My thoughts (Anna Woofenden):

“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.”

When I hear these familiar lines, I’m drawn to the second-half of the equation. Let’s talk about the dancing and this joy-filled clothing.

“You brought me up from the grave, you spared me from going down into the pit.”

Rescue and new life — excellent! I’ll avoid even acknowledging that the pit is there, thank you very much. Let’s stick with the new life, the joy, and the springtime. They’re pretty, new and shiny, light and fluffy.

But look outside for a moment. Fall is upon us. The leaves are dying, the plants are curling up and drawing in. Things are rotting, decomposing, returning. Cycles and seasons are part of the journey. The pathway to life is through death. Death to our self, to our agendas, to our need to control. Birth to the idea that God is God and we are not. There are internal parts of us that need to die, in order for the Divine Life to flow through more freely.

Or another way of framing it: You are a pumpkin.

A pumpkin, filled with the seeds and muck, mixed with hope and new possibility, baggage and old stories. Terrified of the pain of carving, while yearning to shine brightly. You are a pumpkin in the hands of the Carver, anticipating the scooping out, to make space for the light.

You have a choice; you can stay on the vine. Comfortable and secure, yes, but in the end, probably just a waste, rotting away. Or you can make the choice to allow, or in moments of bravery and insanity, even invite the Carver to take out the knife and begin to hollow — to open us up to the emptying out that Christ calls us to.

In order for God to flow through us, the vessel needs to continue to be cleaned out. The shining of our light requires it. We can all probably think of a time where we have felt the carving, the spiritual surgery, the scooping of the goop. Maybe when we lost a loved one, or transitioned jobs. When we came up against challenges in relationships, experienced a health crisis, or a spiritual crisis. When we encounter doubt, struggle, the daily grind.

Next time you carve a pumpkin, remember that you are like that pumpkin. Invite the Divine Carver to continue to shape you. Immerse your hands in the seeds and yuck. Acknowledge and embody the fact that shining involves walking through the valleys, the shadows, and the pain.

Hollow Me
By Stephanie Eden
One October a pumpkin grew
Full of seeds and thoughts
She said I don’t wanna be one of those
That sits around and rots
Pick me now cause I wanna be
Like other pumpkins I’ve seen
With a picture and a warming light
For the kids on Halloween
But the other pumpkins warned her
It’s a process you can’t handle
Being scraped and carved right to the flesh
Till you’re cleaned out for a candle
The pumpkin she was determined
Her fate was in decoration
But with the first stab of the knife she thought
Time for reconsideration
They were right she thought I’d be better off
As a pie or on the vine
Why wasn’t I satisfied as a big orange squash
Why did I want to shine?
But the carver’s hands were gentle
And she could sense the jubilation
As he held her and he made his plans
In great anticipation
As he began to scrape inside she found
To her seeds she was attached
She was afraid without all her junk inside
She’d be more likely to get smashed
But she noticed, too, a feeling
Of freedom as she was emptied
All the space and possibilities
Like holding light instead of seeds
Though she never had felt pain
As a pumpkin on the vine
The pain could not come close to how
Good it felt to shine.

Thought for the day: Where is God hollowing you right now? What needs to be emptied out? What light is bursting to be shone, that needs the surgery to let it free?

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to get started, consider the suggestions on the How to Pray page.

Our guest author, Anna Woofenden, is an MDiv Student at Earlham School of Religion.

My thoughts (John Seksay):

I recently found an early attempt to start a journal when I was first coming out. It was March, 1993 and had only one entry. It reads:

“I’m not sure how to lay to rest the years of painful silence that surround my inner child — the sense of abandonment and betrayal by everything he believed in. Such is puberty for the gay child/teen. What balm exists for the loss of self-esteem and the absolute absence of any positive self-image?”

God has shown me how the word addresses this very issue.

Today’s scripture passage first came to my attention when I started attending LifeJourney Church and read The Children Are Free. What an overwhelming sense of acceptance and reconnection to God began with these events! Unlike my upbringing in the Roman Catholic church, God didn’t see me as evil, corrupt, or “intrinsically disordered.” Jesus had known, and spiritually accepted with great compassion, men like me. He acknowledged my existence without contempt or judgment! (For an examination of this scripture, see this page.)

But read carefully everything that is said in the scripture. Jesus opens the topic by saying “Not everyone can accept this teaching, but only those to whom it is given.” He finishes with the statement “Let anyone accept this who can.”

This calls up another painful memory from my struggles as an adult. When I first brought up this issue as an adult with my parents, I was married with kids. Mom was the coach and mentor most often sought out by all the kids. She didn’t reject me outright, but steered me toward counseling, where I was given a multiple question test. I will never forget the look in her eyes when the results of the test indicated that I “officially wasn’t gay.” I knew then that my mother’s deepest love was reserved for a son she didn’t really have, but desperately wanted. I never let her see the gulf that event opened in my heart.

After finally coming out, I did experience acceptance from my siblings and children, and came to understand what Jesus was saying. Only the people willing to love me unconditionally could see me as I truly am; those who brought other expectations in their hearts would remain fixed on their own internal image of me. It is the same with Jesus’ teachings — often our internalized prejudices about what is right or good literally close our hearts to His words.

Eunuchs were also a very difficult subject for Jews to deal with, because the cultural roles for male and female, parent and child, were deeply ingrained, as they remain in many societies today. Was it just circumstance that selected Philip, an apostle of Christ from Hellenistic background, to meet with the eunuch from Ethiopia on the wilderness road? I like to believe that God knows the limits of God’s servants, as well as their abilities, when God calls them to a task.

Jesus recognizes the challenge by warning us that not everyone will have the spiritual capacity to accept us as we are. One of our major challenges as Christians is to love ourselves as we are, and still have compassion for those who lack the spiritual capacity to do likewise.

Thought for the day: My prayer for today is that my love for Jesus and His teachings will also be unconditional. May I see and hear every blessing they have to offer!

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to get started, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.

During the season of Advent, MCC congregations around the world are preparing our hearts and churches to celebrate the coming of the Christ Child.

And throughout this season, MCC congregations are focused on making our churches welcoming and accessible to all people, including those with disabilities.

Rev. Nancy Wilson, MCC’s Moderator, has written the Advent prayer below — a prayer that combines the themes of Advent with MCC’s commitment to make all of our churches accessible to all people.

Advent Prayer
by Rev. Nancy L. Wilson, MCC Moderator

O Holy One, thank You for loving us so much, that you became vulnerable in a tiny infant so long ago. Our hearts bow this season before the mystery of creation and redemption that is at the heart of our faith.

In this season of Hope, we are grateful for sisters and brothers who struggle for inclusion and justice, even in the church of Jesus Christ, even in MCC, as they live with disabilities, both visible and invisible.

In this time of Peace, we lift up and bless their witness. Those who cannot see or hear or speak or walk; those with mental challenges, or chronic conditions, are as fully a part of your Body as those of us who are presently “able-bodied” and untroubled in our minds.

Remind us, Jesus, in your season of Joy, to slow down, to pay attention, to look each other in the eyes, to listen more intently, to refuse to make hurtful assumptions.

God whose name and nature is Love, help us see, with your eyes, the perfection in each of us. Move us out of our comfort zones, as You did so long ago. Help us to be vulnerable. May we humbly learn from those whose path may be steeper than ours.

Jesus, you were never afraid of differences. You touched and embraced those whose appearance, suffering or need pushed others away. May we be more like You, as we build your Beloved Community with everyone’s participation.

In Your Many Names, Amen.

Thought for the day: I want to see others as God does.

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to start, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.

As you read, consider: What might God be saying to me? Summarize your thoughts in a sentence or two.

My thoughts (Tammy Roby):

During our recent trip to Sudan I was moved during a visit to the Camboni boys’ boarding school in Narus. The school compound was surrounded by a fence that was in serious need of repair. On the inside of the fence were 915 students ranging in age from 5 to over 20 years old. The school was staffed with only 20 full time teachers.

The boys were so excited to see visitors that they came running toward the bus. As we exited the bus, small children looked at us with wide eyes and out stretched hands. As we entered a dark classroom, our hosts had moved to one side of the room so that we could sit with them. The desks were in need of repair, and the chalkboard had been written on and erased so many times it was difficult to read.

As our meting with the environmental club began, they discussed their efforts to increase shade with planting of trees. One young gentleman, a tall lanky boy, spoke about the challenges they faced in planting and nurturing the newly planted trees. After the meeting we were invited to tour the schoolyard where the trees had been planted. During the tour, the outspoken young man from the classroom told us his story. He stated that he had served in the military and was now coming back to school in his 20′s. He and his two brothers were all in Primary School Level 8. During this dialog he was asked if he planned to go to secondary school next year. To our surprise, he paused and the responded with, “I hope to.”

Boys from the Camboni School.

The tree seedlings need protection from the scorching sun.

Education is a luxury in Sudan. Many families cannot afford to feed their children, so the cost of schooling is out of the question. Even the children who attend school have very little opportunity unless they choose to leave their families, as the employment opportunities within Sudan are limited. But even with such dismal conditions surrounding the school, the attitude of the school children was upbeat. The children were eager to learn and to grow.

The students at the boy’s school had hope for a better life. They reminded us to recognize and be thankful for our blessings. They showed us that faith can bring light to any darkness. The boys we met were making the best of what they were given even though they faced adversity daily.

Every day I interact with people who face much less adversity in their lives than these boys do, but do not realize just how blessed by God they are. Each of us can learn a lesson from the Sudanese about how faith in God gives us the hope of a better tomorrow.

Thought for the day: “Afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair…” Thank you, God, for this hope we have in You.

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to get started, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.

The title for today’s Be Still and Know was taken from a speech by Harvey Milk.

As you read, consider: What might God be saying to me? Summarize your thoughts in a sentence or two.

My thoughts (Becca Huttsell):

Thank God for grace. I thought I felt led to reach out to the people in Sudan and “help” them. The joke was on me. I am the one in need of “help”.

My first Sudan trip in 2008 gave me the opportunity to travel with David Radcliff/New Community Project on a business trip. David was a humble and patient teacher and opened doors of discussion in my mind that I didn’t know existed. He began challenging me on my personal lifestyle practices regarding our environment and how what I do every day directly affects those in Sudan and others around the world. But I was unable to give the environmental aspect of my experience much consideration. I was too overwhelmed with the poverty, famine, disease, stories of torture and rape and visible scars attesting to these atrocities.

Today’s scripture illustrates that God intends for us to be responsible for the earth — to be an advocate for our environment. My return trip to Sudan this year allowed me to see that I am far from following these scriptural promptings. My secretary has long criticized my willingness to begin recycling paper, ink cartridges, and pop cans “for Jesus” as a means of the church gaining financial benefit, when I fail to do it for the pure sake of valuing our sacred earth. Ouch. She has a point. I am finally understanding that God, not just tree huggers, wants me to practice earth friendly practices to benefit all God’s children.

So now I have yet another thing to add to my spiritual and socially aware radar screen. This feels overwhelming. Aren’t I busy enough? Don’t I have enough already to feel guilty about, without adding yet another item to my reasons-I’m-going-to-hell-for-sure list?

I was raised on a farm. It seems like I am constantly being told that the values I was raised with are no longer good. We raised tobacco and apparently sent many people to early graves. We believed in guns and used them often — not a popular thing today. We put chemicals on the ground and crops.

I admit that in today’s world these things don’t sound so great. But as a child fifty years ago we were the salt of the earth. Now even my cows are under attack. Did you know that some say that beef production is the leading cause of global warming? One pound of beef requires more than fifteen pounds of grain and hundreds of gallons of water to produce. If each person in United States would decrease their meat consumption by half, it would free up the equivalent of the Colorado River multiplied by fourteen! Did you know that each day a cow also belches 640 quarts of a potent global warming gas, methane?

I want to be skeptical. But as I look into the kind and gracious faces of our Sudanese brothers and sisters and experience their formidable spirits despite the hardships they endure, I tell myself that I must change my habits if there is even a chance these things are true. How can I waste water here when they have none there? How can I continue to overeat here when they are starving?

So I challenge you to look at your own personal practices and struggle along with me to apply some life-giving changes. How can we reduce our use or lessen our tendency toward having too much “stuff” in general? Pastor Jeff gave a great sermon on this during the What Would Jesus Buy? series and challenged us to rid our homes of items we didn’t need. Reuse instead of buying again. Recycle.

To help assess your own ecological footprint, follow this link and calculate your lifestyle practices, and prayerfully consider where to start or how to expand what you are already doing.

Thought for the day: How might each of us individually, and collectively in our congregations, begin a program of environmental renewal?

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to get started, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.

We began writing about our experiences in last week’s Be Still and Know, and we’ll continue for one more week. We hope that you will take something away from these writings that will inspire you to remember our Sudanese friends in their desperate situations. Somehow, some way, we must all learn how to live simply so that these friends may simply live.

Today’s scripture: Exodus 1:1-22 (ESV-text and audio) (KJV) (The Message)

As you read, consider: What might God be saying to me? Summarize your thoughts in a sentence or two.

My thoughts (Elizabeth Keller):

It was our third day of travel, bus-tripping from Kampala, Uganda to Nimule, Sudan. Most of our eyes were closed, attempting to catch some sleep, despite the car-sized potholes, dirty and dusty winds, and sweltering African sun.

Then the moment came and was gone so quickly. My eyes opened to a horrific scene that still haunts me. A bus turned over, grain scattered everywhere, and a young girl lying dead on the side of the road — her body broken, a limb missing. And she was alone. I mean, people were everywhere, surrounding her, but no one noticed her. No one held her in her dying. Our bus full of kawajas (white people) just drove on by.

I have never before seen such a shocking scene. But my African friends have been surrounded by death and dying, always. Stripped of their trees and homes, widowed and orphaned by war, the Sudanese people have too often been forgotten and neglected and left to die. . . alone.

Last month, we celebrated Black History and we honored our black sisters and brothers here who have known a different America, beaten and abused, whipped and hung from a tree to die. . . alone. And in the midst of Women’s History Month, we honor our women and girls who have known a different world, forced into marriage, denied education, sold for sex, bound by chores and children and culture, and are too often. . . alone. And in the midst of the Lenten Season, we remember the One who also died alone, as most of us passed him by. . .

Where is that place within each of us that finally wakes up and opens our eyes to injustice? The midwives Shiphrah and Puah found that place. When the king of Egypt became threatened by the strength of the Hebrew people, he commanded the midwives, “If it is a boy, kill him. . . and throw him into the Nile.”

Yet, these midwives refused. They refused! They refused the highest authority in the entire nation. Can you imagine their courage and defiance? These women — who held no power and who could have died — responded not with hatred or apathy, not with fear or concern for self, but they responded with that place within each of us that is the Divine.

It’s that place where the ordinary does the extraordinary. It’s that place where we see beyond ourselves to feed the hungry, cloth the naked, visit the imprisoned, and welcome the stranger. It’s there, where we will meet the living Jesus.

Thought for the day: Consider the injustices happening in your own community and neighborhood, in your workplace and homeland, beyond our borders and across the oceans. Don’t allow the evening news or front page paper to fill you with indifference. Instead, watch it and read it with eyes wide open. Stop and pray for the things God brings to your heart. Stop and pray for yourself — asking God to free you from any apathy, and instead awaken you to the work we are called to do, in making heaven here on earth.

We encourage you to include a time of prayer with this reading. If you need a place to get started, consider the guidelines on the How to Pray page.