What is Truth?—A Sermon on Power and Courage

I preached this sermon to the good people of the Episcopal Church of St. Martin, as part of Campus Ministry Sunday.

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Grace and peace from God our Creator, hope in our Redeemer Jesus the Christ, and the promised gifts of the Holy Spirit are with you, always.

As advertised, I am Pastor Casey Dunsworth, and I serve at the Belfry, your Lutheran Episcopal Campus Ministry to UC Davis. The Belfry is also home to the Lutheran Episcopal Volunteer Network, abbreviated LEVN, a young adult service corps made up of college graduates from around the country, not UC Davis students. There are some students and some LEVNeers in the house this morning, as well as my colleague Emily Hyberg, The Belfry’s Executive Director. We’re all grateful for the invitation to be here with y’all.

It’s the tail end of Welcome Week for UC Davis, so we have been busily meeting new people and reuniting with people we hadn’t seen all summer or perhaps even longer. The start of a new school year is such a joy for me, anticipating all of the young adults who will come through the door of our little yellow house, to join in prayer, and in service, and in free food.

Our text from the book of Numbers this morning features the Israelites whining about the free food they have received in the desert. “If only we had meat to eat!” they cry, “We remember the fish we used to eat in Egypt for nothing, the cucumbers, the melons, the leeks, the onions, and the garlic; but now our strength is dried up, and there is nothing at all but this manna to look at” (Numbers 11:4b-6). Moses is rightfully exasperated, given that he has done everything in his power to liberate his people from slavery, and only by the grace of God do they even have that manna to whine about. There is some back and forth about gathering up elders, and the spirit of God moving through these people. Someone is prophesying who is not supposed to be, and someone is tattling to Moses. The passage ends with Moses crying out, “Would that all the Lord's people were prophets, and that the LORD would put his spirit on them!” (Numbers 11:29b).

Next, the text from James gives advice for communal life, offering suggestions for how to behave in various favorable and unfavorable circumstances. “Confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed” (James 5:16). I am reminded that the power of prayer is not that it changes the heart of God to whom we pray so much as it changes the hearts of we who pray.

It’s why Jesus suggests that we pray for our enemies and for those who persecute us, so that we might be released from our own hatred and fear of them. And if all of us engaged in this communal confession and prayer, how many of our conflicts might we resolve? These two passages, from Numbers and from James, tell us about the type of community members we ought to be and to encourage, the type of leaders we ought to be and to encourage.

Annually, The Belfry invites a Christian scholar to campus for our St. Augustine Lecture. Many of you have probably attended one in the past. Were you here in 2015 when the Rev. Eric Law was our guest? He has written several books and is the executive director of the Kaleidoscope Institute, an organization that invites ministries and leaders into new ways of being. Pastor Pamela told me that in this season of stewardship, you are benefiting from the wisdom in his book Holy Currencies: 6 Blessings for Sustainable Missional Ministries. Holy Currencies was his newest book when he visited in 2015, and I found it very engaging. Thank you for offering me this opportunity to crack it open and review all the notes I scribbled in the margins and all the ideas I had for our ministry! This week is centered on chapter nine of Holy Currencies, “Gracious Leadership”. This is an excellent turn of events, because in our Gospel lesson for this morning, Jesus’ disciples are offering a wonderful example of decidedly ungracious leadership.

The disciples actually have a habit of this, especially in the Gospel According to Mark. In last week’s text, they argued over who was the greatest. In our story this morning, they’re tattling on somebody who is doing the same good work they are doing but whom they have not personally authorized to do that work. “But Jesus said, ‘Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us’ (Mark 9:39-40). The disciples are concerned about the power they wield, and about who else gets to wield that power. They are blinded, it seems, by their desire to be the most powerful, that they cannot see that others are doing the same good work as they are doing.

Here’s where Eric Law comes in. “Gracious leadership,” he writes, “is not about holding power over others; it is about knowing how to empower others to share their gifts and experiences and to do that which is beneficial to the community. They do not hold onto authority; rather, they share authority with those who are in community” (Holy Currencies, 93). “Power” and “authority” are words that we often ascribe to God the Creator and to Jesus the Christ and to the Holy Spirit. Our responsibility as Christians, as bearers of the good news to the world, is a share of that power. We who know the truth have the power and the responsibility to go out and make sure that everyone else knows, too. This is a scary little thing we sometimes call evangelism.

Evangelism happens in what Eric Law calls the Grace Margin. Very briefly, the Grace Margin is the space between the “safe zone” and the “fear zone” wherein the most growth is possible. If we are always in our safe zone, we never grow. If we are tossed directly into the fear zone, we never grow, either. There has to be a gentle give and take, of things that are familiar and things that are new, before our safe zone widens and our interest in moving toward that fear zone grows. I was recently invited by a colleague to consider making myself “mildly uncomfortable” for the sake of growth. Not too cushy, not too scary. Mildly uncomfortable. I’m not sure that this colleague has read Eric Law, but I think he was inviting us into a Grace Margin.

Talking about God in public may not be your idea of a good time, but believe me when I say that it sure can be. As part of our Welcome Week festivities, we had our first Public Theology event on Thursday night. In partnership with Lutheran Church of the Incarnation, we are gathering at Three Mile Brewing a handful of times this quarter to talk about issues and ideas that impact our lives, from the perspective of our faith. Somewhat presciently, Pastor Dan Smith and I chose a topic for this first meeting: “What is truth?” we asked. We wondered about what our scripture says about truth and what our public intellectuals, poets, authors, and politicians say about truth.

We wondered about this at 8:00 on Thursday night, after a very long day. You may have watched in horror, as I did, as Dr. Christine Blasey Ford bravely testified in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee about Supreme Court Nominee Brett Kavanaugh. You may have witnessed her courage, her voice shaking as she read her prepared opening statement. As she swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

Dr. Blasey Ford told the story of the worst day of her life in front of a panel of US Senators on live, national television. She did this because a lifetime appointment to the highest court in the land requires a thorough background check and interview process, and she had information that she thought the Senate should include as they made their decision. Dr. Blasey Ford testified in the interest of truth, fairness, and justice. Her testimony was largely disregarded by the committee, and they voted down party lines 11-10 on Friday to send Judge Kavanaugh’s nomination forward to the whole Senate.

Using the metrics laid out in our scripture this morning, the 11 members of the Senate Judiciary Committee by whose votes Kavanaugh’s nomination process continues are not practicing gracious leadership.

Jesus says, “If any of you put a stumbling block before one of these little ones who believe in me, it would be better for you if a great millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea” (Mark 9:42). Jesus rarely minces words.

These men have placed a stumbling block before every American who has survived assaults like Dr. Blasey Ford’s and has not been believed. Millions of Americans listened to the allegations against Judge Kavanaugh, and then listened as those allegations were dismissed. Millions of Americans have heard truths told that sound just like the truths of their own lives, and have heard their leaders dismiss those truths as lies. Millions of Americans have stumbled over this this week, unsure of their value to their country and perhaps even their value to their God.

Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, Deborah Ramirez, and Julie Swetnick have told their truths at great personal risk, and have been rewarded by our nation’s leaders with vitriol meant to shame them into hiding. Wielding power to make others feel powerless is not gracious leadership.

Throughout Jesus’ ministry, he spoke to and on behalf of marginalized communities—women, lepers, widows, orphans, children, the poor and the oppressed. When those without power in his society told the truth about their lives, Jesus believed them. Jesus believed them, and then empowered them to keep telling their truths until they were believed by those in their communities who had the power to do something about it.

In our own lives, when we experience great trauma and tragedy, God knows and sees and hears us. When we feel like we are screaming into the void, God knows and sees and hears us. When we feel like we might go blind with rage, God knows and sees and hears us.

As the body of Christ in the world, as the Church on earth, we, too, have the power to know and to see and to hear the truth when it is spoken to us. We have the power to speak the truth, even when our voices shake. We have the power to say, “I believe you” to someone who fears the worst. And we have the power to denounce the powers and principalities that would say otherwise. We have the power to be gracious leaders and to speak up when our leaders fail us.

Or, have you yourself  placed a stumbling block in front of someone else? Have you used your power to limit someone else’s freedom? Then, as it is written in the letter of James, “confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.” Now is the time, my dearest siblings in Christ, to slough off what has been weighing you down. If you have never before been an outspoken defender of the truth, there is no time like the present. If your own past makes it hard for you to feel justified in speaking out, do what you need to do to put it right.

Just as Jesus so graphically puts it, “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; it is better for you to enter life maimed than to have two hands and to go to hell, to the unquenchable fire. And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; ….And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out” (Mark 9:43-46). It is better for you to go boldly into this world newly absolved, newly liberated, than to relegate yourself to an unexamined life. “Whoever is not against us is for us”, Jesus says. We are all in this together.

Being a guest in someone else’s pulpit is not always the safest place to express rage. But as a called and ordained minister of the church of Christ, it is my duty and my joy to use my power to empower you. It is my duty and my joy to ensure that any one of you in those pews who has felt hopeless, who has felt fearful of what our nation’s leaders have done and continue to do, knows that you, too, have this power. You, beloved children of God, can tell the truth. Remember Moses, who cried out, “Would that all the Lord's people were prophets, and that the LORD would put his spirit on them!” Dear ones, the spirit of God is within you and among you! In your baptism, you were liberated from the poverty of sin and death, set free to claim your wholeness and live your truth! What are you waiting for?!

Welcome (back) to the Belfry!

Grace and peace from God our Creator, hope in our Redeemer Jesus the Christ, and the promised gifts of the Holy Spirit are with you, always.

Welcome! Welcome back! Welcome home!

It is such a joy to see you here, whether this is your first time in this chapel, or you’ve been here several times, or you’ve been here every week for years. Every Welcome Week is such a mystery, wondering about who will find their way into our little yellow house this time. Whatever brings you here—if you’re Lutheran, or Episcopalian, or neither;

if you’re a new undergrad or a new grad student; if you’re living at the Belfry this year, our first group of residents in a long time; if you were studying abroad last year or took a leave of absence; if you met Emily at the Resource Fair on Monday; if you’re a member of our LEVN program, the Lutheran Episcopal Volunteer Network; if you saw our signs in the window, and our (unfortunately, recently stolen) pride flag and were curious about who meets inside here; if your roommate dragged you here—you are welcome here.

Here at The Belfry, in our Lutheran and Episcopal traditions, we use what is called the Revised Common Lectionary to determine which Bible passages we read each week. If you’re totally familiar with this practice, thanks in advance for surviving this review session; if you’re confused about like half of those words, hopefully it will make sense, soon. The lectionary is a schedule of which readings happen when. This concept dates back several thousand years, and first began in our lineage with the reading of specific stories on important Jewish festivals, like the Passover.

Today, many Christian Churches around the world use the same schedule—that’s why we call it a common lectionary—and celebrate our holidays on the same days. Orthodox Christians, Catholics, Copts, and others have different schedules, and our holidays do not always coincide.

For example, Catholic and Protestant Christians celebrate Christmas on December 25th, but some Orthodox Christians celebrate Christmas on January 7, as their calendar is calculated slightly differently. But in the majority of mainline Protestant churches, like Lutherans, Episcopalians, Methodists, and Presbyterians, you can assume that the assigned stories for each Sunday are going to be the same. Since we meet here on Wednesdays, we transfer the previous Sunday to Wednesday; if you were already in church this week, these may sound familiar.

Why am I telling you all of this? In part because some people wonder why we have the texts we have, and never ask; and, because if it were up to me to choose any readings from the entire First and Second Testament to kick off a new year of life together at The Belfry, these are probably not the ones I would have chosen. I probably would have skipped over this very short chunk of Jeremiah that manages to talk about evil and slaughter and destruction and retribution in just four short sentences. I probably would not have chosen this James text, either, because, again, accusations of murder and wrongdoing. Welcome to the Belfry!

However, this is part of the wisdom of the lectionary. It covers a broad range of topics on a three-year cycle, and introduces us to all sorts of characters and scenarios that we might skip over in our own reading or our own choosing. It forces us to confront some of our less-than-pretty stories, though (thankfully) it does skip some of the goriest stuff. The lectionary challenges me as a preacher and you as a hearer to wonder about the lessons in these lessons. To wonder about what was going on in those communities, all those thousands of years ago, and what might be going on around us today. These stories speak ancient truths into our modern life.

For example, sometimes, even when we think we have the best of intentions, we can end up totally missing the point of what’s going on around us. Jesus’ disciples actually have a habit of this, especially in the Gospel According to Mark. In the story we read for tonight, they are missing the point of what Jesus was trying to tell them because they were arguing over which of them is the greatest.

It is probable that these first followers of Jesus were good people; they were learning from Jesus about who they were and what that meant for how they should treat each other. And yet, they are still human beings, who want to be affirmed for what they’re good at and celebrated when they succeed. I imagine Jesus shaking his head and kindly sighing as he says, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mark 9:35).

Jesus says a lot of things, and Jesus says a lot of things that don’t seem to make sense at first. How is it that whoever wants to be first must be last? Jesus understands his friends, and understands that they will be confused by this.

They live in a society—like we do—where the first are first and the last are last. People who have the most money have the most power, and people who have the least money have the least power. People who have power rarely share that power, concentrating it at the top.

Our society rewards those who clamber to the top; we pay the CEOs of companies and the coaches of sports teams and the stars of movies more than we pay our teachers and our social workers and our farmers. This is, of course, exactly why the disciples are arguing over who is the greatest. They want to be seen as valuable and important. What Jesus is telling them is that, to be truly great, they need to change their perspective. They are all already valuable and important, just by a completely different metric. And that’s an important lesson for us, too. We can be trucking right along achieving the things we think we need to achieve to be great, and not realize that we are not truly being ourselves

The start of a new school year can be a great time to set intentions for yourself, to start fresh, to declare—even in very small ways—that you are going to be new. Maybe this year you want to hook that water bottle to your backpack so you can stay hydrated on the go. Maybe this year you want to get a planner that works for you better than the one you used before, so you can lay out all of your priorities and deadlines in one, simple place. Maybe this year you want to focus on self-care and ensuring that your mental health is manageable. Maybe this year you want to join a new club and connect with some people outside of your roommates and outside of your major. Maybe this year you want to practice some different ways of praying, so you can find a way connect to God that feels comfortable. Maybe this year you want to say “yes” to more people and things that build you up, and say “no” to more people and things that put you down. Maybe this year you want to make that Dean’s Honors List one time. Maybe this year you want to worry less about making the Dean’s Honors List. This is your life, this is your year. You can receive wisdom from students further along in their time at UC Davis than you are, or from your parents, or from mentors in other aspects of your life. And, you can decide for yourself what the best choices are for you. Who do you want to be?

Unlike the disciples, jockeying for position, there is no need for selfish ambition in God’s family—there is no shortage of the things we need; there is enough. You are enough just as you are, just as you came here tonight. Being here together week after week we will practice this abundance and know that none of us are greater or lesser than the other. I am not greater because I wear this stole and stand up here. You are not lesser because you’re not sure that you believe me. We’re here together to figure it out.

Here at the Belfry, you’ll find that we ask a lot of questions. We often answer our questions with more questions. I rarely give anyone a hard and fast answer to any question. There is almost always more than one way to look at it, and more than one direction to run with it.

I will always tell you the few capital T truths that I know: the God who created you loves you, and made you in their image, to be out in their beloved world to love one another. There is nothing you do or fail to do that changes the love God has for you. You cannot, like those silly disciples, elbow your way to first position in the family of God. You also cannot lose the love of God.

If you passed by the Belfry on your way to class this morning, you may have seen that Emily and Ray and I were out there with a giant pot of coffee, and a sign that said “Free Coffee and Free Grace.” We’ll be back out there tomorrow morning, between like 8:45 and 9:45, if you’ve got class at 9 or 9:30 or 10 and want to grab a cup on your way in, come on by. We did this not just because we know that college students often survive on coffee, but also that y’all often survive on free things. Just as that coffee was yours through no action or inaction of your own, the grace is free, too. The grace of God is free. It’s yours. Now that you know that, you can bike safely to class without worrying about how God feels about you. What a relief.

And so I take a teensy bit of issue with the closing line of the James text: “draw near to God and God will draw near to you” (James 3:8a). It is good to draw near to God, yes, of course. But do not for a moment be concerned that God is petty, waiting on the sidelines for you to pray in order to begin to care for you. God is always near to you. The God who is awesome and humongous and all-encompassing is also the God who became human in Jesus, whose very life is proof that God is with us.

Perhaps draw near to God so that you can tell that God has drawn near to you. There will be times when we feel that God is far away. When the way we have felt the presence of God just doesn’t seem to be working. In these times, we have to try a new thing. If our quiet, private prayer is not connecting, perhaps we should try seeking God in community. If we’re feeling lost in the crowd, perhaps we should try seeking God in that quiet place.

This year at The Belfry, we’ll be doing a lot of old things and we’ll be trying a lot of new things. The scripture we read, the prayers we say, the meal we eat—these are ancient rituals, connecting us to Christians throughout time. They’re things we’ve been doing at The Belfry for a long time, too. But we’re also doing new things. We’re going to join forces with CA House for a Midday Mindfulness practice on Thursdays on the quad. We’re going to meet at Three Mile Brewing to talk about theology with folks from the Lutheran Church of the Incarnation here in Davis. We’re going to watch all eight Harry Potter movies, approximately one a month, all year. We’re going to do things we haven’t even dreamed up yet, because you all just got here!

We hope that by being here, you will learn more about yourself, and about each other, and about God, together. We’re overjoyed and deeply blessed to be in this ministry with you, and we’re glad you’re here. Whoever you are, wherever you’re from, wherever you’re going, you’re part of the community at the Belfry. Thanks be to God!

LEVN Commissioning for Mission

Grace and peace from God our Creator, hope in our Redeemer Jesus the Christ, and the promised gifts of the Holy Spirit are with you, always.

It’s always funny to stand as a guest in the pulpit and then welcome people, but welcome! If we’ve not yet met, I’m Pastor Casey Dunsworth, and I am in my fourth year of service to the Lutheran-Episcopal campus ministry to UC Davis, and as Program Director for LEVN, the Lutheran Episcopal Volunteer Network. You probably know at least part of that, which is why you’re here!

Thank you for your presence this evening to celebrate the start of our seventh LEVN program year. Though we have a few years of experience in this ministry, we’re also doing a few new things this year! We have moved the LEVN residence from our little yellow house in Davis to the triplex here at All Saints. We have transitioned in leadership from two clergypeople to one pastor and one lay executive director. We are, as always, welcoming a new corps of LEVN volunteers. Our LEVNeers—Livvy, Ryan, Joy, Victoria, Sarah, Ray, and Remington—and our Executive Director, Emily, will be duly installed later in the service.

It’s our fifth full day together as the budding 2018-2019 LEVN community, and these newly-minted LEVNeers are probably already tired of hearing this, but I am a Lutheran. I am a Lutheran pastor who serves a Lutheran-Episcopal ministry. Before coming to serve the Belfry, I was vaguely familiar with the Episcopal Church, because my best friend from high school is Episcopalian and I had some Episcopal classmates in seminary, and—until then—I mostly got away with knowing that it was fancier than Lutheran but not as fancy as Catholic. As I began serving here with the Rev. Jocelynn Jurkovich-Hughes, our recently former priest, I learned as much as the students and LEVNeers did about how ecumenical ministry works.

Among my favorite things that I have learned in this ministry so far is the practice of commemorating saints and other important historical figures. Because Lutherans do a lot of things, I hesitate to say something as general as “Lutherans do not do this” but I cannot name any Lutherans who regularly commemorate saints in their liturgies.

You may have noticed when you picked up your bulletin this evening that the commemoration for today in the Episcopal calendar is twofold: Aidan and Cuthbert, Bishops of Lindisfarne from the seventh century. Before putting together this liturgy I had not heard of Bishop Aidan or Cuthbert, and unless you are Livvy or another equally astute church history superfan, you probably could use a little refresher about these holy men.

Bishop Aidan, who died in the year 651, evangelized Northern England and Scotland, and his life “provides us with a strong example that actions often speak louder than words, and the best kind of Christian evangelism is that which proceeds from godly and charitable living.” Bishop Cuthbert, who died in 687, served during a period of “plague, war, and schism,” but “went fearlessly among his people, ministering to the wounded and inspiring hope in the survivors.”  

You probably did not intend to be inspired by seventh century English Bishops for your year of LEVN service, but you could do worse. The scripture that is associated with this commemoration is some of my favorite, which is another reason why I am so excited to celebrate Bishops Aidan and Cuthbert today.

We sang a hymn as we began our liturgy this evening, called “Light Dawns on a Weary World”. The refrain, in particular, is a paraphrase of the Isaiah 55 text, in which the earth celebrates: trees clap their hands, mountains burst into song, and all creation lives in peace.

The LEVNeers read a book in advance of our time together by an Episcopal author, Barbara Brown Taylor, called An Altar in the World. We’ve been talking this week about how all spaces are sacred, all bodies are good, and that the whole earth is the house of God. Jesus knew this, and Bishops Aidan and Cuthbert knew this, and now you know this.

Throughout the program year, you will be challenged by new scenarios in your community life, at the organizations where you serve, and in the wider world. As you set your intentions for your year, it is my hope that you will learn and grow from these challenges, inspired by the change you are making in yourself and in the world around you.

This is a weary world, that part is not hard to see. You will serve alongside intrepid colleagues, whether they are social workers, or clergy, or non-profit directors, or administrators, or some combination therein. You will encounter neighbors, clients, community members, parishioners, and strangers. There will be days when you feel you truly accomplished something, making a difference in the life of someone else. There will also be days when you feel like you tried as hard as you could and nothing really happened.

You are invited to spend this year paying particular attention, though, to the light that shines in that darkness. The light of Christ is not overcome by even the most exhausting circumstances. Some days, you will be the one shining the light into the dark corners. Other days, you will be the one breathing the sigh of relief as someone else shows up with the flashlight. We’re all in this together.

Y’all may have heard about the huge undertaking that was getting this program year off the ground. Our move across the causeway could not have happened without the generous contributions of household goods and furniture from our community, or the countless hours put in by volunteers to move all of those household goods and furniture, and to prepare the apartments for the LEVNeers to move in. Several days out of the last few weeks, friends of the Belfry shined a flashlight for me and for Emily. This community is not just seven LEVN volunteers, or our staff, or our board, but the whole network of people who come together to build it,  piece by piece.

This year, I hope you feel like you are part of something. I hope you feel like you are invited and welcome to be all of who you are, whether you’re even sure who you are. I hope you feel like the other people here are learning alongside you, and that you—as individuals and as a community—are growing. I hope you feel like, as we talk and learn and read and sing and laugh, that you belong here.

There’s another Episcopal author named Diana Butler Bass who has written several books about church. She wrote one called Christianity After Religion that looks at what we’re going to be in this age of “spiritual but not religious”-ness. It’s an interesting book, but it has one part that I’ve carried with me since I read it several years ago. She says that in the old way of being church, there were three B’s: Believe, behave, belong.

You went to a church because you believed the things they believed (or wanted to) and then learned from them how to behave according to those beliefs, and then once you’d gotten all of that squared away, you could “join” the church officially. You could really belong there. That probably sounds familiar, and maybe doesn’t sound entirely problematic to you.

But what if we flipped it? She asks. What if instead, we belong and then behave and then believe? What if we are invited and welcomed into a community, no questions asked? What if, then, we see how others act and we learn new ways to love ourselves and our neighbors? What if, then, we come to believe the truths they teach?

You may not find this particularly radical, because you have been part of a community that operates this way. Or, you may be surprised to hear that such a way is possible. In either case, you belong here. This is a year of discernment, where you may change your mind about just who you are and how you belong here. That’s okay! That’s actually great!

If you discern that you’re Lutheran or that you aren’t; if you discern that you’re Episcopalian or that you aren’t; if you discern that you’re queer or that you aren’t; if you discern that you’re called to be a pastor or that you aren’t; if you discern that you’re going to go to graduate school or that you aren’t. You belong here.

In the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Romans that we just read from, he names outright that we are all bringing different things to the table. This year’s seven LEVNeers come from five different states, not counting the other states they lived in before that, or the countries they’ve lived in and served in. Y’all come from seven different families, communities, specific Christian traditions, and ways of being in the world.

This is the greatest strength of the Body of Christ. The seven of you and the wider community that supports the ministry of the Belfry are made up of prophets, ministers, teachers, preachers, givers, leaders, and helpers—just as Paul suggested. Our common life only works when each of us lives fully into the whole self that God has called us to be.

We talked this week about purpose and vocation, wondering about our passions and gifts, and how we can combine those into something beautiful and meaningful and life-giving. As this year continues, you will be amazed at how many different component parts make up the LEVN whole. You will begin to see the connections in the broader network of this diocese, this synod, this non-profit community, this city, and the Body of Christ. I don’t know where we’ll be when we gather to close this LEVN year, eleven months from now. But I know we’ll get there, together.

As we prayed the Daily Office together this week, one of my favorite prayers we prayed  was written by—you guessed it—Martin Luther. I love it because it acknowledges that the journey we embark on—whatever that journey may be—will be difficult, but that God will always accompany us. We will need our wits about us, and we will need to be courageous. Not because we are going it alone, but because God gives us the capacity to reach just a bit farther; to take the first step, even when we cannot see the whole road. Please join your hearts in prayer with me, one more time.

Lord God, you have called your servants to ventures of which we cannot see the ending, by paths as yet untrodden, through perils unknown. Give us faith to go out with good courage, not knowing where we go, but only that your hand is leading us and your love supporting us; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.