You can listen to this reflection here.
Sometimes it seems like God can take an awfully long time to swing into action. Maybe that’s because things that seem insurmountable to us are just a matter of a word for God, and what strikes us as nail-bitingly late is right on time for the Creator of the universe.
In this week’s gospel story, when the disciples find themselves imperiled in a sudden squall on the Sea of Galilee, and they discover Jesus in the stern, blithely sleeping through all the excitement, they wake him up, saying, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ Jesus does not get up and join the hysteria. He just calmly exercises his authority over creation: He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm.
One word from Jesus, and it all died down. No more wind, no more waves, no more panicked heartbeats. In fact, we’re told, there was a dead calm. It went not back to normal, but to a complete calm. Jesus did not have to pray in a dramatic fashion, whip up a frenzy of faith, plead with the heavens – he just calmly spoke peace to the elements, and his word had the power to calm, to make things so still it could only have been by his action – Jesus doesn’t do things by halves.
But why did he wait so long? Well – was it so long? Didn’t Jesus act as soon as he was asked? The better question might be, why did the disciples take so long to ask for help? Why do we so often get ourselves into a state, deep into a difficult situation before we think to ask Jesus for help?
Reading the news can put me into spasms of anxiety and outright fear. Each time I remember to invite Christ’s peace to fill me and overwhelm the fear; every time I invoke the perfect love that casts out fear, I come into calm. Sometimes I remind another to do that, and others remind me, and pray for me. Christian community is a wonderful gift that way.
Peacefulness and calm are markers of God-Life. Not that the Spirit is some kind of spiritual Prozac, evening everything out – Jesus certainly displayed emotions like righteous anger, grief, praise. But storminess is not the way of God. A Lord who can rebuke the wind and command the sea is a Lord who can still our spirits, as we ask, and as we allow.
Maybe the reason it sometimes takes us so long to feel his peace is because our spirits, with all their freedom, are not yet as responsive to Jesus’ command as are the winds and waves.
© 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.
6-19-24 - 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.
6-17-24 - To the Other Side
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
This week we get a wonderful and dramatic story from the Gospels – the tale of Jesus quieting a storm. It’s not a long story, so we can really sink our teeth into it and chew a bit. The set-up is simple – in the evening, after a busy day of ministry, Jesus says to his disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.”
The other side of what, we might ask? The other side of the lake, the Sea of Galilee. That’s the surface answer. But words like “the other side” and "crossing," invite us to think of liminal spaces, thresholds, boundaries, transitions from one mode of being or understanding into another. Crossing water evokes classic dream interpretation, in which water often stands for the unconscious, depths, mysteries that must be navigated in order for healing and growth to occur. None of that may have been in Mark’s mind when those words were written, but that simple phrase can set up many echoes.
We are always facing journeys and transitions to new conditions, new relationships, new understandings of our lives and ourselves and the God who made us. We make these journeys in whatever craft are available to carry us, and there is always some risk of wind and weather. Even more, there is a risk of death, and that we will be changed. Change is an inevitable consequence of growth. We are altered, expanded, exposed to new perspectives and ways of seeing. We let some things die or find they are taken from us, and in that emptiness and grief we might find space for new life. We are ever invited across the sea, the deep, the threshold to a new place.
The alternative is staying where we are. Sometimes we exercise that option for a long time, staying stuck in jobs, relationships, habits, addictions, ways of being or thinking, long after they have ceased to be life-giving.
What expanses do you need to cross in your life at this time, or have crossed recently?
Are there areas of life in which you feel stuck?
Are you being invited into a boat, and ready to put out to sea, even if there might be a storm brewing?
Are you being asked to cross over to see an opposing view on a matter that you care deeply about?
We do not go alone - we go with Jesus, who came in the boat "just as he was." Just as He Is, he is with us.
I’m reminded of a quote which Edwin Friedman cites in his great book, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix: “The safest place for ships is in the harbor. But that’s not why ships were built.”
© 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.
This week we get a wonderful and dramatic story from the Gospels – the tale of Jesus quieting a storm. It’s not a long story, so we can really sink our teeth into it and chew a bit. The set-up is simple – in the evening, after a busy day of ministry, Jesus says to his disciples, “Let us go across to the other side.”
The other side of what, we might ask? The other side of the lake, the Sea of Galilee. That’s the surface answer. But words like “the other side” and "crossing," invite us to think of liminal spaces, thresholds, boundaries, transitions from one mode of being or understanding into another. Crossing water evokes classic dream interpretation, in which water often stands for the unconscious, depths, mysteries that must be navigated in order for healing and growth to occur. None of that may have been in Mark’s mind when those words were written, but that simple phrase can set up many echoes.
We are always facing journeys and transitions to new conditions, new relationships, new understandings of our lives and ourselves and the God who made us. We make these journeys in whatever craft are available to carry us, and there is always some risk of wind and weather. Even more, there is a risk of death, and that we will be changed. Change is an inevitable consequence of growth. We are altered, expanded, exposed to new perspectives and ways of seeing. We let some things die or find they are taken from us, and in that emptiness and grief we might find space for new life. We are ever invited across the sea, the deep, the threshold to a new place.
The alternative is staying where we are. Sometimes we exercise that option for a long time, staying stuck in jobs, relationships, habits, addictions, ways of being or thinking, long after they have ceased to be life-giving.
What expanses do you need to cross in your life at this time, or have crossed recently?
Are there areas of life in which you feel stuck?
Are you being invited into a boat, and ready to put out to sea, even if there might be a storm brewing?
Are you being asked to cross over to see an opposing view on a matter that you care deeply about?
We do not go alone - we go with Jesus, who came in the boat "just as he was." Just as He Is, he is with us.
I’m reminded of a quote which Edwin Friedman cites in his great book, A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix: “The safest place for ships is in the harbor. But that’s not why ships were built.”
© 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.
6-14-24 - Why Parables?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
The parable of the mustard seed might be considered a parable of a parable. For parables are a lot like that seed – they appear small or simple (some of them) but contained in that little package is the fullness of God’s kingdom, waiting to be revealed.
Matthew, Mark and Luke include many parables among the teachings of Jesus. In fact, they insist that the parable was his primary form of teaching: With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.
Why might Jesus have chosen to tell stories about the ways of the Realm of God? Maybe because it makes absolutely no sense if you try to say it straight. The values of that realm are so distinct from our “natural” or “worldly” way of operating, that one formed by the world can only begin to grasp the difference if surprised by a story.
And people listen more fully to stories than they do to lectures. Just think of difference in how our bodies respond to “I’d like to teach you something,” and “Let me tell you a story.” The latter makes us relax and listen. Stories engage the imagination, the memory, the heart; they can put us into a receptive mode. Stories also allowed Jesus to set up what felt like familiar situations to his listeners – planting seeds, baking bread, tending vineyards, herding sheep, giving parties – and then have characters or events go off in unexpected, even shocking directions. This is a wonderful method for teaching – start with the familiar and lead into the new.
Jesus’ parables run the gamut from one-liners, to the paragraphs we read this week, to full-on dramas with multiple characters and scenes, such as the story of the prodigal son. Some are hard to interpret, like the story of the dishonest manager, and some strike many as unfair, like the one about the workers in the vineyard. They invite us to play, to explore, to wonder – what does it mean if this character represents one kind of people, and this character other kinds? Is God a character in this parable, and if so, who? Who stands in for you in the parable? Are you the sower, the seed, the bird?
If you haven’t played in the parables for awhile, you might make it a summer project to read your way through them (Luke has the most…). Stay with one until you feel you’ve mined its depths. Of course, we never truly get to the bottom of these little gems – they have a sneaky way of revealing new truths to us each time we encounter them afresh. Just like the Realm of God.
© 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.
The parable of the mustard seed might be considered a parable of a parable. For parables are a lot like that seed – they appear small or simple (some of them) but contained in that little package is the fullness of God’s kingdom, waiting to be revealed.
Matthew, Mark and Luke include many parables among the teachings of Jesus. In fact, they insist that the parable was his primary form of teaching: With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it; he did not speak to them except in parables, but he explained everything in private to his disciples.
Why might Jesus have chosen to tell stories about the ways of the Realm of God? Maybe because it makes absolutely no sense if you try to say it straight. The values of that realm are so distinct from our “natural” or “worldly” way of operating, that one formed by the world can only begin to grasp the difference if surprised by a story.
And people listen more fully to stories than they do to lectures. Just think of difference in how our bodies respond to “I’d like to teach you something,” and “Let me tell you a story.” The latter makes us relax and listen. Stories engage the imagination, the memory, the heart; they can put us into a receptive mode. Stories also allowed Jesus to set up what felt like familiar situations to his listeners – planting seeds, baking bread, tending vineyards, herding sheep, giving parties – and then have characters or events go off in unexpected, even shocking directions. This is a wonderful method for teaching – start with the familiar and lead into the new.
Jesus’ parables run the gamut from one-liners, to the paragraphs we read this week, to full-on dramas with multiple characters and scenes, such as the story of the prodigal son. Some are hard to interpret, like the story of the dishonest manager, and some strike many as unfair, like the one about the workers in the vineyard. They invite us to play, to explore, to wonder – what does it mean if this character represents one kind of people, and this character other kinds? Is God a character in this parable, and if so, who? Who stands in for you in the parable? Are you the sower, the seed, the bird?
If you haven’t played in the parables for awhile, you might make it a summer project to read your way through them (Luke has the most…). Stay with one until you feel you’ve mined its depths. Of course, we never truly get to the bottom of these little gems – they have a sneaky way of revealing new truths to us each time we encounter them afresh. Just like the Realm of God.
© 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.
6-13-24 - Ugly Fruit
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Food waste has a colossal impact, not only on world hunger, with people starving while thousands of tons of edible food are thrown out daily, but also on our environment. The amount of fuel and water required to produce our food, 40 percent of which is thrown away in America, would make you weep.
One of the biggest areas of waste is produce – and a lot of that waste could be avoided if we would adjust our expectations of what fruits and vegetables have to look like to be considered “buyable,” and what hours of day and night we expect to find a full display in our local grocery store. In many places, efforts are underway to change those expectations, to push the virtues of “ugly fruit” and “inglorious vegetables” through clever ad campaigns and discounted pricing. (And lets not forget community fridges.)
And what does this have to do with mustard seeds, you ask? This week's parable is about things that look small or worthless having great value in the realm of God. The mustard seed in Jesus’ story may not have looked like much, but when planted it showed what it was made of – broken open in the dark earth, it yielded a magnificent plant that could provide shade and a place for birds to nest. That is the story of God's realm, a place where things are so much more than they appear to be.
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
We have expectations of people too. We often prize the lovely, the strong, the healthy, the gifted. We assume these will be the best leaders. Sometimes we hold to that assumption even when we’re proved wrong – and thus overlook so much potential in those who may not appear to have as much to offer, but in fact are capable of much more than we can imagine, often because of the very qualities that cause us to regard them as lesser.
When have you been surprised to discover that someone you had assumed had little to offer actually made a tremendous contribution? One of my former parishioners had severe mental deficits – but oh, how eloquently she spoke of her faith. She built us up. When have you discovered that you could make a much bigger impact than you had thought possible, as you offered your gifts to God for ministry?
Let's go deeper: In what ways do you feel small or inadequate, like "ugly fruit?" How about we ask God to show us how to plant that very seed in the dark earth of God’s mysterious love, allow it to break open and grow into a life-giving gift to the world?
We all have ways in which we feel like “ugly fruit” or seeds too small for any use. And here comes Jesus to tell us that, in his Father’s kingdom, there is a purpose to every single life, two-headed carrots, bruised apples and all. We are all made for fruitfulness, and God will help us grow.
© 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.
Food waste has a colossal impact, not only on world hunger, with people starving while thousands of tons of edible food are thrown out daily, but also on our environment. The amount of fuel and water required to produce our food, 40 percent of which is thrown away in America, would make you weep.
One of the biggest areas of waste is produce – and a lot of that waste could be avoided if we would adjust our expectations of what fruits and vegetables have to look like to be considered “buyable,” and what hours of day and night we expect to find a full display in our local grocery store. In many places, efforts are underway to change those expectations, to push the virtues of “ugly fruit” and “inglorious vegetables” through clever ad campaigns and discounted pricing. (And lets not forget community fridges.)
And what does this have to do with mustard seeds, you ask? This week's parable is about things that look small or worthless having great value in the realm of God. The mustard seed in Jesus’ story may not have looked like much, but when planted it showed what it was made of – broken open in the dark earth, it yielded a magnificent plant that could provide shade and a place for birds to nest. That is the story of God's realm, a place where things are so much more than they appear to be.
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
We have expectations of people too. We often prize the lovely, the strong, the healthy, the gifted. We assume these will be the best leaders. Sometimes we hold to that assumption even when we’re proved wrong – and thus overlook so much potential in those who may not appear to have as much to offer, but in fact are capable of much more than we can imagine, often because of the very qualities that cause us to regard them as lesser.
When have you been surprised to discover that someone you had assumed had little to offer actually made a tremendous contribution? One of my former parishioners had severe mental deficits – but oh, how eloquently she spoke of her faith. She built us up. When have you discovered that you could make a much bigger impact than you had thought possible, as you offered your gifts to God for ministry?
Let's go deeper: In what ways do you feel small or inadequate, like "ugly fruit?" How about we ask God to show us how to plant that very seed in the dark earth of God’s mysterious love, allow it to break open and grow into a life-giving gift to the world?
We all have ways in which we feel like “ugly fruit” or seeds too small for any use. And here comes Jesus to tell us that, in his Father’s kingdom, there is a purpose to every single life, two-headed carrots, bruised apples and all. We are all made for fruitfulness, and God will help us grow.
© 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.
6-12-24 - The Power In Small
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I have two friends who started a school in a challenging inner-city neighborhood. They wove Christian principles into its operation, delighted in diversity, and had a huge commitment to helping the under-served, often under-privileged children of that city learn and thrive. They called it The Mustard Seed School, because they knew that things – and people – that look too small, too poor, too shabby to amount to much can achieve greatness. That is how things work in the realm of God.
Jesus also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
This is one of many ways in which the values of God’s realm run counter to the values of our culture. We often think big is better, strong is mightier, talent prevails. There is nothing wrong with big, strong or talented, but those labels don’t tell the whole story about a person or a community – or a church. Some people are big because they come from large stock; some are gifted because they’ve been treated to a great education. These are not the values by which we are to measure one another, and certainly not the values by which we are to measure the effectiveness of our churches. But it takes a lot of prayer and reordering our values to truly look for the power and greatness in what appears small or weak.
When have you seen greatness in something that appeared small or less than desirable?
When has someone seen greatness in you at a time when you felt you had little to offer?
Where do you appreciate “small" and "unimpressive?”
There is a realm in which our culture has come to appreciate the small: technology. The smaller the item, the more we prize it – as long as it can pack a huge amount of data and deliver it at lightning speed. So maybe if Jesus were telling this parable today, it would sound like this:
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a processor chip, which, when implanted in a device, is the smallest of all the components; yet when it is activated, it becomes the most powerful of all operating systems, and powers many apps and puts forth many gigs of data, so that whole networks can benefit from its bandwidth.”
Does that work for you? If not, try this:
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a person of faith who seems pretty ordinary, who, when rooted into a community of other ordinary people, is the smallest contributor; yet when s/he is filled with the Holy Spirit, becomes the most powerful of all ministers and reaches out so lovingly, whole communities are blessed in ways they cannot number.”
Yeah. You and me. On our worst days. At our weakest. We provide shade and branches for whole communities. THAT’s how the kingdom of God works!
© 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.
I have two friends who started a school in a challenging inner-city neighborhood. They wove Christian principles into its operation, delighted in diversity, and had a huge commitment to helping the under-served, often under-privileged children of that city learn and thrive. They called it The Mustard Seed School, because they knew that things – and people – that look too small, too poor, too shabby to amount to much can achieve greatness. That is how things work in the realm of God.
Jesus also said, “With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs, and puts forth large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade.”
This is one of many ways in which the values of God’s realm run counter to the values of our culture. We often think big is better, strong is mightier, talent prevails. There is nothing wrong with big, strong or talented, but those labels don’t tell the whole story about a person or a community – or a church. Some people are big because they come from large stock; some are gifted because they’ve been treated to a great education. These are not the values by which we are to measure one another, and certainly not the values by which we are to measure the effectiveness of our churches. But it takes a lot of prayer and reordering our values to truly look for the power and greatness in what appears small or weak.
When have you seen greatness in something that appeared small or less than desirable?
When has someone seen greatness in you at a time when you felt you had little to offer?
Where do you appreciate “small" and "unimpressive?”
There is a realm in which our culture has come to appreciate the small: technology. The smaller the item, the more we prize it – as long as it can pack a huge amount of data and deliver it at lightning speed. So maybe if Jesus were telling this parable today, it would sound like this:
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a processor chip, which, when implanted in a device, is the smallest of all the components; yet when it is activated, it becomes the most powerful of all operating systems, and powers many apps and puts forth many gigs of data, so that whole networks can benefit from its bandwidth.”
Does that work for you? If not, try this:
“With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable will we use for it? It is like a person of faith who seems pretty ordinary, who, when rooted into a community of other ordinary people, is the smallest contributor; yet when s/he is filled with the Holy Spirit, becomes the most powerful of all ministers and reaches out so lovingly, whole communities are blessed in ways they cannot number.”
Yeah. You and me. On our worst days. At our weakest. We provide shade and branches for whole communities. THAT’s how the kingdom of God works!
© 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.
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