You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
When I am in a crisis of fear, I know the roller coaster ride, that cycle of anxiety, getting to calm (usually in response to good news, not because of my faith…), then being jolted back to panic by the next bit of less-good news. It can be hard to put my trust in Jesus in the face of all the information coming in. I deserve the words Jesus had for his disciples once the seas were still: “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’”
Why does fear grip us? Because when winds whip up and waves crest our bow, that’s all we can see. And anxious situations do more than define our present – they dominate our thoughts of the future as well. And the past, where so often we’ve been delivered from what we most feared? That recedes when the thunder and lightning start.
How can we stay focused on the One in the stern rather than the storm all around us? There’s an interesting “throwaway” line at the start of this story: “They took [Jesus] with them in the boat, just as he was.” What does that mean? How else would they take him? Why did Mark include that odd detail?
We always get Jesus with us “just as he is,” which is rarely how we expect him to be. He is so different from us, so unfazed by what troubles us. He may be compassionate, but he is never hooked by the anxiety swirling around us. So in difficult times, we can ask him to reveal himself in that situation “just as he is,” to let us see his reaction so we can borrow that instead of staying locked in our own fear.
And then, when we experience the peace we so badly need, we can take our cue from the disciples: And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, "Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’"
We need to speak of our experiences and tell everyone around us, not forget about it the minute the crisis is over. Our stories of deliverance might sound crazy – the car crashes avoided, the people strategically placed as we navigate a crisis - but so did the disciples when they told of the storm and the sudden calm. Yet many must have heard that story and believed it, for it was passed along and shared and finally written down by Mark, from whom Matthew and Luke got it… and so to us.
We have this story to build our faith. We need to tell each other our “God stories” to build each other’s faith. Bigger storms may come, but we can allow ourselves to come to know and trust this Jesus of Nazareth, who lives among us even now, who can command the wind and the sea – and even our feeble human hearts when we say "yes."
© Kate Heichler, 2024. 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.
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
6-19-24 - Don't You Care, God?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Fear has a way of taking over so that danger is all we can see. And, like most forms of misery, fear loves company, intensifying as it multiplies. Together, we can come up with many more scenarios of doom than we can alone, right? And when we’re in that cycle, it can almost be an affront to encounter someone who’s not hooked by the anxiety of the moment, who is calm or hopeful. “What’s the matter with you?” we cry. “Can’t you see how bad this is?”
That’s how Jesus’ disciples reacted as the squall blew up and the waves swamped their little boat. (The boat is always little when we’re afraid, isn’t it? I’ve been in 50-foot waves in a storm in the North Atlantic, in an ocean liner, the water in its pool sloshing around like someone’s martini – and I’m sure people felt that boat was small…) The reality of the storm was so great, they forgot the power of the man they had with them. "But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ They were outraged at his lack of concern, took his refusal to join the chorus of doom as a sign of uncaring. “How can you sleep for God’s sake?!? Don’t you care that we’re going to die?”
Does that ring a familiar note for you? When things go really wrong, that is often my response, to pray, “How could you let this happen, God? Don’t you care?” Are there situations you have faced or do currently that cause you to ask, “Lord, don’t you care?” I hope you take that question right to God. It is way better to pray that than to turn away in disappointment and resignation, to allow your faith to be depleted. It’s also good to invite other people in to our crises – not so we can feed each other’s fear, but so we can strengthen each other’s faith, so we can believe for one another when faith seems hard to find.
“Don’t you care, God?” in the face of difficulty or danger or despair is a close cousin to “How could God allow suffering,” probably the number one question people ask when resisting faith in God. A friend told me about a conversation with her mother, who suffers from dementia. My friend was wondering why a perfect God wouldn’t have made a happier world. When she said “Why would a good God allow so much suffering?” her mother answered right away, “Oh honey, I think we are the ones who do that.”
Best answer to that question I’ve ever heard. Humans have a tremendous capacity to allow, even to inflict suffering. That's where it comes from. The God who gave us free will does not prevent the squalls, or cancer, car accidents, pandemics or wars. Oh, sometimes when we pray specifically that certain harms be avoided, they are. But generally we find ourselves praying from the midst of hurt or crisis.
Our God is not in the prevention business. God is about redemption. God redeems situations into which God’s life and power is invited. God renews us when our faith is flagging. God brings life out of death – death is still there, but it’s not the end of the story. We need to be willing to believe in a bigger story. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we can be not agents of suffering or fear, but agents of God’s love, coming together to heal damage, sow hope, banish fear. All we need is love.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. 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.
Fear has a way of taking over so that danger is all we can see. And, like most forms of misery, fear loves company, intensifying as it multiplies. Together, we can come up with many more scenarios of doom than we can alone, right? And when we’re in that cycle, it can almost be an affront to encounter someone who’s not hooked by the anxiety of the moment, who is calm or hopeful. “What’s the matter with you?” we cry. “Can’t you see how bad this is?”
That’s how Jesus’ disciples reacted as the squall blew up and the waves swamped their little boat. (The boat is always little when we’re afraid, isn’t it? I’ve been in 50-foot waves in a storm in the North Atlantic, in an ocean liner, the water in its pool sloshing around like someone’s martini – and I’m sure people felt that boat was small…) The reality of the storm was so great, they forgot the power of the man they had with them. "But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ They were outraged at his lack of concern, took his refusal to join the chorus of doom as a sign of uncaring. “How can you sleep for God’s sake?!? Don’t you care that we’re going to die?”
Does that ring a familiar note for you? When things go really wrong, that is often my response, to pray, “How could you let this happen, God? Don’t you care?” Are there situations you have faced or do currently that cause you to ask, “Lord, don’t you care?” I hope you take that question right to God. It is way better to pray that than to turn away in disappointment and resignation, to allow your faith to be depleted. It’s also good to invite other people in to our crises – not so we can feed each other’s fear, but so we can strengthen each other’s faith, so we can believe for one another when faith seems hard to find.
“Don’t you care, God?” in the face of difficulty or danger or despair is a close cousin to “How could God allow suffering,” probably the number one question people ask when resisting faith in God. A friend told me about a conversation with her mother, who suffers from dementia. My friend was wondering why a perfect God wouldn’t have made a happier world. When she said “Why would a good God allow so much suffering?” her mother answered right away, “Oh honey, I think we are the ones who do that.”
Best answer to that question I’ve ever heard. Humans have a tremendous capacity to allow, even to inflict suffering. That's where it comes from. The God who gave us free will does not prevent the squalls, or cancer, car accidents, pandemics or wars. Oh, sometimes when we pray specifically that certain harms be avoided, they are. But generally we find ourselves praying from the midst of hurt or crisis.
Our God is not in the prevention business. God is about redemption. God redeems situations into which God’s life and power is invited. God renews us when our faith is flagging. God brings life out of death – death is still there, but it’s not the end of the story. We need to be willing to believe in a bigger story. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we can be not agents of suffering or fear, but agents of God’s love, coming together to heal damage, sow hope, banish fear. All we need is love.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. 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.
6-18-24 - Swamped
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
We often use “swamped” to describe our schedule or workload. Its essential meaning is scarier – a boat getting covered by water in a big wave, making everything wet and at risk of capsizing or being swept away - literally overwhelmed. There are times in our lives when we get swamped, and by lot more than work.
Our current times are “swampy” for many – emerging from a global pandemic, with new viral threats appearing all the time; a rancorous election and extreme political divisions threatening our civil order; a virulent resurfacing of racist speech and action; the promise and dangers of AI and new technology; extreme weather and further evidence of irreparable harm to our earth and environment – our decks are swamped regularly. It’s scary how suddenly we can go from battling a strong head wind to being buffeted in a gale.
Which kind of puts us in the boat with those disciples. “A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.”
We need to remember who they had along in that boat – the Lord of heaven and earth. Though he didn't seem to be much help: "But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion."
The best thing we can do when we’re overwhelmed by fear or adversity is to stay as close as possible to that guy asleep on the cushion, because he has power we do not have; he has peace we cannot manufacture; he has love way bigger than our fear. As the bible reminds us, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear...” (I John 4:18a) We can, like those disciples, call on Jesus to rise up, not to join the anxiety, but to calmly command the winds to cease and the waves to be still.
Are there situations in your life in which you feel your boat is being swamped by the wind-whipped waves? Can you recall the times when the storm was stilled? Bishop Gene Robinson was once quoted as saying something like, “Sometimes God stills the storm, and sometimes God stills us within the storm.”
Many of these storms are still with us. Yet we can sail on, for we know that the God-Life is one of peace amidst unpeaceful circumstances, love in the face of fear. I pray we hold so firmly to that love that fear cannot gain a foothold.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
We often use “swamped” to describe our schedule or workload. Its essential meaning is scarier – a boat getting covered by water in a big wave, making everything wet and at risk of capsizing or being swept away - literally overwhelmed. There are times in our lives when we get swamped, and by lot more than work.
Our current times are “swampy” for many – emerging from a global pandemic, with new viral threats appearing all the time; a rancorous election and extreme political divisions threatening our civil order; a virulent resurfacing of racist speech and action; the promise and dangers of AI and new technology; extreme weather and further evidence of irreparable harm to our earth and environment – our decks are swamped regularly. It’s scary how suddenly we can go from battling a strong head wind to being buffeted in a gale.
Which kind of puts us in the boat with those disciples. “A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped.”
We need to remember who they had along in that boat – the Lord of heaven and earth. Though he didn't seem to be much help: "But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion."
The best thing we can do when we’re overwhelmed by fear or adversity is to stay as close as possible to that guy asleep on the cushion, because he has power we do not have; he has peace we cannot manufacture; he has love way bigger than our fear. As the bible reminds us, "There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear...” (I John 4:18a) We can, like those disciples, call on Jesus to rise up, not to join the anxiety, but to calmly command the winds to cease and the waves to be still.
Are there situations in your life in which you feel your boat is being swamped by the wind-whipped waves? Can you recall the times when the storm was stilled? Bishop Gene Robinson was once quoted as saying something like, “Sometimes God stills the storm, and sometimes God stills us within the storm.”
Many of these storms are still with us. Yet we can sail on, for we know that the God-Life is one of peace amidst unpeaceful circumstances, love in the face of fear. I pray we hold so firmly to that love that fear cannot gain a foothold.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. 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.
4-18-22 - Fear and Rejoicing
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
The Big Day is over. Put away the Easter bonnets and all those lilies – we’re back to regular life. (And if you’re clergy, you’re in the Easter Monday brain fog of exhaustion…). Christ is risen? Oh yeah, Alleluia.
Only, it’s not over. In church time Easter goes on for seven weeks – seven weeks to begin to comprehend what those Alleluias are all about. And in Gospel time, it’s still Easter Day, still that First Day of the week, First Day of the new creation, First Day of forever. And Jesus’ disciples are not celebrating; they’re terrified.
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.
They may have begun to wrap their minds around the fact that Jesus appeared to be very much alive, inexplicably, miraculously. But they certainly haven’t figured out how. And his risen-ness presents a more immediate problem: now they are at even greater risk. They were already anxious – witness Peter’s haste to disavow his friendship with Jesus after his arrest. But now they are truly scared. The authorities who put Jesus to death will not welcome these developments. They might well want to stamp out any hint of this Jesus movement, and eliminate all witnesses.
Into this turmoil, Jesus appears. Not through the door. Not through a window. He is just suddenly there, standing among them, speaking peace to them, showing them his wounds.
So it can be for us, as we can become aware of him. When we’re in the midst of turmoil or terror, malady or malaise, sometimes we forget that Jesus can get into the room. We think we have to invite him, or worse, that we have to get our act together before he’ll drop by. But he just shows up, speaks peace upon us and upon our circumstances, and shows us his wounds like a calling card, a calling card that says, “I know a bit about suffering. I know what it’s like to be alone and forsaken. I have not forgotten you, I will never leave you or forsake you. You can find healing for your wounds in mine.”
In what situation in your life might you need to recall Jesus’ presence? Pray to become aware of where he is in that room. Talk to him, tell him what you’re going through, listen for his responses. Receive his peace, for it is hard won and it sticks.
The disciples found their terror turned to rejoicing as they realized he was truly alive among them. Five minutes earlier they would been unable to fathom rejoicing. And yet, there they were. And there he was. And joy is.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen!The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
The Big Day is over. Put away the Easter bonnets and all those lilies – we’re back to regular life. (And if you’re clergy, you’re in the Easter Monday brain fog of exhaustion…). Christ is risen? Oh yeah, Alleluia.
Only, it’s not over. In church time Easter goes on for seven weeks – seven weeks to begin to comprehend what those Alleluias are all about. And in Gospel time, it’s still Easter Day, still that First Day of the week, First Day of the new creation, First Day of forever. And Jesus’ disciples are not celebrating; they’re terrified.
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.
They may have begun to wrap their minds around the fact that Jesus appeared to be very much alive, inexplicably, miraculously. But they certainly haven’t figured out how. And his risen-ness presents a more immediate problem: now they are at even greater risk. They were already anxious – witness Peter’s haste to disavow his friendship with Jesus after his arrest. But now they are truly scared. The authorities who put Jesus to death will not welcome these developments. They might well want to stamp out any hint of this Jesus movement, and eliminate all witnesses.
Into this turmoil, Jesus appears. Not through the door. Not through a window. He is just suddenly there, standing among them, speaking peace to them, showing them his wounds.
So it can be for us, as we can become aware of him. When we’re in the midst of turmoil or terror, malady or malaise, sometimes we forget that Jesus can get into the room. We think we have to invite him, or worse, that we have to get our act together before he’ll drop by. But he just shows up, speaks peace upon us and upon our circumstances, and shows us his wounds like a calling card, a calling card that says, “I know a bit about suffering. I know what it’s like to be alone and forsaken. I have not forgotten you, I will never leave you or forsake you. You can find healing for your wounds in mine.”
In what situation in your life might you need to recall Jesus’ presence? Pray to become aware of where he is in that room. Talk to him, tell him what you’re going through, listen for his responses. Receive his peace, for it is hard won and it sticks.
The disciples found their terror turned to rejoicing as they realized he was truly alive among them. Five minutes earlier they would been unable to fathom rejoicing. And yet, there they were. And there he was. And joy is.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen!The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
6-16-21 - God, Don't You Care?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Fear has a way of taking over so that danger is all we can see. And, like most forms of misery, fear loves company, intensifying as it multiplies. Together, we can come up with many more scenarios of doom than we can alone, right? (Witness just about any day of the past 16 months…) And when we’re in that cycle, it can almost be an affront to encounter someone who’s not hooked by the anxiety of the moment, who is calm or hopeful. “What’s the matter with you?” we cry. “Can’t you see how bad this is?”
That’s how Jesus’ disciples reacted as the squall blew up and the waves swamped their little boat. (The boat is always little when we’re afraid, isn’t it? I’ve been in 50-foot waves in a storm in the North Atlantic, in an ocean liner, the water in its pool sloshing around like someone’s martini – and I’m sure people felt that boat was small…) The reality of the storm was so great, they forgot the power of the man they had with them.
Fear has a way of taking over so that danger is all we can see. And, like most forms of misery, fear loves company, intensifying as it multiplies. Together, we can come up with many more scenarios of doom than we can alone, right? (Witness just about any day of the past 16 months…) And when we’re in that cycle, it can almost be an affront to encounter someone who’s not hooked by the anxiety of the moment, who is calm or hopeful. “What’s the matter with you?” we cry. “Can’t you see how bad this is?”
That’s how Jesus’ disciples reacted as the squall blew up and the waves swamped their little boat. (The boat is always little when we’re afraid, isn’t it? I’ve been in 50-foot waves in a storm in the North Atlantic, in an ocean liner, the water in its pool sloshing around like someone’s martini – and I’m sure people felt that boat was small…) The reality of the storm was so great, they forgot the power of the man they had with them.
But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’
They were outraged at his lack of concern, took his refusal to join the chorus of doom as a sign of uncaring. “How can you sleep for God’s sake?!? Don’t you care that we’re going to die?”
Does that ring a familiar note for you? When things go really wrong, that is often my response, to pray, “How could you let this happen, God? Don’t you care?” If I’m really ticked, I get even more passive aggressive: “You know I’m only doing this to help people. Don’t you want me to help people?”
Are there situations you have faced or do currently that cause you to ask, “Lord, don’t you care?” I hope you take that question right to God. It is way better to pray that than to turn away in disappointment and resignation, to allow your faith to be depleted. It’s also good to invite other people in to our crises – not so we can feed each other’s fear, but so we can feed each other’s faith, so we can believe for one another when our faith seems hard to find.
“Don’t you care, God?” in the face of difficulty or danger or despair is a close cousin to “How could God allow suffering,” probably the number one question people ask when resisting faith in God. And I am often reminded that God does not prevent the squalls. God does not prevent all cancer or car accidents or pandemics or wars. Oh, sometimes when we pray specifically that certain harms be avoided, they are. But generally we find ourselves praying from the midst of hurt or crisis.
Our God is not in the prevention business; God is about redemption. God redeems situations into which God’s life and power is invited. God renews us when our faith is flagging. God brings life out of death – death is still there, but it’s not the end of the story. We need to be willing to believe in a bigger story.
A friend told me about a conversation with her mother, who suffers from dementia. My friend was wondering why a perfect God wouldn’t have made a happier world. When she said “Why would a good God allow so much suffering?” her mother said right away, “Oh honey, I think we are the ones who do that.”
Best answer to that question I’ve ever heard. Humans have a tremendous capacity to allow, even to inflict suffering. That's where it comes from. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we can also be the agents of God’s love, coming together to heal the damage, to sow hope, to banish fear. All we need is love.
They were outraged at his lack of concern, took his refusal to join the chorus of doom as a sign of uncaring. “How can you sleep for God’s sake?!? Don’t you care that we’re going to die?”
Does that ring a familiar note for you? When things go really wrong, that is often my response, to pray, “How could you let this happen, God? Don’t you care?” If I’m really ticked, I get even more passive aggressive: “You know I’m only doing this to help people. Don’t you want me to help people?”
Are there situations you have faced or do currently that cause you to ask, “Lord, don’t you care?” I hope you take that question right to God. It is way better to pray that than to turn away in disappointment and resignation, to allow your faith to be depleted. It’s also good to invite other people in to our crises – not so we can feed each other’s fear, but so we can feed each other’s faith, so we can believe for one another when our faith seems hard to find.
“Don’t you care, God?” in the face of difficulty or danger or despair is a close cousin to “How could God allow suffering,” probably the number one question people ask when resisting faith in God. And I am often reminded that God does not prevent the squalls. God does not prevent all cancer or car accidents or pandemics or wars. Oh, sometimes when we pray specifically that certain harms be avoided, they are. But generally we find ourselves praying from the midst of hurt or crisis.
Our God is not in the prevention business; God is about redemption. God redeems situations into which God’s life and power is invited. God renews us when our faith is flagging. God brings life out of death – death is still there, but it’s not the end of the story. We need to be willing to believe in a bigger story.
A friend told me about a conversation with her mother, who suffers from dementia. My friend was wondering why a perfect God wouldn’t have made a happier world. When she said “Why would a good God allow so much suffering?” her mother said right away, “Oh honey, I think we are the ones who do that.”
Best answer to that question I’ve ever heard. Humans have a tremendous capacity to allow, even to inflict suffering. That's where it comes from. With the help of the Holy Spirit, we can also be the agents of God’s love, coming together to heal the damage, to sow hope, to banish fear. All we need is love.
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