You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
One of the words I learned in my first year of divinity school was “Immutable.” Traditional Christian theology asserts this as one characteristic of God. It means “unchangeable” or “cannot be acted upon.” How God could be deemed “immutable” is puzzling, as there are stories in both Old and New Testaments in which God seems to be swayed from an announced course of action by some human input. Abraham’s dickering with God over the fate of Sodom is a prime example.
In this week’s story about the Canaanite woman who implored Jesus to heal her daughter, Jesus seems to change his mind. Let’s review the conversation: She came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.” Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.” And her daughter was healed instantly.”
The notion that Jesus – God – could change his mind is troublesome for those on the “predestination/ everything-is-preordained” end of the theological spectrum. For them, Jesus must have planned all along to accede to the woman’s pleas, and was somehow testing his followers or setting up a miracle. That scenario does not work for me. Not only does it clash with the story as both Matthew and Mark present it, it makes Jesus look manipulative and cruel in addition to rude and uncaring. That does not square with the way he is portrayed in most Gospel scenes.
I go for the plainer sense of the words as we have them – which show Jesus making a transition. While no one knows why he at first rebuffed this woman, after she likens herself to a dog eating crumbs under a table, he is moved by her humility and faith, and pronounces the healing of her daughter. Perhaps he recalled his own teaching that even a mustard seed of true faith Is sufficient to move mountains. Perhaps he was moved by her calling him “Son of David.” Perhaps he truly looked at her for the first time. We only know he arrived at a different place than he started from.
Why should this surprise us? Exercising free will is intrinsic to what it means to be a human being made in the image of God. That, according to our Genesis story, is what got us into trouble in the first place. But it is our also our will which allows us to accept God’s grace and forgiveness. If it is both human and divine to exercise free will, then we should rejoice that Jesus displayed this quality. It gives us yet another point for connecting with him, and enlivens our relationship with him as we interact with him through the Holy Spirit.
Though it is comforting to know that Jesus was capable of a turn of mind, I dare say it is more often our minds that will be changed as we seek God’s wisdom. We are invited, as we live in Christ, to come to share the mind of Christ. (“Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus.” – Phil 2:5), to allow our wills to be united with the will of God. Are there issues in your life in which you feel you and Jesus want different things? Have you brought that up in prayer? Are you willing to be shown God’s view on that matter? Can you tell God yours? No time like the present...
If we leave this story with nothing else, I hope it has given us a renewed awareness of how lively our relationship with God can be. It’s not a stiff, stale historical drama – it’s up-to-the-minute eyewitness news. So let’s keep our eyes open, and our minds as well, and bear witness to the healing love of God, which never comes too late.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
8-13-26 - Even the Dogs
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Is there a greater example of humility in our scriptures than this unnamed woman, persistently asking Jesus to heal her daughter? In the face of his rejection, even his insinuation that giving her the gifts of the kingdom of God would be like throwing food to dogs, she does not flinch, she does not protest, she does not argue. She simply comes back with a statement that shows she is not about to put her pride before getting what she needs from Jesus: But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
Is there a greater example of faith in our scriptures than this? “Even the dogs get fed. If you’re going to compare me to dogs, fine – let me tell you about dogs. They eat too, maybe on crumbs and scraps, but they get fed on what falls from the table. Surely your power is so great that even a crumb of it can heal my poor little girl?” Clearly Jesus was moved, for with this comment she finally gets his attention:
Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”
In her gentle refusal to be thwarted, this woman models faith for us. How often do we think God isn’t paying attention to our prayers? How quickly do we turn away – and sometimes walk away, even for years – because we don’t sense a response? How frequently do we conclude “God must not really care about me," when we don’t perceive an answer?
This mother held nothing back. She was willing to beg, to cross religious and ethnic lines, to compare herself to a dog cadging crumbs under a table to get the help her daughter needed. And how did she know Jesus had the power to help? Without knowing him, she believed whole-heartedly in what was said of him – that he was the Holy One, the Messiah, the Son of David. She knew no one else could help. She gave it her all, not only her best shot, but every shot she had.
I don’t want us to respond to this story by thinking, “Oh, I didn’t beg enough, I didn’t pray hard enough.” We don’t always get what we pray for; there is still mystery. I do want us to know that we can approach Jesus the way she did, no holds barred, to keep arguing our case until we are satisfied we have been heard, or we have received the grace to release it into God’s hands. I want us to go back and forth with Jesus in prayer, not walk away empty-handed and disheartened. As Wayne Gretzky famously said, "You miss 100% of the shots you never take."
What do you want Jesus to do for you? Don’t dredge up all the things you’ve wanted before; what do you want now? Tell him – in as personal a way as you can. Imagine talking with him, or speak aloud in a private space, or write to him – but listen to what he says. Talk back if you need to. Jesus never gave us a “no talk-back” rule.
It is a delicate balance – to pray boldly, because we know God is generous and powerful beyond our imagining, and yet to pray humbly, without feeling entitled. Let’s try to match the Canaanite woman in both the passion of her asking and her humility before God. We might even think of ourselves as many dogs we know – loved and pampered, and willing to feast under the table as well as at it.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Is there a greater example of humility in our scriptures than this unnamed woman, persistently asking Jesus to heal her daughter? In the face of his rejection, even his insinuation that giving her the gifts of the kingdom of God would be like throwing food to dogs, she does not flinch, she does not protest, she does not argue. She simply comes back with a statement that shows she is not about to put her pride before getting what she needs from Jesus: But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” She said, “Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table.”
Is there a greater example of faith in our scriptures than this? “Even the dogs get fed. If you’re going to compare me to dogs, fine – let me tell you about dogs. They eat too, maybe on crumbs and scraps, but they get fed on what falls from the table. Surely your power is so great that even a crumb of it can heal my poor little girl?” Clearly Jesus was moved, for with this comment she finally gets his attention:
Then Jesus answered her, “Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.”
In her gentle refusal to be thwarted, this woman models faith for us. How often do we think God isn’t paying attention to our prayers? How quickly do we turn away – and sometimes walk away, even for years – because we don’t sense a response? How frequently do we conclude “God must not really care about me," when we don’t perceive an answer?
This mother held nothing back. She was willing to beg, to cross religious and ethnic lines, to compare herself to a dog cadging crumbs under a table to get the help her daughter needed. And how did she know Jesus had the power to help? Without knowing him, she believed whole-heartedly in what was said of him – that he was the Holy One, the Messiah, the Son of David. She knew no one else could help. She gave it her all, not only her best shot, but every shot she had.
I don’t want us to respond to this story by thinking, “Oh, I didn’t beg enough, I didn’t pray hard enough.” We don’t always get what we pray for; there is still mystery. I do want us to know that we can approach Jesus the way she did, no holds barred, to keep arguing our case until we are satisfied we have been heard, or we have received the grace to release it into God’s hands. I want us to go back and forth with Jesus in prayer, not walk away empty-handed and disheartened. As Wayne Gretzky famously said, "You miss 100% of the shots you never take."
What do you want Jesus to do for you? Don’t dredge up all the things you’ve wanted before; what do you want now? Tell him – in as personal a way as you can. Imagine talking with him, or speak aloud in a private space, or write to him – but listen to what he says. Talk back if you need to. Jesus never gave us a “no talk-back” rule.
It is a delicate balance – to pray boldly, because we know God is generous and powerful beyond our imagining, and yet to pray humbly, without feeling entitled. Let’s try to match the Canaanite woman in both the passion of her asking and her humility before God. We might even think of ourselves as many dogs we know – loved and pampered, and willing to feast under the table as well as at it.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
8-12-26 - Bad Mood Jesus
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
A read through the Gospels makes it plain that Jesus held the full range of human emotions; he was not above sorrow or sarcasm, anguish or anger. In the event we explore this week, though, he appears rude, even mean. His dismissive response to this woman and her plea is unlike any other recorded encounter. Where usually he went out of his way to connect with the needy - lepers, blind people, tax collectors and prostitutes - here he seems to push someone away: Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”
Is this Jesus “staying on mission,” wary of getting off schedule again? Was he having a mood swing? Why would he define his boundaries so narrowly here, when he engaged with and offered healing to Gentiles elsewhere? When the woman presses the issue, he gets even more tactless: But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”
Whoa. This goes beyond, “I’m tired, I’m busy, leave me alone.” Jesus seems to say that this women and her demon-enslaved daughter are unworthy of his Father’s love, power, healing. I have often noted that the promise written into some baptismal covenants – “Will you respect the dignity of every human being?” - is not explicitly biblical. But it is consonant with the overall arc of God’s redemptive action, declaring the likes of you and me, the poor, unclean, and lame, the successful as well as the most broken worthy of extravagant, sacrificial love. Why not this poor mother, so desperate and full of faith?
Is Jesus frustrated at the lack of response to his ministry among so many of his own people, who don’t seem to acknowledge the power this outsider recognizes and craves? Whatever his motivation, the resulting words and attitude seem to clash with the Jesus we see at work elsewhere.
We don’t have enough information to explain it. We just need to sit with it, to receive it as part of the record. This odd and troubling vignette invites us to expand our picture of Jesus, let it become more rounded, more layered and shaded, more flesh and blood. It is oddly comforting to know that Jesus shared our humanity so fully that he too could be stressed and snappish (yet, without sin!).
Perhaps today we might sit quietly in prayer for a time, reflecting on the last time we said or did something unkind or inconsiderate, found ourselves acting out of a bad mood instead of our best self. Might we call that moment to mind, and rather than beating ourselves up for it, invite Jesus to sit with us in it? Might we draw near to him in his “bad mood moment,” if that’s what it was, and so make space for him to draw near to us in ours?
The rest of the story makes it clear that the seeming put-down was not the last word, that the fullness of Jesus included an ability to let another person in and adjust his settings according to new input. And at every moment, God loved him. So it is for us. As we accept that love, we may find our “snappish” moments become fewer and our moments of regarding the Other with love increase.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
A read through the Gospels makes it plain that Jesus held the full range of human emotions; he was not above sorrow or sarcasm, anguish or anger. In the event we explore this week, though, he appears rude, even mean. His dismissive response to this woman and her plea is unlike any other recorded encounter. Where usually he went out of his way to connect with the needy - lepers, blind people, tax collectors and prostitutes - here he seems to push someone away: Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.” But he did not answer her at all. And his disciples came and urged him, saying, “Send her away, for she keeps shouting after us.” He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”
Is this Jesus “staying on mission,” wary of getting off schedule again? Was he having a mood swing? Why would he define his boundaries so narrowly here, when he engaged with and offered healing to Gentiles elsewhere? When the woman presses the issue, he gets even more tactless: But she came and knelt before him, saying, “Lord, help me.” He answered, “It is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”
Whoa. This goes beyond, “I’m tired, I’m busy, leave me alone.” Jesus seems to say that this women and her demon-enslaved daughter are unworthy of his Father’s love, power, healing. I have often noted that the promise written into some baptismal covenants – “Will you respect the dignity of every human being?” - is not explicitly biblical. But it is consonant with the overall arc of God’s redemptive action, declaring the likes of you and me, the poor, unclean, and lame, the successful as well as the most broken worthy of extravagant, sacrificial love. Why not this poor mother, so desperate and full of faith?
Is Jesus frustrated at the lack of response to his ministry among so many of his own people, who don’t seem to acknowledge the power this outsider recognizes and craves? Whatever his motivation, the resulting words and attitude seem to clash with the Jesus we see at work elsewhere.
We don’t have enough information to explain it. We just need to sit with it, to receive it as part of the record. This odd and troubling vignette invites us to expand our picture of Jesus, let it become more rounded, more layered and shaded, more flesh and blood. It is oddly comforting to know that Jesus shared our humanity so fully that he too could be stressed and snappish (yet, without sin!).
Perhaps today we might sit quietly in prayer for a time, reflecting on the last time we said or did something unkind or inconsiderate, found ourselves acting out of a bad mood instead of our best self. Might we call that moment to mind, and rather than beating ourselves up for it, invite Jesus to sit with us in it? Might we draw near to him in his “bad mood moment,” if that’s what it was, and so make space for him to draw near to us in ours?
The rest of the story makes it clear that the seeming put-down was not the last word, that the fullness of Jesus included an ability to let another person in and adjust his settings according to new input. And at every moment, God loved him. So it is for us. As we accept that love, we may find our “snappish” moments become fewer and our moments of regarding the Other with love increase.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
8-11-26 - Pushy Woman
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
She had no business bothering Jesus. She was a Gentile, and a woman. She was loud – and pushy: Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.”
As Mark tells this story, the woman is Syro-Phoenician, from the nearby coastal region called Phoenicia, part of the province of Syria. But Matthew, writing later, uses an archaic term, “Canaanite.” There was no Canaan in Jesus’ time, and hadn’t been for centuries. Canaan was the name of the Promised Land that God promised the Israelites; the Promised Land Moses led them toward and Joshua led them into - amid, as our Hebrew Bible tells the tale, much slaughter of local populations and suppression of local religions and customs. Some Canaanites may have gone north into Phoenicia when the Hebrews came into their territory. This is the history Matthew stirs up, linking this woman with those long-ago enemies of Israel. She has no status with the Jews, no connection. So what is she doing calling Jesus by the Messianic title, “Son of David,” and asking for his help?
This woman is one of the outliers we find in the Gospels who name Jesus’ true identity as the Messiah while the people around him don’t seem to get it. This unnamed mother stands with the Roman centurion and blind Bartimaeus and the Samaritan woman at the well. She gets who Jesus is, and knows he can help her little girl.
But Jesus does not seem to “get” her. He dismisses her brusquely, refusing to hear her request (more on that tomorrow...). Though in this story he is the foreigner – he is in her territory – he notes the ethnic and religious difference and seems disinclined to cross that line. Given that he has just declared that we should be judged by what comes from within us, not the externals, he seems quick to categorize her and her daughter as “not his problem.”
Our world is full of children who are not our problem – until we open our eyes and claim them. In our time, anti-immigration protesters, even some wearing crosses, carry signs saying, “Not our children. Not our problem.” Some people condemn “those Muslim terrorists” or “those dangerous refugees,” as though they are then free to wipe their hands of the world’s problems. Some say, “We have hunger here. We should feed our own.”
But some go out to where the Other lives and bring food, education, medical care and friendship. My friend Tom Furrer, an Episcopal priest, has made at least 25 medical missions in northern Nigeria, where his former parish and other partners have built clinics. Each year for two weeks they see thousands of patients, including many Muslims in a region where Christian-Muslim violence is horrific (this is the area where Boko Haran operates.) Tom has written that one of their goals is to show love and respect to Muslims “and so to demonstrate an alternative narrative to the one of the terrorists now plaguing this country.” More than one Muslim treated at the FaithCare mission said, “I had heard that Christians hate us. Now I see that is not true.”
Who is calling your name from the margins, asking for help? Maybe someone you don’t want to see? What if you engage? This outlier woman had something to give Jesus – and eventually he became open to what she offered. The most amazing things can happen when we turn and see what it is those loud, pushy people want.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
She had no business bothering Jesus. She was a Gentile, and a woman. She was loud – and pushy: Jesus left that place and went away to the district of Tyre and Sidon. Just then a Canaanite woman from that region came out and started shouting, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon.”
As Mark tells this story, the woman is Syro-Phoenician, from the nearby coastal region called Phoenicia, part of the province of Syria. But Matthew, writing later, uses an archaic term, “Canaanite.” There was no Canaan in Jesus’ time, and hadn’t been for centuries. Canaan was the name of the Promised Land that God promised the Israelites; the Promised Land Moses led them toward and Joshua led them into - amid, as our Hebrew Bible tells the tale, much slaughter of local populations and suppression of local religions and customs. Some Canaanites may have gone north into Phoenicia when the Hebrews came into their territory. This is the history Matthew stirs up, linking this woman with those long-ago enemies of Israel. She has no status with the Jews, no connection. So what is she doing calling Jesus by the Messianic title, “Son of David,” and asking for his help?
This woman is one of the outliers we find in the Gospels who name Jesus’ true identity as the Messiah while the people around him don’t seem to get it. This unnamed mother stands with the Roman centurion and blind Bartimaeus and the Samaritan woman at the well. She gets who Jesus is, and knows he can help her little girl.
But Jesus does not seem to “get” her. He dismisses her brusquely, refusing to hear her request (more on that tomorrow...). Though in this story he is the foreigner – he is in her territory – he notes the ethnic and religious difference and seems disinclined to cross that line. Given that he has just declared that we should be judged by what comes from within us, not the externals, he seems quick to categorize her and her daughter as “not his problem.”
Our world is full of children who are not our problem – until we open our eyes and claim them. In our time, anti-immigration protesters, even some wearing crosses, carry signs saying, “Not our children. Not our problem.” Some people condemn “those Muslim terrorists” or “those dangerous refugees,” as though they are then free to wipe their hands of the world’s problems. Some say, “We have hunger here. We should feed our own.”
But some go out to where the Other lives and bring food, education, medical care and friendship. My friend Tom Furrer, an Episcopal priest, has made at least 25 medical missions in northern Nigeria, where his former parish and other partners have built clinics. Each year for two weeks they see thousands of patients, including many Muslims in a region where Christian-Muslim violence is horrific (this is the area where Boko Haran operates.) Tom has written that one of their goals is to show love and respect to Muslims “and so to demonstrate an alternative narrative to the one of the terrorists now plaguing this country.” More than one Muslim treated at the FaithCare mission said, “I had heard that Christians hate us. Now I see that is not true.”
Who is calling your name from the margins, asking for help? Maybe someone you don’t want to see? What if you engage? This outlier woman had something to give Jesus – and eventually he became open to what she offered. The most amazing things can happen when we turn and see what it is those loud, pushy people want.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
8-10-26 - Inside Out
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
This coming Sunday’s gospel reading has two sections. Most of this week’s Water Daily will focus on the second. But today let’s look at the first part (printed at right). It appears to be a technical discussion of religious law, but in it we see Jesus radically reinterpret the religious understanding of his people, and dismiss the leadership of the teachers and leaders. No wonder they wanted him gone.
It begins with a seemingly harmless statement: Then he called the crowd to him and said to them, “Listen and understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.” What’s the trouble with that?
Well, authorities took offense at that, presumably because it undermined rules about food and ritual cleansing. Jesus responds by further insulting them:
He answered, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted. Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit.”
Now he’s in deep – he suggests that these leaders are not authorized by God, and more, that they are the blind leading the blind. When the disciples ask for further clarification, Jesus explains that the impurity that should concern us is not whether our food is kosher or our hands ritually clean. Rather it is the negative and destructive thoughts, words and actions that come from inside our hearts that defile us. He is not dispensing with the Law of Moses. He is reinterpreting it and, if you will, spiritualizing it.
This is key to his message of Good News, that the realm of God is not about rules and rituals, but an invitation to dwell in the reality of God, in relationship with our heavenly Father. The human heart is a complicated place – capable of great love and generosity and grace, and also the source of such pain and petty, mean-spirited behavior toward ourselves and others. It’s our hearts that matter in the long run, more than bodies or behavior – and if we align our hearts with God, our behavior and bodies will reflect that alignment at our core. The movement is inside out, not outside in.
What does this ancient debate have to do with us? Perhaps it’s not so ancient, as our ongoing “morality wars” remind us. It is human nature to privilege rules and rituals that make us feel ordered, when what God asks is a reformed heart and a renewed spirit.
This passage tells me to look at my own heart to discern my motivations before I adopt “behavior modification” techniques to help me better regulate my life. It invites me to connect with God early in the day so that what I do flows out of that renewed relationship. It reminds me to notice when I seek external “fixes” instead of internal renewal.
This teaching also reminds us as a society to treat the whole person with honor and dignity, even if he or she presents problems, rather than treating symptoms and trying to impose regulation from without. Then each one can function out of their wholeness and we get a more whole community.
It’s not what we eat that’ll hurt us – it’s the distaste we harbor for our neighbor and the disrespect with which we sometimes treat ourselves. Jesus can help us with that.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
This coming Sunday’s gospel reading has two sections. Most of this week’s Water Daily will focus on the second. But today let’s look at the first part (printed at right). It appears to be a technical discussion of religious law, but in it we see Jesus radically reinterpret the religious understanding of his people, and dismiss the leadership of the teachers and leaders. No wonder they wanted him gone.
It begins with a seemingly harmless statement: Then he called the crowd to him and said to them, “Listen and understand: it is not what goes into the mouth that defiles a person, but it is what comes out of the mouth that defiles.” What’s the trouble with that?
Well, authorities took offense at that, presumably because it undermined rules about food and ritual cleansing. Jesus responds by further insulting them:
He answered, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be uprooted. Let them alone; they are blind guides of the blind. And if one blind person guides another, both will fall into a pit.”
Now he’s in deep – he suggests that these leaders are not authorized by God, and more, that they are the blind leading the blind. When the disciples ask for further clarification, Jesus explains that the impurity that should concern us is not whether our food is kosher or our hands ritually clean. Rather it is the negative and destructive thoughts, words and actions that come from inside our hearts that defile us. He is not dispensing with the Law of Moses. He is reinterpreting it and, if you will, spiritualizing it.
This is key to his message of Good News, that the realm of God is not about rules and rituals, but an invitation to dwell in the reality of God, in relationship with our heavenly Father. The human heart is a complicated place – capable of great love and generosity and grace, and also the source of such pain and petty, mean-spirited behavior toward ourselves and others. It’s our hearts that matter in the long run, more than bodies or behavior – and if we align our hearts with God, our behavior and bodies will reflect that alignment at our core. The movement is inside out, not outside in.
What does this ancient debate have to do with us? Perhaps it’s not so ancient, as our ongoing “morality wars” remind us. It is human nature to privilege rules and rituals that make us feel ordered, when what God asks is a reformed heart and a renewed spirit.
This passage tells me to look at my own heart to discern my motivations before I adopt “behavior modification” techniques to help me better regulate my life. It invites me to connect with God early in the day so that what I do flows out of that renewed relationship. It reminds me to notice when I seek external “fixes” instead of internal renewal.
This teaching also reminds us as a society to treat the whole person with honor and dignity, even if he or she presents problems, rather than treating symptoms and trying to impose regulation from without. Then each one can function out of their wholeness and we get a more whole community.
It’s not what we eat that’ll hurt us – it’s the distaste we harbor for our neighbor and the disrespect with which we sometimes treat ourselves. Jesus can help us with that.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
8-7-26 - Sink or Swim
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Peter got out of the boat. He took a few steps, actually walking on water. He was doing fine, focused on Jesus… until he felt the wind and remembered this was technically impossible. Then he started to sink. So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”
“Why did you doubt?” I told a story yesterday about an indigenous community that took Jesus’ stories at face value and did what he did in the gospels, not considering it miraculous. I don't know if that story is true. But I do remember reading in one of Madeleine L’Engle’s autobiographies that, as a small child at her family’s country place, she made a game of going down the stairs without touching them. She clearly remembered doing that, and she did it until she learned it was impossible
What makes us doubt, aside from “knowledge,” is the strong winds. It’s adversity, and the times we’ve been wrong, and the voices of people who say you’re crazy to believe you can do this or say that, that it’s nuts to be a person of faith. This does not mean that we should do everything we think of – but we should respond to the Spirit’s promptings. Peter stepped out onto the water at Jesus’ command, and because Jesus was out there waiting for him.
The risks we should consider are ones we take as steps of faith, in relationship with the One who has told us all things are possible. That One is also at hand to save us when we start to sink. Most activities of faith involve some stepping out and some sinking… at those times, like Peter, we cry out for Jesus’ hand, and it is there. The crying out and trusting that God will be with us are also acts of faith. Our whole faith life “out of the boat” is one we live in relationship to God, not as solo operators.
Was there a time in your life when you really stepped out, felt called to something, and went forward, not sure if you would be supported? Did you ever falter? What was it that caused you to doubt? Did you start to sink? What was your response? What was the activity of God in you at that time? We need these memories to strengthen us for action now.
What faith activity do you feel called to walk out into at this time in your life? What would you need to feel or know in order to take that first step onto the water? Do you need a stronger sense that Jesus is with you, waiting for you, ready to help you if you falter? That's a good prayer for today...
The message our culture gives is often, “You’re on your own, sink or swim.” Jesus’ message is, “Sink or walk… I will be with you, even when you feel yourself sinking.” Whatever risks of faith we feel called to take, we can step out, keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, even as the winds and the waves try to claim our attention. One step after another, fixed on his power and love, and we can cross oceans.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Peter got out of the boat. He took a few steps, actually walking on water. He was doing fine, focused on Jesus… until he felt the wind and remembered this was technically impossible. Then he started to sink. So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?”
“Why did you doubt?” I told a story yesterday about an indigenous community that took Jesus’ stories at face value and did what he did in the gospels, not considering it miraculous. I don't know if that story is true. But I do remember reading in one of Madeleine L’Engle’s autobiographies that, as a small child at her family’s country place, she made a game of going down the stairs without touching them. She clearly remembered doing that, and she did it until she learned it was impossible
What makes us doubt, aside from “knowledge,” is the strong winds. It’s adversity, and the times we’ve been wrong, and the voices of people who say you’re crazy to believe you can do this or say that, that it’s nuts to be a person of faith. This does not mean that we should do everything we think of – but we should respond to the Spirit’s promptings. Peter stepped out onto the water at Jesus’ command, and because Jesus was out there waiting for him.
The risks we should consider are ones we take as steps of faith, in relationship with the One who has told us all things are possible. That One is also at hand to save us when we start to sink. Most activities of faith involve some stepping out and some sinking… at those times, like Peter, we cry out for Jesus’ hand, and it is there. The crying out and trusting that God will be with us are also acts of faith. Our whole faith life “out of the boat” is one we live in relationship to God, not as solo operators.
Was there a time in your life when you really stepped out, felt called to something, and went forward, not sure if you would be supported? Did you ever falter? What was it that caused you to doubt? Did you start to sink? What was your response? What was the activity of God in you at that time? We need these memories to strengthen us for action now.
What faith activity do you feel called to walk out into at this time in your life? What would you need to feel or know in order to take that first step onto the water? Do you need a stronger sense that Jesus is with you, waiting for you, ready to help you if you falter? That's a good prayer for today...
The message our culture gives is often, “You’re on your own, sink or swim.” Jesus’ message is, “Sink or walk… I will be with you, even when you feel yourself sinking.” Whatever risks of faith we feel called to take, we can step out, keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, even as the winds and the waves try to claim our attention. One step after another, fixed on his power and love, and we can cross oceans.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
8-6-26 - Stepping Out
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I was told once of an indigenous community in Africa evangelized by missionaries. These visitors told them some key stories about Jesus, but then took sick and died. The people of the tribe were open to the power of God as the missionaries described it, and took the stories at face value. For years, reportedly, they routinely crossed rivers and streams by walking on the water – until other missionaries came along and explained that it was just a story. Then they couldn’t do it anymore.
Three of our four gospels record Jesus walking on water. Whatever we make of the story, it seems to have been foundational to the earliest Christians, one of many stories that reveal the Kingdom life of God displayed in Jesus the Christ. Okay, sure, but he was Jesus. If you buy Jesus being the Christ, the anointed Son of God, it’s not hard to buy that he walked on water.
Matthew, however, adds a detail that brings the story closer to us. When the disciples in the boat see Jesus walking on the sea and are terrified, he says, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” And Peter responds in a particularly fearless way: Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus.
Now the pressure is on. If Peter can walk on the water at Jesus’ invitation, what is to prevent the rest of us? Why don’t we try it? Is it because we “know” we cannot, and that knowledge provided by our physical senses so overrides any spiritual conviction we might have? If we didn't know that this is "just a story," would our faith be less inhibited?
Just a story? This is quite a story. And it’s one of those we can run with, whether we take it as reported fact or spiritual metaphor. Even as metaphor, it can bear our weight. Because stepping out in faith, taking risks we believe we’ve been called by God to take, these are intrinsic to the Christian life. I don’t believe any follower of Christ is called to just stay in her boat, come hell or high water. There are times when we’re all called to get out of the boat and take a step on the water towards Jesus. And then another.
Yesterday we were invited to identify some the “headwinds” facing us. Those challenges may or may not be related to the areas in which we’re sensing a nudge to take a faith risk. So today let's ask: What seas do you feel called to step out upon? A different job? Retirement? New relationship? Ending an old relationship? Greater ministry responsibility? Living on less? Living healthier? Less dependency on someone or some thing? More dependency?
This is also a question that churches must constantly ask: where is Jesus calling us to step out of the boat of our comfort or complacency and walk with him on the water? Might that mean giving up some ministries? Taking on new ones? Worshipping differently? Joining in community with people who are different from us?
The answers will vary according to the person and the community. The constant is this: No one is asked to step out of the boat onto a stormy sea by himself. "So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus.” And Jesus stayed right there with him. If we step out, we step out with Jesus. What more do we need, than courage, our shaky faith, and all the power in the universe?
Jesus said, "Come.”
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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 was told once of an indigenous community in Africa evangelized by missionaries. These visitors told them some key stories about Jesus, but then took sick and died. The people of the tribe were open to the power of God as the missionaries described it, and took the stories at face value. For years, reportedly, they routinely crossed rivers and streams by walking on the water – until other missionaries came along and explained that it was just a story. Then they couldn’t do it anymore.
Three of our four gospels record Jesus walking on water. Whatever we make of the story, it seems to have been foundational to the earliest Christians, one of many stories that reveal the Kingdom life of God displayed in Jesus the Christ. Okay, sure, but he was Jesus. If you buy Jesus being the Christ, the anointed Son of God, it’s not hard to buy that he walked on water.
Matthew, however, adds a detail that brings the story closer to us. When the disciples in the boat see Jesus walking on the sea and are terrified, he says, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” And Peter responds in a particularly fearless way: Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus.
Now the pressure is on. If Peter can walk on the water at Jesus’ invitation, what is to prevent the rest of us? Why don’t we try it? Is it because we “know” we cannot, and that knowledge provided by our physical senses so overrides any spiritual conviction we might have? If we didn't know that this is "just a story," would our faith be less inhibited?
Just a story? This is quite a story. And it’s one of those we can run with, whether we take it as reported fact or spiritual metaphor. Even as metaphor, it can bear our weight. Because stepping out in faith, taking risks we believe we’ve been called by God to take, these are intrinsic to the Christian life. I don’t believe any follower of Christ is called to just stay in her boat, come hell or high water. There are times when we’re all called to get out of the boat and take a step on the water towards Jesus. And then another.
Yesterday we were invited to identify some the “headwinds” facing us. Those challenges may or may not be related to the areas in which we’re sensing a nudge to take a faith risk. So today let's ask: What seas do you feel called to step out upon? A different job? Retirement? New relationship? Ending an old relationship? Greater ministry responsibility? Living on less? Living healthier? Less dependency on someone or some thing? More dependency?
This is also a question that churches must constantly ask: where is Jesus calling us to step out of the boat of our comfort or complacency and walk with him on the water? Might that mean giving up some ministries? Taking on new ones? Worshipping differently? Joining in community with people who are different from us?
The answers will vary according to the person and the community. The constant is this: No one is asked to step out of the boat onto a stormy sea by himself. "So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came towards Jesus.” And Jesus stayed right there with him. If we step out, we step out with Jesus. What more do we need, than courage, our shaky faith, and all the power in the universe?
Jesus said, "Come.”
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
8-5-26 - Take Heart
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I am not particularly “open” to the spirit world, thankfully; I prefer the company of the living. But once I experienced what seemed to me to be the strong presence of God in a room where I was praying, and I confess I was terrified. Intrusions of the spiritual Other, even when holy, often inspire fear. Most angelic encounters recorded in the bible start with the angel saying, “Do not be afraid…”
And so it was on that lake in the middle of the night: And early in the morning he came walking towards them on the lake. But when the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."
What was more frightening, I wonder – the sight of Jesus strolling on the surface of the water, or that he might be a ghost? Neither notion is comforting. Apparitions from the beyond are no more unsettling than seeing the seemingly immutable laws of nature overturned. We expect reality to behave in the ways we have observed; the supernatural messes with our filing system.
And yet, an intrusion of the Other into our neatly categorized world is exactly what we celebrate as Christians: the cataclysmic intrusion of God into human form and life in Christ, and in these days after Pentecost, the constant intrusion of the Holy Spirit in our lives, and selves. Sometimes those encounters are powerful enough to inspire awe in us – and occasionally even fear. So these words of Jesus are for us, too: “Take heart. Take heart, I am here.”
In our story, the disciples were coping with high waves and a nasty headwind pushing them further and further from shore. “Take heart” was Jesus’ invitation to trust and allow his peace to flow into them, even if he did speak these words from outside the boat, standing on the stormy sea.
What winds are you sailing into in your life at present, keeping you from getting to shore, to any kind of stability and peace? Any waves threatening to swamp your boat? Today in prayer imagine yourself in a storm-tossed boat, bringing to mind specifically those things that are causing the wind and the waves. And then let’s see Jesus outside the boat, walking on the water toward us, peaceful, calm, in control. Does knowing he’s right there change how we feel about these challenges? Invite him into each one.
May we today enjoy a holy intrusion into our quotidian routines. I hope the Holy Spirit shows up, bidden or not, and lets us know he’s there. I hope she still the storms in us, and gives the assurance we need that God does not stay out of our lives, but comes as close as we will allow, unbound by the limits we live with. As we allow God to come closer still, we might find ourselves less bound by those limits too.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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 am not particularly “open” to the spirit world, thankfully; I prefer the company of the living. But once I experienced what seemed to me to be the strong presence of God in a room where I was praying, and I confess I was terrified. Intrusions of the spiritual Other, even when holy, often inspire fear. Most angelic encounters recorded in the bible start with the angel saying, “Do not be afraid…”
And so it was on that lake in the middle of the night: And early in the morning he came walking towards them on the lake. But when the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid."
What was more frightening, I wonder – the sight of Jesus strolling on the surface of the water, or that he might be a ghost? Neither notion is comforting. Apparitions from the beyond are no more unsettling than seeing the seemingly immutable laws of nature overturned. We expect reality to behave in the ways we have observed; the supernatural messes with our filing system.
And yet, an intrusion of the Other into our neatly categorized world is exactly what we celebrate as Christians: the cataclysmic intrusion of God into human form and life in Christ, and in these days after Pentecost, the constant intrusion of the Holy Spirit in our lives, and selves. Sometimes those encounters are powerful enough to inspire awe in us – and occasionally even fear. So these words of Jesus are for us, too: “Take heart. Take heart, I am here.”
In our story, the disciples were coping with high waves and a nasty headwind pushing them further and further from shore. “Take heart” was Jesus’ invitation to trust and allow his peace to flow into them, even if he did speak these words from outside the boat, standing on the stormy sea.
What winds are you sailing into in your life at present, keeping you from getting to shore, to any kind of stability and peace? Any waves threatening to swamp your boat? Today in prayer imagine yourself in a storm-tossed boat, bringing to mind specifically those things that are causing the wind and the waves. And then let’s see Jesus outside the boat, walking on the water toward us, peaceful, calm, in control. Does knowing he’s right there change how we feel about these challenges? Invite him into each one.
May we today enjoy a holy intrusion into our quotidian routines. I hope the Holy Spirit shows up, bidden or not, and lets us know he’s there. I hope she still the storms in us, and gives the assurance we need that God does not stay out of our lives, but comes as close as we will allow, unbound by the limits we live with. As we allow God to come closer still, we might find ourselves less bound by those limits too.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
8-4-26 - Missing the Boat
You can listen to this reflection here.
My to-do list might be considered a source of abundance in my life, since it truly never runs out. It also provides the best excuses for not taking time away from the workload to relax, refresh, and simply “be.” I am deeply wired to feel gratification by getting the next thing done – and there’s always more.
In this week’s gospel story, we see Jesus make the healthy choice to miss the boat, sending the disciples on without him. Yet somehow he manages to arrive when needed: When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking towards them on the lake.
Easy for him, eh? Sure, if we could teleport ourselves through space, or skip across bodies of water, we’d make up for lost time too. It seems we can’t do either of those things, being more constrained by space and time and elements than Jesus appeared to have been.
But I have often found the principle works just the same. When I take the time I need for prayer and self-care, somehow deadlines get met, or they shift due to other, unforeseen factors – or I miss them and find out it’s okay. At my best, when I feel the wind of the Spirit in my sails, I feel that God has the timing under control and I just have to walk in the “good works God has prepared beforehand for me.” Things I thought I should have done ages ago work out in a way that they could not possibly have before this moment, or they prove not to have been as necessary as I thought.
But we only know that after the fact. Somehow we have to keep navigating the fine line between our agency as servants of God, and the power of God to accomplish what God wills. Some say, “Work as though it’s all up to you; pray as though it’s all up to God.” I prefer, “Pray, because it’s all up to God, and work as the Spirit guides you.” And if you don’t feel any guidance, go forward as you want – if we are faithful, God will make sure the pieces line up in the end. Somehow.
When have you taken time for yourself, and didn’t do something you were supposed to do, or missed being somewhere you were supposed to be? Did the thing get done anyway? Did you connect with the right people later? Was there any “coincidence” in it coming out right?
Does your spirit yearn for some restorative time now? Are your obligations keeping you from slaking that thirst? What would it look like if you just took the time and watched to see how the Spirit gets you across the water to where you’re needed?
In these summer days, I want to be outside, and am not always as focused on work as I “should.” But it’s what my spirit craves, and 'tis the season for outside. I do work out there…and listen to the birds and watch the squirrels leap from branch to branch and admire the growing tomatoes and herbs. I don’t know what boats I might be missing but I choose to believe I’ll be where I’m supposed to be when. Certainly I’ll be less stressed.
One of my favorite cartoons shows a person sitting contentedly at a desk, over the caption, “I love deadlines. I love to watch them fly by.” Can I get an amen?
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
My to-do list might be considered a source of abundance in my life, since it truly never runs out. It also provides the best excuses for not taking time away from the workload to relax, refresh, and simply “be.” I am deeply wired to feel gratification by getting the next thing done – and there’s always more.
In this week’s gospel story, we see Jesus make the healthy choice to miss the boat, sending the disciples on without him. Yet somehow he manages to arrive when needed: When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking towards them on the lake.
Easy for him, eh? Sure, if we could teleport ourselves through space, or skip across bodies of water, we’d make up for lost time too. It seems we can’t do either of those things, being more constrained by space and time and elements than Jesus appeared to have been.
But I have often found the principle works just the same. When I take the time I need for prayer and self-care, somehow deadlines get met, or they shift due to other, unforeseen factors – or I miss them and find out it’s okay. At my best, when I feel the wind of the Spirit in my sails, I feel that God has the timing under control and I just have to walk in the “good works God has prepared beforehand for me.” Things I thought I should have done ages ago work out in a way that they could not possibly have before this moment, or they prove not to have been as necessary as I thought.
But we only know that after the fact. Somehow we have to keep navigating the fine line between our agency as servants of God, and the power of God to accomplish what God wills. Some say, “Work as though it’s all up to you; pray as though it’s all up to God.” I prefer, “Pray, because it’s all up to God, and work as the Spirit guides you.” And if you don’t feel any guidance, go forward as you want – if we are faithful, God will make sure the pieces line up in the end. Somehow.
When have you taken time for yourself, and didn’t do something you were supposed to do, or missed being somewhere you were supposed to be? Did the thing get done anyway? Did you connect with the right people later? Was there any “coincidence” in it coming out right?
Does your spirit yearn for some restorative time now? Are your obligations keeping you from slaking that thirst? What would it look like if you just took the time and watched to see how the Spirit gets you across the water to where you’re needed?
In these summer days, I want to be outside, and am not always as focused on work as I “should.” But it’s what my spirit craves, and 'tis the season for outside. I do work out there…and listen to the birds and watch the squirrels leap from branch to branch and admire the growing tomatoes and herbs. I don’t know what boats I might be missing but I choose to believe I’ll be where I’m supposed to be when. Certainly I’ll be less stressed.
One of my favorite cartoons shows a person sitting contentedly at a desk, over the caption, “I love deadlines. I love to watch them fly by.” Can I get an amen?
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
8-3-26 - Time Apart
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Sooner or later, Jesus was going to get that “alone time” he’d been wanting. It came a day later than planned, a full day of healing, teaching and miraculously feeding thousands of people – but then he took his retreat. Once the leftovers were collected, “Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray."
Being a conduit of the power of God takes energy out of a person, even Jesus. The need to rest, recharge, reconnect with the Spirit of God is as important as the visible ministry we do, maybe more so. We can do a kind of recharging in community, especially over a meal and a celebration, but for most people, our deep spirit is best renewed in solitude.
Solitude is hard to find in our multiply-connected, always “on” world. But there’s more to it than finding alone space. Many of us live with a malaise that makes it hard to seek quiet time. Our constant input, 24-7 connectivity provides ample distraction to avoid darker feelings, disappointments, mistakes, hurts we have inflicted or received, loss and pain.
We all know about distracted driving; maybe we should also wrestle with distracted living, moving too fast to notice what and who is around us, rushing to the next thing that will make us feel connected, filling every moment and part of our lives so we don’t have to face the emptiness inside.
What happens when you get time alone? Are you able to sit quietly with yourself, or do you read, download, check texts, emails, social media, google questions and watch funny pet videos? I’m afraid I too often do puzzles or pay bills; sitting quietly with myself or with Jesus can be a great challenge. I run back to my to-do list at the drop of a hat. The to-do list makes me feel filled and fulfilled, recognized, connected. Who wants to sit in silence before the vastness that is God?
Well, Jesus did… and he knew he needed that in order to live fully into his identity. Granted, he had a relationship with the Father; he didn’t need to forge one. But in his humanity he was as vulnerable as we are to the games of ego and gratification and regard. One way to live out of his true identity and not the false ones the world tried lure him into was to break away on his own sometimes for prayer and solitude. Same goes for us.
Do you do that every week? Every day? Might we covenant together to spend about ten minutes off the grid each day this week, sitting with the silence and stillness, uncomfortable as it might be? The only way to reset our priorities is to sit before God, still and waiting and expectant. That is hard for me! If it’s easy for you, you are blessed indeed. Share your secret with someone.
Here’s a prayer we can try: “Come, Holy Spirit. Quiet my mind, stir up my soul. Breathe your life into me and let me come into stillness. Let me hear what I need to hear, discern what I need to let go of. Renew my spirit, refresh my mind, and re-center me so that, like a record on a turntable, your song plays through me truly, without distortion, for those around me to hear.”
Don't put any "shoulds" on it. Just call it “me time.” It’s really “Me and God” time, but no one needs to know that…
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Sooner or later, Jesus was going to get that “alone time” he’d been wanting. It came a day later than planned, a full day of healing, teaching and miraculously feeding thousands of people – but then he took his retreat. Once the leftovers were collected, “Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray."
Being a conduit of the power of God takes energy out of a person, even Jesus. The need to rest, recharge, reconnect with the Spirit of God is as important as the visible ministry we do, maybe more so. We can do a kind of recharging in community, especially over a meal and a celebration, but for most people, our deep spirit is best renewed in solitude.
Solitude is hard to find in our multiply-connected, always “on” world. But there’s more to it than finding alone space. Many of us live with a malaise that makes it hard to seek quiet time. Our constant input, 24-7 connectivity provides ample distraction to avoid darker feelings, disappointments, mistakes, hurts we have inflicted or received, loss and pain.
We all know about distracted driving; maybe we should also wrestle with distracted living, moving too fast to notice what and who is around us, rushing to the next thing that will make us feel connected, filling every moment and part of our lives so we don’t have to face the emptiness inside.
What happens when you get time alone? Are you able to sit quietly with yourself, or do you read, download, check texts, emails, social media, google questions and watch funny pet videos? I’m afraid I too often do puzzles or pay bills; sitting quietly with myself or with Jesus can be a great challenge. I run back to my to-do list at the drop of a hat. The to-do list makes me feel filled and fulfilled, recognized, connected. Who wants to sit in silence before the vastness that is God?
Well, Jesus did… and he knew he needed that in order to live fully into his identity. Granted, he had a relationship with the Father; he didn’t need to forge one. But in his humanity he was as vulnerable as we are to the games of ego and gratification and regard. One way to live out of his true identity and not the false ones the world tried lure him into was to break away on his own sometimes for prayer and solitude. Same goes for us.
Do you do that every week? Every day? Might we covenant together to spend about ten minutes off the grid each day this week, sitting with the silence and stillness, uncomfortable as it might be? The only way to reset our priorities is to sit before God, still and waiting and expectant. That is hard for me! If it’s easy for you, you are blessed indeed. Share your secret with someone.
Here’s a prayer we can try: “Come, Holy Spirit. Quiet my mind, stir up my soul. Breathe your life into me and let me come into stillness. Let me hear what I need to hear, discern what I need to let go of. Renew my spirit, refresh my mind, and re-center me so that, like a record on a turntable, your song plays through me truly, without distortion, for those around me to hear.”
Don't put any "shoulds" on it. Just call it “me time.” It’s really “Me and God” time, but no one needs to know that…
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-31-26 - Unexpected Feasts
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
When I was just out of college, my parents lived in Turkey. I spent two months there one summer. One day we drove along the Black Sea coast and, after lots of sight-seeing, I wanted to go to the beach. We checked out several before finding one that was secluded and beautiful. Yet no sooner had we settled on the sand and gone for a swim than a group of young men trooped down the hill and set up nearby. So much for secluded. I was very self-conscious, and hoped they’d leave us alone. No such luck – soon one came over and began talking to my father in broken English. It turns out they were soldiers on a day off, and they were making lunch, and would we please join them. I shot my dad a look that said, “Please, no! I do not want to eat with a bunch of strange men we can’t even communicate with! In my bathing suit!” He did try to decline, but Turks are known for their hospitality and are hard to say no to… next thing I knew we had gotten up and gone over to their little camp.
What a lot of activity there was: a couple of guys had a fire going and were preparing to grill some wonderful spiced meat köfte on skewers. Another guy was chopping cucumbers into a pan of lettuce and tomatoes. And there were several loaves of warm ekmek, wonderful Turkish bread. Though we protested that we’d just had lunch, heaping plates were presented to us anyway. We ate. I cannot remember ever having food as good as that. It has remained in my memory as one of the great feasts of my life, social awkwardness, language gaps and all.
That unexpected feast has also stayed with me as an icon of the feasts God prepares for us to stumble onto every day of our lives. No one in that crowd of over 5,000 was there for food – they had come for healing, for hope, for wisdom, maybe to catch a glimpse of this Jesus guy, to tell folks at home they’d been there. But God had a feast in store for them.
God has feasts in store for us as well, lots of them. They might be large or small, material or spiritual or both. We have feasts of conversation and books and music, good work and hopefulness. And of course many feasts of food, one of the best ways to experience the goodness and abundant generosity of God. Each morning in summertime I cut into a plump, ripe, perfectly sweet peach, sprinkle a few luscious blueberries on top, and enjoy a feast. Whatever perceived “not-enough-ness” I may encounter later in the day, I have been reminded from the start that God is in the feasting business. As the prophet Isaiah spoke long ago:
Thus says the Lord: "Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.” (Isaiah 55:1-2; also read this Sunday)
When I was just out of college, my parents lived in Turkey. I spent two months there one summer. One day we drove along the Black Sea coast and, after lots of sight-seeing, I wanted to go to the beach. We checked out several before finding one that was secluded and beautiful. Yet no sooner had we settled on the sand and gone for a swim than a group of young men trooped down the hill and set up nearby. So much for secluded. I was very self-conscious, and hoped they’d leave us alone. No such luck – soon one came over and began talking to my father in broken English. It turns out they were soldiers on a day off, and they were making lunch, and would we please join them. I shot my dad a look that said, “Please, no! I do not want to eat with a bunch of strange men we can’t even communicate with! In my bathing suit!” He did try to decline, but Turks are known for their hospitality and are hard to say no to… next thing I knew we had gotten up and gone over to their little camp.
What a lot of activity there was: a couple of guys had a fire going and were preparing to grill some wonderful spiced meat köfte on skewers. Another guy was chopping cucumbers into a pan of lettuce and tomatoes. And there were several loaves of warm ekmek, wonderful Turkish bread. Though we protested that we’d just had lunch, heaping plates were presented to us anyway. We ate. I cannot remember ever having food as good as that. It has remained in my memory as one of the great feasts of my life, social awkwardness, language gaps and all.
That unexpected feast has also stayed with me as an icon of the feasts God prepares for us to stumble onto every day of our lives. No one in that crowd of over 5,000 was there for food – they had come for healing, for hope, for wisdom, maybe to catch a glimpse of this Jesus guy, to tell folks at home they’d been there. But God had a feast in store for them.
God has feasts in store for us as well, lots of them. They might be large or small, material or spiritual or both. We have feasts of conversation and books and music, good work and hopefulness. And of course many feasts of food, one of the best ways to experience the goodness and abundant generosity of God. Each morning in summertime I cut into a plump, ripe, perfectly sweet peach, sprinkle a few luscious blueberries on top, and enjoy a feast. Whatever perceived “not-enough-ness” I may encounter later in the day, I have been reminded from the start that God is in the feasting business. As the prophet Isaiah spoke long ago:
Thus says the Lord: "Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.” (Isaiah 55:1-2; also read this Sunday)
- What are you spending money on and laboring for that does not satisfy?
- What feasts have you declined, or not recognized until later?
- Do you associate God with feasting or with fasting?
- How might we better balance the two?
We will live differently if we expect feasts. We will give differently if we expect feasts. We will love differently, and perhaps even allow ourselves to be loved more deeply. The invitation couldn’t be clearer: “O, taste and see that the Lord is good.” (Psalm 34:8)
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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, 2026. 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.
7-30-26 - God's Enough
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I’m always wary when there is a lot of food left after a dinner party, concerned that the guests didn’t really like it. At the same time, empty serving dishes hint that I did not make enough; leftovers are evidence there was enough and to spare. Abundance. So it was that day of Jesus’ Big Picnic: “And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.”
How often do we find ourselves expecting the bare minimum, when God has blessed us with abundance? Vats and vats of water turned to finest wine, thousands fed on what seemed much too little, yet yielding baskets of leftovers. I can just hear Jesus saying to his followers, “Get it? Do you understand how things work in the Life of God?”
I do believe abundance is a principle of God-Life, one we are invited to get used to, even expect. I have also found that sometimes God’s “enough” is just enough, with not a lot to spare. Church budgets with projected deficits come out close to even, but there are no windfall bequests. Just enough people show up to do a work project to get it done. So often, things just work, and there is enough, more than expected, but just enough, not what we'd call abundance.
It is always risky to try to extrapolate the plans of God from our small experiences, but perhaps In these situations, the provision of way too much would invite us to complacency, where just “enough” keeps us faithful and alert. Or maybe we crave more than God thinks we need. Whether enough or more than enough, one thing I’m pretty sure of is that God is not in the business of scarcity.
Whether we have leftovers for a week or just enough to cover our needs, it is all provision from the One who made us. As we grow in recognizing and appreciating God's gifts, we can live and love with the kind of abundance that is God's hallmark. As we receive, so let us give. As Jesus said, "A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” (Luke 6:38)
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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’m always wary when there is a lot of food left after a dinner party, concerned that the guests didn’t really like it. At the same time, empty serving dishes hint that I did not make enough; leftovers are evidence there was enough and to spare. Abundance. So it was that day of Jesus’ Big Picnic: “And all ate and were filled; and they took up what was left over of the broken pieces, twelve baskets full.”
How often do we find ourselves expecting the bare minimum, when God has blessed us with abundance? Vats and vats of water turned to finest wine, thousands fed on what seemed much too little, yet yielding baskets of leftovers. I can just hear Jesus saying to his followers, “Get it? Do you understand how things work in the Life of God?”
I do believe abundance is a principle of God-Life, one we are invited to get used to, even expect. I have also found that sometimes God’s “enough” is just enough, with not a lot to spare. Church budgets with projected deficits come out close to even, but there are no windfall bequests. Just enough people show up to do a work project to get it done. So often, things just work, and there is enough, more than expected, but just enough, not what we'd call abundance.
It is always risky to try to extrapolate the plans of God from our small experiences, but perhaps In these situations, the provision of way too much would invite us to complacency, where just “enough” keeps us faithful and alert. Or maybe we crave more than God thinks we need. Whether enough or more than enough, one thing I’m pretty sure of is that God is not in the business of scarcity.
- What do you fear you will not have enough of?
- What do you have just enough of?
- Where do you see abundance?
Exploring these questions can be a good spiritual diagnostic exercise, giving us clues as to where our trust in God is weaker or stronger. Then we can invite the Spirit to build us up where we need it, and pray for the grace to let go where we’re clutching. A similar examination of how and when and to whom we find ourselves giving abundantly, and where we give with a tight fist, or not at all, provides a helpful inventory of our relationships and anxiety levels. What circumstances prompt you to give generously?
Whether we have leftovers for a week or just enough to cover our needs, it is all provision from the One who made us. As we grow in recognizing and appreciating God's gifts, we can live and love with the kind of abundance that is God's hallmark. As we receive, so let us give. As Jesus said, "A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” (Luke 6:38)
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-29-26 - How To Feed a Crowd
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Today is a “lesser feast day” attributed to Mary and Martha of Bethany, who were among Jesus’ closest friends. It is sweet irony to celebrate these sisters, one a paragon of spiritual devotion, the other a champion hostess, the same day that we study Jesus and his disciples challenged with feeding a crowd numbering in the thousands, with very little food and no planning to speak of. But Jesus channeled some Martha energy and got it organized: Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled.
Sure, Jesus had the power of God working through him. He also had a savvy grasp of logistics and crowd control. He had people sit down; we’re often much more receptive when seated. Other accounts tell us that he had people sit in groups of 50 and 100 – now we’re talking manageable groups. Then Jesus took what was on hand, the five loaves and two fish, looked up to heaven – presumably in prayer, a prayer of blessing, a prayer of thanksgiving for what was about to happen – then blessed the food and broke it up.
And here’s how it got to the people: he gave it to the disciples, and they gave it to the crowds. Jesus didn’t personally feed anyone that day – the disciples did. And as they did, they kept having enough. It doesn’t say that Jesus prayed up a mountain of bread and fish, from which they refilled their baskets. It just says they gave it out, and kept not running out. “And all ate and were filled.”
So often we think something is impossible, insurmountable. Well, if God says it is possible, and if we sense God inviting us to bear God’s power into, say, entrenched racism, a corrupt government, peace in the Middle East and on our own streets, we don’t have to know how it will work; we don’t need to see the whole picture from the start. We can step out in faith, doing the next manageable task, and then the next one, trusting the provision of the One who sent us. God already has the whole thing worked out – and for some reason is waiting for us to carry the baskets, hand out the food, bind up the wounds, help to transform structures of injustice.
Is that a lot of pressure for us? Yes and no. Yes – I do believe that if every true Christ-follower in the world helped to feed others, no one would go hungry. And if more of us stood up to violence and injustice, more people would live in safety. The challenges are only insurmountable because so few do take action. That being said, it’s NOT a lot of pressure, because it isn’t our work – it’s God’s work. We simply make ourselves available. We don’t have to engineer it.
Given what’s going on the world, I can hear how “pie in the sky” I sound. I also believe it’s true. So I must ask each day, “Lord, who do you want me to feed? What do you want me to be doing about equity?”
There is another lesser feast assigned to this date, honouring the Philadelphia Eleven, those women, and the men and women who supported them, who were ordained to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church in 1974, before that practice had been legitimized by the Church’s governing bodies. The challenges they faced to bring equity to the Church, to honor the Spirit’s call to women as well as men, seemed impossible… and yet, painfully and painstakingly, they moved toward that goal. (See the film made about that journey.)
What challenge do you sense, which you feel is way beyond your capacity? Is God asking you to do something about it? Then God will show you what resources you already have, and provide what’s lacking. Spend some prayer time on that one today. Then take it, bless it, break it, and give it away.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Today is a “lesser feast day” attributed to Mary and Martha of Bethany, who were among Jesus’ closest friends. It is sweet irony to celebrate these sisters, one a paragon of spiritual devotion, the other a champion hostess, the same day that we study Jesus and his disciples challenged with feeding a crowd numbering in the thousands, with very little food and no planning to speak of. But Jesus channeled some Martha energy and got it organized: Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And all ate and were filled.
Sure, Jesus had the power of God working through him. He also had a savvy grasp of logistics and crowd control. He had people sit down; we’re often much more receptive when seated. Other accounts tell us that he had people sit in groups of 50 and 100 – now we’re talking manageable groups. Then Jesus took what was on hand, the five loaves and two fish, looked up to heaven – presumably in prayer, a prayer of blessing, a prayer of thanksgiving for what was about to happen – then blessed the food and broke it up.
And here’s how it got to the people: he gave it to the disciples, and they gave it to the crowds. Jesus didn’t personally feed anyone that day – the disciples did. And as they did, they kept having enough. It doesn’t say that Jesus prayed up a mountain of bread and fish, from which they refilled their baskets. It just says they gave it out, and kept not running out. “And all ate and were filled.”
So often we think something is impossible, insurmountable. Well, if God says it is possible, and if we sense God inviting us to bear God’s power into, say, entrenched racism, a corrupt government, peace in the Middle East and on our own streets, we don’t have to know how it will work; we don’t need to see the whole picture from the start. We can step out in faith, doing the next manageable task, and then the next one, trusting the provision of the One who sent us. God already has the whole thing worked out – and for some reason is waiting for us to carry the baskets, hand out the food, bind up the wounds, help to transform structures of injustice.
Is that a lot of pressure for us? Yes and no. Yes – I do believe that if every true Christ-follower in the world helped to feed others, no one would go hungry. And if more of us stood up to violence and injustice, more people would live in safety. The challenges are only insurmountable because so few do take action. That being said, it’s NOT a lot of pressure, because it isn’t our work – it’s God’s work. We simply make ourselves available. We don’t have to engineer it.
Given what’s going on the world, I can hear how “pie in the sky” I sound. I also believe it’s true. So I must ask each day, “Lord, who do you want me to feed? What do you want me to be doing about equity?”
There is another lesser feast assigned to this date, honouring the Philadelphia Eleven, those women, and the men and women who supported them, who were ordained to the priesthood in the Episcopal Church in 1974, before that practice had been legitimized by the Church’s governing bodies. The challenges they faced to bring equity to the Church, to honor the Spirit’s call to women as well as men, seemed impossible… and yet, painfully and painstakingly, they moved toward that goal. (See the film made about that journey.)
What challenge do you sense, which you feel is way beyond your capacity? Is God asking you to do something about it? Then God will show you what resources you already have, and provide what’s lacking. Spend some prayer time on that one today. Then take it, bless it, break it, and give it away.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-28-26 - You Feed Them
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Many of us have been challenged to provide a meal for guests on very short notice. It can be fun to see what we can whip up from food we have around. But well over 5,000 people out in a field? I think we’d throw up our hands, just as Jesus’ disciples did. Aware that the people had been there all day, and that crowds and hunger can be a combustible combination, they sensibly suggested Jesus suspend the healing and teaching, and send people off to eat: When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.”
In other gospel versions of this story – and it is one of the few that appear in all four gospels – Jesus tells the disciples to assess their resources before concluding that they don’t have enough. In Matthew’s account, they must already have done that, for they are quick with the answer, and give it in the negative: “We have nothing here but…” Nothing but. The “but” belies the “nothing,” but obviously they consider the assets so inadequate to the need as to count for nought.
What is your “default setting” – that there is not enough, or that plenty is possible? Are there areas in your life where you are so sure you don’t have enough, that you don’t even consider the possibility of God providing? I’m pretty trusting about finances, not so much when it comes to relationships.
Where have you known scarcity? Where have you known abundance? When we assume scarcity, that’s often what we experience. And when we assume plenty, even if we can’t imagine from where it might come, we more often find that.
Today in prayer let’s bring before God those places in our life where we experience “not-enough-ness” and those where we experience plenty. These might include relationships we’re in, work we do, gifts we want or have, use or don’t use. Maybe envision a bunch of baskets, some empty, some full. Put labels on them in your imagination. Give thanks for the full ones. Invite God to transform your relationship to the empty ones – maybe they got empty at one point in your life, and you’re afraid to imagine them filled. Or maybe all your baskets are full. What does the Spirit say about these things/feelings/people?
What if instead of “we have nothing but...,” the disciples had said, “Well, we have five loaves and two fish…” It still might not seem like enough, but putting it that way gives room for hope. “Nothing but...” closes the conversation.
Unless, of course, you’re talking to Jesus, who said, “With God all things are possible,” and then demonstrated the truth of that crazy statement in the most amazing way.
Many of us have been challenged to provide a meal for guests on very short notice. It can be fun to see what we can whip up from food we have around. But well over 5,000 people out in a field? I think we’d throw up our hands, just as Jesus’ disciples did. Aware that the people had been there all day, and that crowds and hunger can be a combustible combination, they sensibly suggested Jesus suspend the healing and teaching, and send people off to eat: When it was evening, the disciples came to him and said, “This is a deserted place, and the hour is now late; send the crowds away so that they may go into the villages and buy food for themselves.” Jesus said to them, “They need not go away; you give them something to eat.” They replied, “We have nothing here but five loaves and two fish.”
In other gospel versions of this story – and it is one of the few that appear in all four gospels – Jesus tells the disciples to assess their resources before concluding that they don’t have enough. In Matthew’s account, they must already have done that, for they are quick with the answer, and give it in the negative: “We have nothing here but…” Nothing but. The “but” belies the “nothing,” but obviously they consider the assets so inadequate to the need as to count for nought.
What is your “default setting” – that there is not enough, or that plenty is possible? Are there areas in your life where you are so sure you don’t have enough, that you don’t even consider the possibility of God providing? I’m pretty trusting about finances, not so much when it comes to relationships.
Where have you known scarcity? Where have you known abundance? When we assume scarcity, that’s often what we experience. And when we assume plenty, even if we can’t imagine from where it might come, we more often find that.
Today in prayer let’s bring before God those places in our life where we experience “not-enough-ness” and those where we experience plenty. These might include relationships we’re in, work we do, gifts we want or have, use or don’t use. Maybe envision a bunch of baskets, some empty, some full. Put labels on them in your imagination. Give thanks for the full ones. Invite God to transform your relationship to the empty ones – maybe they got empty at one point in your life, and you’re afraid to imagine them filled. Or maybe all your baskets are full. What does the Spirit say about these things/feelings/people?
What if instead of “we have nothing but...,” the disciples had said, “Well, we have five loaves and two fish…” It still might not seem like enough, but putting it that way gives room for hope. “Nothing but...” closes the conversation.
Unless, of course, you’re talking to Jesus, who said, “With God all things are possible,” and then demonstrated the truth of that crazy statement in the most amazing way.
7-27-26 - Godly Interruptions
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Jesus needed a little time off, a little time for retreat and prayer, and for grief. He had just learned of the brutal death of John the Baptist at the whim of a party girl and her vengeful mother. So he planned a spiritual getaway. As we say in clergy circles, he was modeling excellent self-care. But even Jesus’ plans can be interrupted: Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.
I wonder if his heart sank as the boat approached his “deserted place” and he saw it teeming with people, people who had walked the long way around the lake to get to where he was going to be because they wanted to be healed. If he thought, “Darn, there goes my quiet time…” or, “Sorry, it’s my day off, and I really need one this week,” or “I’m grieving and I need a time out…” the Gospel writers don’t tell us. He saw the crowd, he had compassion, and began an impromptu healing service that lasted all day.
Are we to be always ready to give ourselves away when people need us? That’s a good recipe for burn-out – but is burn-out even an operative principle in the Realm of God? Good personal boundaries are important, of course – and perhaps we're best off when we allow the Holy Spirit to set those boundaries for us. Jesus had an impeccable (!) sense of self and did not allow himself to be manipulated by people's needs. But he did respond to needs as led by the Spirit.
And when he gave, he did not give from his own human resources. He allowed himself to be a conduit for the power and love of the Spirit. Sure, he felt tired at times, and there was an occasion when he said he felt power go out of him when someone touched him for healing. But for the most part, he demonstrated extraordinary stamina, preaching, teaching, healing, on the move all the time.
That is his gift to us, we who are united with him in baptism. When we are running on Holy Spirit power, we know when to stop and talk, when to keep moving, when to offer healing, when to act on our dreams. And when we’re on Spirit power, our energies are renewed and replenished. I can always tell when I’ve gone back to Kate-Power – it runs down, and I get discouraged and testy. Holy Spirit Power jazzes me up and energizes me, even when my to-do list has been disrupted.
How about you? Can you think of a time when your plans were interrupted by something that turned out to be ministry? Did you make the decision to go with the interruption rather than fighting it, or did you ignore the ministry opportunity in order to stay focused on your plans? How did you decide? How did it feel?
Today let’s sit quietly in prayer, coming into God’s presence with thanksgiving, and ask the Spirit to lead us to godly interruptions. Let’s ask the Spirit to fill us, to increase our capacity to carry God’s power and insight and love and peace and strength – other people need it.
We might say it is our mission as agents of healing and restoration in the name of Jesus to bring people to where he is going to be. We don’t always know where that is, but he did give us a few clues: in the Word, in the bread and wine at worship, in the poor and those in need – and, indeed, everywhere two or three of us gather in his name. Bring your friends – Jesus will be rowing up any minute now.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Jesus needed a little time off, a little time for retreat and prayer, and for grief. He had just learned of the brutal death of John the Baptist at the whim of a party girl and her vengeful mother. So he planned a spiritual getaway. As we say in clergy circles, he was modeling excellent self-care. But even Jesus’ plans can be interrupted: Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick.
I wonder if his heart sank as the boat approached his “deserted place” and he saw it teeming with people, people who had walked the long way around the lake to get to where he was going to be because they wanted to be healed. If he thought, “Darn, there goes my quiet time…” or, “Sorry, it’s my day off, and I really need one this week,” or “I’m grieving and I need a time out…” the Gospel writers don’t tell us. He saw the crowd, he had compassion, and began an impromptu healing service that lasted all day.
Are we to be always ready to give ourselves away when people need us? That’s a good recipe for burn-out – but is burn-out even an operative principle in the Realm of God? Good personal boundaries are important, of course – and perhaps we're best off when we allow the Holy Spirit to set those boundaries for us. Jesus had an impeccable (!) sense of self and did not allow himself to be manipulated by people's needs. But he did respond to needs as led by the Spirit.
And when he gave, he did not give from his own human resources. He allowed himself to be a conduit for the power and love of the Spirit. Sure, he felt tired at times, and there was an occasion when he said he felt power go out of him when someone touched him for healing. But for the most part, he demonstrated extraordinary stamina, preaching, teaching, healing, on the move all the time.
That is his gift to us, we who are united with him in baptism. When we are running on Holy Spirit power, we know when to stop and talk, when to keep moving, when to offer healing, when to act on our dreams. And when we’re on Spirit power, our energies are renewed and replenished. I can always tell when I’ve gone back to Kate-Power – it runs down, and I get discouraged and testy. Holy Spirit Power jazzes me up and energizes me, even when my to-do list has been disrupted.
How about you? Can you think of a time when your plans were interrupted by something that turned out to be ministry? Did you make the decision to go with the interruption rather than fighting it, or did you ignore the ministry opportunity in order to stay focused on your plans? How did you decide? How did it feel?
Today let’s sit quietly in prayer, coming into God’s presence with thanksgiving, and ask the Spirit to lead us to godly interruptions. Let’s ask the Spirit to fill us, to increase our capacity to carry God’s power and insight and love and peace and strength – other people need it.
We might say it is our mission as agents of healing and restoration in the name of Jesus to bring people to where he is going to be. We don’t always know where that is, but he did give us a few clues: in the Word, in the bread and wine at worship, in the poor and those in need – and, indeed, everywhere two or three of us gather in his name. Bring your friends – Jesus will be rowing up any minute now.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-24-26 - Something Old, Something New
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Tradition. Innovation. Between these two poles runs a continuum underlying many controversies and conflicts in churches. And corporations. And non-profits. And healthcare and politics and the arts.
Where we find ourselves on that spectrum says much about how we approach life. No surprise that Jesus comes at this tension with a both/and: And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”
Training for the kingdom of heaven means ongoing learning. The phrase suggests that understanding the ways of the kingdom, the ways of God-Life, requires training; it does not come naturally to us. This is why churches stress “faith formation” activities and spiritual practices in addition to urging regular attendance at worship. It is not possible to imbibe the values and ways of the Kingdom in one or two hours a week at worship.
It also appears that living the kingdom life, the “God-Life” the way Jesus revealed it, involves exercising generosity, like the master of a household sharing of his treasure. Yet what he is to share is interesting, “what is new and what is old.” A complete orientation toward innovation can be as toxic as leaning entirely on the tradition. Yes, “Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8), AND “Behold, I am making all things new.” (Revelation 21:5) In the truth of both these statements we find our life.
What are some of the “old” gifts that you carry and offer? Things from your tradition, from your own history and upbringing, things that will never go out of style? Who wants the old and lovely treasures you offer?
And what is in your store of new treasure? New insights, patterns, relationships, gifts, ministries, life? Are you as generous sharing the new as the old?
As Christ followers, we are called to live, even thrive in this tension between the old and the new. God is rarely in the last place we encountered him. The Spirit is always moving around the neighborhood, activating the servants of God who are open to participating in what God is up to. And what God is up to is bringing new life to tired things and people – even to tired churches.
Today I commend a prayer from the U.S. Episcopal Church's Book of Common Prayer (just to prove I am capable of bringing out of the storehouse something old… !). This is from the ordination service:
O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favourably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquility the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were being cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
‘Have you understood all this?’ Jesus asked. They answered, ‘Yes.’
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Tradition. Innovation. Between these two poles runs a continuum underlying many controversies and conflicts in churches. And corporations. And non-profits. And healthcare and politics and the arts.
Where we find ourselves on that spectrum says much about how we approach life. No surprise that Jesus comes at this tension with a both/and: And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”
Training for the kingdom of heaven means ongoing learning. The phrase suggests that understanding the ways of the kingdom, the ways of God-Life, requires training; it does not come naturally to us. This is why churches stress “faith formation” activities and spiritual practices in addition to urging regular attendance at worship. It is not possible to imbibe the values and ways of the Kingdom in one or two hours a week at worship.
It also appears that living the kingdom life, the “God-Life” the way Jesus revealed it, involves exercising generosity, like the master of a household sharing of his treasure. Yet what he is to share is interesting, “what is new and what is old.” A complete orientation toward innovation can be as toxic as leaning entirely on the tradition. Yes, “Jesus is the same yesterday, today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8), AND “Behold, I am making all things new.” (Revelation 21:5) In the truth of both these statements we find our life.
What are some of the “old” gifts that you carry and offer? Things from your tradition, from your own history and upbringing, things that will never go out of style? Who wants the old and lovely treasures you offer?
And what is in your store of new treasure? New insights, patterns, relationships, gifts, ministries, life? Are you as generous sharing the new as the old?
As Christ followers, we are called to live, even thrive in this tension between the old and the new. God is rarely in the last place we encountered him. The Spirit is always moving around the neighborhood, activating the servants of God who are open to participating in what God is up to. And what God is up to is bringing new life to tired things and people – even to tired churches.
Today I commend a prayer from the U.S. Episcopal Church's Book of Common Prayer (just to prove I am capable of bringing out of the storehouse something old… !). This is from the ordination service:
O God of unchangeable power and eternal light: Look favourably on your whole Church, that wonderful and sacred mystery; by the effectual working of your providence, carry out in tranquility the plan of salvation; let the whole world see and know that things which were being cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
‘Have you understood all this?’ Jesus asked. They answered, ‘Yes.’
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-23-26 - One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish...
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Jesus uses a diverse set of characters and settings in his short parables of the Kingdom… agriculture, baking, real estate, commerce. And now we enter the realm of fishing, a milieu he must have come to know well. (Why didn't the carpenter ever tell a parable about woodworking?) Let’s examine this one, which brings us back to those lovely Last Judgment themes:
“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
On the surface, this one seems pretty clear – sorting is something we can all grasp. This story, like the one about the weeds and the wheat, depicts that aspect of the Kingdom that deals with final judgment. But here we get angels in waders (anglers!), separating the good fish from the bottom feeders. What wisdom can we find in this simple tale?
Well – there’s a randomness to the catching process, isn’t there? The kingdom of heaven doesn’t seem to be very discriminating – that net is thrown into the sea, the sea perhaps representing the entire creation, and any old fish can swim in. What constitutes a fish worthy of keeping and those to be tossed is not articulated in this story – once again, it is not for us to judge our fellow fish, but to love.
Notice that the net is not drawn onto land until it is full. New Testament writings offer several hints that God is in no hurry to ring down the curtain on this age, preferring to wait until all have received and responded to the invitation to new life. It’s up to us to extend that invitation. That is called evangelism.
Some people evangelize to save people from the fires of hell. I prefer to stress the joys of heaven and the fullness of God-Life we already begin to enjoy in this world. Offering other fish a swim in the Water of Life is a gift we can share – which would make the net a good thing.
Jesus uses a diverse set of characters and settings in his short parables of the Kingdom… agriculture, baking, real estate, commerce. And now we enter the realm of fishing, a milieu he must have come to know well. (Why didn't the carpenter ever tell a parable about woodworking?) Let’s examine this one, which brings us back to those lovely Last Judgment themes:
“Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when it was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets but threw out the bad. So it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come out and separate the evil from the righteous and throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
On the surface, this one seems pretty clear – sorting is something we can all grasp. This story, like the one about the weeds and the wheat, depicts that aspect of the Kingdom that deals with final judgment. But here we get angels in waders (anglers!), separating the good fish from the bottom feeders. What wisdom can we find in this simple tale?
Well – there’s a randomness to the catching process, isn’t there? The kingdom of heaven doesn’t seem to be very discriminating – that net is thrown into the sea, the sea perhaps representing the entire creation, and any old fish can swim in. What constitutes a fish worthy of keeping and those to be tossed is not articulated in this story – once again, it is not for us to judge our fellow fish, but to love.
Notice that the net is not drawn onto land until it is full. New Testament writings offer several hints that God is in no hurry to ring down the curtain on this age, preferring to wait until all have received and responded to the invitation to new life. It’s up to us to extend that invitation. That is called evangelism.
Some people evangelize to save people from the fires of hell. I prefer to stress the joys of heaven and the fullness of God-Life we already begin to enjoy in this world. Offering other fish a swim in the Water of Life is a gift we can share – which would make the net a good thing.
- Are you feeling fishy today? Willing to pray as a fish – which can breathe under the water, undisturbed by turbulence on the surface?
- Are you willing to be caught?
- Is there anyone whom you’d like to invite into the net with you?
Some fish, we know, will hop right into the frying pan, no matter what invitations we extend. Many others, I pray, will choose to join us in the life-giving waters of baptism.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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, 2026. 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.
7-22-26 - Infinitely Precious
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Sharing is a social principle children are taught. It must be taught, for it is not a natural human inclination. I would have thought that Jesus was all about sharing – but there is a possessive twist in the next two short parables he offers:
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”
The hidden treasure is puzzling – it is rare to find treasure in a field. And who hid it? It is obviously a treasure of great value, for the one who finds it hides it again, then quickly goes out to secure its possession by buying the whole field. Indeed, she gives up everything she has to buy that field.
In the story about the pearl, there is no hiding, but the merchant is certainly seeking. Among all the pearls he encounters and examines, he finds one of great value and gives up everything else he has to own it.
Is it we who are to find the treasure, seek the pearl, and upon finding, sell everything we have in order to secure that precious thing? Is Jesus, or the Life of God that precious to us? What would that look like to you? What would you need to sell, figuratively or literally? Hmmm...
Are we to keep the life of God for ourselves? Of course not – Jesus is always telling his followers to go out and proclaim the Good News. But when we understand the intimacy and love of God revealed in relationship through Christ to be a gift of such value, once we truly “find it,” we want to hold it close and not dilute it. I think of the parable of the wise maidens with their extra store of oil – if they were to share it with the foolish ones, no one would have any light. Jesus invites us to go “all in” and put our relationship with God first – that way, everyone will have light and to spare.
There is, of course, a whole other way to interpret these parables, turning them over and looking from another angle: Is Jesus saying that we are the hidden treasure found by God, who went and sold all that he had to buy the field (the world) that contains us? Is Jesus the merchant in search of the finest pearls – and seeing us as having infinite value, gave up everything he had in this world to secure us, redeem us? Are we willing to acknowledge that we are that precious?
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Sharing is a social principle children are taught. It must be taught, for it is not a natural human inclination. I would have thought that Jesus was all about sharing – but there is a possessive twist in the next two short parables he offers:
“The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which someone found and hid; then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field.
"Again, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls; on finding one pearl of great value, he went and sold all that he had and bought it.”
The hidden treasure is puzzling – it is rare to find treasure in a field. And who hid it? It is obviously a treasure of great value, for the one who finds it hides it again, then quickly goes out to secure its possession by buying the whole field. Indeed, she gives up everything she has to buy that field.
In the story about the pearl, there is no hiding, but the merchant is certainly seeking. Among all the pearls he encounters and examines, he finds one of great value and gives up everything else he has to own it.
Is it we who are to find the treasure, seek the pearl, and upon finding, sell everything we have in order to secure that precious thing? Is Jesus, or the Life of God that precious to us? What would that look like to you? What would you need to sell, figuratively or literally? Hmmm...
Are we to keep the life of God for ourselves? Of course not – Jesus is always telling his followers to go out and proclaim the Good News. But when we understand the intimacy and love of God revealed in relationship through Christ to be a gift of such value, once we truly “find it,” we want to hold it close and not dilute it. I think of the parable of the wise maidens with their extra store of oil – if they were to share it with the foolish ones, no one would have any light. Jesus invites us to go “all in” and put our relationship with God first – that way, everyone will have light and to spare.
There is, of course, a whole other way to interpret these parables, turning them over and looking from another angle: Is Jesus saying that we are the hidden treasure found by God, who went and sold all that he had to buy the field (the world) that contains us? Is Jesus the merchant in search of the finest pearls – and seeing us as having infinite value, gave up everything he had in this world to secure us, redeem us? Are we willing to acknowledge that we are that precious?
- How might we think or speak or move differently today, thinking of ourselves as pearls of great price?
- How might we engage in unearthing the hidden treasures in other people, perhaps obscured under layers of soil – wounds, disappointments, discouragement, shame?
In prayer, imagine yourself as treasure in a field or a pearl in a velvet box – highly prized, sought after, sacrificed for. Let your spirit offer praise to the God who delights in you, who has deemed you worthy of love, who has given all to secure your love. Bask in God’s love and pleasure. Luxuriate in it. Soak it in. Believe it.
Then share it with someone else who needs to know how precious he is, who needs to know she is a treasure found by the God who made her, and has gone to hell and back to secure her.
Then share it with someone else who needs to know how precious he is, who needs to know she is a treasure found by the God who made her, and has gone to hell and back to secure her.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-21-26 - Yeast
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Many a Saturday, I have baked bread to be blessed, broken and consumed at church on Sunday. I'm just grooving with Jesus: He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”
How could the kingdom of heaven be like yeast? We appreciate the homey metaphor, and props to Jesus for getting a woman into the picture (and knowing the recipe…), but what might yeast have to do with the realm of God? Well, let’s do some wondering about yeast – and some pondering between paragraphs.
Yeast, like a mustard seed, is a tiny thing that generates a large outcome. Yeast must be activated by liquid and a sweetening agent of some sort, sugar or honey. So there is interdependence, as in the community of God. Once yeast is added to those other agents, it begins to bubble and move – we call that proofing. If the yeast is worn out, it won’t come to life, but if there is any life there, a little sweetness and water will bring it out. Sound like anyone you know?
Yeast is a catalyst. Just as it cannot achieve its “yeastiness” by itself, it does not work alone, but helps other ingredients to become a whole new creation, a loaf. The woman in the story adds it to three measures of flour. Why three? Hmmm – the Trinity? Parallels to community in Christ, the way different elements combine to achieve a greater result? What do you see?
Yeast works from the inside out. You can’t just sprinkle it on top and hope it “takes.” You must knead it all through, working it into every part of the dough – just as our formation as Christ-followers needs to become internal and organic, not just surface, one-hour-a-week-on-Sundays.
And the dough goes though some turmoil in the kneading process, as the baker smooths out air pockets and gets all the ingredients evenly distributed for a nice, fine grain. Sometimes, turmoil is how the leaven of the Holy Spirit gets worked all through us. When has that happened in your life?
And then there’s the result – the bread. At the point at which the loaf is baked, the yeast has ceased to be. It has become one with the dough, one with the loaf. Didn’t Jesus say, “Whoever loses her life for me and for the gospel will save it?” Didn't St. Paul say, "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me?"
And the loaf itself cannot live out its destiny unless it is broken and given away. That’s what we enact as the Body of Christ each week – a making whole, re-membering, and then a breaking apart again to feed the world.
Yeast as the Life of God works as a metaphor in several ways. We can see it as the Spirit’s presence in us, a seemingly indiscernible force that heals and transforms and empowers us from within, making us finest bread. AND, turning the parable another way, we can see ourselves as the yeast Jesus is talking about, the leaven that works through the dough of the communities in which we find ourselves, sacred and secular, to bring life and air, transformation and healing. AND, turning the parable another way… what do you see?
Many a Saturday, I have baked bread to be blessed, broken and consumed at church on Sunday. I'm just grooving with Jesus: He told them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”
How could the kingdom of heaven be like yeast? We appreciate the homey metaphor, and props to Jesus for getting a woman into the picture (and knowing the recipe…), but what might yeast have to do with the realm of God? Well, let’s do some wondering about yeast – and some pondering between paragraphs.
Yeast, like a mustard seed, is a tiny thing that generates a large outcome. Yeast must be activated by liquid and a sweetening agent of some sort, sugar or honey. So there is interdependence, as in the community of God. Once yeast is added to those other agents, it begins to bubble and move – we call that proofing. If the yeast is worn out, it won’t come to life, but if there is any life there, a little sweetness and water will bring it out. Sound like anyone you know?
Yeast is a catalyst. Just as it cannot achieve its “yeastiness” by itself, it does not work alone, but helps other ingredients to become a whole new creation, a loaf. The woman in the story adds it to three measures of flour. Why three? Hmmm – the Trinity? Parallels to community in Christ, the way different elements combine to achieve a greater result? What do you see?
Yeast works from the inside out. You can’t just sprinkle it on top and hope it “takes.” You must knead it all through, working it into every part of the dough – just as our formation as Christ-followers needs to become internal and organic, not just surface, one-hour-a-week-on-Sundays.
And the dough goes though some turmoil in the kneading process, as the baker smooths out air pockets and gets all the ingredients evenly distributed for a nice, fine grain. Sometimes, turmoil is how the leaven of the Holy Spirit gets worked all through us. When has that happened in your life?
And then there’s the result – the bread. At the point at which the loaf is baked, the yeast has ceased to be. It has become one with the dough, one with the loaf. Didn’t Jesus say, “Whoever loses her life for me and for the gospel will save it?” Didn't St. Paul say, "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me?"
And the loaf itself cannot live out its destiny unless it is broken and given away. That’s what we enact as the Body of Christ each week – a making whole, re-membering, and then a breaking apart again to feed the world.
Yeast as the Life of God works as a metaphor in several ways. We can see it as the Spirit’s presence in us, a seemingly indiscernible force that heals and transforms and empowers us from within, making us finest bread. AND, turning the parable another way, we can see ourselves as the yeast Jesus is talking about, the leaven that works through the dough of the communities in which we find ourselves, sacred and secular, to bring life and air, transformation and healing. AND, turning the parable another way… what do you see?
- How are you experiencing the Spirit of God as yeast in your heart, mind, spirit? In your life?
- How do you find yourself serving as leaven in the world around you?
- Are you willing to offer yourself in a particular context? That’s a prayer for today.
Without yeast, we would have no risen bread, a tragedy to those of us who love bread. Without the Yeast of Christ, we could not become Risen Bread – a tragedy for a world in need of resurrection life.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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, 2026. 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.
7-20-26 - God's Microchip
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Jesus' parables come in all shapes and sizes, long, short, complex, simple. Some cover decades, with multiple characters and dialogue; others are extended examples. All are meant to convey in words and images the invisible reality he called the “Kingdom of Heaven.” Next Sunday we get a series of one and two-line parables. As we explore these small gems, turning them this way and that, seeing how the light shines through them, we just may find as many layers as in the longer ones.
We start with the Kingdom being compared to a tiny seed: He put before them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that someone took and sowed in his field; it is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the greatest of shrubs and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches."
How is the realm of God like a tiny seed? Hmmm. Let’s wonder together. What is a seed? A nugget of life, a whole life hidden from view, disguised as something small, seemingly innocuous, yet containing its whole future. All that is to be, all the fruitfulness and loss, is right there, waiting to burst forth. Are we seeds in which the kingdom of God, the Life of God, is contained? Is the church? Hmmm....
Seeds must be sown to bring forth life. Where has God planted you? Do you like the field you’re in? Do you wish to be moved to soil more to your liking, or will you, as the old poster read, “Bloom where you are planted?” (We moved so much in my youth, my mother inserted “trans-“ to that.)
A seed must die if its life is to be released. That breaking open is pretty traumatic to the seed. What in us needs to be broken open so the God-Life inside can be made visible? What in us that is broken has yet to be healed, so that wound might bring healing to others? Hmmm....
Small things can wield a large impact. Witness the power of a baby to garner the attention of a household or a baby animal to commandeer the internet. Witness a rudder on a large boat, or whole libraries resident on a microchip. Witness the impact one tired woman like Rosa Parks can have on a nation. What examples have you lived of small things with big influence? What comes to mind?
The tiny mustard seed in Jesus’ parable gives way to a bush, a shrub that becomes a tree – its blessings are multiple. It bears fruit and gives shade and provides dwelling places for the birds. Name some of the multiple blessings that the world sees from your life.
Today, let’s pray as seeds –
- giving thanks for where we are planted, or asking to be planted elsewhere;
- taking note of where we are being broken open and giving thanks for the new life to emerge;
- taking note of our fruitfulness and who is being blessed by our being the fullest “me” we can be;
- asking God where in the world the Spirit is inviting us to carry the seeds of more new life.
The growth cycle of God’s planting is never done. The fruit of each seed brings forth more seeds, which contain in themselves more life, and more life, and more life. We are a part of God’s great harvest, and as we bear fruit we are invited to carry seeds to the whole wide world, that the fruit of the Good News in the love of God will be made known to all God’s children. Amen!
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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, 2026. 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.
7-17-26 - Shine Like the Sun
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Every story needs a happy ending. Many of Jesus’ parables have ambiguous ones, but this one ends on a high note: “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!”
I love the idea of shining like the sun. Could such idyllic joy really come at the end of our story, after all the trouble caused by the enemy and the weeds and the difficulty of telling plants apart, and the sorting and bundling and tossing into fiery furnaces? Is there cause for joy in the destruction of evil?
Look more closely at the description Jesus gives of the “weeds” whom the angel reapers would cull from the field. “The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers…” It's not about removing “sinners” from the “righteous” – for one of the gifts of Christian belief is the understanding that we are all sinful and righteous, all the same time.
No, the angels will be collecting out of God’s kingdom all causes of sin and doers of evil. I see a distinction between sinner and evil-doer – an evil-doer is one who has given him or herself over to promoting destruction, like a cancer spreading throughout a body, whereas a sinner is manifesting the disease, not causing it. Jesus says his angels will gather up and remove all evil-doers, all causes of sin. All.
Think about that for a moment. No more greed. No more envy. No more racism. No more terrorizing. No more humiliation. No more violence. No more environmental devastation. No more… what causes of sin can you think of? Think of a world without that in it. Can you imagine it? Shine like the sun? We’d be so bright, we’d outshine the sun!
Today in prayer, let’s imagine the world with the causes of sin taken out. Let’s imagine freedom and peace and unfettered joy. Let’s imagine everyone under his or her own fig tree, enjoying economic and physical security, taking care of neighbors with mutual regard. Let’s imagine that prayer into being. What does yours look like?
Jesus’ parables are subversive little narratives, with big themes disguised as every-day items. Like wheat. Like weeds. Like the end of the world, and the dawning of the new age. Like us, shining like the sun.
Let anyone with ears hear!
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Every story needs a happy ending. Many of Jesus’ parables have ambiguous ones, but this one ends on a high note: “Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Let anyone with ears listen!”
I love the idea of shining like the sun. Could such idyllic joy really come at the end of our story, after all the trouble caused by the enemy and the weeds and the difficulty of telling plants apart, and the sorting and bundling and tossing into fiery furnaces? Is there cause for joy in the destruction of evil?
Look more closely at the description Jesus gives of the “weeds” whom the angel reapers would cull from the field. “The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers…” It's not about removing “sinners” from the “righteous” – for one of the gifts of Christian belief is the understanding that we are all sinful and righteous, all the same time.
No, the angels will be collecting out of God’s kingdom all causes of sin and doers of evil. I see a distinction between sinner and evil-doer – an evil-doer is one who has given him or herself over to promoting destruction, like a cancer spreading throughout a body, whereas a sinner is manifesting the disease, not causing it. Jesus says his angels will gather up and remove all evil-doers, all causes of sin. All.
Think about that for a moment. No more greed. No more envy. No more racism. No more terrorizing. No more humiliation. No more violence. No more environmental devastation. No more… what causes of sin can you think of? Think of a world without that in it. Can you imagine it? Shine like the sun? We’d be so bright, we’d outshine the sun!
Today in prayer, let’s imagine the world with the causes of sin taken out. Let’s imagine freedom and peace and unfettered joy. Let’s imagine everyone under his or her own fig tree, enjoying economic and physical security, taking care of neighbors with mutual regard. Let’s imagine that prayer into being. What does yours look like?
Jesus’ parables are subversive little narratives, with big themes disguised as every-day items. Like wheat. Like weeds. Like the end of the world, and the dawning of the new age. Like us, shining like the sun.
Let anyone with ears hear!
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-16-26 - Avenging Angels
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Jesus didn’t talk much about angels, but in his stories they’re anything but comforting. They’re fierce and on a mission – and in the story he tells of the wheat and the weeds, that mission is executing God’s final judgment: “…the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
Who wants to dwell on the prospect of a final judgment? Many Christians remove the judgment from our God story, preferring to emphasize God's mercy and acceptance. I am a huge fan of God’s mercy and acceptance… but without judgment these are pretty cheap commodities. If we’re going to take judgment out of the picture, we need to excise much of what Jesus taught and lived. Our claim as Christians, at least traditionally, is that God's judgment awaits us, yet we will experience it as righteous, redeemed sinners because of what Jesus did for us. We are received in grace because we are one with Christ, inheritors of God's great love.
This is only one of the stories Jesus told that include an Ultimate Sorting, with unrepentant, unredeemed evildoers meeting an unhappy fate – here a furnace of fire, "where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Why is there teeth-gnashing in Jesus’ images of hell? Did dental problems cause him to conceive of aural and dental torture to go along with the fire? Puts a new spin on his humanity...)
The ones doing the sorting in this tale are angels, who serve as God’s messengers – the way they are depicted here, we might even say henchmen. Is fire the fate we would wish upon the weeds sown in the field, those who despise God and seek to destroy the goodness of God’s creation and creatures? Shouldn’t the judgment be aimed at the enemy sower?
That is a matter for us to pray about. If some manner of torment awaits the completely destructive, whether it’s physical pain or separation from God, that should drive us to pray fervently for them, asking God to have mercy, and do our best to share with them our own hope. Do you suppose that’s what Jesus meant by “pray for your enemies?” Might we even spare a prayer for the Enemy of Human Nature?
Could we do such a thing in our prayer time today? Think of the worst sort of “weeds” we can, and pray for mercy for their souls? And that somehow that mercy would become real to them, working its way into stony hearts to reawaken love and compassion and hope?
Maybe you or I are called to show God's mercy to a particularly nasty sort of weed. Mercy can catalyze conversion and healing. We may just lighten some fearsome angel’s workload.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Jesus didn’t talk much about angels, but in his stories they’re anything but comforting. They’re fierce and on a mission – and in the story he tells of the wheat and the weeds, that mission is executing God’s final judgment: “…the harvest is the end of the age, and the reapers are angels. Just as the weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all evildoers, and they will throw them into the furnace of fire, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
Who wants to dwell on the prospect of a final judgment? Many Christians remove the judgment from our God story, preferring to emphasize God's mercy and acceptance. I am a huge fan of God’s mercy and acceptance… but without judgment these are pretty cheap commodities. If we’re going to take judgment out of the picture, we need to excise much of what Jesus taught and lived. Our claim as Christians, at least traditionally, is that God's judgment awaits us, yet we will experience it as righteous, redeemed sinners because of what Jesus did for us. We are received in grace because we are one with Christ, inheritors of God's great love.
This is only one of the stories Jesus told that include an Ultimate Sorting, with unrepentant, unredeemed evildoers meeting an unhappy fate – here a furnace of fire, "where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Why is there teeth-gnashing in Jesus’ images of hell? Did dental problems cause him to conceive of aural and dental torture to go along with the fire? Puts a new spin on his humanity...)
The ones doing the sorting in this tale are angels, who serve as God’s messengers – the way they are depicted here, we might even say henchmen. Is fire the fate we would wish upon the weeds sown in the field, those who despise God and seek to destroy the goodness of God’s creation and creatures? Shouldn’t the judgment be aimed at the enemy sower?
That is a matter for us to pray about. If some manner of torment awaits the completely destructive, whether it’s physical pain or separation from God, that should drive us to pray fervently for them, asking God to have mercy, and do our best to share with them our own hope. Do you suppose that’s what Jesus meant by “pray for your enemies?” Might we even spare a prayer for the Enemy of Human Nature?
Could we do such a thing in our prayer time today? Think of the worst sort of “weeds” we can, and pray for mercy for their souls? And that somehow that mercy would become real to them, working its way into stony hearts to reawaken love and compassion and hope?
Maybe you or I are called to show God's mercy to a particularly nasty sort of weed. Mercy can catalyze conversion and healing. We may just lighten some fearsome angel’s workload.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-15-26 - Whacking Weeds
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
It is weed season in the northern hemisphere – hot, humid weather, storm-fed downpours. Everywhere we look, in our yards and gardens, on city streets, there are weeds to be pulled.
It is weed season in Jesus’ parable too – an unnamed enemy has sown weeds in the wheat field in the dead of night. The servants propose to pull them up. The field’s owner has a different plan: “The servants said to him, 'Then do you want us to go and gather them?' But he replied, 'No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.'”
I had a friend who said, “Weeds are a social designation.” Meaning, there is nothing innately wrong with many of the plants we deem weeds – except that they are not what we planted, not what we envisioned in our beautiful gardens. She may have glossed over the fact that undesired plants take nourishment and water and sunlight from plants with more fruitfulness – but she has a point. Who are we to decide what’s in and what’s out… or, more importantly, who’s in and who’s out, who’s wheat and who’s weed? Jesus’ story implies that it is not our call.
Yet, if we are to co-exist, what are we to do with people who manifest themselves as quite obviously weed-like – net takers, abusers, manipulators, terrorizers? The parable doesn’t tell us – parables are limited. In this one, the weeds and wheat are inanimate, rooted, fixed. There is no provision for their choices or for them to interact with one another. No parable was meant to tell the whole story.
So then, what is to be our position toward weeds? How might we help transform weeds – or accept them? We start by remembering that we share a common nature with all people, that even the worst possess innate humanity which is worthy of honour even if their behaviour and presentation to the world is not. Somewhere in the most disagreeable person, be they a neighbor or a world leader, is a child of a mother and father, a hurt and broken child worthy of our prayers, worthy of asking God to bless and heal and forgive. Sometimes we ask God to forgive someone before we are ready to do so for ourselves.
We can ask the Spirit to tell us if we’re being called to more interaction with a given “weed” than just praying for God to bless and heal her. Are we invited to be in relationship with him? To listen, to help?
Today, bring to mind some person or group you’ve deemed a “weed” in your garden. As you pray for them, bringing them to mind and envisioning them bathed in God-light, you might also imagine them transformed from weed to glorious bloom, from pinched of face to relaxed and smiling, from mean to nurturing. It is a way of giving specificity to our prayers.
Above all, we remember Paul’s word that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Eph 6:12)
The weeds are not the enemy, and the wheat is not in charge. Thanks be to God!
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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 is weed season in the northern hemisphere – hot, humid weather, storm-fed downpours. Everywhere we look, in our yards and gardens, on city streets, there are weeds to be pulled.
It is weed season in Jesus’ parable too – an unnamed enemy has sown weeds in the wheat field in the dead of night. The servants propose to pull them up. The field’s owner has a different plan: “The servants said to him, 'Then do you want us to go and gather them?' But he replied, 'No; for in gathering the weeds you would uproot the wheat along with them. Let both of them grow together until the harvest; and at harvest time I will tell the reapers, Collect the weeds first and bind them in bundles to be burned, but gather the wheat into my barn.'”
I had a friend who said, “Weeds are a social designation.” Meaning, there is nothing innately wrong with many of the plants we deem weeds – except that they are not what we planted, not what we envisioned in our beautiful gardens. She may have glossed over the fact that undesired plants take nourishment and water and sunlight from plants with more fruitfulness – but she has a point. Who are we to decide what’s in and what’s out… or, more importantly, who’s in and who’s out, who’s wheat and who’s weed? Jesus’ story implies that it is not our call.
Yet, if we are to co-exist, what are we to do with people who manifest themselves as quite obviously weed-like – net takers, abusers, manipulators, terrorizers? The parable doesn’t tell us – parables are limited. In this one, the weeds and wheat are inanimate, rooted, fixed. There is no provision for their choices or for them to interact with one another. No parable was meant to tell the whole story.
So then, what is to be our position toward weeds? How might we help transform weeds – or accept them? We start by remembering that we share a common nature with all people, that even the worst possess innate humanity which is worthy of honour even if their behaviour and presentation to the world is not. Somewhere in the most disagreeable person, be they a neighbor or a world leader, is a child of a mother and father, a hurt and broken child worthy of our prayers, worthy of asking God to bless and heal and forgive. Sometimes we ask God to forgive someone before we are ready to do so for ourselves.
We can ask the Spirit to tell us if we’re being called to more interaction with a given “weed” than just praying for God to bless and heal her. Are we invited to be in relationship with him? To listen, to help?
Today, bring to mind some person or group you’ve deemed a “weed” in your garden. As you pray for them, bringing them to mind and envisioning them bathed in God-light, you might also imagine them transformed from weed to glorious bloom, from pinched of face to relaxed and smiling, from mean to nurturing. It is a way of giving specificity to our prayers.
Above all, we remember Paul’s word that “our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” (Eph 6:12)
The weeds are not the enemy, and the wheat is not in charge. Thanks be to God!
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-14-26 - The Spoiler
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Who is this enemy in Jesus’ parable, this spoiler who came by night “while everyone was asleep” and sowed weeds among the wheat? We don’t have to look very far for an answer – Jesus provides it in his “key” to the parable: “…the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil.”
Many modern Christians profess not to believe in the devil, though Episcopalians renounce him at every baptism. Such people allow for the concept of evil, but balk at the idea of evil personified, an entity we can name.
Jesus had no such hang-ups. He regularly did battle with the devil – directly, in his temptations in the wilderness; indirectly, releasing people from the power of demons; and cosmically, in his whole mission of redemption and resurrection. He referred to the devil by names such as Satan (“accuser”) and Beelzebub, and depicted him as the source of evil that seeks to thwart the good designs of God.
The devil is mentioned throughout the Bible, though little discussed. He shows up in the preamble to the Book of Job – probably a later addition to the narrative. A fallen angel who aspired to a throne above God’s is discussed in Isaiah 14:12-20: “How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations!” That is how the name Lucifer, or “light-bearer,” comes into our vocabulary. Jesus and New Testament authors spoke of this enemy, this tempter, author of lies, accuser, who has considerable power but is not equal to the power of God.
So why does God allow him any power at all? Was the sower in the parable also asleep? Why does he not accept the servants' offer to root out the weeds among the wheat?
The answer given in Jesus’ story is that trying to do so would destroy both the weeds and the wheat – and God is not in the destruction game. Scripture suggests that is the province of the evil one, who seeks to “corrupt and destroy the creatures of God,” as the Episcopal Church’s baptismal liturgy puts it.
Is Jesus suggesting that we just have to live with evil as a part of life? I believe he is saying something much more complex: that the fight is not ours, but God’s, and God will deal with it in the final judgment, as well as in our day-to-day lives. We don’t have to fight the devil or combat evil. We need to invite the power of heaven to fight on our behalf, to stand with the Spirit against the wiles of the evil one. James tells us, “Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” (James 4:7) Resist, not fight.
Today I suggest we pray through Ephesians 6:10-20, mentally putting on the armor of light as Paul lays it out. This is a good spiritual tool to be practiced in. Our best strategy against the devil is not fear or fighting, but becoming ever more firmly rooted in God.
Our goal is to be the healthiest wheat we can be, and to strengthen our defensive weapons and armor of light. Lucifer is not the bearer of light – we are, we who carry the Light of the World within us. When we let it shine, the power of darkness doesn’t have a chance.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Who is this enemy in Jesus’ parable, this spoiler who came by night “while everyone was asleep” and sowed weeds among the wheat? We don’t have to look very far for an answer – Jesus provides it in his “key” to the parable: “…the weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sowed them is the devil.”
Many modern Christians profess not to believe in the devil, though Episcopalians renounce him at every baptism. Such people allow for the concept of evil, but balk at the idea of evil personified, an entity we can name.
Jesus had no such hang-ups. He regularly did battle with the devil – directly, in his temptations in the wilderness; indirectly, releasing people from the power of demons; and cosmically, in his whole mission of redemption and resurrection. He referred to the devil by names such as Satan (“accuser”) and Beelzebub, and depicted him as the source of evil that seeks to thwart the good designs of God.
The devil is mentioned throughout the Bible, though little discussed. He shows up in the preamble to the Book of Job – probably a later addition to the narrative. A fallen angel who aspired to a throne above God’s is discussed in Isaiah 14:12-20: “How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations!” That is how the name Lucifer, or “light-bearer,” comes into our vocabulary. Jesus and New Testament authors spoke of this enemy, this tempter, author of lies, accuser, who has considerable power but is not equal to the power of God.
So why does God allow him any power at all? Was the sower in the parable also asleep? Why does he not accept the servants' offer to root out the weeds among the wheat?
The answer given in Jesus’ story is that trying to do so would destroy both the weeds and the wheat – and God is not in the destruction game. Scripture suggests that is the province of the evil one, who seeks to “corrupt and destroy the creatures of God,” as the Episcopal Church’s baptismal liturgy puts it.
Is Jesus suggesting that we just have to live with evil as a part of life? I believe he is saying something much more complex: that the fight is not ours, but God’s, and God will deal with it in the final judgment, as well as in our day-to-day lives. We don’t have to fight the devil or combat evil. We need to invite the power of heaven to fight on our behalf, to stand with the Spirit against the wiles of the evil one. James tells us, “Resist the devil, and he will flee from you.” (James 4:7) Resist, not fight.
Today I suggest we pray through Ephesians 6:10-20, mentally putting on the armor of light as Paul lays it out. This is a good spiritual tool to be practiced in. Our best strategy against the devil is not fear or fighting, but becoming ever more firmly rooted in God.
Our goal is to be the healthiest wheat we can be, and to strengthen our defensive weapons and armor of light. Lucifer is not the bearer of light – we are, we who carry the Light of the World within us. When we let it shine, the power of darkness doesn’t have a chance.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
7-13-26 - A Careless Planter?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Jesus is on a run with agricultural metaphors. After last week’s parable about the sower, we go on to another tale meant to describe the Kingdom of heaven. But this time there are two sowers: He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well.”
As we explore this story, we will see how the sower and his staff deal with this mess. Today, lets rest with the image of a nice, neat field of wheat sabotaged by choking weeds. Jesus cleverly uses this metaphor to account for the presence of evil in the goodness of a good God’s creation – and he is clear that the weeds are introduced not by the Creator, but by an enemy.
In this tale, the evil is inseparable from the good; until it's time for the plants to bear fruit, no one can tell the weeds from the wheat. It’s all just one big mess growing up in the field we call this world. We are reminded not to judge others prematurely – it generally becomes apparent after a while who is making life-giving choices and who is out for their own gain. And even then, it may not be so cut and dried. In this story the wheat does not take matters into its own hands and eliminate the weeds from its midst – a certain co-existence seems to be called for, at least in the short-term we call life in this world.
Jesus’ parables, like all good analogies, can fail us if we push them too hard toward the literal. Jesus likens the weeds to the “children of evil” and the wheat to the “children of the kingdom,” but no one is born one or the other. Theoretically, we all have the chance to be fruit-bearing wheat. It’s a question of where we put our allegiance, and from where we draw our power.
Imagine in prayer seeing yourself rooted in a field, planted by a loving Sower, nurtured by One who tends his beloved creation. We can invite the rain and sun and give thanks as we experience them.
Note of Celebration: Water Daily is thirteen years old today! I’m so happy it proves useful to many on any given day. Have some cake, light a candle and sing us Happy Birthday. Better yet, share with another any blessing you receive – and invite them to subscribe to the email or podcast.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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.
Jesus is on a run with agricultural metaphors. After last week’s parable about the sower, we go on to another tale meant to describe the Kingdom of heaven. But this time there are two sowers: He put before them another parable: “The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field; but while everybody was asleep, an enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and then went away. So when the plants came up and bore grain, then the weeds appeared as well.”
As we explore this story, we will see how the sower and his staff deal with this mess. Today, lets rest with the image of a nice, neat field of wheat sabotaged by choking weeds. Jesus cleverly uses this metaphor to account for the presence of evil in the goodness of a good God’s creation – and he is clear that the weeds are introduced not by the Creator, but by an enemy.
In this tale, the evil is inseparable from the good; until it's time for the plants to bear fruit, no one can tell the weeds from the wheat. It’s all just one big mess growing up in the field we call this world. We are reminded not to judge others prematurely – it generally becomes apparent after a while who is making life-giving choices and who is out for their own gain. And even then, it may not be so cut and dried. In this story the wheat does not take matters into its own hands and eliminate the weeds from its midst – a certain co-existence seems to be called for, at least in the short-term we call life in this world.
Jesus’ parables, like all good analogies, can fail us if we push them too hard toward the literal. Jesus likens the weeds to the “children of evil” and the wheat to the “children of the kingdom,” but no one is born one or the other. Theoretically, we all have the chance to be fruit-bearing wheat. It’s a question of where we put our allegiance, and from where we draw our power.
Imagine in prayer seeing yourself rooted in a field, planted by a loving Sower, nurtured by One who tends his beloved creation. We can invite the rain and sun and give thanks as we experience them.
- Who else do you consider “wheat” in the part of God’s field in which you dwell? Who helps you be fruitful?
- And are there some whom you deem to be weeds? What happens when you pray for those people? Try it for a few weeks... ask for God to bless them beyond measure.
Note of Celebration: Water Daily is thirteen years old today! I’m so happy it proves useful to many on any given day. Have some cake, light a candle and sing us Happy Birthday. Better yet, share with another any blessing you receive – and invite them to subscribe to the email or podcast.
© Kate Heichler, 2026. 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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