Enemies?
Reflection by Fr. David Stoddart

                                                                     He drew a circle that shut me out --
                                                                     Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
                                                                     But love and I had the wit to win.
                                                                     We drew a circle that took him in.

                                                                          From "Outwitted" by Edwin Markham

Some years ago, when the Episcopal Church was still in the throes of debating homosexuality, I served on a reconciliation team in the Diocese of Western Massachusetts. At one point we hosted a weekend conference to which we invited people from across the country who had opposing views on this subject. The theme of the conference was reconciliation: how can we be reconciled to each other when we disagree strongly with each other? The weekend provided a structured and safe way for people to share what they really thought and believed, and to listen as others did the same. It concluded with a healing service. I was deeply moved by the whole experience, as I watched people who had opposite opinions on this emotional topic lay hands on each other, pray for each other, and embrace each other. Connections and friendships were formed by Sunday that few thought were possible on Friday night. And, by God's grace, we achieved our goal: not to change minds, but to change hearts.

We live in contentious times. It has become a truism to say that we are a divided nation, People all along the political spectrum feel like they are not being heard or understood by others with different viewpoints. A member of our parish recently wrote me that he feels attacked for holding conservative political views. Many of my wife's third grade students feel attacked for being Latino. I can't even count the number of people who have shared stories of alienation with me. Hurt feelings abound and people feel divided from each other.

But we cannot be a divided church. Reconciliation is at the heart of our mission and ministry. The Catechism in the Book of Common Prayer says, "The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ." Such unity does not demand uniformity of thought or opinion: that's why it is so hard. Somehow we must listen to each other and respect each other even when we disagree the most. We cannot change minds, but we can change hearts.

We Christians often forgo genuine reconciliation and settle for "being nice." In practice this means that we only talk about really important things with people we know agree with us. I see that happening at COOS in our current political climate. Parishioners share with like-minded parishioners and avoid any substantive conversation with those they suspect think differently. This is not unity and it does not make for healthy community. We can have no enemies in the church.

So let's begin to change that. Next Wednesday (Feb. 22) we will be holding a Unity Vigil in the church at 7:00pm. People can join us for dinner at WAC at 6:00 if they want, or they can just come for the Vigil. It will be an opportunity for us to be together in community: to pray, to share (for those who want to do so), to listen, and to remember that we are all one in Christ. Nothing which divides us is stronger than the Spirit of Christ who unites us with God and each other in the deepest possible way. Please come join us while we let God draw one great, loving circle around all of us.

In that Love,
David +

Stand in the Muck. Weekly Reflection: Emily Rutledge

The past few months have been loud.  The past few weeks have been deafening.  I have read more blogs, listened to more podcasts, and digested more policy than this English & Education major ever imagined possible.  I feel full. 

I also feel enraged and heart-broken and sad.  Last Sunday David spoke from the pulpit about where we stand as a church.  We stand on the side of Jesus, on the side love, on the side of open borders and hearts, on the side of inviting.  In that place we also stand on the opposite side of fear.

 

Lately our country is ruled by fear.  Fear of the ‘other’.  Fear of invasion.  Fear of what is to come. 

I am not a theologian or a policy expert.  I spent the majority of my higher education reading old dead dude’s writing and learning about the inner workings of the middle school brain.  I have spent the entirety of my adult life watching too much reality TV, drinking lots of coffee, and online shopping.  The rest of my time has been spent with a bunch of ‘others’. I have sat in hospital rooms with rape survivors as they spoke to police officers and endured invasive evidence collection.  I have spent countless late nights on a survivor hotline talking to men and women living close to the pit of despair that looms near when you have survived trauma.  I have taught in classrooms with students who have no permanent home or guaranteed next meal.  I have ministered to gay and straight, trans and cis, rich and poor, white and brown students whose constant fear is failure (on a million different levels). 

All these experiences have taught me three things:

• We are all broken people with a ridiculous capacity for love and healing.
• What we long for above all else is to be seen.
• When you judge someone you can’t love them. 

As Believers we are all across the board right now.  We each know we are right and everyone else is wrong and somehow we are getting the lines between politics and Jesus really blurred.  Jesus has become the tool we use to justify instead of the ruler we use to measure. 

Beyond policy and politics there are people.  People that, no matter what God they do or do not worship, no matter their gender or orientation or race or education, have worth.   Just as you and I do. 

Hear their story. 

Jesus spent his entire ministry seeing and loving others and their stories.   Jesus’ ministry of presence challenges us to do the one thing that makes us most uncomfortable.  Show up.  Hold space.  See someone. 

Fear is so deeply intertwined with the unknown they can be hard to untangle.  There is only one clear way to untangle it all… to face it.  Speak with the recent immigrant and hear the stories of their escape and life in a war-torn country.  Have coffee with the Trans woman and understand the agony of being afraid, tormented, and alone in a body that doesn’t mirror her heart or mind.  Sit with your brown friends and hear what they must teach their children about how to remain safe in the country they built; how to leave a traffic stop alive and walk home without incident.  Be present with the nurse who offers an emergency contraceptive to the girl sexually assaulted by a family member. 

Jesus, our great teacher, taught us this power time and time again.  With a woman at a well.  With strangers in a synagogue.  With friends at a table.  With prostitutes and religious leaders and believers and doubters alike.  Jesus was never afraid to stand in the midst of the muck, listen to another’s story, and then proclaim the simple truth of LOVE.  Jesus showed us to love someone we must see and validate them.  It becomes very hard to hate and cast away and write off another human once you have shared space and story together.

It’s our job, as followers of Jesus, to do the hard work.  To hold the space.  To be witness to the ways God loves and works through all people.  At our baptism we committed to ‘seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves’ and to ‘strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being’.   We are called in this moment to do the things Jesus needs us to do for the people Jesus loves.  There are a million excuses and reasons we can shy away from this awkward hard work but now is when we move past being people who show up on Sundays to sit together in a pretty building to being a radical community of love that transforms the world.  

Sunday Sermon - February 5, 2017 by the Rev. David M. Stoddart

Matthew 5:13-20

You are the light of the world.

This past week I attended Friday prayers at the masjid on Pine Street, where our local Muslim community worships. I have been doing that about once a month for the past year or so. I go as an act of friendship and solidarity with that faith community during what has been for them a very scary time, and over the months I’ve been doing it a number of parishioners have joined me. This past Friday my son Aidan was with me. The sermon was on sincerity of action. The preacher talked about how important it was for Muslims to sincerely work for good in their homes, their workplaces, and in the Charlottesville community at large. And he emphasized that when people see that, when people see believers sincerely working for justice, peace, and the relief of suffering, then God is glorified. And I couldn’t help but think of this Gospel: You are the light of the world. We are the light of the world, and of course it’s not our own light we reflect: it’s the light of Christ. But that light, according to Jesus, does not shine through dogmatic declarations or institutional mandates: it shines through acts of justice, peace, and mercy. Put simply, it shines through works of love. So he goes on to say, Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

And there’s no mystery about what those good works entail. Isaiah says it plainly: Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin? This is a theme that runs throughout the Bible: I mean, it’s found in hundreds of verses. And it is firmly embedded in our Baptismal Covenant, in which we promise —we promise! — to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self” and “to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”

“All persons,” “all people,” and “every human being:” emphatic language. And Scripture makes it perfectly clear that “all people” includes foreigners, immigrants, and refugees. As it says in Deuteronomy: For the LORD your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who is not partial and takes no bribe, who executes justice for the orphan and the widow, and who loves the strangers, providing them food and clothing. You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt (Deut. 10:17-19). This is not a one-off verse: the Law elsewhere stipulates that gleanings from every harvest must be left for aliens residing in the land so that they have food to eat (Lev. 19:9-10, 23:22). It is an outlook Jesus obviously embraces. The very core of his teaching is to love God with everything we’ve got and to love our neighbor as our self. And who is our neighbor? Everyone, Jesus says: Samaritans, Romans, foreigners . . . everyone: no exceptions. The greatest decision of the early church, a Jewish movement started by a Jewish Messiah, was made at the great Council of Jerusalem described in Acts 15 which opened up membership in the community of Christ to people of all nations, Jews and Gentiles alike. For two thousand years the Church Universal has offered witness to the all-embracing nature of God’s love by welcoming everyone and providing special care for the poor, the homeless, and the suffering. This is our spiritual DNA: this is who we are.

How do we best apply that tradition in our community and in our nation? We all know what’s going on: executive orders stopping all refugees from entering our country, including thousands who have already gone through years of vetting; voices in our society that speak with fear, hatred, and contempt about immigrants in general and Muslims in particular. Now, I get that we as followers of Christ may well disagree in good faith about the best policies to pursue. And when we do disagree, we should do so with respect and charity. But if we disagree on how to apply our tradition, we cannot disagree on what our tradition teaches us. It is clear and unambiguous, running from the beginning of the Bible to the end: there is no doubting it and no escaping it: God loves the poor, the homeless, and the stranger, and if we are to own the name Christian, somehow we must love them, too.

I have no idea what’s going to happen at the national level, but as Rector I do have some say in what happens here. So here’s what I know will happen: I will continue to visit the masjid with anyone who wants to join me and we will continue to build relationships with our Muslim neighbors ― because that’s love; our international outreach group, which has been working very hard, will continue to partner with the International Rescue Committee to resettle a refugee family here in Charlottesville, a family fleeing from violence and despair ― because that’s love; as a parish we will strive to be not just a welcoming church, but an inviting church, a community where all people can safely find a spiritual home: white people and brown people, young people and old people, straight people and gay people, liberals and conservatives, citizens and non-citizens ― because that’s love. Emily will continue to build up a youth community where everyone belongs and where everyone can experience God’s . . . love; Mother Kathleen and I will continue to proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ in whose Kingdom the only power that matters is . . . love.

And, perhaps most important at this moment, I invite you to join me in making a commitment. When someone disagrees with me and, say, complains about this sermon, I will listen to them and I will love them. If we encounter someone espousing hatred, don’t give into the same hatred: love them. When people around us are afraid, don’t give into the same fear: The First Letter of John tells us that perfect love casts out all fear (1 John 4:18), so when we encounter fearful people, love them. We must stand firm for what we believe is right, but if we don’t do it with love and for love, it is all for naught. We must love ― there is no other way. Remember: You are the light of the world . . . Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

Believe it or not, we are all God’s got to do this. So don’t just sing the songs and say the prayers and eat and drink your Jesus, and then go hide. After all, it is the light of Christ we reflect, the very light of God, and we know that no darkness will ever overcome it. Trust that. Live that. Go out and shine.

Reflections 2/2/17 by Fr. David

The look on this man's face haunts me. He is a refugee, fleeing from violence in Syria, doing everything in his limited power to protect his children. I don't know him and I don't know his story, but I feel his pain. I have two children whom I love deeply and passionately. I would do anything I possibly could to insure their safety and well-being. I cannot imagine the pain of uprooting them from everything they have ever known, the agony of knowing they might starve to death, or be killed by bombs or gunfire, or drown trying to escape. It hurts me to look at this photo and put myself in this man's place.

And it sobers me to realize that when I look into his face, I am seeing the face of Jesus Christ, who completely identifies with him in his anguish. According to Matthew's Gospel, Jesus himself was a refugee when he was an infant. According to all the Gospels, Jesus cares for every person who suffers, regardless of race, nationality, or religion. And Jesus is the human face of God.

Our nation's political situation is volatile, and people are expressing a wide range of emotions as our government responds to the refugee crisis -- and it is a crisis, a terrible human tragedy. I don't know what will happen on the national level, but I am so grateful for the work of our parish's international outreach ministry which continues to partner with the International Rescue Committee to help resettle a refugee family here in Charlottesville. We raised $4,633 at our silent auction this fall to do that work, and representatives from the IRC will be orienting and training COOS volunteers in coming weeks. We don't know when that family will arrive, but we intend to be ready to assist them in every way we can whenever they do come.

As we do this ministry, we know that some 70,000 people who have undergone extensive vetting in order to resettle in this country are now being stranded, and the majority of them are women and children. We all hear the fear that is being expressed by some, the fear that offering safe haven to refugees will endanger us, but the Cato Institute has calculated that the chances of being killed by a refugee are one in 3.6 billion. In other words, we are more likely to die from our own clothes lighting on fire than we are to be killed by a refugee. And regardless of the odds, we are followers of Jesus, who tells us not to be afraid as we do whatever is good and right and loving. And if we can't do everything, we most certainly can do something. And what we can do, we are going to do.

Please pray for this ministry. Please pray for our elected leaders. And please pray for refugees everywhere, remembering that they are fellow human beings who love and dream and hurt and bleed just like us.

Love, love, always love,

David Stoddart +
Rector

Sunday Sermon - 1/29/17 The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges

1 Corinthians 1:18-31

Blessed are the wise, for they shall not be fooled.  Blessed are the strong, for their enemies will fear them.  Blessed are the rich because, well, they’re rich!  That makes sense to us doesn’t it?  And that’s what made sense for the people back in Jesus’ day, too.  They were used to hearing about blessings and the “Blessed are” formula – that  was nothing new.  These blessings would list virtues or conditions that anyone would like to have.  What made Jesus’ words so radical, so shocking was not the formula of “Blessed are”, but the content.  Blessed are...the poor in spirit?  Blessed are...those who mourn?  Blessed are...the meek?  And all the rest of those people who are vulnerable, weak, or afflicted?  Surely Jesus was kidding, right?

Because that’s just not the way the world works says human wisdom, as we heard from our 1 Corinthians reading.  But it goes on.  God’s foolishness is wiser than any human wisdom.  What Jesus is doing with his Beatitudes is flipping things on their head.  Calling out human wisdom as false – proclaiming that what you may think is up is actually down and what you think is down is really up. 

Spatial disorientation - it happens when you literally aren’t sure just which way is up.  See, the way our bodies know where we are in space or which way is up is by using three senses.  The first and most obvious sense is our vision.  Our eyes are telling us right now that the ceiling is up there, the floor is down there and we are here in this church.  The second way our body tells us which way is up is by sensing gravity's gentle pressure on our muscles and joints.  It pushes us down so we know which way is up.  Finally, our ears get into the act with semi-circular canals that, to the best of my understanding, is lined with tiny hairs and also filled with liquid.  When we move the fluid bends the hairs which signals our brains where we are in space – whether we are upright, or if we’re young, upside down, or if we’re older, sideways taking a nap.

However, there are times when our senses can fool us and be absolutely wrong.  I’m sure we’ve all heard about airplane pilots who have gotten into trouble when they can’t see anything in front of them.  When a pilot flies into dense fog he or she loses her visual cues of where she is in space.  If the pilot goes into a turn her inner ear will tell her that she’s turning.  But as soon as the fluid settles down and the hairs stop moving the pilot can still be in the turn, but her ears tell her that she is level.  And because there are no visual cues to tell the pilot otherwise the pressure of the turn on the body can be interpreted as the way you’d feel if the plane was climbing.  The pilot’s senses can be giving her wrong information.  What is she to do?  Look at the instruments!  All those gages right in front of her that will tell her no matter what she feels or thinks which way is truly up.

Blessed are the poor in spirit.  Blessed are those who mourn.  Blessed are the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, the persecuted.  Our human wisdom and our senses tell us, No!  Don’t they? That there is nothing blessed about most, if not all of those conditions.  But what if we are suffering from a type of spiritual spacial disorientation and Jesus’ Beatitudes is our instrument trying to tell us which way is really up?

Maybe our resistance to the beatitudes is due to some confusion over what a blessing or being blessed is.  We throw around the word blessing quite a bit.  We count our blessings.  We talk about our blessings.  And when we do we often list things like health, family, friends, maybe a getaway vacation, a roof over our heads, food on the table.  This way of thinking leads one to believe that blessings are basically things that make us happy, give us pleasure, or at the very least make life a little bit easier. 

Jesus’ beatitudes challenge this way of thinking.  Blessed are the poor in spirit, the mournful, the persecuted, to name a few.  These are clearly not good things.  They don’t produce pleasure or happiness.  But what if being blessed is more than good things or happy feelings?  What if being blessed by God is instead a state of being where one experiences a deep connection with God?  Encounters a presence of something that holds in the storm? An inner knowing of care, grace, love no matter what’s going on on the outside?

If so, and I believe that Jesus’ life and words say it is so, then one is truly blessed in such times of struggle or weakness or incompleteness not because these conditions are in any way fun or pleasurable, but because when a person is that tender, that vulnerable they are more open and exposed to the fullness of God’s being and the truth that there is no circumstance, no situation, no relationship in life which God cannot redeem.

                                        

Jesus’ Beatitudes is God’s foolishness on display.  When human wisdom and even our own senses want to tell us that we are lost or alone or that there is no hope, as foolish and as difficult as it may be just like pilots we are to look at our instruments and trust. As followers of Christ, listen, listen to Jesus’ words – God’s foolishness that is wiser than any human wisdom – and trust that we can always count on God to show us which way is truly up. 

Sunday Sermon 1/22/17 by The Rev. Jeffrey P. Fishwick

If I were to ask you how did you get to church today-what would you say? Most of you would
say that you came by car, or perhaps some of you walked. Maybe some are saying to themselves,
‘I was dragged here.’

However, if I were to change the question to ‘what brought you to COOS on this dreary January
morning would you still be inclined to respond in terms of transportation or would you begin to
think in different ways? Would you think, for instance, that you are here because you are
responding to a call?

Now I know what you are thinking, a call is something for clergy, holy people? So, before you
protest that my suggestion is far-fetched and doesn’t apply to you, let’s recall some of our
Biblical narrative.

Abraham and Sarah were long past retirement age, settling down, and God said, “Not so fast I’ve
got some plans for you; I’ve picked out some land over to the west of here; it’s going to be the
home of my people; you’re going to be the father and mother of my people; guess where you’re
going?”

Moses killed a man back in Egypt and found himself in the witness protection program out in the
boondocks helping his father- in-law with the farm. Suddenly a bush bursts into flame. A voice
says, “I am the Lord your God; I have heard the cry of my people. I have seen their suffering. I
have come down to deliver them. You are going to lead them. Now Moses, guess where you’re
going?”

David and Mary were teenagers; Ruth a widow; Zacchaeus and Matthew were tax collectors
Luke was a physician; Paul had an anger management problem. To all of them God said, “Guess
where you are going? I’ve got plans for you; follow me.” One of the compelling elements of our
Biblical narrative is that over and over again God’s chosen were ordinary folks, just like you and
me.

In terms of our Gospel reading for today, we know that Jesus took those four fishermen, Andrew,
Peter, James and John to places they would have never gone by themselves. Has that ever
happened to you? Have life’s events taken you places you would have never expected, but those
events shaped you, formed you, into the person you are today? Do you know anything about
that? I think most of you do.

I certainly do. When I run into some of my fraternity brothers, they are amazed that I wound up
in the ministry. You see, they knew me as a happy-go-lucky party boy, not particularly religious,
a history major and headed for law school which had always been my dream. But then there was
Vietnam. One night North Vietnamese troops broke through our perimeter. There was a terrible
fire fight; the next morning when it was over I was still alive but some in our camp weren’t. The
precariousness and fragility of life slapped me in the face that night and my carefree attitude of
existence was shattered forever. I never made it to law school. After two and half years of trying
this and that – many of my choices not healthy – on a cold snowy night in Massachusetts I
answered Christ’s call to follow him in a way that I never expected.

Sometimes in popular American Christianity, we get this wrong. We say, “I decided to follow
Jesus.” But that’s not how it works! You can’t “give your life to Christ.” He takes it! It’s not all
that important that you “decided to follow Jesus.” The Bible makes it clear that in Jesus Christ
God has decided for you! In John chapter 15, as Jesus is speaking to his disciples after the
Last Supper, he says to them, “You did not choose me, I chose you.”

Look, everyone is here because God put you here. For a reason. For a purpose. For some of you,
the call was dramatic and life-changing, for others it has been a lifetime of quiet leading and
coaxing. For some, you are still kicking and screaming against that voice; for most, there has
been lots of questioning and wondering. But wherever we are spectrum, know this: Jesus has
plans for us, for this wonderful parish. Right now, Jesus is roaming the highways and by-ways
right now – looking for disciples because (you know why?) Christianity is not a spectator sport.
Today we meet Jesus the recruiting officer: I want you.

Question for us today is: how in the midst of our lives right now in our various vocations and
occupations, our stages of life, we are going to respond to his invitation to follow Christ? Think
about it; pray about it. How can I serve, how can I be a beacon of light and hope for Christ at this
time and in this place? How can I be a fisher of people?

So we are called, not that we are willing travelers on this thing called discipleship. Thank God
we’re not called to be successful, or nice, or even friendly. Just faithful, and obedient. Willing to
grow and to be changed. The good news is that Jesus is going places and we are the ones who get
to go with him. Jesus is once again on the move. It will be interesting to see where he is going to
take us in the coming year Amen.

EPIPHANY SERMON JANUARY 8, 2017 ~ THE REV. KATHLEEN M. STURGES

What is it that you are seeking? Everyone is seeking something. People go to Google everyday searching for countless things - the latest news, celebrity gossip, perhaps a recipe for dinner, or something that I am quite interested in during this time of year, a search for the fastest way to de-ice your car windows especially when you are running late for church! But again I ask, what are you seeking? Maybe it’s not something that you can find on the internet. Perhaps you are seeking truth or peace or hope? Everyone is seeking something.

In our reading from the gospel this morning we have the well-known story of seekers. Wise Men have traveled far from the east and have arrived in Jerusalem searching for the child who has been born king of the Jews. Upon hearing the news King Herod also becomes a seeker. He, too, wants to find this child – but for sinister reasons, in order to extinguish any threat to his power. The chief priests and scribes are consulted. They say the Messiah is to be born in Bethlehem. However, they are not interested in going with the Wise Men to see, rather they seem to be seekers of the status quo. So the Wise Men set out on their own on their final leg of their journey towards Bethlehem and it is there that the star they are following stops and they are overwhelmed with joy. As they enter the home of Jesus they have found the one whom they have sought.

Everyone is seeking something in the story: Herod, the chief priests and scribes, clearly the Wise Men. But there is one more seeker that we have yet to mention - God, the ultimate Seeker of our Souls. It has been so since the very beginning when God created the heavens and the earth. God seeks Adam and Eve in the garden. And later in time God seeks out Abraham and makes the people of Israel his own. Then as the generations pass, God sends prophet after prophet calling the people to turn back to God. Finally, in the fullness of time there is the ultimate act of seeking - God becomes one of us, God with us in the person of Jesus.
Now as we move from the celebration of the Incarnation at Christmas to the new season of Epiphany, the season of manifestation, our attention turns towards how God goes about revealing that very good news that he is with us. In the Church, we always begin Epiphany with the story of the coming of the Wise Men. They are lauded and admired for all they do to seek the king of the Jews. But did they know that the Great Seeker was also at work? The Wise Men saw the star, but did they know that there was One who put it there? The Wise Men travel a treacherous journey, did they sense someone keeping them safe? When they inquired in Jerusalem, did they recognize that God had proclaimed through the prophet to look in Bethlehem? And when those men arrived in the home of the child born the king of the Jews, it was this same One, this same God in the flesh who greeted them.

In Epiphany we see more clearly the nature of God. God’s nature is to come to us, to search us out, to meet us on the journey, to make himself, to make herself, known to us. God desires to be known and that is why the Wise Men found Jesus. All the work and effort that the Wise Men did was in response to the Holy One who sought them first.

Everyone is seeking something. My guess is that among other things, we come here today genuinely seeking God. Do you know that God is seeking you, too? Granted, sometimes it’s hard to tell. I am mindful of the fact that there were countless people who looked up to the heavens and saw the very same star that the Wise Men did and yet did not understand the message it proclaimed.

It’s so easy to get confused. You may have heard the one about the three young boys who were playing the Wise Men in their Christmas pageant. As they came up to Mary and Joseph the first one handed over his gift with one simple line, “Gold.” The next one came forward with his gift and said, “Myrrh.” The third young wise man placed his present down, pointed and said, “Frank sent this.” Frank sent this…that makes total sense when you have never heard of the word Frankincense before nor have any idea what it is.

God is seeking you and me. There’s no doubt about it for that is God’s nature. The question then becomes how? What is going on in your life right now that God is using as a way to reveal himself, herself, to you? Could it be through an unexpected opportunity? A new relationship? A stirring in your spirit? Or even a crisis or a loss? You know what made those men truly wise is that they remained open to the Spirit. After that long journey they were very clear about what they were looking for. They expected to find a future king. But instead, because of their openness, they were able to not only see a king, but to encounter the living God.

Everyone is seeking something. As we seek for God let us rejoice and rest in knowing that God is seeking us, first and always. Sometimes we’ll see the signs and get it, sometimes we won’t. There may be times when the Spirit is whispering something like “Frankincense” and all we can make out is the equivalent to “Frank sent this.” Even so, God will never give up seeking us. Just as he did for the Wise Men, God will meet us on our journey. God will surely make herself, himself, known so that we, too, may be found by the One whom we seek.