Two years ago, author and social science professor Brene Brown’s latest book, Atlas of the Heart, was released. Of the eight books Brene has written Atlas is her highest rated. Amazon customers give it 4.8 stars out of 5. Not too shabby.

The book’s goal is lofty: to define and summarize 87 different feelings with language both academically grounded and relatable.

I devoured the book earlier this Winter whilst laying fireside at home on an oversized beanbag. It was wonderful.

Brene, who has researched and written about feelings for over two decades, started her career by delving into the concept of shame.

In an early study she asked research participants to give examples of shame. Here are a few of them:

• Shame is raging at my kids.
• Shame is bankruptcy.
• Shame is my boss calling me an idiot in front of the client.
• Shame is my partner leaving me for my next-door neighbor.
• Shame is my DUI.
• Shame is infertility.
• Shame is flunking out of school. Twice.
• Shame is hearing my parents fight and wondering if I’m the only one who feels this afraid.

Shame, Brene concludes, is the fear of disconnection. It is a fear that something we’ve done, or failed to do, or an ideal we’ve not lived up to, or a goal we’ve not accomplished makes us unworthy of connection.

I’m unlovable, shame whispers in our ear. I don’t belong.

Poet
Today we set our sights on Psalm 25. The Psalm recalls the time Israel spent in the wilderness after their liberation from Egypt. The people were now physically free, sure. But they were, in many ways, spiritually lost. The author, a poet, grapples with what to do.

The poet faces guilt. It stems from the sins of their youth. Perhaps it was infidelity. Or theft. Or an addiction they can’t bring themselves to name out loud. The poet wonders, can’t the Lord, who loves them endlessly, forget what they have done?

The poet faces enemies. What if one of them finds out about the sins of their past? Will they be mocked? Will they be cast away from community? What would their friends, who now know, then say?

Worried, alone, not knowing where to turn, the poet bows their head in prayer.

To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.
Oh my God, in you I trust.

It is:
– the beginning of conversation
– an attempt to release their burdens
– a hope for a fresh start with God, with neighbor

Then comes the petition that informs the rest of the prayer.

Do not let me be put to shame.

For with shame comes the –
– threat of disconnection
– worry what you’ve done is impossible to forgive
– fear that, once the cat is out of the bag, you’ll be separated from all you love

Seeking freedom from this most harmful of feelings, the poet continues, praying to –
– be led in God’s truth
– know God’s ways
– be taught God’s paths

It is ok with the poet if being led in God’s truth, ways and paths takes some time.

For you I wait all day long, they cry.

The poet then recalls who they know the Lord to be:
– Good
– Upright
– Full of mercy

The poet knows –
– in their time of pain,
– in their time of shame, that
– God has their back.

Always has.
Always will.

All the paths of the Lord, the poet concludes, lead to steadfast love and faithfulness.

The poet is ready, it seems, to move on from shame. Instead, they journey towards forgiveness, mercy, right relationship with God, self, neighbor.

Today
As Lent begins we are reminded this too is a season of journey and self-discovery. The destination is clear; we’re winding our way to the Cross. It is a time of preparation, of having our paths made straight, in anticipation of the risen Lord.

Our gospel reading from Mark 1 finds Jesus in the wilderness for 40 days. The poet of Psalm 25 is in a personal wilderness, and desires to be on the path of the Lord. During this season the same is true of us.

Because of this wilderness, the journey and travel motif our Lenten lectionary takes on is darker than much of the church calendar. This focus on the darkness of the human condition is something I have grown to appreciate deeply over the years.

And yet sometimes our journey through the wilderness has a subtext that is less than helpful. Upon reflection of where we fall short, we have the potential to beat ourselves up in unkind ways. This can then lead to shame, and feelings of isolation, separation, distance from what and who we care for most.

God does not want that for us.

Instead, please know this. You are loved. You are claimed as a child of God in the waters of your baptism. This identity never goes away, no matter who you are. No matter what you have done.

Yes, to better follow Christ’s path requires change on our part towards a new way of being. That is done best in right relationship with God, and with others.

Brene Brown, in researching this most unkind of feelings, suggests there is an antidote for shame: empathy. For when we reach out and share our story with a trusted friend, and they respond with empathy it can’t help but bring us closer in community. For when someone knows, cares, and embraces you for who you are, without judgement, you are no longer alone.

If you’re feeling shame about something in your past or present, be like the poet of Psalm 25: take it to God. And then talk about it with a partner, family member, pastor, therapist or friend. Begin the hard work of getting through to the other side. Breaking the silence is the first step to being made whole.

During Lent we are asked to give up something to honor what Christ has sacrificed for us. People often give up things like gossip, fast food, social media, sweets, alcohol. Which is all well and good, and helps us on our way.

This year beloved let me encourage you to give up something else.

Give up shame. Connect with your Creator and your community, who can help.

Because God wants the best for us all.  Amen.

A reflection on Mark 1:21-28.

In 2013 the alt-rock band Imagine Dragons released their debut album, Night Visions. It was an instant success, becoming the fourth most purchased album nationally that year. One of the songs on this album, Demons, spent 61 weeks on the Billboard Hot 100 list, peaking at number six.

What makes this song, Demons, so successful? I’ll give you my take on that. The lyrics describe a certain darkness to the human condition, in language people can understand, in ways they can relate. In Lutheran terms, where we are both saint and sinner, at all times, it’s not the saint piece we’re talking about.

Lyrics to Demons describe the dark side to the human condition poetically:

When the days are cold
And the cards all fold
And the saints we see
Are all made of gold

When your dreams all fail
And the ones we hail
Are the worst of all
And the blood’s run stale

Look into my eyes
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Don’t get too close
It’s dark inside
It’s where my demons hide
It’s where my demons hide

Sometimes where the demons hide is crystal clear.

When Omar Mateen shot and killed 49 people, wounding 53 others in a mass shooting at Pulse, a gay nightclub in Orlando in 2016, there was no doubt. Something dark and unholy was afoot. Dear God, cast out the twin American demons of gun violence and hate crimes in our land that continue to this day. Lord, hear our prayers.

Other times the nature of the demon is less than obvious. That is the case with today’s scripture text. Modern translations of Mark chapter 1 use the phrase unclean spirit to describe what this man was possessed with, so let’s go with that. In biblical language to be unclean is to be impure. To be impure means simply contrary to the sacred. Aka not according to God’s plan.

Unclean Spirits
Today’s text finds Jesus, very early in his ministry, teaching in the temple on the Sabbath. Then, amid the normalcy of a typical worship gathering, right in the middle of his sermon, something unexpected happens. A man shows up, speaking directly to the preacher, saying, “What have you to do with us? I know who you are, Jesus!”

We don’t know the nature of this unclean spirit, so it would be unfair to speculate. We do know it recognized Jesus, and Jesus recognized the spirit as something not according to God’s plan. And with Christ, who was sent to earth to live out God’s plan, well, something had to give.

Jesus, in this moment didn’t launch into a parable. He didn’t draw signs in the dirt. And he didn’t shuffle off to the next town to teach elsewhere, as he sometime did when conflict arose.

Instead he acted, commanding the unclean spirit to leave the man, casting it out right then and there. The people gathered that day were amazed, realizing this Man doesn’t just teach, but acts. And even the unclean spirits, those spirits that aren’t according to God’s plan, obey him. At once the words and deeds of this new preacher began to spread.

Imagine if something like that happened here, during worship. Picture Pastor Pam and I on vacation, and another preacher were here in our place. And imagine if, right in the middle of the sermon, someone challenged them, and then had their unclean spirit removed, fully healing them in mind, body and spirit. Imagine that happening right before your eyes. You’d likely be amazed too. And would have plenty to talk about after service during coffee hour 😊.

Yet other times noticing unclean spirits, what they are, and how they are contrary to the sacred, and what we are called to do in those moments we encounter them, well, at times it can be a little more difficult to discern.

Here is one story about that.

Utopia
It was a gorgeous South Florida Sunday, about fifteen years ago, I remember it well. Kathi and I got up, showered, put clean clothes on and went to church. After service the congregation was invited outside for a pancake brunch, complete with eggs, sausage patties, hot coffee and fresh-squeezed Florida orange juice, mmmmmm, so tasty. The meal was spread out across several long rectangular picnic tables. People began to form a line to fill their plates, fill their stomachs.

Kathi and I got our food and sat down underneath a large, covered patio that protected us from the sun. We settled in to enjoy a good meal and good conversation. We were with people we knew, people we liked.

And what of the temperatures, my wintery Iowan friends? They were in the mid-70s; a light ocean breeze blew through the space, cooling everyone.

This is one of those moments I love most about participating in the life of the church. Music, prayer, message and communion, followed by the community gathering together for relationship, conversation, and a shared meal.

It was then, in the middle of a personal churchy utopia, that a member of the congregation came up and whispered something in my ear.

Casting Out
“A homeless man is here,” they said, “and in line for food. Should we do something?” I looked over at the serving line and easily spotted the man. Sporting a disheveled beard and filthy clothes, standing amongst the members of our congregation, all in their Sunday best, he was impossible to miss.

This was pre-seminary for me, pre-ordination, years before I’d first approach a pulpit to preach. Yet I was the Vice President of church council, and was being asked to take action. Asked to address this perceived issue one way or another.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I replied, heading back to my pancakes and orange juice. I remember thinking in that moment, what’s the big deal? Let the guy sit down. Let the guy eat. Maybe he’ll make a few friends. But I did nothing, settling for inaction instead.

A few minutes later, another church leader approached me with a different narrative. “There was a homeless person here that made a few people uncomfortable. So I went over, spoke with him, gave him some food, and escorted him off the property. I thought you should know.”

This unclean homeless man, physically unclean at least, had literally just been cast out from our church gathering.

My personal churchy utopia, a South Floridian garden of Eden of sorts, suddenly felt a little unclean too.

Taken in the context of today’s scripture, a question: who had the unclean spirit?

• Was it the homeless man, unclean physically, who had been cast out?
• Or was it me, who had taken no action, settling for personal comfort instead?
• Or was the unclean spirit not dwelling in one person, but instead a shared symptom of the congregation itself?

And if this unclean spirit was a shared symptom of this South Florida church how else could we – should we – have responded? I’ve held on to this story for fifteen years now and continue to grapple with it. My hope is you too are challenged by it. My hope is also that it might inform how we minister to the unhoused and food insecure here at St. John’s too.

Close
Sometimes demons in our world are really easy to spot, especially in our era where news is so readily shared. Other times, the nature of unclean spirits is more nuanced, and asks us to take a deeper look within.

It is here where Christ breaks into our world and sees us for who we are, as spiritually clean or spiritually unclean as that may be. Jesus lived a life of transformation, of action, and stands ready to remove the unclean spirits that are not according to God’s plan, and pluck them from us.

The Imagine Dragons song Demons closes with these fitting lyrics, that point us right back to our savior:

Your eyes, they shine so bright
I want to save their light
I can’t escape this now
Unless you show me how

Dear Lord, show us the unclean spirits within ourselves, those spirits that act contrary to your plan, whatever they may be. Cast out those unclean spirits, leaving us only Your heart for Your people. Guide us to model you and then act, moved by the Holy Spirit, being part of the transformation of this world you so love.

Then empower us to make room at the table you invite each of us to for a grand banquet. It is a table where none are sent away, and ALL ARE WELCOME, without exception. It is a table where we share in the heavenly feast, right here on earth together, as one. Amen.

In the beginning, when God created all that is, first darkness reigned.

Then came wind.
The wind was Spirit.
Over the waters it swept.

God said,
“Let there be light,”
and there was.

God saw that the light was good.
So God separated the light from dark.

God then got to naming, calling –
– The light Day, and
– The dark Night.

There was evening.
There was morning.

The first day.

Birth
In the beginning, when the divine descended down, darkness was all around. There were shepherds, a flock, fields afar.

God said,
“Let there be light,”
And there was.

This light was angelic, illuminating the night sky.

The light brought with it –
good news,
of great joy,
for the people.

The light told of –
a savior nearby,
wrapped in cloth,
lying in a manger.

The multitude sang –
Glory to God in the highest!
Peace on earth among all!

The light left. Darkness descended again.

The shepherds pondered.
What to do?

Sure, they could stay in the darkness.
Or they could journey towards more.

Let us go, they decided.
Let us see what the Lord has revealed.

They went.
They found –
The source of this light.

Laying there, in the manger.

It is a light that –
would guide them,
hereon out,
every step of the way.

Kings
In the beginning, before epiphany, darkness covered all. There were magi, eyes lifted heavenward, seeking a sign.

God said,
“Let there be light,”
And there was.

This light was star.
Just one, shining bright.

Seeing the star,
In the east,
The magi followed.

They went.
They found,
They gave.

Gold,
Frankincense,
Myrrh.

For they knew,
this light they’d found,
would guide them too,
hereon out,
every step of the way.

Water
In the beginning there was a messenger, wilderness, water.

The messenger baptized.
People confessed sin.
It was a moment to behold.

The messenger promised,
Another soon would come,
More powerful than he.

The messenger proclaimed
that they
would baptize,
not with water,
but with Spirit.

The same Spirit,
that moved,
over the waters,
that fateful first day.

And then it happened!
The messenger pointed, saying,

There is the light!
And there was.

For the light was Christ.

The light
was baptized,
by the messenger,
in the river.

As the light rose,
from the waters,
the heavens opened.

The Spirit descended,
like a dove,
upon the light.

God said,
“You are my Son,
The beloved,
With you I am well pleased.”

This light, those present realized, if they let it –

Would guide them,
Hereon out,
Every step of the way.

Today
As we begin two thousand twenty-four it may feel as if darkness is all around.

Political vitriol is seemingly everywhere,
Wars and rumors of wars abound, and
A mass school shooting in Perry, just three days ago.

In this moment let us remember who we are.

God created the light and called it good.
God brought the light, to us, in the form of Christ.
God revealed the light to magi, who sought it out.

Let us also remember our baptism. For –
we are awash in the light of Christ every single day.

We are called to follow the light.
We are called to be the light.
We are called to show the light to others.

For we are the people of the light.

This light we’ve found,
will guide us too,
hereon out,
every step of the way.  Amen.

A Christmas Eve message based on Luke 2:1-20.

Recently, my wife and I sat down one evening to watch a Hallmark Christmas movie. This is one way we wind down during a season filled with hustle and bustle and todo lists quite long.

By chance we found ourselves instead watching a Hallmark Hanukkah film, Round and Round. With most Hallmark holiday movies the main plot is familiar: two strangers meet – that first connection called a meet-cute I recently learned – and slowly fall in love. Rachel and Zach’s meet-cute happens on the seventh day of Hanukkah. Which is one day short of the holiday’s conclusion, known as the Festival of Lights.

This film has a funky twist: Rachel keeps living the 7th day of Hanukkah over, and over, and over. The movie title, it turns out, is a play on words. The dreidel spins each day that repeats; round and round it goes.

Known as a time loop, the fictional plot device finds the main character experiencing the same day repeatedly. All in the hopes they break the cycle and can move on.

Have you seen the classic 1993 movie Groundhog Day? That’s a time loop. Bill Murray had to figure some things out to get to the next day. Basically, how not to be such a selfish jerk 😉.

Early in this time loop Rachel tells Zach what she is experiencing, hoping he can help her escape it.

Zach suggests she might need to change something to move on.

“My life is going perfectly,” Rachel responds. “I can’t think of anything I need to change.”

Over the course of the film we learn otherwise:

A boyfriend breaks up with her. “I’m going to get dumped every day for the rest of eternity,” Rachel laments. She learns to let it go.

Rachel is unhappy with her job.
That, too, needs to change.

And the young adult manuscript Rachel wrote a decade ago, and filed away in a box? It’s time to dust that off and finish her dream.

Learnings complete, Rachel finally wakes up to the next day. Rachel and Zack also fall in love as you might guess. This is a Hallmark holiday movie, after all 😊.

More importantly, perhaps, she can now light the eighth and last candle of Hannukah.

The symbolism is clear.
Light always defeats darkness.
Even if it takes some time.

Along the way Rachel found herself on a new, unexpected path.

It is a path that allowed her to move on.
It is a path that led to something.

Stuck for so long she has been freed.

With this path she finally found peace.

She
As a betrothed young woman Mary had so much to look forward to. With marriage in this era came certainty, status. Friends, family, community would soon be secured. With it too came hope; of love, of children, of being part of something greater than herself.

Then out of nowhere an angel appeared.
What do you mean I’m pregnant?
Mary had no reason to think she was.

She was, however –
Surprised,
Perplexed,
Afraid.

Her future plans were now in doubt.

Yet the angel spoke with confidence.  Do not be afraid, they announced.

What the cherub claimed this child would be amazed her.

She pondered. This would be a path radically different than what she had once planned. But there was so much potential. So much to be gained. Could the role she played in this moment really matter that much?

She realized it could.

She prayed. And prayed some more. And then came to the conclusion that made all the difference in the world.

Here I am Lord, she said. Let it be.

Mary chose the path less travelled. Why?
She wanted peace.

He
This news surprised Joseph too. Mary, you’re what? Trying to avoid embarrassing her, Joseph planned a quiet separation. He wanted this unexpected drama to just go away. With that things could get back to normal. At least some semblance of it.

Besides, his carpentry shop was busy enough. Joseph didn’t need this.

Yet his future plans were also in doubt. What would be of his hopes for love, family, a legacy that lives on? Joseph couldn’t help but wonder too.

But then –
a dream,
an angel,
a familiar refrain.

Do not be afraid.

The angel sounded so sure.

He pondered. How do you parent a deity adopted from beyond? How on earth could he explain this to friends? Like an episode of I Love Lucy he’d have some ‘splaining to do.

He prayed. God, is this your will? It asks so much. Yet deep down Joseph knew.

Ok Lord, he said, taking Mary as his wife. Let it be.

Joseph chose the path less travelled. Why?
He wanted peace.

New
Travelling, for Mary and Joseph, was far from done.

Their hearts had been strangely warmed.
Their heads aware of what was to come.
Their feet now prepared for an upcoming trip.

The pair then went, by government decree, to a land not their own. Ninety miles from home, even on a donkey, would not have been fun. For Mary’s pregnancy was quite far along.

Away from all they knew, labor pangs begun. Now what? Their options for overnight accommodations were limited. Finally, something.

Stay with the animals, a local resident offered. Make yourselves at home.

The pair settled in as best they could.
It was there, amid humble beginnings,

Mary gave birth,
Wrapped the baby in cloth,
And laid him in a manger.

Their trip, a destination birth if ever there was one, had indeed delivered. The pair found themselves staring into the eyes of nothing less than the Prince of Peace.

They
It was just another shift for the shepherds, tending their flock at night. They walked, they wandered, they gathered. Amid the darkness that surrounded them they wondered: is this all their lives had become?

It was all so –
Mundane,
Predictable,
Non-descript.

But then, amid the monotony of the same –
a bright light,
an angel,
a familiar refrain.

Do not be afraid.

The angel sounded so sure.

The angel spoke of good news and great joy for all people. For a savior had been born, this very day. Could this great joy be for them? They, the lowly shepherds, who slept outside, without homes, under the stars at night?

They pondered.

And they could go, and see this savior with their own two eyes?

They pondered some more. It would mean leaving their routine, in search of the new, yes. But the potential was so great. They tired of the conflicts in their towns, their synagogues, among their politicians. Was it possible that could change?

And then, a multitude of the heavenly host shone all around them, lighting up the night sky, singing:

Glory to God in the highest heaven!
Peace on earth among all!

That settled it. They would leave the familiar in search of the child.

So they went.
And they found.
Mary, and Joseph, and child.

The shepherds chose the path less travelled that night. Why?
They wanted peace.

Us
I’d suggest that, as practicing Christians, we find ourselves in a time loop of sorts at the end of each year.

Some of this loop is pretty awesome. Each Christmas Eve we gather in beautiful spaces like this, celebrating the birth of the savior of the world. We listen to the same scriptures. We hear sermons with similar themes. We sing the same sacred songs, Harkening the Herald Angels to Sing, wishing a Silent Night to all.

Each year the pattern repeats our hearts are strangely warmed.

We then celebrate with our own traditions, be it with family, neighbors, friends. At our house, right after the midnight service we’ll head home, open one gift before bed – just one kids – and read a short book. Lately that’s been the Cajun Night Before Christmas, and that is all kinds of fun.

Then the next morning for us it’s the opening of stockings while the cinnamon buns bake for breakfast. Then the opening of presents under the tree, enjoying family time together. My wife and I, somewhere in there, enjoy a mimosa or two, yum 😊.

Other parts of our Christmas time loop leave us unfulfilled. We celebrate the Prince of Peace breaking into our world, each and every year. But we don’t always experience the peace Christ came to bring.

We desire –

Peace in our hearts,
Peace in our homes.

Peace in our communities,
Peace in our churches,
Peace in our country.

And yet we must confess often we’re just not there.

We pray for peace between –
Israel and Palestine,
Russia and Ukraine.

And peaceable solutions at our borders.

Each year we go, round and round, waiting, hoping, yearning, praying for peace.

Doing the same things,
Getting the same results,

Every time.

To break out of that loop, to better live into this peace Christ brings, just might ask something of us. It is the only way to disrupt this cycle of violence and enter a new day. To do that just might require we change.

Hear friends, the voice of the angels.

Do not be afraid.

Behold, today brings with it good news and great joy for all people. For a savior had been born, this very day. This great joy is for you.

Go now, to the manger. Worship the Christ child. He was sent to challenge all we thought we once knew. But don’t just go to manager today and tomorrow.

Take that path less travelled out of your comfort zone each and every day.

Why?

Because we want peace.

Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Merry Christmas, beloved.  Amen.

As many of you know, last Sunday we voted to extend a call to our hoped-for next Associate Pastor here at St. John’s. It is an exciting time to be part of this congregation. So much hoped for good news seems near. While there is no formal news to share just yet, plans seem to be coming together nicely for this possible call. Waiting for a formal acceptance of call, for a Pastor, during Advent, a season of waiting, seems, well, apropos.

Two weeks ago, to help us prepare for this hoped for addition to the team, our church treasurer Kathy McIntyre drafted the accompanying call compensation package. This fairly mundane task involves built-in calculations residing in an Excel spreadsheet. Much of which is predefined by Synod guidelines. Kathy asked me to take a quick look at her work, giving one more set of eyes to it before hitting send.

This, plus this, equals that;
That, times a percent sums just so –

Everything seemed just fine.
But then, something popped.

That social security offset?
It needed an update.
I was sure of it.

I picked up the phone to tell Kathy.
Just calculate it from this row, not that.

Are you sure, Pastor Ryan, she asked?

The directions, Kathy continued,
suggest it be done –

that way,
not this.

Oh, I’m sure of it, Kathy.
It’s a quick fix.

Ok…she replied…I’ll update it. In retrospect, she seemingly sounded somewhat unsure.

I was right, wasn’t I?

This is a standard form.
I’ve used it many times.

I must be right.

Beginning to feel a bit unsettled I decided to recheck.
Perhaps, this time, it would help to read the directions.

As Kathy suggested, the directions said the calculation should be done that way, not this. Hmm…

Following directions now, I rechecked, confirming a sneaking suspicion.

My pulse quickened.
A lump in my throat soon formed.

It was pretty clear what I needed to do.
I picked up the phone to call Kathy again.

Hey Kathy!

It’s me again, Pastor Ryan.
You know that calculation?
Apologies, my friend.

I WAS WRONG.

This is my confession 😊.

Wilderness
Our text this second week of Advent begins with the beginning of Mark. It is the beginning of the good new of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. With this opening we are pointed back to the prophetic voice of Isaiah.

A messenger is being sent,
Who will prepare the way.
A voice from the wilderness, saying –
Prepare the way of the Lord!
Make his path straight!

This text serves, too, to introduce us to a New Testament prophet with some Old Testament bona fides.

He was clothed in camel hair.
With a leather belt around his waist.
And he ate locusts and wild honey.

I can’t help but think –

He’s got electric boots, a mohair suit,
You know I read it in a magazine.
B-B-B-Bennie and the Jets.

J-J-J-John the Baptist.

This wild child, cousin to Christ, couldn’t help but stand out in a crowd. He didn’t just stand out. Crowds flocked to him. People came from the countryside, and the big city of Jerusalem. What exactly were they drawn to? What caused them to leave their daily routines, drop everything, and head to the wilderness to meet this man?

Why was it he, who claimed to be unworthy to untie the sandals of his cousin Christ, could cause such a stir?

Release
Perhaps it wasn’t John that they were interested in. Perhaps they needed to let something go. Perhaps they had been holding on to conflict, with a neighbor, friend, relative, coworker, spouse or child. Perhaps, like me, they had been wrong about something. And yes, that does happen with some frequency. Just ask my wife 😊.

Perhaps they needed to confess something.
Perhaps this need to confess had been brewing for some time.

Perhaps they needed to name this conflict and their role in it.
Perhaps they needed to have a difficult conversation, long overdue.
Perhaps their pulse was quick; their feelings of guilt strong.

Perhaps they desired absolution, to receive God’s word of forgiveness, making them whole with God and neighbor once again.

Perhaps.
Perhaps.
Perhaps.

Whatever their reason for being there the people came from near and far. They confessed that which separated them from one another.

Oh, there would be more ahead for the people gathered there that day.

John prepared the way,
John was not the way.

And yet this act of confession and absolution, in the waters of John’s baptism, had done something.

They had been cleansed from that which soiled them.
They had been released from that which held them down.
They had been prepared for he who was soon to come.

Today
Just as John prepared the way for Christ, so too are we called to prepare.

May we too recognize that which separates us from God, from neighbor.
May we too confess what needs confessing.
May we too seek to make amends.

For it is in these cleansing waters of restoration where we find peace.

May we ready –

Our hearts,
Our minds,
Our souls,

Forgiveness is ours for the taking.

Right relationship? It’s just around the bend.

Let us prepare for the divine to dwell among us.
May Christ’s path to us be made straight.

Come, Lord Jesus, come.  Amen.