“If you are tired, keep going; if you are scared, keep going; if you are hungry, keep going; if you want to taste freedom, keep going.” — Harriet Tubman [1]

[1] Harriet Tubman as quoted in David P. Gushee and Colin Holtz, Moral Leadership for a Divided Age: Fourteen People Who Dared to Change Our World (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Brazos Press, a Division of Baker Publishing Group, 2018), Kindle, 105.

This Sunday, I’m preaching on Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43. As I think about what I want to say, my mind keeps coming back to this quote from Alessandro Solzhenitsyn:

“Gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either—but right through every human heart—and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it oscillates with the years. And even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained. And even in the best of all hearts, there remains . . . an unuprooted small corner of evil.” [1]

[1] Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago: 1918-1956: An Experiment in Literary Investigation, trans. Thomas P. Whitney, vol. 2 (New York, NY: Harper Perinnial, 2007).

A good word from Frederick Buechner:

“The final secret, I think, is this: that the words ‘You shall love the Lord your God’ become in the end less a command than a promise. And the promise is that, yes, on the weary feat of faith and the fragile wings of hope, we will come to love [God] at last as from the first [God] has loved us.” [1]

“Less a command than a promise.” Let us pray it will be so.

[1] Frederick Buechner, A Room Called Remember: Uncollected Pieces (San Francisco, Harper Collins, 1984), 45.

Sometimes I find myself apathetic in the face of the injustice, evil, and sin that stand between the way things are and the way things out be. In those times, I’m tempted to conclude that because I cannot do everything, there is no point in doing anything. I don’t think this temptation affects only me. Elie Wiesel, who survived the greatest atrocity of the 1900’s (the Holocaust) speaks against that impulse:

“We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” [1]

[1] Wiesel, Elie. “The Nobel Peace Prize Acceptance Speech.” Essay. In Night (Night Triology), translated by Marion Wiesel. New York, NY: Hill and Wang, 2006. Kindle.

In my sermon this past Sunday, I shared a quote from Bryan Stevenson: “Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.” That sentence is the gospel truth, and it stands on its own. But the sentences surrounding that statement are also profoundly true. Here they are:

“Proximity has taught me some basic and humbling truths, including this vital lesson: Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. My work with the poor and the incarcerated has persuaded me that the opposite of poverty is not wealth; the opposite of poverty is justice. Finally, I’ve come to believe that the true measure of our commitment to justice, the character of our society, our commitment to the rule of law, fairness, and equality cannot be measured by how we treat the rich, the powerful, the privileged, and the respected among us. The true measure of our character is how we treat the poor, the disfavored, the accused, the incarcerated, and the condemned.” [1]

[1] Bryan Stevenson, Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (New York: Random House Publishing Group, 2014), Kindle, 17.

This Sunday, I plan to preach on Luke 24:13-35. In which Jesus travels with two disciples on the way to Emmaus before being made known to them in the breaking of the bread. Justo L. Gonzalez aptly sums up the core teaching of this passage:

“The Word and the sacrament [Holy Communion] stand together: the Word explains the Sacrament, and the Sacrament enacts the Word and makes it a reality for the disciples. He [the Risen Christ] is made known to them in the breaking of the bread; but it is because along the road he has explained Scripture to [them] that they know who it is that they know! [1]”

[1] Justo L. González, Luke (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 278.

A hymn, titled Behold the Savior of Mankind, written by John and Charles Wesley’s father, Samuel. The last verse is especially applicable for Holy Saturday

Behold the Savior of mankind,
nailed to the shameful tree;
how vast the love that him inclined
to bleed and die for thee!

Hark how he groans! while nature shakes,
and earth’s strong pillars bend!
The temple’s veil in sunder breaks,
the solid marbles rend.

‘Tis done! the precious ransom’s paid!
“Receive my soul!” he cries:
see where he bows his sacred head!
He bows his head and died!

But soon he’ll break death’s envious chain
and in full glory shine.
O Lamb of God, was ever pain,
was ever love like thine? — Samuel Wesley (1662-1735).

According to The United Methodist Hymnal, this was “one of the few relics of his papers found after the fire which destroyed the Epworth rectory during the night of February 9, 1709.” ¹

¹ Both the poem and the historical information are from The United Methodist Hymnal (Nashville, TN: United Methodist Publishing House, 1989), 293.

My plan, this Sunday (March 19, 2022), is to preach on Psalm 23. Sometimes a new translation can help me see an old, familiar scripture in a fresh light. Frederick Buechner put a rough translation in the mouth of a monk named Elric in his novel Godric:

“God keeps me as a shepherd keeps his flock. I want for nought,” he said. “I bleat with hunger, and he pastures me in meadows green. I’m thirsty, and he leads me forth to water cool and deep and still. He hoists me to my feet when I am weak. Down goodly ways he guides me with his crook, for he himself is good. Yea, even when I lose my way in shadows dark as death, I will not fear, for he is ever close at hand with rod and staff to succor me.” [1]

[1] Frederick Buechner, Godric: a Novel (HarperSanFrancisco, 1980), 114