutal pain, Jesus promises not only paradise, but his own presence. What a promise.
Do you have a confession to make, or one to hear? Has anyone been trying to get your attention and let you know they have had a change of heart, they truly are sorry – and maybe you haven’t been able to give them a chance to show it? A risk, yes, but your forgiveness is a big gift to grant or withhold. As recipients of grace, can we extend it?
One day we will be with Jesus in whatever realm it is that we call Paradise. Whether that is at the moment of death, or at some other time in a realm that is timeless, we will know we are with him. As Gillian Welch sings, “I will know my savior when I come to him by the mark where the nails have been.”
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Popular culture tells us that, at the moment of our death, we will “cross over” to our eternal dwelling, where we are welcomed by those we have loved in this world. Bible interpreters might take a more sober view, citing many prophetic texts about the “Day of the Lord.” “Day of the Lord.” And then there are Jesus’ own references to the great sorting at the final judgment, and Paul’s eloquent depiction of the sleeping dead rising “in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.” (I Cor. 15:52; No, it’s not the zombi-pocalypse... it's resurrection.)
This interpretation suggests that at death we go into rest like the “sleep mode” on our computers, to be reactivated when “the trumpet shall sound.” And here is Jesus, confusing us all with this promise to the repentant thief dying next to him on the cross: “Today you will be with me in Paradise.”
It is a bit surreal, this recorded conversation among three men dying a ghastly, torturous death: One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, "Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!" But the other rebuked him, saying, "Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom."
Some years ago I heard Charlie Grady, who runs anti-violence initiatives in inner cities, speak. He spent 27 years in law enforcement, during which he arrested some pretty dangerous criminals. One evening he was in a restaurant, and saw two men he’d sent to jail come in. Soon enough they spotted him and clearly recognized him. He began to sweat. Then the waiter approached and said, “Those guys would like to buy your table a round of drinks.” He accepted, and then raised his glass to them. At that point they came over and said, “We know you were just doing your job. We were the ones doing wrong – it was your job to catch us and put us away. We know that now; we’re not the same people.”
That’s pretty much where this thief is. Hanging there next to a man he knows to be good and holy gives him a true perspective on himself. And when we see ourselves clearly, we start to see a lot of things more clearly. That is the beginning of repentance – clear vision. It’s not everyone else’s fault, even if some have contributed. It’s us. And when we speak from that truth, we create space for grace.
Even on the cross, Jesus is able to extend that grace to a fellow-sufferer. “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” At the end of this day, all three of them will be dead. They will no longer dwell in this world. In the face of that, in brutal pain, Jesus promises not only paradise, but his own presence. What a promise.
Do you have a confession to make, or one to hear? Has anyone been trying to get your attention and let you know they have had a change of heart, they truly are sorry – and maybe you haven’t been able to give them a chance to show it? A risk, yes, but your forgiveness is a big gift to grant or withhold. As recipients of grace, can we extend it?
One day we will be with Jesus in whatever realm it is that we call Paradise. Whether that is at the moment of death, or at some other time in a realm that is timeless, we will know we are with him. As Gillian Welch sings, “I will know my savior when I come to him by the mark where the nails have been.”
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-18-25 - Where's the Phone Booth?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
One of my biggest challenges as a person who believes that Jesus is Lord is when people who struggle with faith actually pray and do not experience the outcome they so earnestly desire. Now, maybe this is because they only pray in the most extreme circumstances, when things are already quite dire – but we claim that nothing is impossible with God. So why, if Jesus is Lord, do things go so wrong?
And they cast lots to divide his clothing. The people stood by, watching Jesus on the cross; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!" The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!"
Jesus got used to that mocking question, “If you are…” in his time of testing in the desert. Those three big temptations were prefaced with, “If you are the Son of God…” All through his public life, people questioned his heavenly identity because of his earthly markers – how could someone who came from Galilee be the Messiah? How could someone whose family we know be the Anointed One?
And here, on the cross, stripped of his humanity, even his clothing, Jesus looks nothing like the Anointed One. The onlookers mock him; his own followers ache for him to show himself at last, for his sake, and for theirs. "It’s time for the phone booth, Clark – we know you’re Superman. Show yourself!”* And Jesus does nothing. Nothing, that is, but forgive his executioners, pray to his heavenly Father, extend salvation to a thief dying with him. Nothing much.
I have mentioned Martin Luther’s notion of the Glorious Exchange, in which Christ takes on our threadbare beggars’ rags and gives us his royal robes to wear. Here is that moment. As his persecutors cast lots for his cloak, Jesus puts on our raggedness, our self-centeredness, our capacity for cruelty, and allows it to die with him. But no one can see that’s what’s going on. Paul wrote, “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation…” The problem is, even as image he is invisible. He just looks like a poor sap who shot for more than he could pull off and is paying the ultimate price.
Are there times when you’ve joined that chorus? “Come on Jesus, I believe in your almighty power to transform all things, to make us all whole. Now would be a great time to show yourself.” That prayer haunts much of our doubt and despair. Even so, we are invited to persist in praying, in believing, in claiming, in rejoicing.
Think of a really challenging situation you are faced with right now. Invite Jesus to show up in it and reveal power and life. Is it more impossible than what Jesus did on the cross? Sure, it looked like death had won. Took a few days to find out something much deeper had happened. It might take more than three days for us to see what God is up to in our prayers. And some things we will never understand in this life. That doesn’t mean Superman is gone or defeated. It’s just that, for some strange reason, God has chosen to make us the phone booths in which Clark becomes Superman. So, give the man some space - and look out.
*I don’t want to assume everyone knows the same cultural references. So in case you don’t know the story of Superman, he is the alter ego of a mild-mannered reporter named Clark Kent who, when called upon to go into Superman mode, goes into a phone booth (also an anachronistic reference – before everyone had their own phones, there were public phones available for use, often housed in little glass booths to afford privacy...) to change into his costume. Sigh – I feel old!
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
One of my biggest challenges as a person who believes that Jesus is Lord is when people who struggle with faith actually pray and do not experience the outcome they so earnestly desire. Now, maybe this is because they only pray in the most extreme circumstances, when things are already quite dire – but we claim that nothing is impossible with God. So why, if Jesus is Lord, do things go so wrong?
And they cast lots to divide his clothing. The people stood by, watching Jesus on the cross; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, "He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!" The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, "If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!"
Jesus got used to that mocking question, “If you are…” in his time of testing in the desert. Those three big temptations were prefaced with, “If you are the Son of God…” All through his public life, people questioned his heavenly identity because of his earthly markers – how could someone who came from Galilee be the Messiah? How could someone whose family we know be the Anointed One?
And here, on the cross, stripped of his humanity, even his clothing, Jesus looks nothing like the Anointed One. The onlookers mock him; his own followers ache for him to show himself at last, for his sake, and for theirs. "It’s time for the phone booth, Clark – we know you’re Superman. Show yourself!”* And Jesus does nothing. Nothing, that is, but forgive his executioners, pray to his heavenly Father, extend salvation to a thief dying with him. Nothing much.
I have mentioned Martin Luther’s notion of the Glorious Exchange, in which Christ takes on our threadbare beggars’ rags and gives us his royal robes to wear. Here is that moment. As his persecutors cast lots for his cloak, Jesus puts on our raggedness, our self-centeredness, our capacity for cruelty, and allows it to die with him. But no one can see that’s what’s going on. Paul wrote, “He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation…” The problem is, even as image he is invisible. He just looks like a poor sap who shot for more than he could pull off and is paying the ultimate price.
Are there times when you’ve joined that chorus? “Come on Jesus, I believe in your almighty power to transform all things, to make us all whole. Now would be a great time to show yourself.” That prayer haunts much of our doubt and despair. Even so, we are invited to persist in praying, in believing, in claiming, in rejoicing.
Think of a really challenging situation you are faced with right now. Invite Jesus to show up in it and reveal power and life. Is it more impossible than what Jesus did on the cross? Sure, it looked like death had won. Took a few days to find out something much deeper had happened. It might take more than three days for us to see what God is up to in our prayers. And some things we will never understand in this life. That doesn’t mean Superman is gone or defeated. It’s just that, for some strange reason, God has chosen to make us the phone booths in which Clark becomes Superman. So, give the man some space - and look out.
*I don’t want to assume everyone knows the same cultural references. So in case you don’t know the story of Superman, he is the alter ego of a mild-mannered reporter named Clark Kent who, when called upon to go into Superman mode, goes into a phone booth (also an anachronistic reference – before everyone had their own phones, there were public phones available for use, often housed in little glass booths to afford privacy...) to change into his costume. Sigh – I feel old!
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-17-25 - Father, Forgive Them...
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Next Sunday we celebrate Christ as King before we re-set the church clock and go back to the beginning of the story in Advent. In Canada this Sunday is labeled “The Reign of Christ,” which is less male and monarchical. But whatever we call it, the readings appointed for this last Sunday in the Pentecost season always show Jesus at his most humble, as befits one who said his kingdom was not of this world. This week's gospel shows him humiliated and degraded, dying a brutal death on a cross. It is an image we associate with Holy Week, not the week before American Thanksgiving. Yet, as the bitter divisions in our world become ever deeper, it fits all too well.
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
In our conflicted times, we need to get into the forgiveness business seriously and often. It is not easy; it means forgiving people who may not be sorry or care about the damage they do. When we reach across barriers of difference, we will have to ask whether we are forgiving prematurely, and risk being seen as condoning the unacceptable. Forgiveness is costly.
Are people who sow violence and division covered by Jesus’ prayer, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do?” How on earth do we forgive willful cruelty? We start by drawing on the power of Christ available to us. It's hard to associate power with the image of a naked, beaten, helpless man nailed to a cross. Yet that is exactly what Christian belief invites us to do, to see beneath the outward image to the spiritual reality. And that reality Jesus demonstrated in a gesture of incomprehensible generosity: “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing."
He recognized that the Jewish leaders seeking his death and the Roman leaders carrying out the unjust sentence were so caught up in systems of human control, they couldn’t see the larger picture or their own complicity. Having the power to forgive the unforgivable will require us to step out of our human systems as well, even if our intent is to bring justice. How are we also complicit in degrading the "Other?"
Each gospel writer stresses in the story of Jesus’ crucifixion those elements he thinks matter most. Luke, champion of the poor and outcast, who so often highlights Jesus’ compassion, puts this act of forgiveness on the cross front and center. This is the kind of kingship we are to follow – forgiveness for the unforgivable, even at the point of death.
I don’t want to have to practice this, but this world keeps giving me opportunities. Maybe I’ll get better at it.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Next Sunday we celebrate Christ as King before we re-set the church clock and go back to the beginning of the story in Advent. In Canada this Sunday is labeled “The Reign of Christ,” which is less male and monarchical. But whatever we call it, the readings appointed for this last Sunday in the Pentecost season always show Jesus at his most humble, as befits one who said his kingdom was not of this world. This week's gospel shows him humiliated and degraded, dying a brutal death on a cross. It is an image we associate with Holy Week, not the week before American Thanksgiving. Yet, as the bitter divisions in our world become ever deeper, it fits all too well.
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”
In our conflicted times, we need to get into the forgiveness business seriously and often. It is not easy; it means forgiving people who may not be sorry or care about the damage they do. When we reach across barriers of difference, we will have to ask whether we are forgiving prematurely, and risk being seen as condoning the unacceptable. Forgiveness is costly.
Are people who sow violence and division covered by Jesus’ prayer, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do?” How on earth do we forgive willful cruelty? We start by drawing on the power of Christ available to us. It's hard to associate power with the image of a naked, beaten, helpless man nailed to a cross. Yet that is exactly what Christian belief invites us to do, to see beneath the outward image to the spiritual reality. And that reality Jesus demonstrated in a gesture of incomprehensible generosity: “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing."
He recognized that the Jewish leaders seeking his death and the Roman leaders carrying out the unjust sentence were so caught up in systems of human control, they couldn’t see the larger picture or their own complicity. Having the power to forgive the unforgivable will require us to step out of our human systems as well, even if our intent is to bring justice. How are we also complicit in degrading the "Other?"
Each gospel writer stresses in the story of Jesus’ crucifixion those elements he thinks matter most. Luke, champion of the poor and outcast, who so often highlights Jesus’ compassion, puts this act of forgiveness on the cross front and center. This is the kind of kingship we are to follow – forgiveness for the unforgivable, even at the point of death.
I don’t want to have to practice this, but this world keeps giving me opportunities. Maybe I’ll get better at it.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-14-25 - An End To Violence
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's reading from the Hebrew Bible is here.
The portion of Isaiah we’re looking at depicts different visions of peace and security. It goes beyond human life to show peace reigning in the natural world, with an image dubbed “The Peaceable Kingdom.” “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox…”
In this vision, predator-prey relationships are completely overturned; in fact, there are no predators. Carnivores have become vegetarians – a return to life in the Garden of Eden, in which plants and trees provided all the food that was needed, in which there was no killing to eat, no killing to settle scores. All that came outside the Garden, after the first man and woman were expelled. "They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain," says the LORD. No one will hurt. No one will be hurt.
Every time I'm on a highway, I pass the carcasses of deer and other animals slain by humans moving too quickly to get somewhere that seems more important than the world around them. It is an awful counter-narrative to Isaiah’s. Oh, I realize that in part deer are vulnerable because predator-prey relationships have been overturned in other, less positive ways in our world; as wolves and other predators have been decimated, their natural prey have to go further for food, wandering onto our roadways. And I know that the natural order can also be fierce and dangerous. But my spirit takes a hit whenever I see a dead animal. I immediately pray for its spirit to be running free with Jesus.
So this image is powerful for me. It proclaims: “The order we call natural has been undone and remade by God.” I want the lamb and the wolf to hang out together – I love wolves, I love lambs. I want the lion to like eating ox food, not oxen. And yes, I want people to stop slaughtering animals and one another. Call me hopelessly naïve. I find this vision compelling – even more so in this week when we mark Veterans or Remembrance Day, as we remember the sacrifice of so many men and women and families in the human way of conflict we call “natural.”
What we do as people of faith is to call into being what is not yet. In Romans 4:17, Paul refers to God as the one “who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.” If it already exists in the mind of God, it already is; what we do when we pray is invite it to be made known in the here and now. So God puts out this vision in Isaiah of a restored creation with peace and security for every living creature – we add our faith to it, and it will be. Sooner or later…Transformation happens.
I want to add my faith to this beautiful vision. What visions do you want to call into being? Where are your prayers leading you today?
Earlier in Isaiah, the prophet sketches this vision also, with a different ending: “The lion shall lie down with the lamb… and a little child shall lead them.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
The portion of Isaiah we’re looking at depicts different visions of peace and security. It goes beyond human life to show peace reigning in the natural world, with an image dubbed “The Peaceable Kingdom.” “The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox…”
In this vision, predator-prey relationships are completely overturned; in fact, there are no predators. Carnivores have become vegetarians – a return to life in the Garden of Eden, in which plants and trees provided all the food that was needed, in which there was no killing to eat, no killing to settle scores. All that came outside the Garden, after the first man and woman were expelled. "They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain," says the LORD. No one will hurt. No one will be hurt.
Every time I'm on a highway, I pass the carcasses of deer and other animals slain by humans moving too quickly to get somewhere that seems more important than the world around them. It is an awful counter-narrative to Isaiah’s. Oh, I realize that in part deer are vulnerable because predator-prey relationships have been overturned in other, less positive ways in our world; as wolves and other predators have been decimated, their natural prey have to go further for food, wandering onto our roadways. And I know that the natural order can also be fierce and dangerous. But my spirit takes a hit whenever I see a dead animal. I immediately pray for its spirit to be running free with Jesus.
So this image is powerful for me. It proclaims: “The order we call natural has been undone and remade by God.” I want the lamb and the wolf to hang out together – I love wolves, I love lambs. I want the lion to like eating ox food, not oxen. And yes, I want people to stop slaughtering animals and one another. Call me hopelessly naïve. I find this vision compelling – even more so in this week when we mark Veterans or Remembrance Day, as we remember the sacrifice of so many men and women and families in the human way of conflict we call “natural.”
What we do as people of faith is to call into being what is not yet. In Romans 4:17, Paul refers to God as the one “who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist.” If it already exists in the mind of God, it already is; what we do when we pray is invite it to be made known in the here and now. So God puts out this vision in Isaiah of a restored creation with peace and security for every living creature – we add our faith to it, and it will be. Sooner or later…Transformation happens.
I want to add my faith to this beautiful vision. What visions do you want to call into being? Where are your prayers leading you today?
Earlier in Isaiah, the prophet sketches this vision also, with a different ending: “The lion shall lie down with the lamb… and a little child shall lead them.” Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-13-25 - New Heavens/New Earth
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's reading from the Hebrew Bible is here.
For the rest of this week we will focus on one of the readings from the Hebrew Bible set for Sunday, a beautiful prophecy in Isaiah, in which God announces: “For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth.” This promise is timely.
Many Christians express their faith and hope in God’s justice by working to ensure equality for all members of our society – people of all colors, genders, levels of wealth, sexual orientations, countries of origin, religious traditions. They see this as is a way of harnessing the power of heaven, to participate with God in bringing about that new earth. Isaiah gives voice to this yearning for peace and security which should be the birthright of every man, woman and child – and animal – on this planet. He articulates beautifully the hope of a restored creation living in harmony: I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in my people; no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime...
I think of families grieving the death of elders or infants who did not have access to affordable healthcare; women and girls who see protection for women being stripped away and now feel less secure; people of color watching the resurgence of unabashed white supremacy, afraid for their children; men and women who have lost children and spouses, brothers and uncles to ever increasing levels of gun violence – the sound of weeping never quite dies away.
I think of the promise of security and work and rest depicted in this prophecy: They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat…
This is true peace, when each person can live in safety in her own home, bringing up his children to thrive in trust. This is the world God says he is bringing into being. This is the promise we are invited to participate in making real. And that work is still before us. Perhaps the challenge is greater now, but the work remains, and we do not do it alone.
For the rest of this week we will focus on one of the readings from the Hebrew Bible set for Sunday, a beautiful prophecy in Isaiah, in which God announces: “For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth.” This promise is timely.
Many Christians express their faith and hope in God’s justice by working to ensure equality for all members of our society – people of all colors, genders, levels of wealth, sexual orientations, countries of origin, religious traditions. They see this as is a way of harnessing the power of heaven, to participate with God in bringing about that new earth. Isaiah gives voice to this yearning for peace and security which should be the birthright of every man, woman and child – and animal – on this planet. He articulates beautifully the hope of a restored creation living in harmony: I will rejoice in Jerusalem, and delight in my people; no more shall the sound of weeping be heard in it, or the cry of distress. No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days, or an old person who does not live out a lifetime...
I think of families grieving the death of elders or infants who did not have access to affordable healthcare; women and girls who see protection for women being stripped away and now feel less secure; people of color watching the resurgence of unabashed white supremacy, afraid for their children; men and women who have lost children and spouses, brothers and uncles to ever increasing levels of gun violence – the sound of weeping never quite dies away.
I think of the promise of security and work and rest depicted in this prophecy: They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat…
This is true peace, when each person can live in safety in her own home, bringing up his children to thrive in trust. This is the world God says he is bringing into being. This is the promise we are invited to participate in making real. And that work is still before us. Perhaps the challenge is greater now, but the work remains, and we do not do it alone.
- What do you long for when you think of God making new heavens and a new earth?
- What aspect of life in this world do you feel called to help renew?
- Where do you want to put your energies?
Start by praying about that area, and imagining yourself making a difference, in the power of the Spirit. What do you see yourself doing or saying? Keep inviting God into it. I know I will keep working and praying for peace on our streets and honor in the halls of power. “They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the LORD.”
I believe in the power of love to transform and convert the most evil heart. I have to, despite evidence to the contrary. The evidence is not more powerful than the power and the promise of God. God is creating the new heavens and the new earth – and we are here at the beginning. Every day.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
I believe in the power of love to transform and convert the most evil heart. I have to, despite evidence to the contrary. The evidence is not more powerful than the power and the promise of God. God is creating the new heavens and the new earth – and we are here at the beginning. Every day.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-12-25 - Faith On Trial
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
We are invited to live by faith, and not by sight. To live by faith means to believe in God’s goodness even though we can’t see around the next corner. Faith is what Jesus is getting at in this talk to his followers. He is preparing them for hard times to come, when the structures of their faith are torn away and they face persecution from both Jewish leaders and Roman occupiers for their belief in Christ.
"But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name.”
He says they will be betrayed by family and friends and handed over, and, “some of you will die.” But there’s an upside: this will give them a chance to testify. Then he says something strange: don’t prepare.
“So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.”
Defending our faith is something few of us will have to face. I have heard testimony from African clergy who have known bitter persecution and bombed churches and death threats. But most Christians I know are more likely to be mocked than persecuted for their faith. “Why do you bother with that?”
And what would you answer? What do you say when people ask why you believe in Christ? As the old saw goes, “If you were on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” Name some of that evidence.
We may not have to stand up for our faith very often, but there are occasions when we are called to testify in other ways – to stand for justice, to speak truth to those who have the power to change things. Every person of faith is called upon to bear witness to the power of love in the face of division and hate-driven policies, perhaps violence and autocracy. I don’t know what those confrontations may look like, but I know we can pray for the filling of the Holy Spirit to be ready to stand for love and justice, humility and peace. We may not know what to say, but Jesus, who has promised to be with us through His Spirit, will be right there – and he can be pretty persuasive.
After all, it’s not our job to represent God, or even to make other people believe in God. It is only up to us to make the introductions, to speak of the love and truth we experience. The Spirit can do the rest.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
We are invited to live by faith, and not by sight. To live by faith means to believe in God’s goodness even though we can’t see around the next corner. Faith is what Jesus is getting at in this talk to his followers. He is preparing them for hard times to come, when the structures of their faith are torn away and they face persecution from both Jewish leaders and Roman occupiers for their belief in Christ.
"But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name.”
He says they will be betrayed by family and friends and handed over, and, “some of you will die.” But there’s an upside: this will give them a chance to testify. Then he says something strange: don’t prepare.
“So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.”
Defending our faith is something few of us will have to face. I have heard testimony from African clergy who have known bitter persecution and bombed churches and death threats. But most Christians I know are more likely to be mocked than persecuted for their faith. “Why do you bother with that?”
And what would you answer? What do you say when people ask why you believe in Christ? As the old saw goes, “If you were on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?” Name some of that evidence.
We may not have to stand up for our faith very often, but there are occasions when we are called to testify in other ways – to stand for justice, to speak truth to those who have the power to change things. Every person of faith is called upon to bear witness to the power of love in the face of division and hate-driven policies, perhaps violence and autocracy. I don’t know what those confrontations may look like, but I know we can pray for the filling of the Holy Spirit to be ready to stand for love and justice, humility and peace. We may not know what to say, but Jesus, who has promised to be with us through His Spirit, will be right there – and he can be pretty persuasive.
After all, it’s not our job to represent God, or even to make other people believe in God. It is only up to us to make the introductions, to speak of the love and truth we experience. The Spirit can do the rest.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-11-25 - ...and I Feel Fine
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
It’s going to be great, or it’s going to be horrendous. The promise of a hopeful future or the demise of all we hold dear. In our polarized times, these either/or views often dominate our reactions to the news of the day. Maybe now’s a good time for that REM song: It’s the end of the world as we know It… and I feel fine.
Truly? Can we ever feel fine about worlds ending, whether it’s The World, or pieces of ours? I don’t know about fine, but we can attain a spiritual quality of trust and disentanglement that allows us to meet all kinds of circumstances with serenity. We could use more serenity right about now.
Some of the shock in what Jesus said about the temple being destroyed as a sign of the end (he doesn’t actually say the end of the world…), is that the temple was so solid and so central to his followers' identity. How can something so vital and real become as nothing? Even our grandest buildings, even the institutions they represent, even the hopes and dreams of those who are invested in those institutions, are among the things of this world which are passing away.
And – shock of shocks – so are we. We believe we have a future beyond this world, but our time here is finite. (Here are some photographic reminders of how small we really are in the grand scheme.) When we truly integrate that knowledge into our being, when we truly see each day as a gift to be received in full, not only as a step along the way to another gift tomorrow, we begin to attain that serenity that allows us to meet the darkest times. This is that spiritual quality of apatheia that the desert monastics of the second and third centuries CE spoke about, that holy equanimity that we cultivate as we learn to let go of our agendas and receive God’s life and dreams for us.
Are there things or people or situations about which you find it impossible to feel peaceful? Could you invite God to give you peace even around these matters? What would that look like or feel like? Try to imagine it…
St. Ambrose of Milan, a wonderful fourth century bishop, had a beautiful image for this in one of his sermons on baptism. He says the newly baptized are to be like fish: “Imitate the fish,” he says. “It is in the sea and above the waves. It is in the sea and swims on the waters. On the sea the tempest rages, violent winds blow; but the fish swims on. It does not drown because it is used to swimming. In the same way, this world is the sea for you. It has various currents, huge waves, fierce storms. You too must be a fish, so that the waves of this world do not drown you.”
Even in the face of devastation and loss of all we hold dear, our faith invites us to proclaim the love of a God who weeps with those who weep, who strengthens those who work for recovery, who invites us to look beyond what we can see to a reality of love and restoration we can only dimly glimpse. In Christ, we truly are fine. No matter what. No matter when.
Swim, my friends. Swim into God’s peace, into God’s purpose, into God’s future for us - which will be, whatever our news feed shows us. And click that song link – that’ll give you some moments of joy!
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
It’s going to be great, or it’s going to be horrendous. The promise of a hopeful future or the demise of all we hold dear. In our polarized times, these either/or views often dominate our reactions to the news of the day. Maybe now’s a good time for that REM song: It’s the end of the world as we know It… and I feel fine.
Truly? Can we ever feel fine about worlds ending, whether it’s The World, or pieces of ours? I don’t know about fine, but we can attain a spiritual quality of trust and disentanglement that allows us to meet all kinds of circumstances with serenity. We could use more serenity right about now.
Some of the shock in what Jesus said about the temple being destroyed as a sign of the end (he doesn’t actually say the end of the world…), is that the temple was so solid and so central to his followers' identity. How can something so vital and real become as nothing? Even our grandest buildings, even the institutions they represent, even the hopes and dreams of those who are invested in those institutions, are among the things of this world which are passing away.
And – shock of shocks – so are we. We believe we have a future beyond this world, but our time here is finite. (Here are some photographic reminders of how small we really are in the grand scheme.) When we truly integrate that knowledge into our being, when we truly see each day as a gift to be received in full, not only as a step along the way to another gift tomorrow, we begin to attain that serenity that allows us to meet the darkest times. This is that spiritual quality of apatheia that the desert monastics of the second and third centuries CE spoke about, that holy equanimity that we cultivate as we learn to let go of our agendas and receive God’s life and dreams for us.
Are there things or people or situations about which you find it impossible to feel peaceful? Could you invite God to give you peace even around these matters? What would that look like or feel like? Try to imagine it…
St. Ambrose of Milan, a wonderful fourth century bishop, had a beautiful image for this in one of his sermons on baptism. He says the newly baptized are to be like fish: “Imitate the fish,” he says. “It is in the sea and above the waves. It is in the sea and swims on the waters. On the sea the tempest rages, violent winds blow; but the fish swims on. It does not drown because it is used to swimming. In the same way, this world is the sea for you. It has various currents, huge waves, fierce storms. You too must be a fish, so that the waves of this world do not drown you.”
Even in the face of devastation and loss of all we hold dear, our faith invites us to proclaim the love of a God who weeps with those who weep, who strengthens those who work for recovery, who invites us to look beyond what we can see to a reality of love and restoration we can only dimly glimpse. In Christ, we truly are fine. No matter what. No matter when.
Swim, my friends. Swim into God’s peace, into God’s purpose, into God’s future for us - which will be, whatever our news feed shows us. And click that song link – that’ll give you some moments of joy!
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-10-25 - EOTWAWKI?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Right in time for our weather and geo-political cataclysms, here comes our Gospel text for Sunday – and it's the end of the world. (You know you’re going to get an REM link at some point this week…) Each fall, as if to match the gathering gloom of shortening days, our lectionary begins to drag scary stories out of our ancestral closet. This echoes an earlier time, when Advent was more focused on prophetic doom and gloom than it is now.
This week's conversation starts casually, as some of Jesus’ followers are admiring the temple and its adornments. Jesus is blunt: "As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down."
Now, we readers know that in 70 CE the Romans did in fact destroy the temple. But this would have been a shocking pronouncement to Jesus’ companions. Imagine that prediction made about a beloved cathedral, or the U.S. Capitol – or the World Trade Center in the summer of 2001. It’s inconceivable, yet they want to know when will it be, and how will they know.
Jesus’ answer is cryptic: "Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, `I am he!' and, `The time is near!' Do not go after them.” He suggests that some will try to gain a following by issuing dire predictions about the end of the world. We’ve seen that in our era – remember when the world was going to end on May 21 some years ago?
Why do people fall for this? It is natural to fear what we cannot control, and it’s hard to get bigger in the “you cannot control this” department than the end of the world as we know it. The end of THE world becomes a stand-in for our anxiety about the ends of our worlds – which actually come with some frequency, with wars and famines and pandemics; infidelities and job losses; diagnoses and mega-storms and losses of all sorts. Much of the time, we survive.
What are you most afraid of losing? Can you name that fear, sit with it, invite Jesus to join you in your imagination? What might he do with it? How might you invite his perfect love to transform that fear into something you can use?
It is true that in some ways our worlds are always ending. But that’s not the whole story - new life is always being born as well, sometimes in the ashes of the old world. God is in the business of making all things new – can’t help himself. Our job is to be open to new life wherever we find it.
(I’m going to wait on REM, but here’s a link to a fun song by a duo I like, Goodnight Moonshine. The song is “End of the World Blues,” and you can find it about 15.55 minutes into this concert on YouTube.)
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Right in time for our weather and geo-political cataclysms, here comes our Gospel text for Sunday – and it's the end of the world. (You know you’re going to get an REM link at some point this week…) Each fall, as if to match the gathering gloom of shortening days, our lectionary begins to drag scary stories out of our ancestral closet. This echoes an earlier time, when Advent was more focused on prophetic doom and gloom than it is now.
This week's conversation starts casually, as some of Jesus’ followers are admiring the temple and its adornments. Jesus is blunt: "As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down."
Now, we readers know that in 70 CE the Romans did in fact destroy the temple. But this would have been a shocking pronouncement to Jesus’ companions. Imagine that prediction made about a beloved cathedral, or the U.S. Capitol – or the World Trade Center in the summer of 2001. It’s inconceivable, yet they want to know when will it be, and how will they know.
Jesus’ answer is cryptic: "Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, `I am he!' and, `The time is near!' Do not go after them.” He suggests that some will try to gain a following by issuing dire predictions about the end of the world. We’ve seen that in our era – remember when the world was going to end on May 21 some years ago?
Why do people fall for this? It is natural to fear what we cannot control, and it’s hard to get bigger in the “you cannot control this” department than the end of the world as we know it. The end of THE world becomes a stand-in for our anxiety about the ends of our worlds – which actually come with some frequency, with wars and famines and pandemics; infidelities and job losses; diagnoses and mega-storms and losses of all sorts. Much of the time, we survive.
What are you most afraid of losing? Can you name that fear, sit with it, invite Jesus to join you in your imagination? What might he do with it? How might you invite his perfect love to transform that fear into something you can use?
It is true that in some ways our worlds are always ending. But that’s not the whole story - new life is always being born as well, sometimes in the ashes of the old world. God is in the business of making all things new – can’t help himself. Our job is to be open to new life wherever we find it.
(I’m going to wait on REM, but here’s a link to a fun song by a duo I like, Goodnight Moonshine. The song is “End of the World Blues,” and you can find it about 15.55 minutes into this concert on YouTube.)
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-7-25 - Is There Marriage After Death?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Some wags might ask if there is life after marriage, but I wonder if there’s marriage after death. Finding myself with little more to say about this week’s Gospel passage, I’ll take the opportunity it opens to offer my own views of what “heaven” is and what our life in God will be like, aware that no one actually knows.
I find myself with little more to say about this week’s Gospel passage. But it does give me an opportunity to offer my own views of what “heaven” is and what our life in God will be like, aware that no one actually knows.
The question the Sadducees pose to Jesus about the legalities of marriage in heaven Jesus easily refutes by reminding them that “those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage.” This suggests that marriage will not be a feature of our heavenly lives – something the church affirms in its wedding liturgy, with vows that last only “until death do us part.” These are time-limited promises; I would assert that the relationships they protect are also in a sense time-limited.
But wait, you ask, what about all those greeting cards and funeral homilies and songs like “Far Side Banks of Jordan” about being greeted by our loved ones when we “cross over?” Aren’t we going to dash into the arms of our beloveds who have gone before? We might – or we might not, because if we believe that eternal life in God means we will dwell in the presence of pure love, we will have no more needs or wants, only joy. And if we have no needs or wants, we won’t love one person more than another – for all is love, and love is all. Maybe we’ll see the ones we’ve loved in this life, but I don’t think we’ll love them any more than the mail carriers or barristas we knew in this life. We will love, for we cannot but love, just as the God in whose image we are made cannot but love.
And we won’t need those promises, for we will love all. We will be awash in love, dwelling in the one eternal relationship we begin in this life, the one with Jesus our Lord; with God our source of being; with the Holy Spirit who carries us in love. There won’t be less love – but more for everyone.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Some wags might ask if there is life after marriage, but I wonder if there’s marriage after death. Finding myself with little more to say about this week’s Gospel passage, I’ll take the opportunity it opens to offer my own views of what “heaven” is and what our life in God will be like, aware that no one actually knows.
I find myself with little more to say about this week’s Gospel passage. But it does give me an opportunity to offer my own views of what “heaven” is and what our life in God will be like, aware that no one actually knows.
The question the Sadducees pose to Jesus about the legalities of marriage in heaven Jesus easily refutes by reminding them that “those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage.” This suggests that marriage will not be a feature of our heavenly lives – something the church affirms in its wedding liturgy, with vows that last only “until death do us part.” These are time-limited promises; I would assert that the relationships they protect are also in a sense time-limited.
But wait, you ask, what about all those greeting cards and funeral homilies and songs like “Far Side Banks of Jordan” about being greeted by our loved ones when we “cross over?” Aren’t we going to dash into the arms of our beloveds who have gone before? We might – or we might not, because if we believe that eternal life in God means we will dwell in the presence of pure love, we will have no more needs or wants, only joy. And if we have no needs or wants, we won’t love one person more than another – for all is love, and love is all. Maybe we’ll see the ones we’ve loved in this life, but I don’t think we’ll love them any more than the mail carriers or barristas we knew in this life. We will love, for we cannot but love, just as the God in whose image we are made cannot but love.
And we won’t need those promises, for we will love all. We will be awash in love, dwelling in the one eternal relationship we begin in this life, the one with Jesus our Lord; with God our source of being; with the Holy Spirit who carries us in love. There won’t be less love – but more for everyone.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-6-25 - God of the Living
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
For the rest of the week, let’s turn to the Gospel passage appointed for next Sunday (the usual pattern for Water Daily…). This is an odd snippet of narrative, one which I’m usually quite happy to skip in deference to the All Saints readings. But if there is gold to be mined in any passage of Scripture, let’s go prospecting.
Jesus is approached by members of the sect of the Sadducees, who Luke tells us did not believe there would be any kind of resurrection after death. Since Jesus often spoke about an after-life, they decide to quiz him: "Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man's brother dies, leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. Now there were seven brothers; the first married, and died childless; then the second and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her."
Is this a first century logic puzzle or are they satirically pointing out the inanity of life after death? Or are they playing a game of “gotcha?” I cannot discern a theological question here. But Jesus responds on a logical level, asserting the reality of resurrection, citing references to the “God of Abraham, Isacc and Jacob” as proof that the ancients believed in life after death.
Then he goes further, asserting that the activities we engage in in this life are not necessarily what we will be concerned with in the next. Some things, like marriage, are a fact of life in this world, not in eternity (more on that tomorrow…) He reminds them that God “is God not of the dead, but of the living.” Preoccupation with what will be in the heavenly courts takes our attention away from the life God has given us here and now – which may be a preamble to eternal life, but is very much to be lived.
And, as God is concerned with the welfare of all those with whom we share this earthly life, that is where we are to put our attention. That means we focus on those with us now more than on those we have lost. It means churches spend more time and resources focused on ministry and mission than on caring for our buildings or cemeteries.
These are good questions for us to consider now, while we remain very much enmeshed in our lives in this world. By faith we claim that death is not the end for us, though physical death still awaits us. Knowing that life and more life await us, how might we live as though this life is not all there is, is not even a fraction of the rest of our future? Might we hold our worries more lightly, engage in love with more freedom? Might we take more risks and step out in faith more boldly?
We have a lifetime to figure this out, and then eternity to live it out in the fullness of love.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
For the rest of the week, let’s turn to the Gospel passage appointed for next Sunday (the usual pattern for Water Daily…). This is an odd snippet of narrative, one which I’m usually quite happy to skip in deference to the All Saints readings. But if there is gold to be mined in any passage of Scripture, let’s go prospecting.
Jesus is approached by members of the sect of the Sadducees, who Luke tells us did not believe there would be any kind of resurrection after death. Since Jesus often spoke about an after-life, they decide to quiz him: "Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man's brother dies, leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. Now there were seven brothers; the first married, and died childless; then the second and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. Finally the woman also died. In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her."
Is this a first century logic puzzle or are they satirically pointing out the inanity of life after death? Or are they playing a game of “gotcha?” I cannot discern a theological question here. But Jesus responds on a logical level, asserting the reality of resurrection, citing references to the “God of Abraham, Isacc and Jacob” as proof that the ancients believed in life after death.
Then he goes further, asserting that the activities we engage in in this life are not necessarily what we will be concerned with in the next. Some things, like marriage, are a fact of life in this world, not in eternity (more on that tomorrow…) He reminds them that God “is God not of the dead, but of the living.” Preoccupation with what will be in the heavenly courts takes our attention away from the life God has given us here and now – which may be a preamble to eternal life, but is very much to be lived.
And, as God is concerned with the welfare of all those with whom we share this earthly life, that is where we are to put our attention. That means we focus on those with us now more than on those we have lost. It means churches spend more time and resources focused on ministry and mission than on caring for our buildings or cemeteries.
These are good questions for us to consider now, while we remain very much enmeshed in our lives in this world. By faith we claim that death is not the end for us, though physical death still awaits us. Knowing that life and more life await us, how might we live as though this life is not all there is, is not even a fraction of the rest of our future? Might we hold our worries more lightly, engage in love with more freedom? Might we take more risks and step out in faith more boldly?
We have a lifetime to figure this out, and then eternity to live it out in the fullness of love.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-5-25 - The Golden Rule
You can listen to this reflection here. The gospel reading for All Saints is here.
It doesn’t get much simpler than this: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” That’s how Jesus ends the Beatitudes. Most of the world’s religions proclaim some version of this, sometimes in the negative, as in the Talmud, "What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellowman. This is the entire Law; all the rest is commentary,” and sometimes amplified, as this from Islamic Sunnah, “No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself.”
The statements in other religions may well derive from this most basic teaching of Jesus, called “The Golden Rule.” It is a statement of the obvious, of clear benefit to us as well as others. A community that lives this way is far more likely to be harmonious, productive and prosperous. So why don’t we?
Human beings seem to be hard-wired to focus on self first. Call it evolutionary advantage, call it original sin, call it looking out for No 1, most people, when presented with a group photograph in which they appear, will first look at themselves. Most of us will share food and belongings and money after we’re sure we have enough. Our sense of self may extend as far as our immediate family and sometimes clan and friends, but it has limits. We simply don’t see “others” at the same level as we do ourselves. If observing 2-year-olds is any indication, altruism is learned behavior.
Our natural focus on self can blind us to the fact that doing unto others as we would have them do to us is to our greater advantage. We build alliances and friendships of mutual support. We help to create the surroundings we need to thrive. And when we do unto others what is hateful to us, we help to create surroundings that impede our thriving, that cause us to expend too much energy and resources on self-protection and security, on guarding our things and our loved ones, and on dealing with conflict.
Looking at what is most advantageous to us may have little to do with morality or ethics or making sacrifices – but if most people in a system are not living this way, then those who do are at a disadvantage. That’s where sacrifice comes in. Jesus was the prime example of that, and he was telling his followers what they were signing on for.
And he was pointing them to joy and grace. He was telling them how to access the Life that really is life. If we can develop the habit, in every interaction, of first asking that question, “How would I like to be treated in such a situation?” we will be filled with a lot of that Life. And when that Life gets out and about, the world is changed.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
It doesn’t get much simpler than this: “Do to others as you would have them do to you.” That’s how Jesus ends the Beatitudes. Most of the world’s religions proclaim some version of this, sometimes in the negative, as in the Talmud, "What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellowman. This is the entire Law; all the rest is commentary,” and sometimes amplified, as this from Islamic Sunnah, “No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself.”
The statements in other religions may well derive from this most basic teaching of Jesus, called “The Golden Rule.” It is a statement of the obvious, of clear benefit to us as well as others. A community that lives this way is far more likely to be harmonious, productive and prosperous. So why don’t we?
Human beings seem to be hard-wired to focus on self first. Call it evolutionary advantage, call it original sin, call it looking out for No 1, most people, when presented with a group photograph in which they appear, will first look at themselves. Most of us will share food and belongings and money after we’re sure we have enough. Our sense of self may extend as far as our immediate family and sometimes clan and friends, but it has limits. We simply don’t see “others” at the same level as we do ourselves. If observing 2-year-olds is any indication, altruism is learned behavior.
Our natural focus on self can blind us to the fact that doing unto others as we would have them do to us is to our greater advantage. We build alliances and friendships of mutual support. We help to create the surroundings we need to thrive. And when we do unto others what is hateful to us, we help to create surroundings that impede our thriving, that cause us to expend too much energy and resources on self-protection and security, on guarding our things and our loved ones, and on dealing with conflict.
Looking at what is most advantageous to us may have little to do with morality or ethics or making sacrifices – but if most people in a system are not living this way, then those who do are at a disadvantage. That’s where sacrifice comes in. Jesus was the prime example of that, and he was telling his followers what they were signing on for.
And he was pointing them to joy and grace. He was telling them how to access the Life that really is life. If we can develop the habit, in every interaction, of first asking that question, “How would I like to be treated in such a situation?” we will be filled with a lot of that Life. And when that Life gets out and about, the world is changed.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-4-25 - Blessing Our Enemies
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Conflict saps our energy. Sustained conflict can drain our spirits dry. Many of us live with high levels of vitriol on our social media feeds and airwaves. Even those who have pared their lists of friends or followers to the like-minded cannot escape the chasms of division that grow ever deeper.
“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt."
The Way that Jesus invited people to walk was, and is, unnatural for human beings. It is natural to protect yourself and those whom you love, to punish or retaliate when attacked, to hold on to your stuff and decide when and to whom you are going to give your shirt. Yet followers of Christ are called to the super-natural. We are asked to give beyond our natural capacity – and so to ever expand our capacity for giving until we have no more “mine,” just “yours, God.”
What happens when we love someone who hates us, who desires harm for us? We bless them, and thus bless ourselves. We make a space for love where there didn’t appear to be any. We trust that someone will be touched and transformed by that love – maybe the self-declared enemy, or an observer, or we ourselves, even as we risk injury or death in the physical realm.
What happens when we pray for someone who abuses us? This is painful ground, and it cannot be rushed. When we can come to that place, though, we make space for freedom – in our own spirits, in our interactions. We might even create space for perpetrators to come to repentance and healing even if we have no further relationship with them.
But are we really to let someone hit us twice? Are we not to defend ourselves? Of all Jesus’ hard sayings, perhaps this has been most often twisted against victims of violence. I do not believe Jesus is talking about relationships here; he is talking to peacemakers and protesters and makers of justice. If in those contexts we refuse to engage in violence, we model the peace we are proclaiming. We subvert the aggressors and strengthen others to stand against injustice.
And when we give our shirt to one who steals our coat, we proclaim our confidence in God’s provision, and we say to that one “You are worth more than my possessions. And you are better than this.” Will that person listen? That’s not up to us. Our call is to bear witness.
Can I live like this? I don’t know. I appreciate diving deeper into a text I rarely examine, to remember that God has given us more than we deserve and forgiven us more than we can ever comprehend. And I know that with God all things are possible, even living this Way of Love.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Conflict saps our energy. Sustained conflict can drain our spirits dry. Many of us live with high levels of vitriol on our social media feeds and airwaves. Even those who have pared their lists of friends or followers to the like-minded cannot escape the chasms of division that grow ever deeper.
“But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt."
The Way that Jesus invited people to walk was, and is, unnatural for human beings. It is natural to protect yourself and those whom you love, to punish or retaliate when attacked, to hold on to your stuff and decide when and to whom you are going to give your shirt. Yet followers of Christ are called to the super-natural. We are asked to give beyond our natural capacity – and so to ever expand our capacity for giving until we have no more “mine,” just “yours, God.”
What happens when we love someone who hates us, who desires harm for us? We bless them, and thus bless ourselves. We make a space for love where there didn’t appear to be any. We trust that someone will be touched and transformed by that love – maybe the self-declared enemy, or an observer, or we ourselves, even as we risk injury or death in the physical realm.
What happens when we pray for someone who abuses us? This is painful ground, and it cannot be rushed. When we can come to that place, though, we make space for freedom – in our own spirits, in our interactions. We might even create space for perpetrators to come to repentance and healing even if we have no further relationship with them.
But are we really to let someone hit us twice? Are we not to defend ourselves? Of all Jesus’ hard sayings, perhaps this has been most often twisted against victims of violence. I do not believe Jesus is talking about relationships here; he is talking to peacemakers and protesters and makers of justice. If in those contexts we refuse to engage in violence, we model the peace we are proclaiming. We subvert the aggressors and strengthen others to stand against injustice.
And when we give our shirt to one who steals our coat, we proclaim our confidence in God’s provision, and we say to that one “You are worth more than my possessions. And you are better than this.” Will that person listen? That’s not up to us. Our call is to bear witness.
Can I live like this? I don’t know. I appreciate diving deeper into a text I rarely examine, to remember that God has given us more than we deserve and forgiven us more than we can ever comprehend. And I know that with God all things are possible, even living this Way of Love.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
11-3-25 - A "Be-Attitude?"
You can listen to this reflection here. The gospel reading for All Saints is here.
Yesterday was the Sunday after All Saints Day, on which many congregations use the All Saints readings. This year, the gospel is the Beatitudes, Jesus’ “blessed are you” teachings. In these trying and troublesome times, we need all the humility and generosity we can muster. Before we look at the Gospel for next Sunday, then, it wouldn’t hurt to review the standard of behaviors and attitudes to which Christ-followers are called.
The Beatitudes begin Jesus’ first training session with his newly chosen disciples. Luke, whose version we read this year, sets this occasion on a plain, on level ground. That would be consistent with his emphasis on the equalizing, leveling properties of the Realm of God. And this great leveling, it appears, is outside of human time. For each condition that Jesus mentions, a future reversal is promised. And similarly, a corresponding “woe” is given, with the sad news that if you’re receiving goodies now, you’ll have none later.
Then he looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be filled.
Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.
“… But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.
Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.
Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep."
As one who is rich, too well fed and fond of laughing, this does not strike me as good news. I've always had trouble finding grace in this passage. As I wrestle with what feels like a rigid either/or set-up, I remember that no one passage of the bible contains the whole revelation of God’s goodness. I am comforted that Jesus himself was sometimes hungry, sometimes fed, sometimes mourning and sometimes rejoicing. And he was always blessed.
And I remember that when we step into the realm of God we are in some senses outside of time – the now has an eternal dimension. And as we share our wealth, our food and our cheer with those who lack them, we find ourselves growing a community in which all have enough. As we allow ourselves to be the fullest self God has made each of us to be, we will have more peace and justice.
That is what Jesus was pointing to. One day we will know that in full; now we can participate in bringing it into being in this realm, by the power of God's Spirit at work in us.
Yesterday was the Sunday after All Saints Day, on which many congregations use the All Saints readings. This year, the gospel is the Beatitudes, Jesus’ “blessed are you” teachings. In these trying and troublesome times, we need all the humility and generosity we can muster. Before we look at the Gospel for next Sunday, then, it wouldn’t hurt to review the standard of behaviors and attitudes to which Christ-followers are called.
The Beatitudes begin Jesus’ first training session with his newly chosen disciples. Luke, whose version we read this year, sets this occasion on a plain, on level ground. That would be consistent with his emphasis on the equalizing, leveling properties of the Realm of God. And this great leveling, it appears, is outside of human time. For each condition that Jesus mentions, a future reversal is promised. And similarly, a corresponding “woe” is given, with the sad news that if you’re receiving goodies now, you’ll have none later.
Then he looked up at his disciples and said: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.
Blessed are you who hunger now, for you will be filled.
Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.
“… But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation.
Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry.
Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep."
As one who is rich, too well fed and fond of laughing, this does not strike me as good news. I've always had trouble finding grace in this passage. As I wrestle with what feels like a rigid either/or set-up, I remember that no one passage of the bible contains the whole revelation of God’s goodness. I am comforted that Jesus himself was sometimes hungry, sometimes fed, sometimes mourning and sometimes rejoicing. And he was always blessed.
And I remember that when we step into the realm of God we are in some senses outside of time – the now has an eternal dimension. And as we share our wealth, our food and our cheer with those who lack them, we find ourselves growing a community in which all have enough. As we allow ourselves to be the fullest self God has made each of us to be, we will have more peace and justice.
That is what Jesus was pointing to. One day we will know that in full; now we can participate in bringing it into being in this realm, by the power of God's Spirit at work in us.
10-31-25 - Loose Change
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
We have been exploring an extraordinary story of transformation this week in the tale of Jesus’ encounter with a notorious sinner. Zacchaeus made his living off the misery of others. As the chief tax collector in a major town, he sat atop a pyramid of greed, extortion and violence. Yet Jesus offered him forgiveness, and Zacchaeus responded in astonishing ways.
He revealed a spiritual openness when he clambered up a tree to get a better view of Jesus. He wasn’t willing to come close, but he wanted to see. And Jesus met that opening with an invitation to fellowship, and an acceptance which prompted a further opening in Zacchaeus. He didn’t just repent by halves – he went the whole distance: Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”’
Zacchaeus certainly was lost, spiritually speaking. He was tightly bound by his self-saving strategies, his allegiance to money and power. Yet he was not beyond the reach of God’s grace. As one thing loosened when he climbed that tree, more space was made, and that unlocked his repentance, which made more space for forgiveness. Soon the whole tightly bound system unraveled and even his change was loosed, as he offered half his wealth and more to transform the lives of the poor.
Jesus said to his followers, “Whatever you bind on earth is bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth is loosed in heaven.” As redeemed saints of God, we are in the business of loosening. We don’t always see transformation as radical as Zacchaeus’; repentance is usually incremental. Yet, just as when we work to undo a tight knot, each loosening helps to loosen another bond, until the knot falls away.
There is no work more holy than helping to bring about repentance and freedom in one another – which means we need also stay aware of our own stuff, our own sin. And as forgiveness flows to us, so does generosity. Put more succinctly, loose the chains and loose some change!
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
We have been exploring an extraordinary story of transformation this week in the tale of Jesus’ encounter with a notorious sinner. Zacchaeus made his living off the misery of others. As the chief tax collector in a major town, he sat atop a pyramid of greed, extortion and violence. Yet Jesus offered him forgiveness, and Zacchaeus responded in astonishing ways.
He revealed a spiritual openness when he clambered up a tree to get a better view of Jesus. He wasn’t willing to come close, but he wanted to see. And Jesus met that opening with an invitation to fellowship, and an acceptance which prompted a further opening in Zacchaeus. He didn’t just repent by halves – he went the whole distance: Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”’
Zacchaeus certainly was lost, spiritually speaking. He was tightly bound by his self-saving strategies, his allegiance to money and power. Yet he was not beyond the reach of God’s grace. As one thing loosened when he climbed that tree, more space was made, and that unlocked his repentance, which made more space for forgiveness. Soon the whole tightly bound system unraveled and even his change was loosed, as he offered half his wealth and more to transform the lives of the poor.
Jesus said to his followers, “Whatever you bind on earth is bound in heaven; whatever you loose on earth is loosed in heaven.” As redeemed saints of God, we are in the business of loosening. We don’t always see transformation as radical as Zacchaeus’; repentance is usually incremental. Yet, just as when we work to undo a tight knot, each loosening helps to loosen another bond, until the knot falls away.
There is no work more holy than helping to bring about repentance and freedom in one another – which means we need also stay aware of our own stuff, our own sin. And as forgiveness flows to us, so does generosity. Put more succinctly, loose the chains and loose some change!
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-30-25 - Opening Clams
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I know little about clams, but I’m told the only way to get them to open their shells – other than violently, with a knife – is to place them in warm water. After a while they’ll open of their own accord. That is a good way to describe how God loves us into opening our spirits, and how we can love really shut-down people into transformation. Just as the softest heart can be hardened by rejection and judgment, the hardest heart can be softened by acceptance and mercy.
That’s what Jesus did for Zacchaeus. His acceptance in coming to his house; his willingness to stand with him when no one else would, elicit not only repentance but an astonishing generosity: Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.”
It’s easy to say “I’m sorry.” It’s a lot harder to make amends, to go back to people you’ve hurt and offer them restitution for what you’ve taken from them. Restitution is the visible fruit of true repentance. In this, Zacchaeus is a champion.
Those who disapproved of Jesus going to Zacchaeus’ house may have said, “By going to a ‘sinner’s’ house, Jesus is dignifying all tax collectors. His presence gives approval to wickedness. Better to isolate sinners than to tolerate them.” But if we isolate those who are destructive, where is the hope for transformation?
I'm reminded of the heat Jodie Foster took for hiring Mel Gibson after the many revelations about his anti-Semitic remarks and actions. She did not condone his views, but made a choice to stand with a friend – and so helped foster (sorry…) the possibility of transformation in him. The hardest heart can be melted by acceptance and mercy, as the softest heart can be hardened by rejection and judgment.
Jesus went to Zacchaeus’ house, not knowing that he would repent, yet perhaps inferring some openness from his tree-climbing. And his risk was rewarded, his grace met with not only sorrow but amendment of life and reversal of justice. Where Zacchaeus’ had taken money from the poor to appease the Romans, he was now giving half his fortune to the poor. And if there was fraud, he offered to make a four-fold restitution. That is an “I’m sorry” with teeth.
Do you know anyone isolated because of their destructive words or actions? Without affirming the behavior, we can provide an environment where hearts can open, and see what happens. That's what people who work with gang members do. Is God is inviting you to give that gift to anyone? If you’ve ever been a clam shut tight and found yourself in a bath of warm, accepting love, you know what it means.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
I know little about clams, but I’m told the only way to get them to open their shells – other than violently, with a knife – is to place them in warm water. After a while they’ll open of their own accord. That is a good way to describe how God loves us into opening our spirits, and how we can love really shut-down people into transformation. Just as the softest heart can be hardened by rejection and judgment, the hardest heart can be softened by acceptance and mercy.
That’s what Jesus did for Zacchaeus. His acceptance in coming to his house; his willingness to stand with him when no one else would, elicit not only repentance but an astonishing generosity: Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.”
It’s easy to say “I’m sorry.” It’s a lot harder to make amends, to go back to people you’ve hurt and offer them restitution for what you’ve taken from them. Restitution is the visible fruit of true repentance. In this, Zacchaeus is a champion.
Those who disapproved of Jesus going to Zacchaeus’ house may have said, “By going to a ‘sinner’s’ house, Jesus is dignifying all tax collectors. His presence gives approval to wickedness. Better to isolate sinners than to tolerate them.” But if we isolate those who are destructive, where is the hope for transformation?
I'm reminded of the heat Jodie Foster took for hiring Mel Gibson after the many revelations about his anti-Semitic remarks and actions. She did not condone his views, but made a choice to stand with a friend – and so helped foster (sorry…) the possibility of transformation in him. The hardest heart can be melted by acceptance and mercy, as the softest heart can be hardened by rejection and judgment.
Jesus went to Zacchaeus’ house, not knowing that he would repent, yet perhaps inferring some openness from his tree-climbing. And his risk was rewarded, his grace met with not only sorrow but amendment of life and reversal of justice. Where Zacchaeus’ had taken money from the poor to appease the Romans, he was now giving half his fortune to the poor. And if there was fraud, he offered to make a four-fold restitution. That is an “I’m sorry” with teeth.
Do you know anyone isolated because of their destructive words or actions? Without affirming the behavior, we can provide an environment where hearts can open, and see what happens. That's what people who work with gang members do. Is God is inviting you to give that gift to anyone? If you’ve ever been a clam shut tight and found yourself in a bath of warm, accepting love, you know what it means.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-29-25 - Bad Company
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Zacchaeus may have been happy to hear Jesus say he was coming to his house – but no one else thought it a good move. Luke tells us, “All who saw it began to grumble and said, ‘He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.’”
A sinner. It’s well and good to talk about the Kingdom of God and loving your neighbor as yourself, not to mention loving your enemies – but to actually go to the home of one of society’s most notorious villains? That’s a political third-rail move, guaranteed to get you in trouble with your followers. In our day, it might be analogous to working with sex offenders or drug lords to stop cycles of addiction and violence. Many people can see no humanity in people who abuse others, even if many perpetrators are also victims. If you can categorize someone as an abuser, you can stop thinking of her as a person.
Jesus stood with persons who were victimized, condemned the action and the damage caused – and also reached out to perpetrators. Jesus wasn’t interested in popularity – he was invested in the mission of God to reclaim and restore all humanity to wholeness. All humanity – even those who do their worst. Maybe especially those who do their worst.
Jesus had a way of seeing past a person’s outward traits – illness, possession, greed, even violence. He did not confuse people with their diseases or disorders. Rather, he aligned himself with the core self within that person, and directed the power that made the universe to a person’s inner self, weak as it may have been. He saw who Zacchaeus was, apart from all the wickedness he perpetrated. He saw a broken child of God, not just an “extortioner” or a “sinner.”
He invites us to do no less. Sometimes that inner self is hard to find. In people who are far gone on the path of addiction, for instance, the core self may be very, very faint. Yet we can trust that it is there, because this person is a child of God. And we are called to offer our strength and our will and our love to that core self – not to the outer behavior, but to the inner self. In Christ, no one is beyond repair, not Zacchaeus, not anyone, unless they absolutely choose to be.
Can you think of someone who seems beyond redemption, who is so destructive to herself or others, it’s hard to see any humanity? Might be someone you know of; might be a world leader; might be a category you’ve lumped a whole lot of people into. In prayer today, can you hold that person or group in God’s light for a few moments, asking God to rescue them from who they are becoming? To restore them to who they truly are?
Is God calling you to take action to reach out to such a person? It can be like extending your hand to an angry dog – you might get nipped at. Maybe Jesus says, "Do it anyway."
The baptismal covenant Episcopalians affirm asks, “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” We can’t respect someone’s dignity if we lump them into a group of others – saints or sinners. We need the courage to see each person on their own terms. The answer to that question in the baptismal rite is, “I will, with God’s help.” God’s help is there for us when we’re at our worst, and God’s help is here for us to help others become their best.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Zacchaeus may have been happy to hear Jesus say he was coming to his house – but no one else thought it a good move. Luke tells us, “All who saw it began to grumble and said, ‘He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.’”
A sinner. It’s well and good to talk about the Kingdom of God and loving your neighbor as yourself, not to mention loving your enemies – but to actually go to the home of one of society’s most notorious villains? That’s a political third-rail move, guaranteed to get you in trouble with your followers. In our day, it might be analogous to working with sex offenders or drug lords to stop cycles of addiction and violence. Many people can see no humanity in people who abuse others, even if many perpetrators are also victims. If you can categorize someone as an abuser, you can stop thinking of her as a person.
Jesus stood with persons who were victimized, condemned the action and the damage caused – and also reached out to perpetrators. Jesus wasn’t interested in popularity – he was invested in the mission of God to reclaim and restore all humanity to wholeness. All humanity – even those who do their worst. Maybe especially those who do their worst.
Jesus had a way of seeing past a person’s outward traits – illness, possession, greed, even violence. He did not confuse people with their diseases or disorders. Rather, he aligned himself with the core self within that person, and directed the power that made the universe to a person’s inner self, weak as it may have been. He saw who Zacchaeus was, apart from all the wickedness he perpetrated. He saw a broken child of God, not just an “extortioner” or a “sinner.”
He invites us to do no less. Sometimes that inner self is hard to find. In people who are far gone on the path of addiction, for instance, the core self may be very, very faint. Yet we can trust that it is there, because this person is a child of God. And we are called to offer our strength and our will and our love to that core self – not to the outer behavior, but to the inner self. In Christ, no one is beyond repair, not Zacchaeus, not anyone, unless they absolutely choose to be.
Can you think of someone who seems beyond redemption, who is so destructive to herself or others, it’s hard to see any humanity? Might be someone you know of; might be a world leader; might be a category you’ve lumped a whole lot of people into. In prayer today, can you hold that person or group in God’s light for a few moments, asking God to rescue them from who they are becoming? To restore them to who they truly are?
Is God calling you to take action to reach out to such a person? It can be like extending your hand to an angry dog – you might get nipped at. Maybe Jesus says, "Do it anyway."
The baptismal covenant Episcopalians affirm asks, “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” We can’t respect someone’s dignity if we lump them into a group of others – saints or sinners. We need the courage to see each person on their own terms. The answer to that question in the baptismal rite is, “I will, with God’s help.” God’s help is there for us when we’re at our worst, and God’s help is here for us to help others become their best.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-28-25 - Who's Coming to Dinner?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
“Jane, can we bring the bishop to your house for lunch?” It was a Sunday, the day after a freak March windstorm had left much of the town without power, and our bishop was making an annual Visitation. We held worship in a dimly lit church, and shivered through a coffee-less coffee hour, but the only place with electricity where the Vestry might have lunch with the Bishop was Jane’s house. Jane was of the generation that views a bishop’s visit as a Big Deal, worthy of weeks of cleaning and polishing – but she said yes, tidied as best she could, got out the fine china, and hosted us. Ready or not.
It must have been a shock for Zacchaeus, sitting in that tree: When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today."
A shock, and a challenge – Jesus, such a celebrity he gathers crowds as he moves through town, is coming to Zach’s house. It would be like being told the President or a Nobel laureate was coming over. It’s exciting, and a social coup – and ratchets up the pressure. What am I going to cook? When did I last clean the bathroom? What will we talk about?
Besides, Zach was safely hidden up that tree. Now he’s going to have to meet this guy he wanted so badly to see. He responds with grace: “So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.”
How would you respond, if you got an email from Jesus today: “I’m coming to your house this evening.” Would you want to see him? Would you try to put if off? Would you invite anyone else, or just enjoy the chance to talk to him by yourself?
We might imagine it in prayer today – envision that scenario: the note, your response, the preparation, the greeting at the door… What happens? What do you talk about? See how fully you can place yourself into that scene and see where it goes. It’s another way of connecting with Jesus in our imagination.
I suspect Jesus does send us that message, every day. It goes something like this: “I want to come to your house. I want to spend some time with you. I want you to get off the sidelines, out of the bleachers and into the game with me. I’m not just some guy in a book or a stained glass window. I’m the one who made you, who became like you so you could become like me. I love you more than you can ever imagine, and I can transform your life if you let me in. I can transform the world through you if you let me. Can I come to your house, to your heart, today?”
Maybe we always say “yes.” Maybe we say “later,” or “maybe.” We don’t have to clean the house or cook a fancy meal. Jesus knows how messy our lives are, how full, and how beautiful. What he wants is our time and attention.
He's the most life-changing dinner guest we could ever host. Every time.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
“Jane, can we bring the bishop to your house for lunch?” It was a Sunday, the day after a freak March windstorm had left much of the town without power, and our bishop was making an annual Visitation. We held worship in a dimly lit church, and shivered through a coffee-less coffee hour, but the only place with electricity where the Vestry might have lunch with the Bishop was Jane’s house. Jane was of the generation that views a bishop’s visit as a Big Deal, worthy of weeks of cleaning and polishing – but she said yes, tidied as best she could, got out the fine china, and hosted us. Ready or not.
It must have been a shock for Zacchaeus, sitting in that tree: When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today."
A shock, and a challenge – Jesus, such a celebrity he gathers crowds as he moves through town, is coming to Zach’s house. It would be like being told the President or a Nobel laureate was coming over. It’s exciting, and a social coup – and ratchets up the pressure. What am I going to cook? When did I last clean the bathroom? What will we talk about?
Besides, Zach was safely hidden up that tree. Now he’s going to have to meet this guy he wanted so badly to see. He responds with grace: “So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him.”
How would you respond, if you got an email from Jesus today: “I’m coming to your house this evening.” Would you want to see him? Would you try to put if off? Would you invite anyone else, or just enjoy the chance to talk to him by yourself?
We might imagine it in prayer today – envision that scenario: the note, your response, the preparation, the greeting at the door… What happens? What do you talk about? See how fully you can place yourself into that scene and see where it goes. It’s another way of connecting with Jesus in our imagination.
I suspect Jesus does send us that message, every day. It goes something like this: “I want to come to your house. I want to spend some time with you. I want you to get off the sidelines, out of the bleachers and into the game with me. I’m not just some guy in a book or a stained glass window. I’m the one who made you, who became like you so you could become like me. I love you more than you can ever imagine, and I can transform your life if you let me in. I can transform the world through you if you let me. Can I come to your house, to your heart, today?”
Maybe we always say “yes.” Maybe we say “later,” or “maybe.” We don’t have to clean the house or cook a fancy meal. Jesus knows how messy our lives are, how full, and how beautiful. What he wants is our time and attention.
He's the most life-changing dinner guest we could ever host. Every time.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-27-25 - Up a Tree
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
In last week’s gospel, Jesus told a parable about a fictitious tax collector, a prototype. This week we get to watch as he meets the real thing. Here’s how Luke begins the story: Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.
Tax collectors were considered the lowest form of life by their fellow Jews, hated collaborators in the oppressive Roman tax system. In order to enforce collection – and extract enough over the required amount to make a living themselves – a tax collector had to be powerful and mean. Think Mafia “protection” goons, and we start to get the picture. And here’s Zacchaeus – a chief tax collector in the big town of Jericho! And wealthy. He must be very, very good at his despicable job.
Then we learn something sort of endearing – that this notorious man is so short, and so anxious to see Jesus as he passes through town, that he climbs up a tree to get a glimpse. How sweet. Add the fact that generations have learned his story through a Sunday School ditty, "Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he/He climbed up in a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see.” It's hard to think of a “wee little man” as scary and villainous.
So which is he? All of the above, and more? This story does not lend itself to either/or thinking. We’ll dig a bit this week. Today, let’s focus on the tree-climbing. I don’t know too many adults who climb trees (though my sister climbed one in her wedding dress for an epic photo…). How badly did this guy want to see Jesus? What did he want from Jesus? Is his ascent an indication of repentance, or curiosity – or did he want to observe without having to engage Jesus?
Today, in prayer, try to imagine the scene, with Jesus coming through your area. Place yourself in the crowd. What unfolds in your imagination? Stay with it... If you got close to Jesus in a crowd, what would you say? Would you ask for healing? Explanations? Forgiveness? This is one way to pray, to imagine an encounter with Jesus in some of the places the Gospels tell us he was – then it’s more like talking to a person and less like sending thoughts into the ether.
Like Zacchaeus, sometimes we need to change our perspective to see Jesus more clearly. This week we’re being invited up a tree – what might we see from there?
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
In last week’s gospel, Jesus told a parable about a fictitious tax collector, a prototype. This week we get to watch as he meets the real thing. Here’s how Luke begins the story: Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.
Tax collectors were considered the lowest form of life by their fellow Jews, hated collaborators in the oppressive Roman tax system. In order to enforce collection – and extract enough over the required amount to make a living themselves – a tax collector had to be powerful and mean. Think Mafia “protection” goons, and we start to get the picture. And here’s Zacchaeus – a chief tax collector in the big town of Jericho! And wealthy. He must be very, very good at his despicable job.
Then we learn something sort of endearing – that this notorious man is so short, and so anxious to see Jesus as he passes through town, that he climbs up a tree to get a glimpse. How sweet. Add the fact that generations have learned his story through a Sunday School ditty, "Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he/He climbed up in a sycamore tree for the Lord he wanted to see.” It's hard to think of a “wee little man” as scary and villainous.
So which is he? All of the above, and more? This story does not lend itself to either/or thinking. We’ll dig a bit this week. Today, let’s focus on the tree-climbing. I don’t know too many adults who climb trees (though my sister climbed one in her wedding dress for an epic photo…). How badly did this guy want to see Jesus? What did he want from Jesus? Is his ascent an indication of repentance, or curiosity – or did he want to observe without having to engage Jesus?
Today, in prayer, try to imagine the scene, with Jesus coming through your area. Place yourself in the crowd. What unfolds in your imagination? Stay with it... If you got close to Jesus in a crowd, what would you say? Would you ask for healing? Explanations? Forgiveness? This is one way to pray, to imagine an encounter with Jesus in some of the places the Gospels tell us he was – then it’s more like talking to a person and less like sending thoughts into the ether.
Like Zacchaeus, sometimes we need to change our perspective to see Jesus more clearly. This week we’re being invited up a tree – what might we see from there?
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-24-25 - Losing Our Religion
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
As we have dug down into Jesus’ parable about the two men praying in the temple, I have not been very tolerant of the self-righteous Pharisee. Neither was Jesus. But let’s give him a little regard. He was motivated to please God in the way he knew best – by following the rules and upholding the whole system that made the rules important. Perhaps the rules, the Law, had become his object of worship, obscuring the offer of relationship God gave along with the Law – “You shall be my people, and I will be your God.”
We might say that the Pharisee represents Religion – capitalization intended, as befits an abstraction. And the tax-collector represents faith. Religion can be a wonderful vehicle for faith – but we should never mistake it for the God it purports to worship. Uncompromising allegiance to words of Scripture or church tradition can blind us to the movement of our Living God. These are God-given gifts – but when we focus on the gifts rather than the Giver, we miss the next new thing God is doing. And our God is always doing a new thing.
I don’t think human beings can get away from religion, hard as we might try to just be “spiritual.” It is human nature to create structures that allow us to feel good, and to repeat a profound experience, and to stay in community with others who have shared that profound experience. Before you know it, we’re gathering at the same time every week, using the same words or songs or rituals that “worked” last week to mediate an encounter with God. If they don’t work as well this week – maybe we double down and get even more rigid.
Meanwhile, God is saying, “Over here, guys – I’m here now.” God is rarely in the last place we saw Him. She’s almost always on the move, doing a new thing, singing a new song, revealing a new facet of her identity.
Today, in prayer, let’s do another set of lists. Name one list “Religion” and the other “Relationship.” What activities of yours would you classify “religion?” Which ones are life-giving? Which ones are stale, or like trying to wear someone else’s clothes, that no longer fit, or feed your faith.
Now, what activities would you name as “relationship building,” that enhance your relationship with God? How would you characterize your relationship with God, on a spectrum from distant to intimate? Is there anything on the first list that gets in the way of the second?
The other day the great REM song, Losing My Religion, ran through my head. Doesn’t have much to do with religion*, but it’s catchy as all get out, and a great theme song for us as we seek to unfetter ourselves from all that is human-made about our interaction with God, and open ourselves to the new winds of the Spirit.
The greatest gift we can give ourselves, and each other, is to lose our “religion” and open our arms wide to the relationship with God that Christ made possible for us through the Holy Spirit. All religion will pass away – but that relationship is ours for eternity.
*According to Wikipedia, band members said "losing my religion" is a southern US expression for losing one's temper or composure.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
As we have dug down into Jesus’ parable about the two men praying in the temple, I have not been very tolerant of the self-righteous Pharisee. Neither was Jesus. But let’s give him a little regard. He was motivated to please God in the way he knew best – by following the rules and upholding the whole system that made the rules important. Perhaps the rules, the Law, had become his object of worship, obscuring the offer of relationship God gave along with the Law – “You shall be my people, and I will be your God.”
We might say that the Pharisee represents Religion – capitalization intended, as befits an abstraction. And the tax-collector represents faith. Religion can be a wonderful vehicle for faith – but we should never mistake it for the God it purports to worship. Uncompromising allegiance to words of Scripture or church tradition can blind us to the movement of our Living God. These are God-given gifts – but when we focus on the gifts rather than the Giver, we miss the next new thing God is doing. And our God is always doing a new thing.
I don’t think human beings can get away from religion, hard as we might try to just be “spiritual.” It is human nature to create structures that allow us to feel good, and to repeat a profound experience, and to stay in community with others who have shared that profound experience. Before you know it, we’re gathering at the same time every week, using the same words or songs or rituals that “worked” last week to mediate an encounter with God. If they don’t work as well this week – maybe we double down and get even more rigid.
Meanwhile, God is saying, “Over here, guys – I’m here now.” God is rarely in the last place we saw Him. She’s almost always on the move, doing a new thing, singing a new song, revealing a new facet of her identity.
Today, in prayer, let’s do another set of lists. Name one list “Religion” and the other “Relationship.” What activities of yours would you classify “religion?” Which ones are life-giving? Which ones are stale, or like trying to wear someone else’s clothes, that no longer fit, or feed your faith.
Now, what activities would you name as “relationship building,” that enhance your relationship with God? How would you characterize your relationship with God, on a spectrum from distant to intimate? Is there anything on the first list that gets in the way of the second?
The other day the great REM song, Losing My Religion, ran through my head. Doesn’t have much to do with religion*, but it’s catchy as all get out, and a great theme song for us as we seek to unfetter ourselves from all that is human-made about our interaction with God, and open ourselves to the new winds of the Spirit.
The greatest gift we can give ourselves, and each other, is to lose our “religion” and open our arms wide to the relationship with God that Christ made possible for us through the Holy Spirit. All religion will pass away – but that relationship is ours for eternity.
*According to Wikipedia, band members said "losing my religion" is a southern US expression for losing one's temper or composure.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-23-25 - Justified
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
How do you feel when you put on an elegant garment? I find it changes the way I think about myself. That is one way of understanding justification. Jesus, in ending his story, clearly sides with the repentant sinner, saying, “I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other…” Why was the more “sinful” tax collector justified and the self-righteous Pharisee not? What does Jesus mean by “justified?”
Justification is key to understanding what it means to be saved by God’s grace. It has to do with being “set right.” Take a clue from how we format our documents – left, right- or center-justified, according to where they are aligned. As a theological term it means to be made righteous, aligned to God’s will. It is not something we can do for ourselves – it is God’s work. It's not even our own righteousness that is conferred on us, but Christ’s. That’s why the “sinful” man was justified – in his humility he was able to receive grace, where the contemptuous, "righteous" man could not.
Martin Luther had a wonderful image for this – he called it “The Glorious Exchange,” in which Christ, the King and Lord of all, left his glory and took on our beggars’ clothes, our sin and self-orientation. But in this exchange Christ does more than take on our lowly status – he gives us his. He takes our rags and dresses us instead in his royal robes of silk and velvet, his perfect righteousness. We get clothed in his holiness; it covers us, redefines us. That is how God sees us, through Christ, as already holy.
How would it feel to put on a royal robe? Imagine it, in prayer. How might you walk differently today, knowing you are secretly royalty? How might you talk differently?
What do you pray about, knowing you have received a cosmic make-over, that you have handed off everything that mars your inner beauty? What would it take to believe we have received such a gift?
We are not recipients of a hand-out, but beloved children of God, reclaimed and redeemed at great cost. God didn’t send a check for us – He sent a Son, whom we know as Jesus the Christ; who came so that we might know Life. As we receive the gift, we become like Christ, his Body, his hands and feet and eyes and voice bearing light to a world that needs it.
We can’t earn this gift, or repay it – we can only receive it. Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, theologian and Sufi mystic, wrote: “God accepts counterfeit money.” And God exchanges it for gold: You. Me. Infinitely precious, forever justified.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
How do you feel when you put on an elegant garment? I find it changes the way I think about myself. That is one way of understanding justification. Jesus, in ending his story, clearly sides with the repentant sinner, saying, “I tell you, this man went down to his home justified rather than the other…” Why was the more “sinful” tax collector justified and the self-righteous Pharisee not? What does Jesus mean by “justified?”
Justification is key to understanding what it means to be saved by God’s grace. It has to do with being “set right.” Take a clue from how we format our documents – left, right- or center-justified, according to where they are aligned. As a theological term it means to be made righteous, aligned to God’s will. It is not something we can do for ourselves – it is God’s work. It's not even our own righteousness that is conferred on us, but Christ’s. That’s why the “sinful” man was justified – in his humility he was able to receive grace, where the contemptuous, "righteous" man could not.
Martin Luther had a wonderful image for this – he called it “The Glorious Exchange,” in which Christ, the King and Lord of all, left his glory and took on our beggars’ clothes, our sin and self-orientation. But in this exchange Christ does more than take on our lowly status – he gives us his. He takes our rags and dresses us instead in his royal robes of silk and velvet, his perfect righteousness. We get clothed in his holiness; it covers us, redefines us. That is how God sees us, through Christ, as already holy.
How would it feel to put on a royal robe? Imagine it, in prayer. How might you walk differently today, knowing you are secretly royalty? How might you talk differently?
What do you pray about, knowing you have received a cosmic make-over, that you have handed off everything that mars your inner beauty? What would it take to believe we have received such a gift?
We are not recipients of a hand-out, but beloved children of God, reclaimed and redeemed at great cost. God didn’t send a check for us – He sent a Son, whom we know as Jesus the Christ; who came so that we might know Life. As we receive the gift, we become like Christ, his Body, his hands and feet and eyes and voice bearing light to a world that needs it.
We can’t earn this gift, or repay it – we can only receive it. Rumi, the 13th century Persian poet, theologian and Sufi mystic, wrote: “God accepts counterfeit money.” And God exchanges it for gold: You. Me. Infinitely precious, forever justified.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-22-25 - Self-Appraisal
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
“God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” This is the prayer of the tax-collector in Jesus’ parable. It forms the heart of what is known as the Jesus Prayer, practiced by hesychasts striving to pray without ceasing. Should I make you google it? Naah – I’ll tell you: hesychasm is the “prayer of the heart,” a spiritual discipline that seeks to make prayer constant, internalized on the breath and undergirding daily activity. It is what Franny was attempting in J.D. Salinger’s classic Franny and Zooey, a favorite of mine.
The fuller Jesus Prayer is “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a [miserable] sinner.” It is short, and clearly evokes the distinction between us and Christ. To some it smacks of low self-esteem, guilt and shame, and all those icky feelings that have made Christianity so unappealing to so many. What happened to “You are so precious?” Is Jesus really commending self-degradation?
Jesus is commending self-appraisal. This is a prayer from the gut at a moment of self-realization. It represents one stage of repentance, well-described by another theological term: compunction. Compunction is so often accompanied by its buddy, “dread,” that I think of them in tandem, a sort of cabaret act of the soul – “And now, let’s welcome to our spotlight, ‘Compunction and Dread!’”
Compunction is that sick feeling we get when we realize we’ve hurt someone, or something we’ve done or said has been exposed, or we feel inwardly convicted. It is not fun – which is why dread comes swimming up close behind it, bringing the fear of consequences to the surface. At such moments we are most keenly aware of our need for mercy.
That is the heart of repentance, or – look out, here comes another theological term – “metanoia,” which conveys turning. We turn from patterns and behaviors and thinking that lead to pain and separation from God, ourselves, and others. We turn toward the source of mercy, grace and truth. Some ancient baptismal liturgies embodied this, as the baptizands faced west to renounce sin and evil, and turned eastward, toward the rising sun, to affirm Christ as Lord.
Repentance does not mean labeling ourselves unworthy or usurping God’s role as judge. It is truth-telling, house-cleaning, pointing out places of pain or self-reliance, inviting the Holy Physician to heal what is diseased in our spirits. Because we are able to call ourselves sinners, we can also call ourselves saints of God. There’s another great duo, “Sinners and Saints.” Simul justus et peccator, Luther said, “At once justified and sinner.”
In prayer today, ask the Spirit to show you where you feel ashamed, guilty or scared. Sometimes these feelings are irrational, not tied to any real areas of sin in us; sometimes they’re legit and we need to own them. It can be bracing and energizing to face ourselves and invite God into the shadow places. If that sense of compunction comes up – ask God to lift it, to fill you with love and grace.
“Sinner” is not the last word on who we are. It’s just a step along the way to transparency. God has the last word, and it is “beloved.”
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
“God, be merciful to me, a sinner.” This is the prayer of the tax-collector in Jesus’ parable. It forms the heart of what is known as the Jesus Prayer, practiced by hesychasts striving to pray without ceasing. Should I make you google it? Naah – I’ll tell you: hesychasm is the “prayer of the heart,” a spiritual discipline that seeks to make prayer constant, internalized on the breath and undergirding daily activity. It is what Franny was attempting in J.D. Salinger’s classic Franny and Zooey, a favorite of mine.
The fuller Jesus Prayer is “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a [miserable] sinner.” It is short, and clearly evokes the distinction between us and Christ. To some it smacks of low self-esteem, guilt and shame, and all those icky feelings that have made Christianity so unappealing to so many. What happened to “You are so precious?” Is Jesus really commending self-degradation?
Jesus is commending self-appraisal. This is a prayer from the gut at a moment of self-realization. It represents one stage of repentance, well-described by another theological term: compunction. Compunction is so often accompanied by its buddy, “dread,” that I think of them in tandem, a sort of cabaret act of the soul – “And now, let’s welcome to our spotlight, ‘Compunction and Dread!’”
Compunction is that sick feeling we get when we realize we’ve hurt someone, or something we’ve done or said has been exposed, or we feel inwardly convicted. It is not fun – which is why dread comes swimming up close behind it, bringing the fear of consequences to the surface. At such moments we are most keenly aware of our need for mercy.
That is the heart of repentance, or – look out, here comes another theological term – “metanoia,” which conveys turning. We turn from patterns and behaviors and thinking that lead to pain and separation from God, ourselves, and others. We turn toward the source of mercy, grace and truth. Some ancient baptismal liturgies embodied this, as the baptizands faced west to renounce sin and evil, and turned eastward, toward the rising sun, to affirm Christ as Lord.
Repentance does not mean labeling ourselves unworthy or usurping God’s role as judge. It is truth-telling, house-cleaning, pointing out places of pain or self-reliance, inviting the Holy Physician to heal what is diseased in our spirits. Because we are able to call ourselves sinners, we can also call ourselves saints of God. There’s another great duo, “Sinners and Saints.” Simul justus et peccator, Luther said, “At once justified and sinner.”
In prayer today, ask the Spirit to show you where you feel ashamed, guilty or scared. Sometimes these feelings are irrational, not tied to any real areas of sin in us; sometimes they’re legit and we need to own them. It can be bracing and energizing to face ourselves and invite God into the shadow places. If that sense of compunction comes up – ask God to lift it, to fill you with love and grace.
“Sinner” is not the last word on who we are. It’s just a step along the way to transparency. God has the last word, and it is “beloved.”
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-21-25 - Good and Sorry
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I said last week, “God doesn’t want us good; God wants us real.” Over-simple, perhaps, but it is how Jesus is shown in the Gospels. He is generous, compassionate and forgiving with the repentant whose sins are outward and obvious, and he is often scathing toward the “good folks,” the Pharisees and scribes who were so sure they were pleasing God.
We see two kinds of righteousness in this week’s story: one based on doing the right things, the other on repenting for doing the wrong things. Jesus clearly stands with the second, suggesting that the way into the Life of God is through clear-eyed humility, not legalistic moral rigor. This message was so radical, it got him killed. It is still radical, and often ignored most by those who call themselves his followers.
Legalism is easier than humility. Humans tend to prefer success to failure, rules to ambiguity. To be honest about the ways we sin “in thought, word and deed” is much tougher than pushing those realities away and citing all the rules we’ve managed to keep. The Pharisee in Jesus’ parable extols his good works, his fasting and tithing – and the fact that he is not a thief, rogue, adulterer or extortioner. But those are easy sins to peg. Jesus goes deeper, suggesting that, in his pride and contempt for those weaker than himself, the Pharisee is actually less righteous than the low-life tax collector.
Of course, it’s not either/or. Christ-followers are called to both good works and repentance. The question is, what comes first? A focus on “keeping the rules” puts the emphasis on our action, not God’s. It often leads to anxiety and pride. But when we start from repentance, the action is with God, whose grace and forgiveness we need. And as we gratefully receive God’s grace, we often respond with compassion for those around us. I would say repentance often leads to good works, but good works rarely lead to repentance.
Want to try a little inventory? Make two columns. On one write everything you think makes you a “good person.” On the other, everything you feel ashamed of or insecure about. Can you live with knowing both columns tell a truth about you? Not the whole truth, but truth? Maybe we can offer God the “sin” column, trusting that God’s forgiveness is here before we even confess.
Now, the “good works” column – take a good look. Do you do all those things from your heart, or because you think you’re “supposed to?” What would you take out of that list if you followed your heart?
We can choose to be self-righteous, or self-aware – generally not at the same time. Seeing ourselves clearly makes it a more difficult to be self-righteous. And why work that hard anyway, when God is giving righteousness away for free?
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
I said last week, “God doesn’t want us good; God wants us real.” Over-simple, perhaps, but it is how Jesus is shown in the Gospels. He is generous, compassionate and forgiving with the repentant whose sins are outward and obvious, and he is often scathing toward the “good folks,” the Pharisees and scribes who were so sure they were pleasing God.
We see two kinds of righteousness in this week’s story: one based on doing the right things, the other on repenting for doing the wrong things. Jesus clearly stands with the second, suggesting that the way into the Life of God is through clear-eyed humility, not legalistic moral rigor. This message was so radical, it got him killed. It is still radical, and often ignored most by those who call themselves his followers.
Legalism is easier than humility. Humans tend to prefer success to failure, rules to ambiguity. To be honest about the ways we sin “in thought, word and deed” is much tougher than pushing those realities away and citing all the rules we’ve managed to keep. The Pharisee in Jesus’ parable extols his good works, his fasting and tithing – and the fact that he is not a thief, rogue, adulterer or extortioner. But those are easy sins to peg. Jesus goes deeper, suggesting that, in his pride and contempt for those weaker than himself, the Pharisee is actually less righteous than the low-life tax collector.
Of course, it’s not either/or. Christ-followers are called to both good works and repentance. The question is, what comes first? A focus on “keeping the rules” puts the emphasis on our action, not God’s. It often leads to anxiety and pride. But when we start from repentance, the action is with God, whose grace and forgiveness we need. And as we gratefully receive God’s grace, we often respond with compassion for those around us. I would say repentance often leads to good works, but good works rarely lead to repentance.
Want to try a little inventory? Make two columns. On one write everything you think makes you a “good person.” On the other, everything you feel ashamed of or insecure about. Can you live with knowing both columns tell a truth about you? Not the whole truth, but truth? Maybe we can offer God the “sin” column, trusting that God’s forgiveness is here before we even confess.
Now, the “good works” column – take a good look. Do you do all those things from your heart, or because you think you’re “supposed to?” What would you take out of that list if you followed your heart?
We can choose to be self-righteous, or self-aware – generally not at the same time. Seeing ourselves clearly makes it a more difficult to be self-righteous. And why work that hard anyway, when God is giving righteousness away for free?
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-20-25 - Righteous
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I used to be hyper-critical of myself (and others… those go hand-in-hand). One day I realized I had a trial going on inside my head 24/7. This court was always in session; the judge never called a recess. The prosecutors were vehement, the defense attorney was, well, defensive, always trying to excuse… it was exhausting, always trying to justify myself.
We have a new parable this week; this one is not hard to interpret. Luke telegraphs the message up front: "Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” That pretty much summed up the Pharisees of Jesus’ time, so focused on keeping the Law in minute detail they seemed to lose sight of both God and their neighbor.
There is not much plot to this story – it’s more a situation with two well-known “types”: a Pharisee (professional do-gooder) and a tax-collector (corrupt extortionist, scum of the earth). Both are praying in the temple, but the Pharisee thanks God that he is so much more holy than other people, “especially people like that tax collector over there.” The tax collector, meanwhile, is abjectly repentant, pleading God’s mercy. Jesus says that this is the one who will go home “justified… for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
This parable is not a call to be modest or circumspect about our gifts or accomplishments. It’s a reminder to be clear about whose judgment on us matters: not our own, and not other peoples, but God’s. The Pharisee in Jesus’ story, even as a caricature, is an excellent likeness of those who usurp God’s role as judge, who dare to declare themselves worthy and others unworthy. (And it’s just as wrong to declare ourselves “bad” and others “better.”).
The Pharisee makes a case for his own goodness – his fasting, tithing, religiosity. And that case is never enough – it has to be augmented by comparison to someone less “good." That’s a problem with self-righteousness – we never get to rest our case. We have to keep marshaling evidence, comparing ourselves. The tax collector, as numerous as his sins may be, is honest before God.
So – which are you more like today? If you feel unsure of your righteousness as a child of God, why? What evidence do you feel compelled to present? What does God say as you pray about that?
Do you find yourself comparing yourself to other people in order to feel better about yourself? If there’s anyone you feel is beneath you… pray for that person or group today. Try on the idea that you are no better or worse than another – though your actions might be.
We have received the Spirit of Christ and his righteousness; we are worthy because of who he is. We can silence the prosecutor and fire the defense attorney; in fact, we can disband the whole court, because God has provided us an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, to stand with us. Actually, our case has already been decided – we’re good to go. Jesus said so.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
I used to be hyper-critical of myself (and others… those go hand-in-hand). One day I realized I had a trial going on inside my head 24/7. This court was always in session; the judge never called a recess. The prosecutors were vehement, the defense attorney was, well, defensive, always trying to excuse… it was exhausting, always trying to justify myself.
We have a new parable this week; this one is not hard to interpret. Luke telegraphs the message up front: "Jesus told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.” That pretty much summed up the Pharisees of Jesus’ time, so focused on keeping the Law in minute detail they seemed to lose sight of both God and their neighbor.
There is not much plot to this story – it’s more a situation with two well-known “types”: a Pharisee (professional do-gooder) and a tax-collector (corrupt extortionist, scum of the earth). Both are praying in the temple, but the Pharisee thanks God that he is so much more holy than other people, “especially people like that tax collector over there.” The tax collector, meanwhile, is abjectly repentant, pleading God’s mercy. Jesus says that this is the one who will go home “justified… for all who exalt themselves will be humbled, but all who humble themselves will be exalted.”
This parable is not a call to be modest or circumspect about our gifts or accomplishments. It’s a reminder to be clear about whose judgment on us matters: not our own, and not other peoples, but God’s. The Pharisee in Jesus’ story, even as a caricature, is an excellent likeness of those who usurp God’s role as judge, who dare to declare themselves worthy and others unworthy. (And it’s just as wrong to declare ourselves “bad” and others “better.”).
The Pharisee makes a case for his own goodness – his fasting, tithing, religiosity. And that case is never enough – it has to be augmented by comparison to someone less “good." That’s a problem with self-righteousness – we never get to rest our case. We have to keep marshaling evidence, comparing ourselves. The tax collector, as numerous as his sins may be, is honest before God.
So – which are you more like today? If you feel unsure of your righteousness as a child of God, why? What evidence do you feel compelled to present? What does God say as you pray about that?
Do you find yourself comparing yourself to other people in order to feel better about yourself? If there’s anyone you feel is beneath you… pray for that person or group today. Try on the idea that you are no better or worse than another – though your actions might be.
We have received the Spirit of Christ and his righteousness; we are worthy because of who he is. We can silence the prosecutor and fire the defense attorney; in fact, we can disband the whole court, because God has provided us an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, to stand with us. Actually, our case has already been decided – we’re good to go. Jesus said so.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-17-25 - Wrestling With God
You can listen to this reflection here. A reading from the Hebrew Bible for Sunday' is here.
Moral of the week: It’s okay to struggle with God. In fact, the Bible is full of lively encounters with God – negotiations, laments, indignation, door-slamming fights. And guess what? God doesn’t go away. God hangs in, stays with, sometimes appears to change course (or was that the plan all along?).
In other words, God is revealed as One who loves – actively, passionately, fully. And those whom God seems to choose for special blessing or purpose are often far from perfect – but they are open to a robust relationship with God.
One of these was Jacob, the wily grandson of Abraham, twin of Esau, who managed to secure both his brother’s birthright and their father Isaac’s blessing. The tales of his adventures, marriages, schemes, setbacks and successes is richly told in Genesis 25-33. One such story comes up Sunday.
Toward the end of his life, Jacob is returning home with his vast family and flocks, and he hears Esau is still looking for him. Fearful that Esau may still want to kill him, he prepares to encounter the twin he cheated so long ago. He sends his family and everything he owns on ahead. The storyteller is succinct: “Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.” We don’t know who the adversary is, but Jacob holds his own and at daybreak the man wants to leave. But Jacob is tough; he won’t release him until he receives a blessing.
The man tells him, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Imagine that! The very name of the nation that will bear God’s blessing means “has striven with God” or “prevails with God.” Talk about an invitation.
Are there issues in your life you want to take up with God? Times when you have struggled with God? Did you wrestle through to a place of resolution – or is it still locked away in you, holding you back from true intimacy in faith? Bring it out! God doesn’t want us to be polite – God wants us to be real. I hear God say, “Bring it! All of it. I love who you are. I want you to be true before me.”
And if we’re really open in this relationship, we might also find our desires or demands changing, as we are shaped by our encounters with the Holy One. That is the goal of the spiritual life: to become ever more truly who we are, who God made us to be. In the process, we shed some of who we’re not.
I once heard about a little girl who used to stop on her way to school and watch a sculptor fashioning a statue of a lion from a block of marble. Week after week she watched as the animal took shape. When it was nearly finished, she stopped to look one day, and said to the sculptor, “Hey, mister, how’d you know there was a lion in there?”
God knows who we are. As we allow ourselves to struggle with God – and to rest in God – we allow all that is not truly “us” to be chiseled away, until we stand in our truest identity, fully known, truly loved. Sometimes at that point God gives us a new name.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Moral of the week: It’s okay to struggle with God. In fact, the Bible is full of lively encounters with God – negotiations, laments, indignation, door-slamming fights. And guess what? God doesn’t go away. God hangs in, stays with, sometimes appears to change course (or was that the plan all along?).
In other words, God is revealed as One who loves – actively, passionately, fully. And those whom God seems to choose for special blessing or purpose are often far from perfect – but they are open to a robust relationship with God.
One of these was Jacob, the wily grandson of Abraham, twin of Esau, who managed to secure both his brother’s birthright and their father Isaac’s blessing. The tales of his adventures, marriages, schemes, setbacks and successes is richly told in Genesis 25-33. One such story comes up Sunday.
Toward the end of his life, Jacob is returning home with his vast family and flocks, and he hears Esau is still looking for him. Fearful that Esau may still want to kill him, he prepares to encounter the twin he cheated so long ago. He sends his family and everything he owns on ahead. The storyteller is succinct: “Jacob was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak.” We don’t know who the adversary is, but Jacob holds his own and at daybreak the man wants to leave. But Jacob is tough; he won’t release him until he receives a blessing.
The man tells him, "You shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” Imagine that! The very name of the nation that will bear God’s blessing means “has striven with God” or “prevails with God.” Talk about an invitation.
Are there issues in your life you want to take up with God? Times when you have struggled with God? Did you wrestle through to a place of resolution – or is it still locked away in you, holding you back from true intimacy in faith? Bring it out! God doesn’t want us to be polite – God wants us to be real. I hear God say, “Bring it! All of it. I love who you are. I want you to be true before me.”
And if we’re really open in this relationship, we might also find our desires or demands changing, as we are shaped by our encounters with the Holy One. That is the goal of the spiritual life: to become ever more truly who we are, who God made us to be. In the process, we shed some of who we’re not.
I once heard about a little girl who used to stop on her way to school and watch a sculptor fashioning a statue of a lion from a block of marble. Week after week she watched as the animal took shape. When it was nearly finished, she stopped to look one day, and said to the sculptor, “Hey, mister, how’d you know there was a lion in there?”
God knows who we are. As we allow ourselves to struggle with God – and to rest in God – we allow all that is not truly “us” to be chiseled away, until we stand in our truest identity, fully known, truly loved. Sometimes at that point God gives us a new name.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-16-25 - Have a Little Faith
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Talk about burns – how’s this for a closing: “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?" That’s what Jesus says at the end of his story.
Faith. That again. Isn’t it nicer when the focus is on God’s action – or delayed action? With this parting shot, Jesus swerves the lens neatly back to us. That persistent widow in his story, annoying as she may have been, was also an examplar of faith. She had faith in a system that thus far had yielded no justice. But she kept at it.
How about us? I know many people who turn away from God because their suffering, or the suffering of others, has not been alleviated, as though that were the only criteria for belief. I acknowledge the reality of that pain – AND I want to invite people with that viewpoint to widen their field of vision. On any given day, most of us can see many blessings and answers to prayer and signs of God-life, as well as the persistence of injustice and challenges. We are invited to take it all in, to give praise in all circumstances, to allow the blessings to strengthen our faith for the challenges.
As I wrote this, John Hiatt’s song, Have a Little Faith in Me started up in my head. Though it is a love song from a man to a woman, I can imagine our loving God singing it to us:
When the road gets dark and you can no longer see
Just let my love throw a spark, and have a little faith in me.
Today in prayer, instead of making lists and thinking of all the areas where we want to see God’s justice, let’s recall God’s faithfulness and our own faith. If you want to try a new prayer experience, play the song and imagine God singing it to you (okay, if John Hiatt as God is a little too much, you could just read the words…)
God has chosen to work through our faith, weak or strong as it may be at any given moment. It is a key ingredient in bringing forth justice. So remember. Remember the times when you’ve known God’s faithfulness, and dare to have a little faith, one more time, for Jesus to find.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Talk about burns – how’s this for a closing: “And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?" That’s what Jesus says at the end of his story.
Faith. That again. Isn’t it nicer when the focus is on God’s action – or delayed action? With this parting shot, Jesus swerves the lens neatly back to us. That persistent widow in his story, annoying as she may have been, was also an examplar of faith. She had faith in a system that thus far had yielded no justice. But she kept at it.
How about us? I know many people who turn away from God because their suffering, or the suffering of others, has not been alleviated, as though that were the only criteria for belief. I acknowledge the reality of that pain – AND I want to invite people with that viewpoint to widen their field of vision. On any given day, most of us can see many blessings and answers to prayer and signs of God-life, as well as the persistence of injustice and challenges. We are invited to take it all in, to give praise in all circumstances, to allow the blessings to strengthen our faith for the challenges.
As I wrote this, John Hiatt’s song, Have a Little Faith in Me started up in my head. Though it is a love song from a man to a woman, I can imagine our loving God singing it to us:
When the road gets dark and you can no longer see
Just let my love throw a spark, and have a little faith in me.
Today in prayer, instead of making lists and thinking of all the areas where we want to see God’s justice, let’s recall God’s faithfulness and our own faith. If you want to try a new prayer experience, play the song and imagine God singing it to you (okay, if John Hiatt as God is a little too much, you could just read the words…)
God has chosen to work through our faith, weak or strong as it may be at any given moment. It is a key ingredient in bringing forth justice. So remember. Remember the times when you’ve known God’s faithfulness, and dare to have a little faith, one more time, for Jesus to find.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
10-15-25 - Justice-Makers
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
“Justice delayed is justice denied.” This expression can sound tunnel-visioned, oblivious to what are in some cases competing claims or a necessary process of culture change. Or maybe it’s always true, and those less hurried are simply benefiting more from the status quo. “It ain’t that simple,” they say. But to those waiting for justice, it ain’t that complicated.
After telling how the judge is eventually worn down by the widow’s persistence, Jesus says: “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them.”
My first reaction is, “Quickly? No delay? How many have cried out to God day and night, century after century, and still the powerful dominate the weak, and the rich hoard resources that keep others poor, and the corrupt steal justice from the powerless..." What do we do with these words?
Well, we can trust, and wait. Chalk it up to the eternal mysteries and keep our focus on all the times we do see justice break through. That’s important, to keep our focus on where God is. And we can go deeper, to try to understand better what Jesus was saying. What if we flip it? What if the God figure in the parable isn’t the judge, but the widow? If we might be any character in a parable, so might God.
How does it change our interpretation if we see God as that helpless widow? We could say that, in giving us free will, God has stayed his own power, becoming reliant on us by choice, relying on us to choose justice over self-gratification. In the Bible, we see God over and over and over again asking his chosen ones to turn back to him, to righteousness and truth and integrity and justice. And over and over again in those stories humankind refuses.
What if God, persistent as that widow, is asking us to bring justice into being? What if, rather than waiting for justice to come from “on high,” we engage more fully as justice-makers, participating with God in restoring all things and all people to wholeness? We may feel helpless in the face of injustices but we aren’t called to work alone. Enough people working together with God’s power can overcome any injustice.
“Justice delayed is justice denied.” This expression can sound tunnel-visioned, oblivious to what are in some cases competing claims or a necessary process of culture change. Or maybe it’s always true, and those less hurried are simply benefiting more from the status quo. “It ain’t that simple,” they say. But to those waiting for justice, it ain’t that complicated.
After telling how the judge is eventually worn down by the widow’s persistence, Jesus says: “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them.”
My first reaction is, “Quickly? No delay? How many have cried out to God day and night, century after century, and still the powerful dominate the weak, and the rich hoard resources that keep others poor, and the corrupt steal justice from the powerless..." What do we do with these words?
Well, we can trust, and wait. Chalk it up to the eternal mysteries and keep our focus on all the times we do see justice break through. That’s important, to keep our focus on where God is. And we can go deeper, to try to understand better what Jesus was saying. What if we flip it? What if the God figure in the parable isn’t the judge, but the widow? If we might be any character in a parable, so might God.
How does it change our interpretation if we see God as that helpless widow? We could say that, in giving us free will, God has stayed his own power, becoming reliant on us by choice, relying on us to choose justice over self-gratification. In the Bible, we see God over and over and over again asking his chosen ones to turn back to him, to righteousness and truth and integrity and justice. And over and over again in those stories humankind refuses.
What if God, persistent as that widow, is asking us to bring justice into being? What if, rather than waiting for justice to come from “on high,” we engage more fully as justice-makers, participating with God in restoring all things and all people to wholeness? We may feel helpless in the face of injustices but we aren’t called to work alone. Enough people working together with God’s power can overcome any injustice.
- If you were to see yourself as a maker of justice, where would you start? (or continue…) Somewhere in your life or community, among friends or acquaintances? With a national or global issue?
- And what do you see as your obstacles to bringing forth justice in that situation?
- Who do you need as allies and reinforcements? List some...
- Who are your adversaries – and how might you pray for them?
If this feels overwhelming, remember this: God has entrusted us with the ministry of peace and justice, and God has equipped us with gifts, colleagues – and the power of the Holy Spirit. With the power that made the universe working in us – we can bring about justice. Sooner. Together.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
© Kate Heichler, 2025. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
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