What I thought I knew

My childhood connection to nature was effortless. It was filled with state park camping trips, summer camps, Minnesota lakes, and my roomy backyard. It informs my adult life in countless ways– including my environmentalism, political beliefs, and faith. So when I peered out the window of our ELCA Young Adults in Global Mission (YAGM) van as it climbed for my first time to the Environmental Education Center (EEC) atop a blustery peak in Beit Jala, Palestine – a place I would spend much of the next year – I imagined myself having quite the grip on environmentalism and anything it might entail.

I had not expected to learn many things. I was quickly proved wrong. 

I learned more at the Environmental Education Center (EEC), a ministry of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Jordan and the Holy Land, than I could ever have imagined.

What I learned

I learned that access to water is not guaranteed to any Palestinian living in the West Bank, as it is controlled by Israel, who often diverts it to Israeli settlements. 

I learned that the occupation wall tears through land people and wildlife have called home for tens of thousands of years, disrupting migration patterns, habitats, and agriculture.

Israel controls the allocation of funds available for Palestine’s waste management. While Israel’s landfills take up several areas previously used by Palestine, it has severely restricted landfill capacity for Palestinian waste, resulting in a significant amount of  litter.

Some land-grabbing in Israel entails the rapid planting of non-native, fast-growing trees, creating a makeshift forest to hide remains of pillaged Palestinian towns. It is not uncommon that these “protected forests” are planted with funding from American Christians concerned about the holy land’s environmental health. It is also not uncommon that after 10-15 years, these trees are again uprooted to make room for a new Israeli settlement.

My shiny American Environmental Studies major suddenly made the world of plastic straw bans and buckthorn pulls seem utterly insignificant, if not naïve. 

What it means

Christians, Muslims, and Jews around the world lay a sentimental claim to the Holy Land, the land in which Jesus sat beneath olive trees, where the prophet Muhammed ascended to heaven, and where the Israelites were led to freedom. “The land of milk and honey” rang through my head sometimes as I stared out the EEC’s window amidst editing grant proposals and publications. Everyone clamors for this land, but they use the word “land” in a hollow way. People seemingly refer to the bare minimum of the word — the lifeless chunk of earth that sits in that particular spot on the planet, worthy only because of who has walked and what was written there, not the life present and reliant upon it today.

What God desires

Matthew 6:25-26 says, 25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them…”.

I could write novels about how my time at the EEC taught me more about environmental justice than I ever learned from any college course, but I will instead share a memory with you.

For context–the EEC holds the first bird-ringing (often called bird banding in the U.S.) station in the Middle East. Mostly volunteer-run, much important research has come from the ringing work done here. This includes documenting various species of native Palestinian birds, piecing together native Palestinian ecosystems, and observing the occupation’s effects on migration patterns and those same ecosystems.

Bird in flight

As the EEC holds youth at the center of their ministry, bird ecology is an important way they connect students with the Palestinian biodiversity. According to their mission, this connection is inseparable from the ever-coveted land itself. Student groups who tour the EEC often get the memorable chance to release a freshly “ringed” bird under the loving supervision of EEC researcher Michael Farhoud and his devoted college volunteer, Bashar Jarseyeh. 

Students are always timid when the bird is first placed in their hand, palm stretched flat to provide a stable takeoff platform. Sometimes the bird will stand there an extra second or two, cautiously taking in the circle of awestruck seventh-graders. This moment is beautiful — student taking in bird, bird taking in student. Then, a flutter of wings and the bird is off, quickly becoming smaller and smaller as it soars above the Al Makhrour Valley.

As they release the birds, students marvel that checkpoints, walls, and borders will not be on the mind of this avian Palestinian. Yet the students know these barriers can never leave the mind of the human Palestinians their bird friend flies over.

Still, maybe this bird sows a small seed of hope that one day things will change. One day, maybe the students, maybe all Palestinians will be as free to move as the “birds of the air” Jesus describes in the text from Matthew.

Additional Resources

Learn more about the Environmental Education Center supported by the Lutheran Church in  Jordan and the Holy Land here:

https://www.eecp.org/

Read more about the environmental impact of the Occupation of Palestine here:

https://time.com/5714146/olive-harvest-west-bank/

https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/campaigns/2017/11/the-occupation-of-water/

Reflection Questions

1. Maddi challenges us to consider those who rely on the earth in the present-day in the Holy Land, not just the religious figures who have walked there. How does thinking about the environmental impact of the occupation of Palestine today challenge the way you have thought about the Holy Land in the past?
2. Maddi and the Palestinian students she worked with learned about faithfulness and freedom and joy from the birds at the Environmental Education Center. What have you learned from the creation around you? How has your relationship to the earth shaped your relationship with God?
3. The Environmental Education Center in Palestine taught Maddi that care for the land and all creation is a central part of our call as people of faith. How have you considered your relationship to creation this Advent? In this period of waiting, how might you better care for creation?
4. Matthew 6:25-26 says, 25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear… 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them”. How have you experienced God providing for you or community? Who in your community needs to experience God’s freedom? How is God calling you to respond?

My name is Maddi Froiland and I was a 2019-2020 Young Adults in Global Mission (YAGM) volunteer in Jerusalem and the West Bank. I grew up in Milwaukee, WI, and graduated with a major in Environmental Studies and a concentration in Women and Gender Studies from St. Olaf College in Northfield, MN. I am currently serving as an AmeriCorps member in Palm Beach County, FL, where I am a reading tutor and teach a nightly ESL class for adults.

Matthew 25:35-40

[Jesus said] ‘For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘ Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’

Room in the Inn

If Mary and Joseph showed up on the steps of an inn in Palestine today, they would’ve had a bed, some coffee, and probably three servings of a home cooked meal. At least, this is what my YAGM (ELCA Young Adults in Global Mission) program cohort (a group of young adults who serve in one country together) and I decided about one month into our year of service there. I felt like I was walking into my grandma’s house every time I stepped into a Palestinian home. I was greeted automatically with a kiss on the cheek that was quickly followed by Arabic coffee, sweets, and eventually an invitation to lunch or dinner.

It didn’t matter who I was or what was happening in the world around us. I was always welcomed in with joy. In this way, Palestinian hospitality was an example of God’s radical love. This fact was made clear to me one rainy, Sunday afternoon.

Holy Water

I was invited to another volunteer’s host family for a big lunch. When we got there, we discovered that even though rain was falling all around us, there was no more water in their water tank. In the West Bank, one way you can tell the difference between a Palestinian home and an illegal Israeli settlement is to look at the roofs. Palestinian homes will have a water tank on top of them. If this tank runs dry, families could be out of water for weeks. Meanwhile, illegal settlements have access to unlimited water piped from reserves found in Palestine.

In the midst of these forces of occupation, Palestinians still show love through their hospitality. When I found out that Sunday that our hosts did not have water, I was ready to call it a day, to walk back home in the rain or make something simple instead. However, our Palestinian hosts were determined to have the lunch they planned for themselves and their guests. We took turns carrying in buckets from the garden cistern, boiling it in a tea kettle so we could drink it or use it to make rice. Then after our collective efforts, we sat down to a big, delicious meal. It was moments like these that felt most holy to me.

Unconditional Love

During my year as a volunteer with ELCA Young Adults in Global Mission in Palestine, I felt God’s unconditional love through the hospitality of my Palestinian friends and family. It was in the big hug my host aunt always gave me as I walked in the door. It was there in the third helping of stuffed grape leaves that my host grandma piled on to my plate, ignoring my protests that I was too full to eat another bite.

When I felt this love from Palestinian families, it challenged me to take a hard look at my own life. How do I welcome others unconditionally, and not just when it’s most convenient for me? Just as I see hospitality as God’s love, I also understand it to be a call to action. Calling us to take a look at our churches and think who would feel that radical welcome as soon as they walked in the door or joined the Zoom chat. My Palestinian hosts gave me a greater understanding of hospitality. The understanding of how a welcoming smile or a shared meal is a holy act spreading God’s love to all. The kind of love that isn’t conditional to where and when it works best for me. Love that envelops a stranger the same as an old friend.

For me, Advent is the perfect time to put their example into action in my own life. Advent, much like a host preparing for visitors, is about the preparation for the birth of Jesus. This year hospitality will have to look different in the midst of a global pandemic. However, it also provides an opportunity to break from our normal routines and to do what the scripture above asks of us. An opportunity to reach out to the stranger and share the radical love and hospitality that all people deserve.

Reflection Questions

1. What is one way you – like Katie’s Palestinian neighbors – might welcome others unconditionally, and not just when it’s most convenient?
2.  Who in your community is being told they are not welcome? Your neighborhood? Your church? Your country? How do you understand God’s call to respond?
3. What was a time you received the kind of care we hear Jesus talk about in Matthew 25 / Katie talked about receiving in Palestine? What did you learn about God in that experience?
4. In the midst of advent in a pandemic, what are some creative ways we can still offer hospitality (to friends, neighbors, strangers, at church, in the public square)?

Katie Evans (she/her) served as an ELCA  Young Adult in Global Mission in Jerusalem/West Bank from 2018-2019. While there, she taught English at Dar Al Kalima Lutheran School in Bethlehem. Since returning, she worked with Lutheran Campus Ministry at the University of Maryland, and she is currently an administrative assistant in the Metro D.C. Synod Office. Katie is a member of Hope Lutheran Church in College Park, MD.

To learn more about the ELCA Young Adults in Global Mission program click here

To learn more about the Lutheran Schools of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Jordan and the Holy Land (including the school where Katie worked in Palestine), check out the work of Opportunity Palestine here

“How long, O Lord?”

Let’s face it, all those goals we had at the end of 2019 were pretty hard to come by this year. I remember ending last year thinking #newdecadenewme but, let’s be real, #newdecadewtf feels a bit more apropos. Advent is a season of expectation. A new beginning. A season of hope.

This year didn’t quite fill me with the warm and tinglies, you know? A lot can be said of our collective consciousness’ evolution this year. As a people, many were sheltered in place and forced to pay attention to atrocities, injustices occurring within our borders. George Floyd, Ahmaud Aubery, and Breonna Taylor have become household names for the most violent of reasons. I’ve found myself wondering over and over again, “how long, Lord?” When will it be enough? When will Black and Brown death stop being sensationalized and give way to systems, powers and principalities falling?

From Palestine to the Bronx

I think back to my travels to Palestine with Peace Not Walls just over a year ago. So much of what we saw looked apocalyptic. Some structures were decaying, there was overcrowding in some places, and the general sense of stifled potential. Yet, within those buildings, was a richness that could fill generations with life and vitality. Behind those walls are the brightest of smiles, the most generous of persons, the most perseverant of souls. What happens to a person who in the midst of constant barrages of the most heinous acts of violence and oppression, still chooses to find joy and hold onto hope when peace and justice elude them?

Over these last 10 months, the world has seen massive changes. Universal changes have encumbered everything, everywhere. I could never imagine a world where I, a wanderlust to my core, would be hesitant to go to an airport, let alone enter an airplane and travel to destinations unknown. Quarantine has forced many of us to look inward, to examine those things we think of as commonplace and trite, the unalienable, the shades of gray.  It has challenged indiscriminately and yet, within that, those who have been perpetually marginalized, cannot catch a break.

I come from the Bronx in New York where we have approximately 1.5 million people, yet we are the city with the poorest health in the state, the highest asthma rates in the country, and just over a quarter of the populace lives at or below poverty level. How can we live when the cards are stacked against us?

Life Abounds

I’ll tell you right now, I don’t have the answers. What stands out most though, in the midst of this catastrophe, is the human response in our communities. Both in Palestine and in the Bronx, people are suffering because of injustice that is intentional and atrocious. Yet in these places, and countless other communities like it, there is a hope and a joy that eludes the oppressor. A peace in the midst of the constant threat of ambush. A certainty that in spite of the risks of living, it would be a shame to not live our one life to the utmost fullest.

You see that in vecinas picking up food for other women in their building that are at work but need assistance from neighborhood food pantries to feed their kids. You see it outside of buildings when someone blasts their stereo and the whole block erupts in dance. Windows and fire escapes alight with kids and grandparents bopping. Guys and Gals just dancing to the percussion of the salsa beat. You see it in children’s laughter when they crank open a fire hydrant and play as though they were in an oceanic oasis and not the tenements they’re confined to.

That is what I think is the greatest reminder that Advent can offer us. Evil abounds, but so does life. God calls us to live abundantly, fully reliant on the knowledge that tomorrow is not guaranteed but today is. If there’s anything this year has taught us, it’s that we need to slow down. Only then, can we really stop and see those things that are plaguing our world, and work intentionally to change it. We can change today.

Happy in Hope

As I was writing this reflection, Pauls’s words in Romans 12:9-12, came to mind.

Romans 12:9-12 (CEB) tells us, “Love should be shown without pretending. Hate evil and hold on to what is good. Love each other like the members of your family. Be the best at showing honor to each other. Don’t hesitate to be enthusiastic—be on fire in the Spirit as you serve the Lord! Be happy in your hope, stand your ground when you’re in trouble, and devote yourselves to prayer.”

Discussion Questions:

1. Could these words, written by the Apostle Paul in the first century AD, still hold the key to finding joy and holding onto hope when peace and justice elude us?
2. When the odds are perpetually stacked against us, what does it take to live into the words of Paul in Romans?
3. Paul mentions love, goodness, honor, enthusiasm, hope, being resolute, and devotion – how do you see these practiced by perpetually oppressed populations? How do you view them?
4. At the risk of sounding trite, yes, if 2020 has reminded us of anything, it’s that life is a long road and the steps are steep, but what is the one step you will take today to create change?

 

Annette Rodriguez is a Nuyorican, Bronx native. She was born and raised a PK (Pastor’s Kid) and always promised herself she’d never wind up as an actual Pastor ::insert sardonic laughter::. After attending NYU for undergrad and receiving an MBA from Hofstra University, Annette decided to finally listen to the tugging in her spirit and reluctantly, but faithfully attended Duke Divinity School.  Now, she is lead pastor of Woodycrest United Methodist Church in the Bronx. Annette is passionate about sharing the prophetic word of God’s love with all people. She is convinced that God has a wry sense of humor and love that permeates all our perceived faults.

 

 

 

 

 

Photo Credits:

1. https://www.latimes.com/california/story/2020-06-21/black-lives-matter-los-angeles-patrisse-cullors-melina-abdullah
2. NC
3. https://www.businessinsider.com/nyc-contact-tracers-not-asking-people-attend-george-floyd-protest-2020-6

Home Waters

The North Fork of the Flathead River is the most beautiful river on earth. This, of course, is a personal opinion, but anyone who has spent time on the river would likely agree. The deepest point of the largest channel marks the western boundary of Glacier National Park, and on the other side of the river is the vast Flathead National Forest. Cutthroat trout return to tributary creeks every year to spawn. Grizzly bears are frequently spotted along the banks. A day without seeing an osprey or a bald eagle while rafting on the North Fork is considered an odd occurrence.

The splendor of the North Fork makes it a natural place to talk about the Creator. The mountains, the fresh air, the cold water, all of it: the place is as ripe with holiness as it is with huckleberries. I had the privilege, during the summers of 2014-2017, of guiding high schoolers down the river and through conversations about their own faith when I served as a raft guide with Flathead Lutheran Bible Camp. Experiencing something as big as the peaks towering over 3,000 feet above had a way of reminding us how small we are compared to a God who created everything.

The deeper challenge, then, and the challenge I posed to all of my high school groups, is to see God in all that God created: everything. It’s easy to see a place like the North Fork, protected by law to remain undisturbed, and say “God is here!” It takes a more practiced eye to see a scraggly weed in a movie theater parking lot as part of the same beautiful Creation. For many of our campers, leaving camp meant returning to the midwest, which was full of agricultural lands, sediment-rich waters, and hardwood forests. If those campers could see God in the natural world back home, despite the vast difference between those landscapes, it meant they could also be in tune with the ways God was alive in their lives.

The Word

John 4:19-24 (NIV)

“Sir,” the woman said, “I can see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem.”

“Woman,” Jesus replied, “believe me, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews. Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.”

Neither On This Mountain Nor In Jerusalem

In this passage, the infamous woman at the well asks Jesus where she ought to worship. In doing so, she is also asking Jesus, “Where is God?” Jesus answers that God isn’t found “on this mountain nor in Jerusalem,” but instead points her to a kind of worship and presence with the Spirit and with God that surpasses geography: “A time is coming and has now come when true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth.”

In 2017, I moved to Cambodia. As a Young Adult in Global Mission, I was serving the community of Phnom Kravanh through a local non-profit called Life With Dignity. The landscape was so different from what I was used to! Rice fields replaced mountains, palm trees replaced pine trees. The new sounds, smells, and sights challenged me, and felt alien for a long time. In those early days, especially as I was experiencing the growing pains of living in a new community, the landscape seemed to me further proof that God was far away. Considering the message I was so eager to share with my campers in Montana, I found myself having to eat my hat.

The Most Beautiful River

One day, I took a bike ride down a dirt road near my house. I sat along the edge of an irrigation ditch, and looked out across the rice field at the sunset unfolding before me. In the hues racing across the sky, I was reminded of those late summer sunsets along my home river. If the God I believe in is big enough to create this landscape and the one I know from home, I thought, God is big enough to be present with me in my life here.

The beauty of our natural world is entirely in the eye of the beholder, and the more we see beauty in places we don’t expect, the more we open ourselves to seeing God. For me, on that evening in Cambodia, the brown irrigation ditch became the most beautiful river on earth.

Called to Connection

During this Easter season, I invite you to the practice of confession: we fail to see God’s presence everywhere, especially in places unfamiliar to us. We fail to connect with God around and within us.

I also invite you to the practice of prayer: God, open our eyes to seeing newly realized beauty in the natural world around us. Open our hearts, God the Creator, to your Holy presence that never leaves, and is everywhere, always.

Amen.

Discussion Questions

1. What are the physical places in which you have experienced God? Did any of these surprise you?
2. What was a time when, like Colter, you felt like God was far away? How did you respond?
3. At the end of this Easter season but in the middle of this season of global pandemic, where are you noticing God’s presence in new places?

Colter Murphy serves as Director of Youth and Service at Faith Lutheran Church in Chico, CA. He served as a raft guide at Flathead Lutheran Bible Camp in Lakeside, Montana and was an ELCA Young Adults in Global Mission volunteer in Cambodia. These days, he practices seeing God in the natural beauty along the Sacramento River near his house, and in the chaparral of the Sierra Nevada foothills.

The Word

When the hour came, Jesus and his apostles reclined at the table. ¹⁵ And he said to them, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. ¹⁶ For I tell you, I will not eat it again until it finds fulfillment in the kingdom of God.”

¹⁷ After taking the cup, he gave thanks and said, “Take this and divide it among you. ¹⁸ For I tell you I will not drink again from the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.”

¹⁹ And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.”

²⁰ In the same way, after the supper he took the cup, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you.²¹

Luke 22: 14-20

The Now

It is bizarre that “on the night in which he was betrayed” Jesus didn’t use his time to do something more productive. He didn’t rally the troops or lay out some grand strategy. He didn’t write a manifesto or plan some grand final demonstration. He sat down with his friends and shared a meal. What good is a meal when you know how bad things are about to get?

We are on the brink of the most severe losses from the coronavirus outbreak in the US and social distancing, as necessary as it is, is taking its toll on people’s jobs and at least my mental health. Tropical Cyclone Harold is smashing through Fiji and Vanatu, highlighting the fact that extreme weather driven by climate change isn’t slowing down for us. Looking around, it’s hard to think that things aren’t about to get much worse. Maundy Thursday (the day in the church we remember this “Last Supper” gathering of Jesus and the disciples) feels especially real to me this year.

The Normal

The weird thing about Jesus’ last supper with his friends is how completely normal it is. They are together with their traveling companions, celebrating the same festival their people have celebrated for centuries, and sharing one of humanity’s most common meals: bread and wine. If it weren’t for what follows, this meal would be unremarkable to the point of being boring. And that’s the beauty of what Jesus does in this upper room. Jesus takes normalcy, the basic elements of community, history, food, and drink, and braids them together into something holy. He doesn’t leave us with some complicated and expensive ritual for the hard days to come—that wouldn’t do. Instead, he invites us to sit down with strangers and the people we love, share a simple meal together, and pause to remember that, even in those seemingly mundane moments, the Spirit of God is standing in our midst.

#NoPlasticsforLent

I am terrified by the challenges we face. I worry that I am not enough to confront them on my own and that nothing short of a miracle will be able to save me. But Jesus tells us, “on the night in which he was betrayed,” that we have exactly what we need. Throughout the No Plastics for Lent campaign I’ve seen people sharing the small, holy ways that they pay attention to the world around them and I’ve gotten so much hope from the small and the holy. Thank you for walking this journey with me, and I look forward to breaking bread with you.

Discussion Questions

• What are some “normal” things that remind you of God?
• How has being in community helped you with your care for creation and one-another? How has that evolved in the present moment?
• What are some daily rhythms that you’ve learned through No Plastics for Lent that you want to make a normal part of your life?
• Where do you find comfort when the world is overwhelming?

Baird Linke lives in the Twin Cities where he works with Calvary Lutheran Church as their director of faith formation and community engagement. He’s a nerd for ecology, theology, the outdoors, and running. He currently studies with Wartburg Theological Seminary.

The Word

“All shall be well

And all shall be well

And all manner of thing

Shall be well.”

• Julian of Norwich | 1342-1416

“I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, ³⁹ nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

• Romans 8: 38-39

My friend Julian

I’ve loved Julian (which may not be hear real name!) of Norwich for the past few years. This is probably in part because when I came across her work at 23, I was tired of learning exclusively about male theologians from any time before the last 100 years. It is probably also in part because she introduced me to Christian mysticism. This seemed like the most magical of the Christian traditions and so appealed to my Harry-Potter-loving heart.

Regardless, her words sang to me.

At the ELCA Youth Gathering in Houston in 2018, I told the story of being immunosuppressed and going to Rwanda. What I didn’t say was that in Rwanda, when I was 23, I got typhoid fever. About six months after that, I got malaria.

I thought I was going to die.

Laying in hospital beds across the world for two weeks, Julian’s words wrapped me up.

They laid on my heart, not a trite dismissal of my suffering, but a defiant hope in the face of a situation that was MARKEDLY unwell.

“All shall be well

And all shall be well

And all manner of thing shall be well”

Turns out, I didn’t know her that well.

The REAL Julian of Norwich

In a place of deep anxiety and fear this week, I came across these words again and learned more about Julian’s history.

I didn’t know that when she was a child, her town was overcome by the Black Death, killing about a third of its inhabitants from 1348-1350. I didn’t know she lived through two wars.

I didn’t know that when she was 30 she was so ill she thought she was going to die.

This has been strangely comforting to me in the past few days.

Not the fact that she was sick or survived a pandemic or war, I am not comforted by unnecessary suffering.

I am comforted by the fact that, while it may feel like it sometimes, Julian of Norwich and other Christian Mystics did not live in a world outside time. Julian lived in times of fear and doubt and STILL. Still, her songs persist. Just like so many faithful Christian women before and after her.

Being Kept

Our songs persist, too, loved ones.

Already we have joined together online. We have sung together, prayed together, encouraged each other.

And we have been scared together.

We live in the suffering and struggle of our own time.

But our sister, Julian, has a fierce song of hope in Christ for us, still.

She saw visions of Jesus and wrote:

“If there is anywhere on earth a lover of God who is always kept safe, I know nothing of it, for it was not shown to me. But this was shown: that in falling and rising again we are always kept in that same precious love.”

Friends, we MUST do the best we can to keep ourselves and our neighbors safe. This is holy work.

But we know that as humans living in the world, we cannot always be kept safe.

We may feel anxiety.

We may not feel well.

Y’all, we may not BE well now.

We don’t have to pretend we are!

But in our falling an in our rising, we are kept in love.

Across the street and across the world, you are kept in love.

And nothing, NOTHING, can separate you from that. 

So now I pray that we be generous and patient and just and kind, that we breathe deeply the peace of God (she wrote to herself), and that we remember the promise in Christ we have hoped in for centuries, a promise that stands even and maybe especially when we don’t feel it:

“All shall be well.

And all shall be well.

And all manner of thing shall be well.”

Discussion Questions:

1. What things in your life have brought you peace? What songs or poems or art pieces? What spiritual passages?
2. Who are people you look up to spiritually?
3. Where can you offer yourself grace this week?
4. Where have you experienced hope this week? Where have you experienced God this week?

Savanna Sullivan (she/her/hers) serves as the Program Director for ELCA Young Adult Ministries at the ELCA Churchwide Office in Chicago, IL. She was a main stage speaker at the 2018 ELCA Youth Gathering in Houston, TX and gives presentations about Young Adult culture and empowerment in the church to ELCA and ecumenical groups around the country . She is passionate about helping young people connect to their own spirituality and pushing the church to equip, amplify, and respect the voices of young leaders. She loves banana pudding, the Clemson tigers, and memorizing poems.