Ash Wednesday - Abiding Hope

Ash Wednesday Wednesday, February 26

Joshua 1:9: I hereby command you: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go. It was one of the happiest days of my life, and by far, the scariest. August 14, 1997 was on our calendar as the day that Karrie would go into the hospital to have her pregnancy induced. As any first-time parents, we were nervous. Actually, Karrie was more than ready to have this 9 lb. 2 oz. creature removed from her body. I was nervous. I had never seen a live birth before, nor was I looking forward to seeing one. We had attended the classes and read the books. But are you ever truly ready? The birth went as planned. We arrived at the hospital at midnight and the nurses began the induction process. Before noon, Sarah Elizabeth Hill had entered the world. I still tear up when I think back to that amazing moment of seeing my daughter for the first time. I don’t think I’ve ever felt love and joy as deeply as in that moment. I walked with her to the nursery while the nurses cleaned her, tested her, and swaddled her in a blanket. We then took her back to Karrie where the two of them, thoroughly exhausted, rested together in total comfort and peace. A couple hours after the delivery, we began to realize there was a problem. Karrie was bleeding badly, hemorrhaging. It turned out that because of Sarah’s size, she had stretched Karrie’s uterus to the point that it couldn’t recede quickly enough to stop the bleeding. I watched Karrie’s color go from a healthy hue of pink to gray and ashen. She floated in and out of consciousness. I honestly had no idea just how grave a situation we were facing but I knew it was bad. The look on the nurse’s face said it all, even though she kept trying to smile and reassure me that everything would be ok. The doctor came running into the room at close to 4:00 as Karrie was being wheeled across the hall into the surgical room. He must have noticed the fright in my eyes because he came right up to me and said, “I will not let her die. I may have to remove her uterus, but I am not going to let your wife die.” I was horrified. I wept and prayed as I sat in the rocking chair in the room. Our family had no idea about how things had turned. They’d left the hospital before this all started. We didn’t have cell phones then and I had no way of reaching them. I felt all alone. Then I remembered that Sarah was in the nursery. When the nurse saw me coming, she invited me in and had me sit in a rocking chair. She knew what was happening with Karrie. She brought Sarah to me. As I rocked Sarah with tears streaming down my face, the grandmotherly nurse kept checking on me. She had such a reassuring smile and comforting things to say. After about an hour, the doctor found me in the nursery. I handed Sarah back to the nurse as the doctor pulled me aside. He was smiling. He said, “It was bad. Karrie lost half of her blood. But I was able to get the bleeding stopped and did not have to remove her uterus. She’s going to be just fine.” I started to weep again as the doctor gave me a big bear hug. That experience was one of the loneliest times of my life. I was scared, really scared. But the truth is, I was never alone. I had amazingly skilled doctors and nurses to care for Karrie and me. I also had Sarah. Even though I was thinking, “How can I do this alone? I don’t know anything about taking care of a baby, let alone being a parent. What will I do?” the whole time, God was there. God was holding us. God was holding Karrie. I’ve had other wilderness experiences since that day nearly 23 years ago. But I have faced those other experiences with a confidence that, regardless of what happens, God is there. There’s something about journeying through the wilderness that helps us to grow in faith, trust, courage, and hope. I’m not asking

for new wilderness opportunities, but I know there will be more. And when they occur, I pray that my past experiences will give me the fuel I need to face the wilderness with grace and trust that the same God who raised the crucified Jesus, walks with me, promising that love and life win. Loving God, thank you for being with me especially in times when I don’t feel it. Forgive my fear and doubt. Help my eyes to see you, my heart to love you, my mind to focus on you as I journey through the wilderness of life. Use me to be a blessing to others in their journeys so that together, we all may experience real life in Jesus’ name. Amen Rev. Dr. Doug Hill, Lead Pastor

I Wonder as I Wander Thursday, February 27

Numbers 32:13: “The LORD’s anger burned against Israel and he made them wander in the wilderness forty years, until the whole generation of those who had done evil in his sight was gone.” Verses like the one above, can lead us to believe that any wilderness experience we have is some kind of punishment. We think God is mad at us, but not all wilderness experiences are about punishment. However, I do believe all wilderness experiences are purposeful! It is in the wilderness that God forms and shapes us. It is in the wilderness that God allows for us to be stripped away of anything that we have been relying on instead of relying on God. In the wilderness, I let go of selfish goals and ambition and focus on survival1. At the core, this place of survival is sustaining who I am, and I am a child of God. When I first enter the wilderness, I am usually unaware that I am there. I plug along as if nothing is different, but then as time passes and I start to feel the emptiness. I start to realize where I am, and I become keenly aware of what I am feeling and thinking. I start to wonder as I wander; “How long will this last?” “Why am I here?” “What is God up to?” For me, I have been through enough wilderness moments to know that I can trust God, even in the emptiness, even in the pain, and especially in the unknown. It is at a certain point in the wilderness that I shift from my thoughts and worries to being still and listening to the Spirit2. For it is here that the journey through the wilderness begins. This cannot be rushed. This place is deep3 where the soul cries out and is best tuned to hear the still small voice of God4. It is here I must remember I am not in the wilderness alone - for God promised to never leave me or forsake me5. That is easier said than done. There are different types of wilderness. Perhaps you are in a vocational wilderness, wondering while you wander, if this is where you are supposed to be in life. Maybe you are in a relational wilderness where you feel void of caring people surrounding you. Maybe you are in a faith wilderness, wondering as you wander, if God is actually real and if God actually cares about you. If you have ever wondered how you hear God’s voice, especially in the wilderness, let me share a few ways I have heard God’s voice while I wander. The first is prayer – to be still and to cry out. The second is Scripture. How was God present in the wilderness journeys of others in the Bible (see footnotes)? Finally, I try and find a trusted person, a wise mentor or a counselor to help me sort out what I am experiencing. Ever Present God, I am deep into the wilderness, and I feel profoundly alone. Please sing over me6 and remind me you are there! Set my face towards the direction you would have me go7, and give me the strength to take the next step, trusting you for the one after that as well. Most Gracious One, allow me to feel your love in the midst of this vast emptiness, for I am your child and I long for you!8

(1) Genesis 21:14-21, (2) Psalm 46:10, (3) Psalm 42:7, (4) 1 Kings 19:11-13, (5) Deuteronomy 31:6, (6) Zephaniah 3:17, (7) Psalm 23:3 & Psalm 119:105, (8) Psalm 42:1

Paul Schultz, Lead Servant for Resources

The Closet Wilderness Friday, February 28

Psalm 23:1-3a: The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still water; he restores my soul. Can a clothes closet be a wilderness? It seemed like one for me. I sat on the floor of my closet, hidden in the dark, shrouded by the pants and blouses that somehow seemed comforting. I pulled up my knees and sank down. And wept. I was in the wilderness. What had driven me to my closet wilderness? The days of hiding there followed a late-night accident. I had been meeting with the leaders of a church in Nashville, then climbed into my car and drove back home to Atlanta. Twenty minutes from home, a drunk driver and I met, head on. I was left swimming through the chaos that followed. I fumbled around for my cell phone and called Tim. I mumbled enough to scare him silly and led him to jump into his car to find me. The people on the sidewalk kept shouting, “Get out! You’ve got to get out!” Absurdly my car radio kept playing chipper 90’s music. Then, an angel showed up. A young man leaned into my window with a gentle smile and a peace I could feel in the chaos. “Stay right where you are. You’re just fine,” he told me as he gently patted my shoulder until the sirens wailed our way. My physical wounds healed. My journey with PTSD began. I say “PTSD” easily now, 25 years later. But in those years “Post Traumatic Stress Disorder” was not a household phrase. A wise psychologist to whom I went and wept with a year later identified the cause of my hyper-vigilance, nightmares about airplane crashes, and the big black cloud of depression that hung over and sometimes incapacitated me. “I’m just fine,” I pseudo-cheerfully told Tim and everyone else. And I crept into my closet. The worst part of this wilderness was God’s remoteness. God was up there somewhere, looking down coldly on me. I believed that with my whole heart. What a failure I was. There was no hope for me. I wanted nothing to do with that god. It hurts to go back and think about that time. But there was a miracle. My awful trip through the wilderness led me to a gradual and stunning realization months later. God was there for me and had always been. God had loved me through it all—the crash, physical healing, and debilitating PTSD. God hadn’t left me even when I was pushing God out. God’s love was deep in my being. It had always been there and always would be. God would stick with me through the ears of my recovery. The horrific crash and its aftermath led me to know this truth as I never had before. When I hid in my closet I could not have imagined that one day I would say, “I love you, God, and I’m grateful for my accident. Because of it, I realize that you are always there for us. No matter what.” Hover in, with, and under me, Holy Spirit. Drive me away from any wilderness that I might wander into. You restore my soul, Jesus the Christ. Amen Susie Gamelin

Oceans of Hope Saturday, February 29

Jeremiah 29:11: For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Can you be in the wilderness in the middle of the ocean, speeding along at 25 knots per hour? It was 2003 and my husband, a veterinarian, and I were on a Mediterranean cruise. Among the 2000 passengers on board were about 100 veterinarians and spouses attending a veterinary meeting on practice development. It was at that meeting that I discovered that my 25-year marriage was over. I considered jumping overboard, but it was a dark night, and I don’t like the dark. After I returned home, I felt as if it were dark all the time. I was empty, except for tears which came any time of day or night. I literally fell to the floor when my friend opened her door to me. She dropped to the floor with me. To get out of the wilderness, you need to put one foot in front of the other, breathing in, breathing out. That’s what I did, all the while, counting on the fact that if God could clothe the birds of the field, he would not leave me. When the tears and fear came, fear that I had lost the future I thought I would have, I remembered another verse: Isaiah 40:3-5: Let every valley be lifted up and every mountain and hill be made low; and let the rough ground become a plain, and the rugged terrain a broad valley... Soon, my rough ground became smooth and my courage came back. One of my girlfriends was vacationing in Cabo over spring break. She called me saying “no excuses. Come down here with us.” My daughter is a flight attendant and I can fly for free, so I went. I laughed, I walked the beach, and I put on lipstick again.

As a school librarian, I had need of biographies of famous Arizonans for the kids as they studied Arizona history. When I asked the book vendor, he said, “We all need them; there aren’t any.” Well, I thought, I have nothing to do this summer, I’ll write them. Off to Arizona State University I went, day after day, doing research, and before long, I had written my first book.

It was from these two events that I saw that I would have a future. It may not have been what I thought: married, staying a family of four. Instead, I went on to retire, move to Colorado, and have a successful life, thanks to God’s message: “to give you a future and not harm you.”

My practice as I went through my wilderness was to read the New Testament, The Art of Happiness, and Eckhart Tolle’s The Power of Now. I invite you to take some time to ruminate on this quote from The Power of Now: “Realize deeply that the present moment is all you have. Make the NOW the primary focus of your life.” Marilyn Watson

A Welcome Home Monday, March 2

Psalm 91: 1-2: You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress; my God, in whom I trust.” When I first began to consider a move to New York, all I knew was that I needed a change. I’d been feeling stuck. I knew that I had felt God’s call to make writing and storytelling a major part of my life, but I wasn’t sure how to do that and also pay my bills. I had just finished my MFA and was mourning the end of that experience. I was adrift in the ocean of adulthood, and I couldn’t go on treading water for much longer. I needed a lifeline. New York became my solution. I’d always had a sort of romantic view of New York, and this would be my opportunity to live out that fantasy. This change, this monumental uprooting of my life as I knew it, would force me to break the surface of that listless place I’d inhabited. In the months before my move, I felt a building excitement at what awaited me on the East Coast. But I quickly found that the overwhelming bustle of Manhattan, a wilderness of skyscrapers and concrete, brought a loneliness unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I was lost amidst the towering buildings because I didn’t have the mountains to the west to guide me. I was broke, unable to do much of anything that I’d set out to do in New York, afraid to waste my savings on “fun.” I quickly began to realize that the life I’d envisioned for myself in New York wasn’t possible. I’d wanted the glossy vacation version of the city, not the hard grind of everyday life. More than anything, I realized that New York couldn’t fix me. No place could. I’d been wrong about what I needed. I’d let my dissatisfaction lead me to believe that the only way to get better was to pick up and move somewhere else. But I was still the same person struggling to find her place in New York that I was in Colorado. I needed to work on what was happening inside of me, instead of looking at the exterior scenery for answers. So, after several months of increasing misery, I decided to throw in the towel. I spent my last remaining savings on shipping all of my belongings back to Colorado and I came home. It was hard, to say the least. I hadn’t expected things to turn out this way, and neither had anybody else. I was in a dark cloud of personal failure and self-loathing. I was embarrassed. I didn’t want to return to life as it was back home. I didn’t want to pick up where I left off, especially at church. I said it was because I didn’t want to act like nothing had changed but the truth is, I was afraid to see people who knew me so well, afraid that everyone would judge my perceived failure, would be disappointed in me. It turns out that more than anything, I was judging myself. My loved ones were happy to have me back. They didn’t care about what had or hadn’t happened in New York. Coming back to church and to choir was the best thing for me, even if I did it begrudgingly at first. I needed the warm embrace of my church family around me, I needed to feel welcomed back. I needed to be reminded that no matter what happened in New York, no matter what I was wrestling with, there were people who loved me just the way I was. That I was worthy of that love. I needed to be reminded that nothing I could say or do could ever keep me from being a Child of God first and foremost, above anything else. I needed to see that here amidst the Abiding Hope community, I had a place, I was already home.

Oliver Wendall Holmes once said “Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.” What is your definition of home and how does God fit into the picture?

Stephanie Harper, Assistant to the Lead Pastor

The Wilderness of Unemployment Tuesday, March 3

Jeremiah 29:11: For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope. It was October 31, 2017. I had just left the home of my boss and had been terminated for company financial reasons. This was the first time I had ever seen my boss show emotions. He was crying and having a hard time telling me I was being let go. As I was walking out of his home, my mind started racing: What am I going to do now? I was close to turning 68, I only had an Associate’s degree, and I didn’t have the right certifications to get the job I really wanted, or a professional network to help me look for new work. I’d worked for AT&T for 32 years, had my own company at one time and lost it in recession, then went to work for another company for the next 9 ½ years. I had no resume and had always got work by my reputation and a handshake. I went home and told Shirley, my wife, what had just happened. She said “take some time off, get your head together, make a plan and then go from there.” She is a smart woman. I did a lot of Googling to put together a plan on what I needed to do. I started out by building a resume and then had different companies look at it and tell me what changes they would recommend. I went to Colorado Workforce, talked to counselors, went to LinkedIn classes, resume writing classes, classes on the dos and don’ts of interviewing. I signed up with multiple employment search engines, job fairs, and recruiters. I was working harder to find a job than when I actually had a job. I spent the next 6 months answering emails, making phone calls, and going to job fairs. I was doing everything they said a person should do to find a job. I never got so much as a notice that someone had looked at my resume. Then, I started taking Cybersecurity classes through the VA to bring me and my resume into the 20th Century.

After 10 months or so I finally got my first Skype interview. I dressed in new clothes Shirley helped me pick out; sports-coat, shirt, tie, slacks—everything to make me look like a professional. It was a 20-minute phone call/interview. Never heard anything back. This happened several times. It was always a phone or skype interview, nothing face to face. I was told that it was all just part of the process. Over the next year, I went to many interviews, sometimes 2,3,4 times for the same company. I got my hopes up, prayed, got anxious. Most of the time, I never received a yeah or nay. I started to doubt myself and my skills. Maybe I was too old to stay in the workforce. The only thing that kept me getting out of bed everyday was my Abiding Hope family and Shirley. My friends would call or ask me at church or choir practice how the job hunting was going. I would take a deep breath, sigh, smile and tell them where I was at. They would smile back, give me a hug, and tell me to hang in there, that God was walking alongside me. There were times when our savings were running low and I thought we might lose everything again. It was Abiding Hope that kept giving me hope. Then one day, I received a phone call asking to meet at Starbucks. I spoke with a gentleman who interviewed me for an hour. That evening he called me back and offered me a job. I took it. Now I work 90% from home and love what I am doing. I am learning many new things, helping my teammates, and loving life. If it wasn’t for my family at Abiding Hope, I don’t know what I would have done with myself. Thank you all and God Bless. Gracious and comforting God, we are thankful for all You do for us and keep reminding us that You are always there and always tending to your flock. Amen Jeff Johnson

Journeying with Depression Wednesday, March 4

2 Corinthians 12:9-11: But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities for the sake of Christ; for whenever I am weak, then I am strong. The first time I experienced depression was in 1997. I felt lethargic, had no interest in the things that once gave me pleasure and had a very negative attitude about life. I felt like I was walking through quicksand and I couldn’t move forward. I felt heavy and weighted down. I felt the stigma around depression and I didn’t want to admit that I was experiencing it. I also felt bad about being a pastor with depression. I thought, “I shouldn’t be depressed; I’m supposed to have a spiritual connection that should supersede depression.” At times, I got mad at God for not delivering me from this terrible burden. I fought it and resisted it and just wanted it to go away. My marriage was suffering, too. My husband didn’t really understand what I was going through and it was very hard on our relationship. My friends didn’t know how to help me either and I tended to isolate because I didn’t want to burden them with my problems and my negative attitude. I felt really, really alone. After many years of dealing with depression off and on, my husband of almost 20 years told me that he wanted a divorce. I was absolutely devastated. I never thought I would hear that coming out of his mouth. The main reason my husband said he wanted a divorce was because he couldn’t deal with my depression anymore. I didn’t understand how he could leave me because of a condition that I felt I had no control over. I sunk into the deepest, darkest depression that I had ever experienced in my life. He moved out and I isolated myself even more because I was so embarrassed. Being a pastor and being divorced just didn’t go together in my mind. My fears consumed me. When my husband left, I was afraid and convinced that I would never be happy again. I was afraid that I would never find anyone that would love me in that way again. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to work because I was so depressed. About that same time, I got a call to serve as a chemical dependency and mental heath chaplain at St. Joseph’s Hospital in St. Paul, MN. Part of my job was lecturing to mentally ill and chemically dependent patients about grief and spirituality twice a week. It was very difficult to get up in front of patients and talk about grief when I was going through the deepest grief I had ever experienced. I dreaded getting up in front of people every week to talk about spirituality when I was angry with God for allowing this divorce to happen. Then something happened that started to change me and the way I looked at things. I knew that I was not being totally present with my groups because I was so distraught. I prayed for God to help me do my work in the midst of my depression and the answer I got was, “Be vulnerable.” I already felt very raw and exposed, but I decided to listen to God’s direction and I shared with my groups that I was going through a divorce and apologized for not being more present with them. That act of being vulnerable and taking a risk to share my struggle, totally changed the dynamics not only in my groups, but in my life in general. Instead of focusing on my hurt and fear, I started focusing on how I could reach out to others who were struggling with some of the same things I was dealing with, all from a place of vulnerability. Through feeling that common human bond with others, I started to find my way back to myself and to God. Through embracing my weakness, I started to feel my strength returning and my faith deepening.

That was the beginning of my transformation. After that, I took new responsibility for my illness and accepted my depression as a part of me. I no longer believed that it would magically go away if I resisted and fought it. I realized that I needed to accept it and find out what it had to teach me. I started journaling with my depression and got lots of insights on why it was there and the wisdom it had to give me. Even though I had been in therapy off and on for years, I entered into therapy this time with new enthusiasm. I uncovered lots of feelings of unworthiness and learned to accept myself in a deeper way than I had ever felt before. I realized that I had an illness that was part of my family history and that I was not a bad pastor or an inadequate person because I had it. Eventually joy came back into my life, a feeling that I had not felt in a very long time. I started to treat my mind and body as the temple that God had made. I began to take special interest in what I fed my body and my mind. If I started to have negative thoughts, I would stop them and redirect my mind to a more positive way of thinking, much like a mother might redirect her straying child. I also committed to exercising three times a week, knowing that exercise can be as effective as medication. I began to love myself in much the same way as I loved others and as I imagined God loved me: totally and unconditionally. I am happy to say that because of these commitments to myself and through the grace of God, I have not experienced depression for a very long time. I still have my down days, but they don’t turn into weeks and months and they always go away. I am happier and more at peace now than I have ever been in my life. However, I do not take this happiness for granted. I still have a healthy respect for depression and know that it can revisit me at any time, so I know that I have to maintain my commitments to myself and to God. I also know deep down in my bones, that God is always with me in my life, wherever my journey takes me, from the wilderness to the mountain tops and everywhere in-between. Contemplative Practice: Take some time today to think about how you are really feeling right now and write down the words that come to mind. Then, take some time to draw circles around those words and feelings to remind yourself that God’s love surrounds you in the midst of whatever you might be feeling. Pastor Claire Cassell, Pastor of Pastoral Care

Learning to Let My Light ShineThursday, March 5

Matthew 5:16: Let your light shine so before others that they may see your good works and glorify you Father in heaven. For most kids, school was a place to learn. To grow. It was where you went to figure out what you were good at and, eventually, what you wanted to do in life. But for me, school was my wilderness. I always felt lost and a bit stupid, to be honest. The educational system just wasn’t built for kids like me. I wasn’t good at any of that stuff.

Spoiler alert: it all turned out fine. But fine didn’t start until I was able to realize that there were many different kinds of intelligence, and they didn’t all involve being good at taking tests. I started to warm up to the idea that despite my below average performance in the classroom, I was, in fact, an intelligent person. I was just a different kind of smart.

The general term for what I suffer from is called creativity. But school never taught me how to use it. Let alone, how to build a career around it. If you need to tap that side of your brain, you can take piano lessons after school, you can audition for the school play or join the choir. (so I did), but I became so frustrated in school that I was actually a distraction to the other students in class.

So, I graduated high school having earned the official distinction of class clown and continued to clown around through college, making an appearance or two on the academic probation list along the way, and somehow managing to graduate by the skin of my teeth with an undergraduate degree in “communications.”

This little light of mine hadn’t yet come out to shine.

After a few years working, I realized that if I was going to be happy, I needed to find a way to make a living doing what I was good at. Problem was, I wasn’t quite sure what I was good at. I had “talents,” but in my mind, you don’t get to bring those to work, let alone, use them to make a living. I was wrong.

I found a school full of people just like me. I remember the first day of class. THIS I could do. THIS was where I was supposed to be. So, I spent the next two years learning how to use my gift for words, my sense of humor, and my different way of looking at things, to make a living.

When I was 27 years old, I walked out of that school, and with it, out of my wilderness. That little light of mine was ready to shine.

Dear God. You have made each of us unique. Guide us to become the people who you’ve created us to be. Help us to find and use the gifts you’ve given us so that we may use them in ways that touch others and in turn glorify you. Amen

Paul Manutes

The Wilderness of Rejection Friday, March 6

Joshua 1:9: Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go. I am the father of three sons. My youngest just turned 6. He’s in Kindergarten, learning to read, playing soccer, and likes Hot Wheels. The middle of my bunch will turn 15 in June. He’s a freshman in high school, plays football, loves cars even though he can’t drive yet, and is always searching for food like teenagers do. He volunteers, once a month, helping to do maintenance on cars for those who can’t afford it. My oldest is turning 18. He’s going off to college in the fall, loves music, and spends time with his girlfriend. But that’s all I really know about his life lately, because for the past two years he has spoken to me only twice. Two years ago, when his mom and I were going through a divorce, he withdrew from me and refused to see me or talk with me. I tried to get him to talk on the phone, but he never picked up, and I left messages on his voicemail. I started texting him, maybe once a week. No response. In speaking with his counselor, she suggested that I avoid communicating with him for a little while, in order to let him cool off. So, I didn’t reach out for 2-3 months. I still did not hear from him. One day, out of the blue, he called me up. He wanted to change his last name because I was a bad father. At first, I said that I would support him, in hopes that this would open the door to allow us to reestablish our relationship. It’s only a last name, right? But then I thought, this isn’t right, so I told him I would not support him. He was angry with me and I could hear the bitterness in his voice as we hung up. I continued to try and text him, sometimes more often, sometimes less. He was scheduled for surgery and I was asked not to come. I came anyway, but he refused to see me. I had been rejected, refused, and was extremely discouraged. I really wanted to give up trying. As a last effort, I wrote him a letter just before Christmas. It took me 5 or 6 drafts to pour my heart out to him and get it right. Christmas came and went with no response. I was done trying. Two days after Christmas, he texted me, asking if I would want to meet him somewhere and talk. I only got to spend 45 minutes with him, but that was all I needed to renew my pursuit of him and to continue to try and mend our broken relationship. God reminded me to never give up on my son, and for me to not be discouraged. To let my son know that he will always be loved by his father, just as God will always love me, one of his children. Dear Lord, help remind those that have withdrawn from you that they will always be loved and that you will always pursue them. Amen Joe Kuykendall

A Lesson in Love Saturday, March 7

John 13:35: By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another. Coming out of college, I was saddled with debt and was working the night shift in a data entry job that earned little more than minimum wage. I made enough to pay my bills, but not much more than that. I ended up spending a lot of time with two friends in particular. They were better off than me financially, and would usually cover me when we would go out to a restaurant or bar. One summer afternoon, we had stopped at an ice cream place because it was hot and they wanted a cool treat. While in line, they asked me what I wanted. I said I didn’t want anything, which they kindly dismissed and asked again. I told them I didn’t want to be a leech and that they had already covered me enough. They turned and looked at me and said, “Money will never be a reason for us not to hang out. We know you want something. Just order.” I ordered something and we continued to enjoy the afternoon. It was a seemingly insignificant event. I doubt they even remember. But for some reason, that exchange had a big impact on me. Years later I would recount that story to my wife, telling her how they had given me a lesson in “how to be a Christian.” The irony is they are very cynical when it comes to religion, but it felt like a lesson in living like Jesus nonetheless. In my mind, I was receiving charity, but not in theirs. In their minds, they were simply spending time with a friend. They were not keeping a ledger on our friendship; they simply wanted to be in relationship. Where I was in life or in my career or what my future held did not matter, they simply wanted to be with the person I was on that day at that moment, and if that meant paying for ice cream, so be it. In the years since, the impact of that lesson has shown up in many ways, both big and small, sometimes involving money and sometimes not. No matter how it shows up, it is something I live out nearly every day. An easy example is with my wife’s grandfather. We moved him out here from Knoxville, TN in 2016. He has very limited income, so we will often cover him when we go out for things like ice cream, but also if he needs personal care items or clothes and the like. It is just something we do as part of the time we spend together. While the fact that we have the means to do it, and he does not, is an element, in truth we do it because it makes us whole, or at least closer to it. Without divulging his life story, suffice it to say in Knoxville he was alone. He wasn’t whole, which meant neither were we. We brought him out here to be in relationship. If that means paying for ice cream, so be it. Heavenly Father, help us to love one another as you love us and may the world know us by that love. Amen Elliott Bostrom

My Family in the WildernessMonday, March 9

Philippians 4:13: I can do all things through him who strengthens me.

When I was eight years old I lost my mother to overdose. She was my best friend. After about the first year, things really began to change. My siblings and I started to notice that my father was doing drugs. While he was probably doing them before, he got to the point where he just didn’t care if we saw him. He also started getting angry and hitting my brother, as well as belittling my twin sister and I. He stopped paying bills and buying groceries. We almost always had no water, no food, and no gas. He spent all of his time in his room, making my sister and I do the housework. He even forced my brother to get a job just so he could feed his little sisters.

This made school work and after school activities hard, but we still got it done and succeeded in school, so no one suspected anything was going on at home. I started to get suicidal thoughts and I asked my father if I could see a therapist. But I was never able to go to the actual meetings because he never picked up the phone or was able to take me. A social worker came into the school to ask us questions, but we had always been taught to say certain things at certain times. We had been taught that everyone was out to get us and we needed to keep our mouths shut. This went on for a long time. The only stability we ever had was visiting my mom’s family in Littleton. They knew things were hard for us, but had no idea just how bad they had gotten.

Eventually, my father started letting strangers into the home, giving them our beds and making us sleep on the couches. My adult brothers, who didn’t live with us, took us out one day and we told them that we were tired of sleeping on loveseats. They called social services and a couple of days later the police and a social worker showed up and inspected the house. At that time we had the water shut off, the kitchen was disgusting, and the walls were torn up because when my father got angry, he would throw knives at them. They told us that the house wasn’t fit for three kids and told us to pack our things. They were taking us away. At the time, my sister and I were heartbroken. We didn’t want to leave our home.

We went into the foster care system, had to move schools, and learn how to actually be human. All the while, my Aunt Anne and Uncle John (my mom’s brother) started to fight for us. They wanted us to come and live with them in Littleton. We visited them a lot while at our foster home and my aunt called at least once a week to check on us. At the end of the first year in foster care, my father hadn’t done anything that he was supposed to do and we had barely seen him because he stopped showing up to our scheduled visits. We finally got to move to Littleton to be with my aunt and uncle and cousins.

While it was hard to move again and make another adjustment, I am much happier here. I can actually just be a kid and not have to worry so much. And living with my Aunt Anne and Uncle John and cousin Stephanie feels like the home I always wanted. It’s been hard getting to this point and choosing not to continue contact with my father, but we are so lucky because we have a family that wants us and that would fight for us through thick and thin. I know that God is with me through all of this. I see God in my aunt and uncle and cousins and everything they have done for us. Now, I choose not to let my past define me but to strengthen me, knowing that I am loved and cared for and that God is present in every person who has helped me and my siblings succeed.

God, thank you for the strength to get through hard times and for the people who are always there to help us. Amen Hope Williams

God is Enough and So Am I Tuesday, March 10

1 John 3: 1a: See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. Portions of my childhood were lovely. But very few of those portions involved my parents. My parents have always been exceptionally hard on me. They would justify their mistreatment with a long list of things I did to deserve it. I spent my childhood and much of my adulthood, up until a few years ago, seeking their approval. I have learned the fine art of boundaries and don’t allow them to mistreat me anymore. And I believe that they believe they love me, and love me well. However, after a LOT of counseling, I know that isn’t accurate. I have struggled with poor self-esteem and realizing my worth until five years ago. I sought affirmation in my friendships and intimate relationships. I chose two husbands who just weren’t good for me. I endured physical and emotional abuse. I endured a great deal of heartache and turmoil. I placed unnecessary burdens on friendships. I just had no idea what I was doing and how to meet my needs because I didn’t see my value to the world. I was constantly trying to have my value affirmed by my parents and the other people in my life. I just didn’t “get it.” A year or so after my second divorce, I began to date. I wasn’t having any luck. Eventually I said a prayer and asked God to either send me the right person and make it obvious or make it obvious that I should wait. Boy was God faithful! The next person I sent a message to was my current boyfriend Joe. Joe SEES me. He SEES MY HEART. He SEES I have VALUE. He treats me so well. He is loving, kind, and supportive. And every single time I have turned my head in the last 19 months, he is there. He is what I have always deserved and just didn’t know to look for. I still struggle with my relationship with my parents. I likely always will. They don’t realize the errors of their ways. I am in counseling and work through that regularly. If it changes for the better eventually, that would be great. But, I am going to be fine either way. I KNOW WHO I AM. And I know that I deserve to be valued and seen. Moreover, I know that God loves me, and has made me the person that I am. And He walks with me every single day. He is ALWAYS faithful to me. God is enough. And so am I. Mantras are words or phrases you repeat to yourself over and over as a way of contemplation. Today, try telling yourself: God is enough. And so am I. Bridget Blalock

A Spark of HopeWednesday, March 11

Isaiah 41:10: So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you: I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. I found out when he was 18 months old that something was different about my beautiful baby boy. He was developing “mostly” normally, but a few things were beginning to be noticed as red flags. He was being watched closely for developmental milestones because he was born hypothyroid. I didn’t know for certain until he was three years old and I enrolled him in preschool just what the differences were. When I saw him side by side with other children his age, it became apparent. As all the other children ran around the playground having fun and interacting with one another, my son just stood there, looking at the ground. I cried. Thus began my “journey through the wilderness.” What followed were years and years of testing, evaluations, misdiagnoses, therapies, arguments with insurance companies, more testing, and gallons of tears. We heard terms like Auditory Processing Disorder, Speech delay, PDD-NOS (Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified). There were petit mal seizures, MRI’s, EEG’s and on and on. Finally, when he was nine years old, there was a diagnosis that fit. Asperger’s Syndrome, now classified as High Functioning Autism. In those days, not much was known by the general public about Autism Spectrum Disorders, and most of what was known was inaccurate. As he entered kindergarten and grade school, everything that we did was an experiment. Teachers were not educated about Autism, and I had to educate myself and then the educators. Every day was filled with challenges, meltdowns, tears, and trips to the Principal’s office. In the way of elementary school kids, some were willing to try to befriend my son, but most just avoided him. There were no birthday party invitations, no playdates, no sleepovers. His days were filled with hours and hours of trying to get homework done, scheduled around speech therapy, occupational therapy, physical therapy, music therapy, social skills work and none of the things a child should be doing like playing, riding bikes, and just running around the neighborhood with all the other kids. It was a pretty lonely existence for all of us. Then, one day, out of the blue, I received a phone call. The voice on the other end of the line asked “Is this Travis’ mom?” My heart lurched, thinking that this was going to be just one more complaining phone call about my son. But something unexpected happened. The woman on the phone said “I just wanted to call and tell you how much I appreciate your son. Knowing him has made my daughter a better person. She has learned compassion and empathy that I don’t believe she would have learned if she didn’t know him.” I have held that moment close to my heart for the 15 years since I received that phone call. I heard a voice of comfort. I wonder sometimes if that is mine and my son’s purpose in this life, to teach others compassion. God sent me a spark of hope that day, and I cling to it with faith. My wilderness journey is far from over, but I trust that God walks with me every step of the way. Dear God, help me always to see the light in the darkness. Help me to trust that you are always by my side. I know that you love our children just as a parent does and that you have a special purpose for each of us. Keep them safe and give them peace. Amen Laurie Fox

Joy as a Child of GodThursday, March 12

3 John 1:4: I have no greater joy than this, to hear that my children are walking in the truth.

Do you remember the joy you felt as a child? I had this ability to summon pure joy on command. I would close my eyes and picture it as a bright, golden glow starting in my belly and radiating down to my toes, out to my fingertips, and finally bursting out of the top of my head. I would feel the happiest, most joy-filled you can imagine. My body would literally tingle from it. I would summon it whenever I wanted to feel blissful and alive. Then one day, I couldn’t command it anymore. I clearly remember that day. I could start the warm glow, but it didn’t reach my fingertips and it never fully reached my head. I was in the early stages of Middle School and I think this was about the time I left my childhood. Columbine happened that year. I saw a friend take drugs for the first time. I heard whispers of boys and girls being more than friends. I had changed. My world had changed. Maybe this was my first step into the wilderness. And I couldn’t command my joy. I have been thinking a lot about childhood as we had our second son this year. I’ve been thinking about what type of childhood I want to provide for them, what experiences I want them to have, how to keep them safe, how to make sure they experience pure joy. I think one thing that is amazing about my experience as a child is that no one taught me to be joyful. No one taught me to summon my joy. I just could. I had a very safe and loving childhood that contributed to this, but I think children have the ability to just be joy-filled. I think about children’s joy when we talk about being “Children of God.” Our identity is not “Adults of God” (that sounds awful!), but children. With this identity we are given the opportunity to forget about the world and just relish in the joy of being childlike. We have someone who will take care of us and protect us, and we can just savor being peaceful. I think that if we truly live into this identity as a Child of God then we can truly learn to be joy-filled. I have still not been able to summon my pure joy like I use to, but I am re-learning how to be childlike through my kids. I hope you take the time to fill your soul with the glow of joy and radiate it onto the world. Dear Lord, thank you for giving us the identity as Children of God. Help us to truly live into this identity and feel the simple joy of being your child. As we journey through our different life wildernesses, remind us to always be childlike and experience the world with wonder and joy. Thank you for giving us the ability to experience such blissful feelings. In your name we pray, Amen

Rebecca Burris, Director of Communications

God, I Love My Family Friday, March 13

John 1:5 The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it. Alcohol and drug abuse permeate our community. It is in our neighborhoods, our schools, at our work, and, for some of us, this disease is in our homes. This is true for me. My son’s drug use grew progressively worse throughout high school and fully manifested itself during his first year of college. Throughout this time, I viewed this as my problem. My problem to fix on my own and to hide from others. I felt shame that I didn’t do enough as a father. Shame that I should have done something differently. I felt anger towards his high school and his friends for leading him astray. I felt anger towards God for allowing this to happen and then not fixing it. God had failed to meet my demands for how I thought my problem should be fixed. I was sad, bitter, and I was lost in my own wilderness. Then a God moment. A happenstance meeting with another Abiding Hope family at Beers and Hymns changed everything for me. Through this “chance” meeting, my family and I were exposed to an enthusiastic youth sobriety program. Through this program, I have met many families working through similar issues. I have become more willing to share my story and my feelings with others. I opened up to a number of communities, including some of you at Abiding Hope. What I learned is I am not alone. Others have walked this path and others are walking this path. I have met and been blessed by the personal stories of those that work towards their own recovery every day. Some are in recovery for their own addictions or abuse, others, like me, are recovering from the substance abuse of a family member. Their experiences, love, and hope helped provide me the foundation to crawl out of my wilderness and to see the beauty that life, community, and family is. Darkness never overcomes the light. Sometimes, I just don’t allow myself to see the light. Maybe my definition of darkness needs to change. Maybe the darkness is just different shades of light. Maybe it is just a change of perspective. A change of action. A change of stillness and openness, so that I can actually hear the whispers of the universe – God’s whispers. The brightness of the light is directly proportional to my attitude and my gratitude. God reminds me to daily cultivate a positive attitude and a sense of gratitude. Gratitude for my family. Gratitude for my Abiding Hope Community. Gratitude for the collective wisdom, experiences, love, and hope that we share. Lord, make me a channel of thy peace; that where there is hatred, I may bring love; that where there is wrong, I may bring the spirit of forgiveness; that where there is discord, I may bring harmony; that where there is error, I may bring truth; that where there is doubt, I may bring faith; that where there is despair, I may bring hope; that where there are shadows, I may bring light. That where there is sadness, I may bring joy. Lord, grant that I may seek rather to comfort, than to be comforted; to understand, than to be understood; to love, than to be loved. For it is by self-forgetting, that one finds. It is by forgiving, that one is forgiven. It is by dying, that one awakens to Eternal Life. Amen Jon Reitan

Living in the Moment Saturday, March 14

Psalm 23: 1-3: The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. My 87-year-old mom has advanced dementia. She is now past the stage of knowing that she can’t remember, but has also retained a semblance of independence living in her own tiny apartment next to my sister’s house, thanks to the love, foresight, and investment of my sister and her husband. What a gift! The simple pleasures of her life are now made possible by the loving care of family and a wonderful visiting daily caregiver. My sister (a full-time nurse in a cardiac catheter lab), has preserved some of the routines Mom had as a 5th grade teacher, and she tirelessly works to adjust the routine, taking cues from Mom’s behavior. Mom still enjoys her large breakfast bowl of oatmeal with her Ensure “coffee” and a magazine. Then, after a satisfying sandwich at lunchtime, she has her nails “done.” Time in the sun on the porch - sitting, chatting with visitors, sweeping, or rearranging chairs, occupy much of her afternoon most days. Mom also spends much of her time sorting and looking at her many photos of friends and family she has collected over the years. She never took snapshots for esthetic appeal, but interestingly called them “memory joggers.” I believe she actually has good memories of the people in the photos, because she was all about relationships, and that is what endures. Her life before was full of the joys of family and friends, but punctuated by deeply sorrowful times - a painful divorce, seriously ill friends, two adult children’s struggles with drug and alcohol addiction, the death of her youngest daughter and son-in-law. She cared for grandchildren when their healthcare professional parents’ crazy schedules overlapped. Through it all she was always positive and, like the psalmist, trusted that the Lord is always here, and would give her what she needed. Now she lives in the moment, no longer fretful about not remembering or missing out. When I visit her in Florida, I am drawn into the slow pace and simplicity of her life now. She has had no choice in that, but most of the rest of us do. We can still chat (in a way) and sip our coffee on the porch outside, and just bask in the sun and birdsong, or look through those old photos. She has come through this sometimes wilderness we call Life trusting in the Lord. I take my cues from her life now to slow down and trust. Close your eyes for a moment and visualize sitting in lush grass beside a still, clear pond. Feel the warmth of the sun and the gentle cool breeze on your face and arms. Hear the joyful songbirds. Breathe deeply and say, “Thank you, Lord, for giving me everything that I need to restore my soul and help me to use those gifts to help others restore theirs.” Karen Carpenter

Run the Other Way Monday, March 16

Jonah 1:3: But Jonah set out to flee to Tarshish from the presence of the Lord. He went down to Joppa and found a ship going to Tarshish; so he paid his fare and went on board, to go with them to Tarshish, away from the presence of the Lord. My junior year of high school, I felt God’s call to serve as a Pastor in the ELCA. It was scary, unknown, and not the plan I had for my life. So much like Jonah, I went the opposite way. You think I would have gotten the message after I was turned down by my top three colleges of choice. But I’m a hard head and don’t take no for an answer. So, I went to my backup school. All of a sudden, I found myself journeying through the wilderness. Academics became a challenge, I was in an unknown city 8 hours away from my family, and almost every day, I felt like something just wasn’t right. It was a journey of discernment and soul searching, as I walked through the unknown. But there were plenty of angels that cared for me during this time. I got involved at an ELCA congregation across the street from my dorm and became active in Lutheran Campus Ministry. The campus pastor, Pastor Bev, was always available for a conversation and in a graceful and patient way listened and asked questions to help me process my experience. I met two dear friends, one a Southern Baptist and another a Hindu, and our theological conversations stretched my heart and mind so that I experienced a God I had never experienced before. I knew something had to change, and during the fall of my freshmen year, through the gifts of community and relationship, I knew what I had to do. I filled out an application to Lenoir Rhyne College for their Religious Studies Program, with the intent to head to Seminary after graduation. I’ll never forget the day I made that decision. I fell to my knees in my dorm room and told God that I was done resisting. And God faithfully connected the pieces. I was admitted to Lenoir Rhyne and when I told my home pastor of my change in plans, she replied with a big smile “It’s about time you figured it out.” Looking back, I’m grateful for my wilderness experience. It made me who I am today. It expanded my heart and mind. It challenged and stretched me, and it opened me up to who I have been created to be as a daughter of God. I’m grateful for the angels along my way, who patiently waited on me. And I’m even more grateful for our God who never gives up on us, even when we would rather choose running the other way or being swallowed by a whale. Contemplative Practice: When have angels waited on you? Today, offer a prayer of thanksgiving for them. And, reach out this week with a personal thank you to let them know how they have impacted your journey.

Pastor Laura Bostrom, Lead Servant for Spiritual Development

The Rock in the Wilderness Tuesday, March 17

Psalms 31:2: Incline your ear to me; rescue me speedily. Be a rock of refuge for me, a strong fortress to save me. Sometimes when you are in the wilderness, you can see the light poking through the trees and you know the way out is near. But other times the trees can be so thick that darkness surrounds you. There is no path and you find yourself tripping with each step. You are completely lost and even your cries for help are not only fruitless, but they exhaust you. I’ve been lost in the wilderness several times in my life. Most were not so dark and I knew the path wasn’t far, I just needed to work my way to that light. But I’ve also been so lost I thought I would never recover. During my darkest wilderness I almost lost everything—my job, my friends and even my life. And the more I tried to find my way out, the deeper into the wilderness I went. I sought assistance and, unfortunately, a misdiagnosis made things worse. And then I just stopped. I had almost given up. It was then in my darkest wilderness that a friend showed up. A friend that had been in the same woods I was lost in. And she knew the way out. It wasn’t an easy path, but she led me to it. When the kids were little we would take them camping at state parks. We loved the ranger talks. The best talk we ever heard was about wilderness survival, and it was called “Talk to a Rock.” The ranger taught us about what to do in different scenarios (like if you see a bear), but he spent most of the time talking about the biggest danger for kids – getting lost in the wilderness. He taught them that yelling for help will exhaust you and the sound can echo. And in trying to find your way back you are more likely to get further lost. His advice when you are lost: stop, sit down in the nearest shade, and talk to a rock.

Why talk to a rock? Because it keeps you in one place where someone can find you. Occasionally, you may blow a whistle for help. But just sit and talk to a rock, because someone is looking for you and if you sit still, they have a better chance of finding you quickly. They will hear your voice or whistle. Trying to save yourself by searching for the path alone will most likely send you farther into the wilderness. When I think of my darkest wilderness, I realize that “Talk to a Rock” is the best lesson I learned. Sometimes we can’t save ourselves. We can’t find the path alone. And sometimes our best efforts to find our way out can actually make things worse. But sit, whistle for help, Talk to a Rock (pray) and wait. Someone loves you enough that they are looking for you. Someone knows the woods you are in. Chances are they were so lost once they don’t talk about it, but they see you. And they can help you find your way home. Think of someone in your life who has helped you find your way home, and say a prayer of gratitude. Alice Wurst

The Process of Unfolding Wednesday, March 18

Deuteronomy 2:7: Surely the LORD your God has blessed you in all your undertakings: he knows you are going through a great wilderness. It is fascinating to me that the definition of “wilderness” in the dictionary relates to words like wasteland…uncultivated…inhospitable…badlands…spaces not used by people. Yet, often I see images associated with the term that communicate to me words like natural…pristine…unhindered…magical…wild. Why does this feel incongruent?

As a western civilization and culture, we seem to think of the wilderness in negative contexts. Stripped of guidance, lost and perplexed. For a period in my life, a time in the last 10 years, this absolutely described me in the wilderness. All that I thought I knew that was “right and true” suddenly (it seemed suddenly, anyway) was gone. I was perplexed and lost. And if truth be known, so was my wife Donna and our boys. It was as if we had been thrust into some badlands to suffer. Alone. The biblical accounts of the Israelites in the wilderness for 40 years, Jesus in the wilderness for 40 days, and other examples, seem to have been translated over time as negative events. Humans and human history have clamped onto this. As if suffering must be fully bad or punitive and, in all ways, loss. This shaped my being. My journey in the beginning days of my wilderness was dark. My ego thrashed my being as a failure in life. The egos of my family thrashed me too, or so I thought. A few beacons of light and wisdom and love entered into my journey, people both within the Abiding Hope community and in such authors as Brené Brown, Marianne Williamson, and Richard Rohr. In all, there was safety and places of necessary conflict. Throughout my journey in the wilderness, I’ve changed the way of processing my life. I embrace that growth and healing are with and through loss and renewal. The future unfolds and the process of getting there must include some form of dying to the old ways. Richard Rohr calls this “resurrection.” Going somewhere good/better means having to go through the bad and being unable to hold ourselves above it or apart from it. Rohr reframes this “crucifixion.” I strive to reject the so-called “love” of my past and be renewed. It isn’t easy to do, I promise! Each day requires a dedication to it.

It’s a common thought to wonder, if we knew what we know today and went back in time to relive a period, would we want to? I used to consider the idea but have more recently come to say emphatically, no! I would not be where I am today if not for the journey of transformation I’ve been on. God has been and is always leading me (and all of creation) in a difficult process of transformation to places better and more positive than the day in Genesis when he proclaimed all of creation was “very good.” It is an unfolding of a new humanity, and a co-creating with all of humanity coming from Love and moving toward an ever more inclusive Love. My steps – and yours too – are in the wilderness that is beautiful and magical, if we allow ourselves to do it. Dear Lord, I do not know how to control the wilderness, nor do I need to. The wilderness is controlled by love and love alone. In love’s embrace, all is safe and secure. Today I choose to walk with eyes of wonder and in the arms of love. Amen Doug Phelps

It’s Heck to Get Old Thursday, March 19

Ecclesiastes 7:10: Do not say, “Why were the former days better than these?” For it is not from wisdom that you ask this. My family is pretty outdoorsy. We look to explore new state and national parks when we travel. We like to hike and ski and we like seeing the different landscapes this earth has to offer. This past year my dad had a total hip replacement and up until that point the hikes or outdoor adventures would sometimes turn into vent sessions about aching joints, sore knees, and tight hips. This would lead us into laughing about not having arms long enough to get the phone to a place where he can see it, then joking about him having selective hearing as we nag him to “Just put in your hearing aids!” Complaining about these issues as we age is a way to bond; things that become a joke. We tell younger generations “you just wait, it’s heck to get old!”, but is it? My brother’s childhood friend just died. He was 38 years old and he died from the flu. Although I was not very close with him, I know his family well and this affected me in a way that I did not expect. I feel for his siblings as I cannot imagine the pain of losing my brother or sister so young. I think about his parents and the heartbreak of losing a child. I think about my own children—no matter their ages they are still my babies. My heart aches for his roommate who found him lifeless after trying to convince him to go to the hospital. I think about my grandmas who are 90 and 94 years old. Even though they are forgetful at times, not able to move as quickly as when they were younger and cannot see or hear as well, they have had a lifetime to laugh, love, and make memories with and for the people around them.

So, I will appreciate the days I am alive and try not to take them for granted. I will celebrate each new gray hair because my hair has the opportunity to turn gray. I will enjoy the laugh lines I have around my eyes because the reason they are there is my life with family and friends. I will be grateful to celebrate birthdays no matter how large the number because I get to have another birthday. I will embrace my adult status and grown-up responsibilities like never ending bills, crazy schedules, and impulse control. I will not wish to live in the past when “life was easier.”

Is it heck to get old? I don’t think so. Life is full of ups and downs, good days and bad days, celebrations and frustrations, but I think each day is a gift to cherish. I need to remind myself that the present time of my life is always the best time of my life. It is true that life and love win, so as long as I am living and loving, I win! Gracious God, remind me to live in the present moment. Help me feel and acknowledge my worries, frustrations, and painful emotions. Remind me to celebrate You each day and to create new insight and perspective in difficult times. Amen Erin Fisher, Director of Schools

The Wilderness of DivorceFriday, March 20

Luke 22:42: “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will but yours be done.”

When I think of being ‘in the wilderness’ – in a metaphorical sense – I think of when my parents were going through their divorce. We all knew it was coming, it was easy to see that they were not happy and were just making each other miserable, but it was still an unbearable time. As a teenage girl, life was hard already. Kids weren’t always the nicest, but then the news broke to everyone (myself included) that my dad, who was a teacher, was having an affair with another teacher.

Suddenly, we were the town’s reality TV show. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, wanted to be in the know. Friends that had shunned me were now calling to hang out. People that had not spoken to my mom were calling to ‘check in.’ My sister had gone away for college, so she was saved from the nuthouse that our life had become. My parents were still living in the same house even after they decided to separate and divorce, and they fought CONSTANTLY if they were both there. I had never felt so alone as I did during that time. I didn’t know who I could trust, or who I could talk to. My sister was not there to stand with me. We had no other family that lived near us. People I considered friends would take what I said in confidence and spread it around just to have some notoriety. This was something I did not want to go through; I just wanted it to be over, or for someone to take the pain from me.

When I think of this time in my life, I think about Jesus on the Mount of Olives when He prayed to God, saying, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me.” I imagine Jesus being there on the Mount of Olives, knowing what is coming, maybe feeling alone, and maybe even feeling a bit of reluctance for what He knows He must do. But then Jesus did the most amazing thing. He said, “Yet not my will, but yours be done.” He gave it all up to God.

Through that most difficult time in my life, I couldn’t fathom what was on the other side of the divorce. It was hard for me to see God at work all around me—in the faces and positive actions of my teachers, my neighbors, and even our community. When my family was falling apart, our community was there—being the loving God we know—to lift us up and support us and help us get through. Now, after years of being on the other side of my wilderness, I can see how God was there with me the whole time. It’s still difficult at times, but when I feel that reluctance creep in, I try to remember the wilderness journey of Jesus and say, ‘not my will, but yours be done.’

Jesus, I pray that you will help those who are in their ‘wilderness’ to know you are there with them. I pray they can feel your presence through the people around them like the gentle breeze through the trees, and feel your warmth over them like the sun shining down from the sky. Hold them and guide them. Amen Danielle Mitchell

The Gift of Wilderness Saturday, March 21

Romans 5:3: Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance… Have you heard of glamping? It’s short for “glamorous camping.” Sites are popping up all over the world, from Iceland to the Serengeti, offering the beauty and experience of being in the out-of-doors while surrounded by luxurious foods, outdoor saunas, and king-sized beds in 800 sq. ft. of tent. Fun, right? My experience in the wilderness is not… this. For a few summers, I helped kids experience the Appalachian Trail by spending 2-3 days of hiking, usually followed by canoeing through class 4 rapids, or spelunking through mud-filled caves, or rock climbing up 30 feet of cliffs. It was not comfortable. It was often accompanied by blisters. Sometimes the stoves didn’t work and we ate cold, canned spaghetti. There was a time when one of my campers just couldn’t take another step and I had to carry her pack as well as my own. Honestly, these weeks, the ones where the campers and I were forced to overcome difficult times together, were our best weeks. Somehow suffering together bonded us in ways that more pleasant weeks could not. The gift of wilderness is not just about the beauty of the outdoors, spinning in fields singing “the hills are alive.” The gift of wilderness is also about the testing of suffering. It puts us in the way of hardship, allowing its lesson to shape us. Paul speaks of his own hardship in Romans as he wanders the wilderness of imprisonment for Jesus’ sake. Rather than bemoaning his experience, he embraces it, welcoming the gift of suffering. While being in prison is not itself a value, and certainly God did not force jail upon Paul to teach him a lesson, it has a value that is reflective of the cross. Our God is not a God of avoidance of suffering but a God who transforms it. The cross shows us that God does not avoid pain but, through it, can bring a new birth, new life, a new covenant, a new way of being in the world. Whatever wilderness you might be experiencing, this is not proof of God’s absence or punishment. But these experiences, when lived in and through the Christ and the cross, are opportunities to grow from suffering to endurance to character to hope, and hope does not disappoint. Walk with me, Jesus, in the suffering of this world, that I may grow in hope. Amen Pastor Jay Gamelin, Lead Servant for Family Life

Walking on the Water Monday March 23

Matthew 14:29-31: “He said, ‘Come.’ So, Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, ‘Lord, save me!’ Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, ‘You of little faith, why did you doubt?’” Sometimes, wilderness times in our lives come on gradually, but usually we get blindsided by something that we never thought could happen to us. A couple months ago, I was blindsided. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune liver disease - primary biliary cholangitis. It will damage my liver, and, in around 10 years, it will result in cirrhosis and end stage liver disease. There is no cure and it is progressive. The effects of ESLD are all things that I never want to deal with. How do I learn to live with this? Where is God in this situation and how can I not just survive but thrive? I will need to give up my illusion of control over this to God. The serenity prayer is the prayer that has always helped me with this. I also know that when bad things happen, with the help of God, I can always learn something and grow from it. I have a choice to either become bitter or better and I choose better. I’m a fighter, but I cannot fight this one. I can decide how to live and if it will define me. I can see that God has been here for me. He gave me an awesome Gastroenterologist who found this early. The Doctor kept notifying me of labs that I needed, although I wasn’t even in his office. He cared about me enough to continue to pursue it. God has found me new friends and strengthened my relationships with others. He also made it known to me that He wanted me to strengthen my relationship with Him. It is amazing. He was preparing me for this, and He knew exactly what I needed. I have discovered over the years that my goals of happiness, making my life easy, and giving me what I want are not necessarily God’s goals. His priority is my spiritual development and me drawing closer in relationship to Him first. His goals have given me joy and peace that I would not trade for anything. And now, He is asking me to trust Him with my entire life, not just parts of it. It feels as if He is asking me to walk on the water like Peter. This Bible story tells me that I must continue to keep my focus on Him always or I will sink. It can be terrifying at times, especially when I feel myself sinking. But He will always be there to pull me back out of the water to Him. God, Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change The courage to change the things I can And the wisdom to know the difference. Amen Shirley Johnson

My Journey, Together Tuesday, March 24

Romans 12:4-5: For as one body we have many members, and not all the members have the same function, so we, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another. I graduated from Adams State College in Alamosa, CO in May 1978 with a BA in Music Education, K-12. At that time, teachers were a dime a dozen and music positions were sparse if you wanted to teach in a big city or suburb. I lived in Arvada and was hoping to find a position in Jeffco or one of the surrounding areas, but that was not to be. So, with little hope there, I broadened my scope and searched farther afield. My search took me to Holly, CO. Have you heard of Holly? Its claim to fame is that former Gov. Roy Roymer grew up there. It is 30 miles southeast of Lamar, and 6 miles from the Kansas border—a small town that you will miss if you blink twice while driving through it. Talk about a wilderness! Not only was I going to be 4 hours from home, but I was doing it by myself--a very weird situation for me. I felt alone in a “foreign land.” I found a little house to rent, but it was in the middle of a neighborhood, with no houses on either side. I remember the first night, all by myself, how lonely it was. There is a lot of silence in the dark, farm country. I did some major praying each night to keep me safe (and keep the spiders and mice from crawling on me). After a month, I moved out of that place and into teacher housing, which was right next to the schools. It was a much better situation because it brought me closer to people. I was alone in my teaching wilderness as well because I was THE music teacher, teaching 1st-12th grades. I remember feeling both excited and nervous (terrified) – lots of mixed up emotions. In retrospect, I realize that one great thing about youth is you don’t know what you don’t know and one is often too excited and cocky to realize it! So, with the grace of God, and armed with the fact that I thought I knew everything, I dove right in!

I have to say, the answer to me getting out of that wilderness, on so many levels, was the community in which I found myself. I don’t know what I would have done without the people I met there – both teachers and townspeople – who opened up ranks and embraced me with open arms. Specifically, there were three male teachers, all single and in their mid to late 20’s, who were my constant companions. We were the 4 Amigos. We would go 10 miles away to Granada to do ceramics every weekend, and often went to dinner once or twice a week. They were what made the time there tolerable and helped me to grow and become more confident in, and comfortable with, myself.

The year I spent in Holly wasn’t time wasted. In fact, it was a journey that enriched my life and helped guide me in the next paths of my life. It allowed me time to grow and see what I didn’t want to do, what I wasn’t ready to do, and changed my path for the better. I thank God that I didn’t have to do it alone.

Good and loving Father, there are so many different kinds of wilderness, and we each find ourselves on many wilderness journeys as we experience life. Often times, we don’t understand the journey we find ourselves experiencing, but if we can only trust in you, we can thrive. Thank you for your guiding hand and for placing people in our lives at just the right time, to help us survive the wilderness and come out a better, more wholly-fulfilled person on the other side. In your name we pray. Amen Cathi Thelen, Director of Worship

My Voice and the Wilderness Wednesday, March 25

Isaiah 41:10: O do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you, I will uphold you with my right hand. It all began at recess on a beautiful day in Southern California. I was out on the playground supervising my second-grade class, when a few of my students came up together and one of them said, ‘Miss Marjorie, you sound funny.”

“Why do I sound funny?” I inquired.

They jumped up and down saying, “We can’t hear you lots of times when you are teaching.”

I quickly dismissed the comment, while assuring myself that I had just been overusing my voice lately. I made an appointment with the doctor only to be told to follow up with a specialist. This was the beginning of my wilderness journey.

After seeing several specialists, the final word was that I had tumors on my vocal cords. The good news was they were probably benign. The challenging message came when the doctors agreed that whatever was removed would return. I rationalized that away by telling myself that I would just keep having them removed. I didn’t understand that scar tissue would build, and the chances of me sounding normal were minimal. I took about a month off after my first surgery. The school found me a small microphone and once again everything seemed good to me. I loved teaching! I had completed my educational requirements, received certification to teach K-12 grades, and was now teaching 2nd grade at a wonderful school. I continued to believe that all was fine until after the third surgery. My doctor said, “Marjorie, you are going to be a voice cripple. You need to turn in your resignation to the school and begin considering other careers that require no voice at all.” I was absolutely devastated and lost. I was truly walking in wilderness.

The story gets sad now. I resigned and saw only darkness ahead. All that I had worked for had been stolen from me, and I had not a clue how to see the light. That was the career piece of my new and frightening experience. The losses began to build up. I had to notify places where I was scheduled to speak that I would not be available, as well as say “good-bye” to my singing group. I just couldn’t imagine life without practicing and singing with them. I also began to realize that I was not being heard when in social situations. Whether telling a joke, chatting with my friends, sharing my feelings, arguing a point, I felt invisible. Gradually the wilderness became darker, more frightening and unnatural. I no longer felt a sense of belonging at church. What could I contribute? I no longer served in any of my previous capacities. The more I looked for service opportunities the greater my pain of silence. People were so kind in the beginning, but it seemed apparent that they were tiring of careful listening to include trying to hear me, read my lips, or see what I was scribbling on paper.

After more surgeries, I sat down in the bushes of the wilderness and decided on a plan for a way to see the light of day. I would take my previous education and add a few more degrees in counseling and psychology.

In the midst of a confused journey in the wilderness I was literally being transported from crisis and chaos to calling. Yes, without a doubt, I was meant to be somewhere else that had not been on my life’s map and agenda. Now, the destination was clear. A quiet voice could be heard in a therapy room. Articles and books

could be written. The beauty of God’s plan, however, far exceeded any logic of the calling. Even though I ultimately had 11 surgeries, I have had the privilege of walking besides thousands of people and families in their moment of wilderness or challenges of life while in my private practice. In addition to that gift, God has allowed me to have a pleasant voice. I have spoken to schools, clubs, churches, and organizations all over the US and I did NOT end up unable to use my voice. The lessons I learned about communication while in my silent years were far greater than any graduate class I took. Just to name a few: 1) The exquisite messages given through nonverbal communication 2) the depth of understanding when identifying facial and body cues. 3) The priceless value of time spent with another person – yes, even when in silence. When I look back at my wilderness journey, I have a smile of gratitude, and a praise to God for the detour I had to take to find and know my calling. Enough time has elapsed for me to identify the incredible service opportunities that were given to me. These experiences blessed me beyond belief all because of my silent years in the wilderness. Dear Lord, I expect challenges in the future May I also expect your right hand to lovingly lead me in the way you wish me to go. Amen Marjorie Laird, PhD

Alone in IcelandThursday, March 26

Isaiah 40: 26 Lift up your eyes on high and see: Who created these?He who brings out their host and numbers them, calling them all by name;because he is great in strength, mighty in power, not one is missing. When I first began to tell people about my plans to take a solo trip to Iceland, I was met with a lot of surprise, and even a little resistance. I expected some of this. Almost as soon as I announced that I had booked my flight, people began to voice concern over my traveling alone—a young woman—to a foreign country.

None of these vocalized anxieties surprised me. They came from friends and family, people who knew me and my situation well, people who were excited for me but also cared about me and just wanted to make sure that I had put some forethought into what I was doing.

I think, deep down, what was really hard and scary for people was the idea that I would want, that I was actively making the choice, to take this journey alone. The truth is, I was scared too. I was now several years into my never-ending headache and array of evolving chronic health issues. I hadn’t traveled out of the country much and never alone. There were so many reasons to be afraid. To let the doubt and worry stop me. But I needed to go.

I’d been struggling with my serious health issues and what that meant for me and my independence. I’d been feeling lost and isolated. I was tired of waiting for the ideal time and circumstances to do the things I really wanted to do, being afraid to take a chance. I’d come to worry that my whole life, my future, would be entirely focused on being sick and in pain, that this would consume my identity. I needed to show myself that I could do this, that there was more to me than my illness. And more than anything, I needed a new perspective. I needed to remind myself that the world was so much bigger than me and my problems. So, I went.

It wasn’t easy. I got a sinus infection on the plane ride out and had to navigate my way through the pharmacy in Reykjavik. I didn’t always feel great, had to choose to nap and rest instead of continuing to explore. Every day was physically challenging and exhausting. But I also felt and experienced a sense of freedom I’ve never experienced. My confidence increased tenfold. And, finally, I felt more connected to the world around me than perhaps ever before.

Let me fast forward to the last night of my trip. I’ve spent a week looking at waterfalls, hiking to glaciers and traversing black sand beaches, wandering the streets of Reykjavik, eating lamb and fish and skyr. I’ve had a few conversations with people here and there. Nothing lasting. Mostly I’ve kept blissfully to myself, taking photos and exploring on my own. Sometimes, I find myself smiling. I have to stop and close my eyes and take a deep breath and appreciate the present moment. This is real. I am here. This is joy.

That last night, I sign up for a Northern Lights excursion. Our bus takes us out into a field of lava rock to view the lights. The aurora is active before we even get to our destination, we can see it through the windows of the bus, and the energy inside is electric.

When we get to the site, we pile out of the bus and I climb out onto the rocks to stake out a view. The aurora

dances across the sky, a 360 degree view all around us. It is magnificent, better than I could have hoped for. Everywhere you look, you can see it. Every angle, a different view, a different shape. We stand out and watch for a good hour in the frigid Icelandic night and the lights move and change, trail across the sky, a celestial mist.

It’s difficult to articulate the profound meaning this single moment has had on my life. This was the divine creative force of the universe exposed, love and life itself, and I was standing in the midst of it. Had I not been there traveling alone, undistracted and fully present, I am not sure I would have seen the holiness of it. I could have so easily been closed off to such a glimpse into something so much greater than myself. But I was there, alone, ready to drink in the light, the wonder.

It’s easy to fall into feelings of smallness and loneliness as I continue my daily journey with illness and pain. As I struggle through all the hardships of adulthood. I look back on this moment often, recall the feeling of volcanic rock beneath my feet, the cosmos dancing above me, and I know that I am connected to the universe, to God, to all that is bigger than myself. How could I ever be alone in that?

God, thank you for those experiences that truly change us and help us to hold them close in our hearts, to revisit them often, and to remember that Your Love flows from the center of it all. Amen Stephanie Harper, Assistant to the Lead Pastor

But You’re So Young Friday, March 27

Romans 15:13: May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. “Well, it’s malignant.” No! I am only 37, I have 2 young kids, I hold officer positions in no less than 5 non-profit organizations, and I sit on several government committees. My husband just started a new job. I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! The wilderness I was entering was not on a path I chose, nor was it a trip I recommend for anyone else. But it was mine. And I had no choice but to keep moving forward. After the initial shock of the breast cancer diagnosis, my life had to be rearranged around treatments and side-effects. Cry, pray, hope, take another step, repeat … It would be so easy to wallow in self-pity as I lose my breast, my eyelashes, my energy, and my memory. I decide that I’ll allow myself 30 minutes a day to sit upon my pity pot. I’ll even set a timer so I don’t stay in that mental place too long. Strange, I never used the whole time. Things to be grateful for kept popping up and disrupting my pity party. From the beginning of my journey, a phrase I heard often was, “but you’re so young!” How many women pushing 40 get to hear that on a regular basis? During one of my chemo days, 4 year-old Marika was moved by the Holy Spirit as she answered the phone and all I heard was, “mommy can’t come to the phone right now, she’s busy making white-blood cells” prior to hanging up on a still-to-this-day unknown caller. Friends, neighbors, and people I didn’t know brought meals on my bad days or sat with me throughout the 3-hour chemo ordeal telling jokes, laughing about the day-glo colors of the infusions, or playing cards—anything for a distraction. Veronica’s Brownie troop made me a notebook of their favorite jokes. I started to look for opportunities to pay-it-forward by making my caregivers laugh too. I’d wear fun socks or put temporary tattoos in unusual places, making each weekly exam a “where’s Waldo” type exercise. It wasn’t all fun and games. After yet another of a long string of bad side-effects of my treatments, my oncologist jokingly told me they wanted me to have the “full cancer experience.” Gee, thanks. It was during those times that I knew God walked with me though the prayers of literally hundreds of people, known and unknown. I can’t explain it or even come close to describing it, but I emotionally and physically experienced a lift from those collective prayers. I am blessed by my cancer journey. In addition to appreciation for the power of prayer, I discovered an inner strength, reaffirmed my love for husband and family, recognized my circle of caring friends and neighbors was much larger than I ever imagined, and learned to dance whenever I get the chance! A final thought from Jim Valvano: “to me there are three things everyone should do every day. Number one is laugh. Number two is think–spend some time in thought. Number three, you should have your emotions move you to tears. If you laugh, think and cry, that’s a heck of a day.” Dear Lord, help me find the joy in today. Amen Lisa Selzler

As a Mother Saturday, March 28

Isaiah 66: 13: As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem. My journey through the wilderness began on October 28, 2013. That is the day that my adult daughter woke up with a severe headache that has never gone away. My mother had passed away two years prior from complications related to Multiple Sclerosis, so I was certainly no stranger to navigating through the medical field. She had been dealing with MS for over 30 years, but we had always known that the enemy we were fighting was MS and although there were deviations from the path, the way forward was pretty clear. Not so with my daughter. Fighting an unknown enemy is way different than fighting something that is clearly defined. In the 6+ years of this headache journey, we have been down so many roads, I can’t even remember them all. We have seen at least a dozen different specialists, and she has been through 50+ medical protocols, trying to put a name to her illness and find a treatment that would at least grant her some relief. She has developed many other symptoms besides the headache, and she has days when she can’t even get out of bed. As a mother, to watch this struggle and not know how to help or to make things better, the frustration can be overwhelming. It’s exhausting to deal with all of the doctor appointments and trips to the hospital for the next experiment to try to break the headache, most of which end up as dead ends. It is easy to lose your way through all the frustration and pain. But through all of this, my daughter always has a smile on her face. She is one of the most loving and caring people I know. She is always concerned for everyone else’s pain and suffering, and rarely ever projects the difficulty she goes through on a daily basis. This is a wonderful and inspiring trait, but it can also be a curse, as sometimes we have to deal with the ugliness of people who just refuse to believe that she is actually sick, because she “doesn’t look sick.” That is frustrating too, because I see what the rest of the world does not, and I know how hard it is for her to just get up some days. I have watched her go through all of these trial medical treatments, and believe me, most of them have been no picnic, and I have seen her suffering and I have seen her cry. It breaks my heart everyday! Yet she still puts a smile on her face, and continues to spread love and light to those around her, and that love and light is what helps me to find my way out of the wilderness when I get lost on the journey alongside her. God doesn’t cause us to suffer, or prevent our suffering, but His love is always present throughout. We can trust that His light will always guide us through the wilderness. The journey, no matter how long or how difficult, shows us how love and life always win and always will. Think about your own journey through the wilderness. Who do you have in your life that brings the love and light that guides you? How can you use that love and light to guide others through their own wilderness like God does? Anne Harper

Faith in the Hardest Times Monday, March 30

Isaiah 41:10: “do not fear, for I am with you. Do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.” I believe we are all taught to have faith in God, and His promise to us that love and life will always win as we go through rough times in our lives. But I’ve also learned it is good to have faith in each other when we are struggling through hard times. Our son Brennen was born five weeks early. We both had a bad infection, so he was in the NICU for almost three weeks. My mom came home early to be with us. She took me to the hospital every day for the first few days so Sheldon could go back to work. He wanted to take more time off once Brennen was home. She would come pick me up every morning and stay with me most of the day and then Sheldon would come after work and take me home. It was a very stressful time for us. One day, I was looking at my son through his incubator and my mom said to me, “Christine, you have to have faith that everything is going to be alright for Brennen.” I asked if she meant faith in God, and she said yes, but I would also need to have faith in Brennen and that he would be strong enough to handle this. I always look back at that time with surprise that we were all able to handle it. Brennen has always been a fairly easy-going person, but when he was in the NICU, he was feisty and a fighter! He was hilarious because he would try, and often succeed, to pull out every tube they had put into him. At one point they had to stick little baby socks on his hands to keep him from pulling them out! I wrote to Brennen before he was Confirmed and reminded him about what a fighter he was and still is! We have some very old close friends who are currently going through a terribly hard time. Our friend Denein was in a head-on car collision in late September. Her husband Keith often writes posts on Facebook, but that night, right before we went to sleep, we saw a post that just said, “BIG PRAYERS ARE NEEDED PLEASE!!!” We had no idea what had happened, just sent some prayers and went to sleep. Keith posted an update on Denein’s condition the next morning. The severity of Denein’s injuries and her continued recovery have been staggering and impossible to fathom. Denein recently had her 14th surgery and is literally growing bone in one of her legs with the hope that she will be able to try and walk later in the year. We talk about taking things one step at a time, and Keith and Denein are taking her recovery one millimeter at a time. We were able to visit with Keith a few days after the accident in the ICU. The first thing he asked us to do was to please make sure our faith community was praying for them. Our hearts have been broken for these two beautiful people because we know that their lives have been changed forever from this accident. We continue to be inspired by their teamwork and how they fight for Denein’s recovery. We are also encouraged by their ability to be vulnerable and let us know that that there are some days that are extremely hard, where they just try to survive the day. Their utter faith in God, in prayer, in their community and most importantly in their faith in each other shows me I have so many things I can put my faith in while I struggle with difficult times. Denein helped me pick the bible verse for this devotion. I’ve been wanting to post on social media about what I have learned as we walk with our friends, but I’m am

always a little hesitant on social media, so I’ll explain it here. Recent events have caused me to realize that life is short and can change in a heartbeat. So, don’t be surprised if the next time I see you, I tell you that I Love You! Gracious God, please remind us to have faith in you and the people you have put in our lives in both our good days and our bad days. Remind us that we are never alone as you walk with us. Amen Christine Simcox

The Tenacity to Follow God’s Lead Tuesday, March 31

John 5: 5-8: One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” 7 The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” 8 Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” 9 At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk. What is tenacity? The definition of tenacity is being very determined and not giving up easily. I believe you have to have faith to have tenacity. Living your dreams isn’t easy. It takes persistence and tenacity, along with faith in yourself, in God, and in the vision He has given you. After 30 years of being overweight, feeling exhausted and not being able to do the things I wanted to do, seeing my husband’s blood pressure and cholesterol start to increase, I knew there was something we needed to do. But I also knew that we could not do this alone, we had to have the support of others. For the last year with the support of our weight loss counselor, our family, friends, community, and God who gave us the tenacity to stick with it, we were able to reach our goals. We all need to be supported—in every area of life, especially if we are wandering in the wilderness. Aren’t you glad you’ve got a divine support system in place? Aren’t you grateful that the Lord is your present help and refuge? Jesus offers you His hand of help even when others leave you alone. He is a constant companion, friend, and strong tower. Remember the man at the Pool of Bethesda in John 5? To very briefly recap, the infirmed man told Jesus he didn’t have any support or help. There was no one to assist him in getting his miracle. So he had been there, in that condition, languishing for nearly four decades. Jesus healed him after 38 years of misery. In an instant, everything changed. This man obeyed Christ’s command to pick up his mat and walk. It was an instantaneous healing! Don’t let anybody steal what God has already shown you! Nothing Can Stop God’s Dreams for You! God, thank you for the constant companionship of your Son, Jesus Christ. Grant me the wisdom and tenacity to listen and to follow the dreams you have for me. Amen Lori Mitchell

The Path We Didn’t Choose Wednesday, April 1

Proverbs 3:6: In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. There was a time, not too long ago, when I thought I had the “perfect life.” I was married to my high school sweetheart, had two healthy, amazing kids and a beautiful home. On the outside, things seemed picture perfect. Maybe I was afraid to look on the inside. Maybe I let denial get the best of me. Maybe I was too afraid to ask questions. What I now realize, is that I had no idea what fate had in store for me. Walking through the wilderness is always so peaceful for me. It is a time of deep self-reflection. I love the silence of a long walk alone. The smells of fresh pine and dry leaves. The sounds of birds chirping and squirrels jumping from tree to tree. Looking up through the tree branches, I am reminded of the enormity of life. There are many paths to take and sometimes, it is the path we don’t want to go down that leads to a newfound joy. I remember the day my marriage fell apart like it was yesterday. The shock of seeing the man I loved simply walk out of my life. Slowly, my “perfect life” crumbled bit by bit. Suddenly, I was a single mom with only a part-time job. I was thrust into a world I didn’t know and wasn’t sure how to navigate. I had been spoiled. I always had someone to take care of me and assumed I always would. I had taken everything for granted – my marriage, my education, my life. I was forced to figure it out. I hit such a low point that I know the only reason I am here is because of my kids. I had to keep living for them.

Amidst the personal pain, a beautiful thing happened. I found my strength through friends who stood by my side and through my workplace. I found me. I found God again. I realized that life is out of my control. Things are going to happen, good and bad. There is nothing I can do but experience it and either enjoy it or learn from it. So here I stand, a few years later. The pain of my broken marriage is still there and I suppose it always will be. Finding love is hard and I wonder if I can ever trust enough to find it again. But as I walk through the wilderness now, I realize that I am enough. I have learned to forgive my ex for walking out on us. Ultimately, that decision is not my cross to bear. I can’t carry that burden. His choices are not mine and they don’t define me. I am happier now. I have found me and I like me! Sure, I don’t know what the future holds and it scares me. However, if I continue down the path with God at my side, I know I will be okay. Dear God, Thank You for the different paths of life. Thank You for being at our side, no matter the path we end up on. Help us to remember that You are here with us, we just need to listen and have the confidence to believe in Your guiding hand. Thank you for making each of us special and strong. In Your Name we pray, Amen

Emily Karlson, Director of Early Childhood Ministries

Next Steps Thursday, April 2

Psalm 143: 8: “Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee.” Getting old isn’t easy for anyone! As octogenarian Mary Maxwell puts it in her funny invocation, “Lord, please remind them [our caregivers] that the thing about old age is that you don’t get a chance to practice. This is the first time I’ve ever been old… And it just sort of crept up on me.” Taking care of an elderly parent certainly qualifies as a walk in the wilderness for us both! There are many unanswered questions, such as how much help do I give? Should I cut back on my own work hours? When do I hire outside help? Should my parent be included in ALL the family activities? Can I be the fun daughter, as well as the bossy one? Will the money hold out, but more importantly, will our patience with each other hold out? I also know that my mom faces many fears. The scam phone calls and health scares top the list! I don’t have all the answers, but there are lessons I have learned on this journey. I have learned to spend time in God’s word every day and to ask for wisdom and for daily needs to be met. I have learned that it’s OK to sit a spell wondering what my next steps will be. Psalm 143: 8 comforts me. I have also sought professional help when I needed it. I have learned to experience “good grief” for the loss I feel. Best of all, I have learned to grab joy whenever I can. Yes, there are lots of duties, bills to pay, prescriptions to fill, and mail to sort through, but there are also frequent trips to Freddy’s for steak-burgers and chocolate malts, as well as games of cribbage. There are movies I wouldn’t have seen and wonderful support folks I wouldn’t have met. Best of all, there are special memories that only the two of us share, and our hearts are warmed by remembering these times through saved letters and photos. I also know words of affirmation are so important. Unbeknownst to them, loving women at Abiding Hope have encouraged me by letting me know I am making the right sacrifices to spend more time with my mom. Their words mean so much. My husband, daughters, and friends remind me it’s also important to see the humor in this walk.

Jesus spent time in the wilderness to prepare for his ministry of miracles and love. May we be assured that He is ever present in our own wilderness. His loving spirit comforts us with scripture, sends us good counselors, and reminds us to look up and see the miracles surrounding us. Thank you, Lord for reminding me that it is a wonderful privilege to be a caregiver and for helping me to see your loving presence in my journey through the wilderness. Guide my next steps and give me grace when I stumble. Amen Lori Dubetz

God Walks Beside Us Friday, April 3

Isaiah 41:10: Fear not, for I am with you; Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, yes, I will help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand. I had been married almost 19 years when my husband decided our marriage wasn’t working. Our three boys were 11, 9, and 3 ½ when their dad moved out that June. I was devastated and ashamed because I felt like I had failed on so many levels. I was an intelligent, good person and I felt this could not possibly be happening to me, And yet, it was. It was all very surreal. I was trying to deal with being on my own when about a month later life threw me another curveball. My kids and I were enjoying a lazy summer morning. It was fairly early and all the boys were still asleep when I suddenly heard my youngest screaming upstairs. Terror filled my heart and I rushed upstairs. My little boy was on the floor by his bed crying. Due to his age and the fact he was crying so hard it was difficult for me to understand at first what was happening. I finally understood that his knees hurt. So I remember carrying him downstairs and trying to comfort him. My son’s knees continued to hurt and appeared swollen so I took him to our pediatrician, who referred us to an orthopedic surgeon. We saw the orthopedic surgeon, who recommended surgery to scrape the lining of both of his knees. Surgery was scheduled for early August. I had planned a trip for the four of us to go to Houston in July and visit family. I remember carrying my youngest throughout the trip because he was hurting so much and wouldn’t walk. During a visit with grandparents, my father-in-law, also a physician, examined his grandson’s knees. My father-in-law knew surgery was scheduled but suggested that I take him to see a rheumatologist. I felt so very lost and so alone. I remember falling down on my knees in my bedroom, sobbing and asking God for strength and guidance. I continued to struggle with the decisions that needed to be made. Then two days before the scheduled surgery, I woke up and was filled with peacefulness. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was nervous but I calmly called the surgeon’s office and cancelled the surgery. It turned out to be the best thing I could have done. I made the decision by myself but I truly believe it was only by the grace of God that I had the courage and the presence of mind to listen to what God was saying to me. We were very fortunate to get an appointment with the best rheumatologist at Children’s Hospital. My youngest tested positive for the rheumatoid factor and was diagnosed with Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis. He was prescribed a medicine which I continue to call a “miracle” drug. The surgery would have been a horrible, irreversible course of action. Even after all these years, it brings tears to my eyes knowing I wasn’t really alone, God was right there with me. You are an awesome, loving, forgiving, and gracious God! Thank you for all your wonderfulness! Help me to embrace and connect with you during those times in my life that I feel overwhelmed by the loneliness and confusion of life’s wilderness. Help me to put aside all the mistakes I have made and the regrets I have and move forward to live in your presence. Fill me with your peace and guide me to discover the joy you so freely give to all. Amen Karin Bybee

Entering a Different Wilderness Saturday, April 4

Matthew 7:10: This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’

By definition, the word wilderness can be a fairly intimidating concept. If you were to look it up, the meaning is: uncultivated or uninhabited and inhospitable region. The definition goes on to say a neglected or abandoned area of a garden or town. This definition also suggests that the person in the wilderness might hold a position of disfavor amongst others. Matthew 11:7-10 was Jesus’ tribute to John the Baptizer. Jesus tells of how John went before him and came from the wilderness to tell of HIS coming. John was not a man of means or a in a powerful position, but was sent ahead to fulfill the prophecy of His coming. I do believe that in a current world sense, we are John and we are sent ahead to prepare the way and share the good news of HIM… not to come in the future, but to declare that he is here and present amongst us now! We do that by being LOVE in so many ways. Whether a helpful hand or a listening and caring ear, we can always be LOVE for one another and therefore bring each other out of the uncultivated, uninhabited and unhospitable region and into the cultivated garden of love that God provides. I hesitate sometimes to face my own personal wilderness. Maybe it’s my own sloth or fear, or maybe sometimes I feel like it must be someone else’s responsibility. What I do know is that when I sincerely opened my heart to Jesus, I was led out of my own wilderness and into a position of service to Him into whatever wilderness he may place me. Mark 1:12 says, ‘Immediately the Spirit impelled him to go out into the wilderness.’ In all honesty, sometimes I hear the Spirit calling, but often do not immediately respond. My ask of you and the prayer for myself is that we hear the Spirit and that we do not hesitate to go into that wilderness on behalf of our Lord and Savior who showed us the way. Take some time to contemplate where the spirit is sending you. Into what wilderness could you enter to help prepare the way and to share the good news of Jesus through your actions of love? Chris Holgard

Welcoming the Wilderness “Stuff” Monday, April 6

Romans 12:2: Do not conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God - what is good and acceptable and perfect.

Working with my spiritual director has been a help. She is very good at helping me weed through my stuff. I get all caught up in my head, always trying to do the right thing. She leads me past my initial need to fix or rearrange to the source of life, the God-way, that is deep within me, planted like a flower.

One thing she has been teaching me is how I encounter my wilderness moments. Often, I see problems, mistakes, difficult situations, and sometimes even people (!) as obstacles I have to overcome. I can easily treat situations, these wildernesses, as roadblocks to growth, life, success, or whatever goal I have established for myself. When these things get into my head this way, they become an adversary, an enemy to my life and growth. When I perceive these moments in this way, I bully them, often aggressively, and certainly not at peace.

My spiritual director has been leading me to change the way I think. In her very zen way, she is coaching me to welcome these wildernesses into my life, not as adversaries but as friends. What if these “problems” I encounter are not meant to annoy me and get in my way, but actually function to slow me down to think, feel, and understand myself, others, and even God better? What if these moments, mistakes, situations and, yes, people are actually friends, teachers, and guides? Welcoming these moments opens me to the Spirit’s work, moments designed to teach me and slow me down. It is a change in thinking, and I am not great at it yet, but when I do engage this welcoming, I perceive God working on me and growing a new way of thinking. It is a holy space, these wilderness moments, and I am learning to welcome them.

I leave you with this prayer from famed Roman Catholic writer and mystic, Fr. Thomas Keating.

Welcome, welcome, welcome.I welcome everything that comes to me todaybecause I know it’s for my healing.I welcome all thoughts, feelings, emotions, persons,situations, and conditions.I let go of my desire for power and control.I let go of my desire for affection, esteem,approval and pleasure.I let go of my desire for survival and security.I let go of my desire to change any situation,condition, person or myself.I open to the love and presence of God andGod’s action within. Amen

Pastor Jay Gamelin, Lead Servant of Family Life

Head into My HeartTuesday, April 7

John 13:35: By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.

A few years ago, I encountered something on my way home from work. I work in Evergreen and I try to take the most scenic route on my commute. I had worked really late and it was around 10PM. I came around a blind corner when I saw the rear end of a Jeep, half in my lane and up in the air, while the front of it was face down in a small creek next to the road. I immediately slowed and pulled over as I thought through the scenario. What happened? This is a really strange place to crash. Why aren’t there skid marks? Did they try to avoid an animal? It doesn’t look serious. It’s really late... maybe I should just take off. What if this is a staged setup? What if the person pulls a gun on me?

I tried to shut down my head and opened my door. It was strangely silent as I walked along the road. There were no other cars in the area and no clear sign of the cause. That was when the driver door opened. A middle-aged man tripped and fell out on the ground. He didn’t seem injured as he got back to his feet but could barely stand in one place. He was obviously drunk. He quickly stumbled up to me and confessed his wrongdoing of drunk driving. He was pleading for me to help him. He began to curse at himself. I was silent but my thoughts were firing on all cylinders. The loudest thought was, “GO!” What if someone already called the cops? I didn’t want to be mixed up in this. Again, my mind went to self-preservation. I wasn’t sure what to do. My first thought was that I needed to get the Jeep out of the road so it wouldn’t cause another accident. As an owner of a motorcycle repair shop I usually have tools with me wherever I go, but I didn’t have so much as a working flashlight that night. Pretty soon another car came up to the scene. Approaching me, the car rolled down the window and another young man asked if I needed help. I briefly explained my version of the situation. Without hesitation, the man was nice enough to pull over and help me. The drunk driver was avoiding being seen during this time. We ended up getting the Jeep out of the stream and parked it on the next pull off. The other man took the drunk driver home. It was not clear to me what was the right thing to do. All the way through, I questioned my participation. Should I have called the police and let them deal with the drunk driver? Even after the event, I wrestled with it. Growing up, I always thought Jesus knew exactly what to do. But now, after events like this, I think Jesus struggled too. I like to think that Jesus’ reactions were similar because he, like us, was a child of God and learned to follow his heart. All said and done, I am at peace with my decision. I learned that if I follow my heart, God is present. This situation showed me that there might not be an outward sign from God, but he answers us through an internal awareness that He is alive in each person and can be felt when we act from our hearts.

May these words of prayer move my loving thoughts into action. You dwell in all living things and may I experience your blessings serving them. May those blessings be my strength to do wonderful things in your name, Our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen

Matt Burris

The Way through the Wilderness is Love Wednesday, April 8

1 Corinthians 13:1-3: If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t have love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day and if I have faith that says to a mountain “Jump,” and it jumps but I don’t love, I’m nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love. - from The Message, Eugene Peterson The Greek word for this love is AGAPE, God’s grace-filled, unconditional love. Stop a minute and think about this. This levels the playing field, doesn’t it? When it comes to our being the heart, hands, and feet of Jesus in this world every person, great or small in the eyes of society, is called to live a life of unconditional love if we are to change the world. How, literally, in this world do we do this? I remember reading Leo Buscaglio’s book about love back in the 70’s. I seem to remember his commenting in the book that only God can really love unconditionally. I have spent a lot of time thinking about this agape love over the years. It’s true that our ego easily gets involved in our everyday experiences with each other. This makes loving unconditionally very hard at times. I think there are some very important understandings that Jesus taught that enable us to love unconditionally. It starts with understanding the importance of loving ourselves as God’s children, God’s creation. This God who does love us unconditionally. This creator of good who understands our human weaknesses and frailties as we endeavor to grow through this life of difficulties, mistakes and all. The one who gives us the opportunity to learn and grow through our problems and foibles. If we can accept this love, we no longer need to be defensive in our interactions with others. I don’t have to prove myself to you as a person. That alone frees me to truly want the best for you in your endeavors. We all have cuts, bruises, gashes from living this earthly life. We all mess up and do things we wish we could undo. None of us get it all right. We are in this struggle together. We must learn to see beyond the immediate in each other. When someone blows up at me and it doesn’t make sense I know it is about something going on inside of them that they have not identified or dealt with. When someone tries to undermine what I am doing, I know they are insecure and unsure of themselves. Can we learn to see a big picture surrounding each other that then allows us to care for each other as children of God. It is a challenging gift to be able to separate the created and loved child of God from the criminal, the divisive one, the mean, and/or the cruel. But, it is a gift worth accepting in your life. We also need not confuse good and loving feelings with loving unconditionally. I believe the good and loving feelings have to do with other expressions of love. Living in unconditional love with each other is an attitude, a way of being that comes with practice. I cannot say I went through trauma or diversity that forced me to learn this lesson. Something, however, kept driving me to it. Perhaps something happened as a small child I have long forgotten. Whatever it is or was, I am thankful for it. My heart breaks when I interact with someone who cannot forgive a wrong done to them. The stress and negativity it brings into life is very destructive. I also wonder, even with all the experience of living with the attitude of unconditional love, if there might be something in the future that would challenge my ability to stay the course. If practice has anything to do with it, I think I will be alright.

Loving God, release us from the fears and stresses of life, open our hearts to your love that we may pass it on. Amen Judy Scherschligt

Maundy Thursday Thursday, April 9

John 13:34: I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. When the disciples gathered around the table for the Passover feast, something felt different. There were the usual words, the reciting of the haggadah, the story of the people fleeing from slavery in Egypt. It recalled Moses in the wilderness, the plagues that infested the Egyptians, the night of the slaughter of lambs and blood pasted on the doorposts of homes so that death would not visit. It told of Pharaoh’s command to the Hebrew people to flee, then the subsequent chase across the desert to the sea, and the eventual destruction of Pharaoh’s army. All this only to leave the people of God in the wilderness, left to wander for 40 years. Jesus saw the story being greater than a remembrance for what was, but a coming of what is and what is to be. The story is not remembrance only, but a sign of the living out of the life of Christ. He gathered his disciples and takes bread, the flat unleavened bread saved for this occasion, and broke it and gave this to the disciples saying, “When you do this, remember me.” When he took the cup of wine, the cup to remind the people of the blood of the lamb sacrificed to free the people from death, he gave it to them saying, “When you drink this, remember me.” The story was not simply to be remembered for the night. It is a reminder and reenactment of the saving activity of God. Through the blood of the lamb on doorposts in Egypt, and in the Christ, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, we are grafted to the story that God has been speaking since the beginning. We are called out of slavery, literally for the Hebrews and metaphorically for us, in our own slavery to selfish gain, ego, pride, consumerism, racism, and ignorance of those in need. We are called into the wilderness of the world. It is there, in the wilderness, we learn to trust God, just as the Hebrew people did in their wilderness. We come to the table every week at Abiding Hope to remind ourselves that we are commanded (the word “Maundy” comes from the Latin for “command”) to go as God’s vessels into the wilderness of our lives at work, school, neighborhood, and beyond, to love as we have been loved. More than a remembrance, it is God’s present self, giving and loving us as we are, to remind us to love and love boldly. Jesus, remind us in the meal of your command to love boldly. Amen Pastor Jay Gamelin, Lead Servant for Family Life

The Power of the Cross Good Friday, April 10

John 16:33: “But take courage, I have conquered the world.” Throughout this season of Lent, we have read and shared stories that would lead us to agree that the journey through the wilderness is unique to each of us. We each enter, engage, experience, and exit the journey differently. As we ponder the purpose and impact of the cross on this day, this Good Friday, I find myself reflecting on the power of the message of the cross and how it might impact our journey. To start, does the cross best symbolize an entry into, or an exit out of, the wilderness? Perhaps the answer lies in how we perceive the meaning of the events of that day. If one sees the cross as a symbol of the anger, grief, and death present that day, perhaps that person might see the cross as a symbol of the turmoil, heartache, and confusion that initiates a wilderness journey. If one perceives the cross as a symbol of the wholeness (“Father, forgive them…”), release or surrender (“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”), and completion (“It is finished.”) found in the day’s events, then it is more likely that the cross is a symbol of the new life that comes upon arrival on the other side of the journey.

Personally speaking, I don’t always know what has or will initiate my journeys, but the conclusion of the journeys have always been marked with an acceptance of death of some kind and a new clarity of purpose and identity, bringing about a feeling of wholeness, release/surrender, and completion. I write these words today as a reminder for myself while I endure the challenges of my current wilderness journey. While I thought the journey was the process of adjusting to an empty nest, I now see that process as merely the initiator of a journey where something much larger is at play – the realities of the second half of life (see Richard Rohr’s Falling Upward). For as long as I could remember, I had dreams for what my life would become. But as our youngest daughter went off to college last fall, it dawned on me that these dreams carried only as far as this point in life. But now what? What’s next? And how do I begin to dream for what is to come?

Carl Jung writes, “One cannot live the afternoon of life according to the program of life’s morning, for what was great in the morning will be of little importance in the evening, and what in the morning was true will at evening have become a lie.” I’m not sure when my morning might blossom into an afternoon, and this unknown – its timeline and realities – is raising a lot of questions in me. The artist and poet, Jan Richardson, wrote in For Those Who Have Far to Travel, “If you could see the journey whole, you might never undertake it, might never dare the first step that propels you from the places you have known toward the place you know not.” Perhaps it’s a blessing not being able to see the whole journey. How many roads went less travelled in our lives because of the doubt, fear, and anxiety we attached to each scenario?

Today, Good Friday, we are reminded of the One who is our example, our guiding Light, at every wilderness entry point. Fully knowing what was to come, Jesus gave of himself freely and fully because he knew what would bring about wholeness, release, and completion. He knew how love and life would win. Let us enter our journeys in the same way, trusting that love and life will win. God of grace and mercy, You are our resting place when trouble we must face. Let us not be overwhelmed, for we know, your love has won. Amen Glenn Hecox, Lead Servant for Worship Life

Easter Saturday Saturday, April 11

Romans 6:3-5: “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” Today is Easter Saturday, the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. Easter Saturday (or vigil as it has been called traditionally) has a rich tradition within the Christian community. Not only was it the time when adults were baptized into the faith, Easter Saturday also ushered in the celebration of Easter, moving from darkness to light, death to life, and despair to hope.

Imagine what it would have been like to be those first disciples of Jesus. After betrayals and denials, after Jesus’ death, what would your reaction have been? Out of fear, some of the disciples locked themselves in a room, while others went out and prepared Jesus’ body for burial. On Holy Saturday, when all seemed lost, with what hope they had hanging by a thread, it seems they were journeying through a wilderness.

And it is the same with us. Oftentimes, when we journey through the wild spaces of life, we don’t know the ending; the path is leading us towards an unknown outcome. But that is the gift of the wilderness. A wild space to let go of our need to control and, instead, rely on our faithful God who provides. A God who, along the way, sends angels to guide and direct us.

However, the wilderness does promise a few things. It promises that if we give ourselves fully to the journey, we won’t be the same because we are always works in progress. God is constantly transforming us to live fully as the children of God we are created to be. And the next promise of the wilderness is this: after Good Friday comes Easter Sunday. But for that in between time of Holy Saturday, the wild part of the journey, God promises to be with us every single step of the way. And that is good news.

Contemplative Practice: When have you experienced Holy Saturday? How has that experience changed and shaped who you are today? Give thanks to God for the ways in which you were sustained, nurtured, and transformed. Pastor Laura Bostrom

The Resurrection of Our Lord Sunday, April 12

Matthew 28:5-6: But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Years ago I attended a Stephen Covey event to improve my organizational and time management discipline. Covey is known for his Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. The second habit is my favorite: Begin with the end in mind. As a visionary, I live in the future. I have a difficult time making sense of the details until I can see the “big picture.” Once I can see the big picture, the vision for where we are going, then I feel equipped to assess the details. The resurrection is, as Paul Harvey used to say, “The rest of the story.” It’s the end, the outcome, the final scene. It’s important that we recognize that the resurrection is not a “one and done” event in history. Resurrection IS the very essence of existence. Resurrection permeates every nook and cranny of the creation. After all, our God is a God of life. God’s very being generates life. New life occurs every moment, in every place, and within every circumstance. After a horrible storm or fire, new life bursts forth. After a divorce or broken relationship, new life bursts forth. After the loss of a job or a life-change, new life bursts forth. Resurrection is the divine design for life. And so we face each day of life through the lens of what is to come. We journey through the wilderness trusting that new life is being birthed in and around us. Now please don’t misunderstand. I’m not saying that the wilderness journey is easy or without challenge or pain. And sometimes, the pain can become so severe that we lose sight of the promised resurrection. However, it’s in those dark moments that we are called to return our vision to what is yet to come. We’re called to continually remind ourselves that we are never alone (although it might feel like we are), we are never lost (although it might feel like we are), we are never without identity or meaning (although it might feel like we are). I encourage you to engage in daily spiritual practices of prayer, contemplation, or meditation that envisions resurrection. The way that I do this is to find a comfortable, quiet spot to sit. I place both feet on the floor and my hands on my knees with the palms facing up in a posture of receiving. I then envision God’s golden resurrection light flowing down and enveloping me. I let random thoughts come into my mind and then I let them go out as I concentrate on experiencing God’s love and light all around me. I have found that this centering practice equips me to face the struggles, challenges, and uncertainties of life with a true spirit of hope, joy, and expectation. We are called to be resurrection people. The world needs us to be resurrection people. We must trust that love and life win, no matter what. This isn’t just information, it’s a way of life. God is counting on us to point others to the resurrection so that all may experience real life. God of new life, thank you for the promise that love and life win. Help us to trust you fully and to let your light shine through all that we do in Jesus’ name. Amen Rev. Dr. Doug Hill, Lead Pastor

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