Matthew 6:7-15 (Common English Bible)
“When you pray, don’t pour out a flood of empty words, as the Gentiles do. They think that by saying many words they’ll be heard. Don’t be like them, because your Father knows what you need before you ask. Pray like this:
Our Father who is in heaven,
uphold the holiness of your name.
Bring in your kingdom
so that your will is done on earth as it’s done in heaven.
Give us the bread we need for today.
Forgive us for the ways we have wronged you,
just as we also forgive those who have wronged us.
And don’t lead us into temptation,
but rescue us from the evil one.
 “If you forgive others their sins, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you don’t forgive others, neither will your Father forgive your sins.

Acts 2:42-47 (Common English Bible)
The believers devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to the community, to their shared meals, and to their prayers. A sense of awe came over everyone. God performed many wonders and signs through the apostles. All the believers were united and shared everything. They would sell pieces of property and possessions and distribute the proceeds to everyone who needed them. Every day, they met together in the temple and ate in their homes. They shared food with gladness and simplicity. They praised God and demonstrated God’s goodness to everyone. The Lord added daily to the community those who were being saved.

REFLECTION: One of the most interesting parts of our tour throughout Jordan and Jerusalem last January, were the number of cities we actually got to visit.  While our itinerary said we would visit 8 cities, or something to that effect, I would gather that we visited more like 15-20.  How, you might ask?  Not only were we visiting the modern day city of Jerusalem, but we were also visiting the 3 or 4 or 5, or maybe even 6 layers of city that lay underneath and shed light on who we are as a civilization.  

Some Greeks had a notion that there were layers of humanity: The Golden Age, the Silver Age, the Bronze Age, the Heroic Age and the Iron Ages.  Some said that these ages were descending, getting progressively worse.  Other Romans had a notion that humanity was progressing through world powers: the Assyrians, the Medes, the Persians, the Macedonians and the Romans.  These were ascending, with Rome as the climax.  And then we have Jerusalem, who may have held fast to ascending humanity, or to descending civilizations, but nonetheless, provides evidence that there are certainly layers of the human experience.

Regardless of the civilization or the culture, Greek, Roman, Jewish.... We can see that for thousands of years we, as human beings, have been operating on this "layer" system in which we see different levels of our human experience.  So when we hear the words, "Thy Kingdom come," it is hard not to think of God's kingdom as the ultimate layer of existence.

Is God's kingdom the very top?  Do we get to see God's kingdom at the very end?  Or is God's kingdom at the very bottom, the very foundation upon which we are building, but perhaps covering up?  Are we waiting for God's kingdom to come at some future point and time, or could God's kingdom come right here and now, in our own lifetime?  We pray each and every week, "Your kingdom come," but how does God's kingdom come?  We pray each and every week, "Your will be done," but how is God's will done?

Join us this Sunday as we discuss more about the Lord's Prayer and the foundations of the church, as we focus on the second phrase, "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."

Our faith community simply isn't the same without everyone in our community present - so we hope you will join us!

On Monday I talked about familiarity, especially with your family, and how being so familiar with someone or something might prevent us from seeing the newness that is offered to us with each and every interaction.  James may have been holding onto the familiarity of his brother Jesus, which prevented him from seeing in fullness, Jesus as the Risen Christ.  It's like having your hands full to the point that you can't accept anything new, so we have to put something down.

This morning we think about the flip side of familiarity - familiarity and comfort.  In so many of these resurrection appearances Jesus eats with his disciples.  On the road to Emmaus he breaks bread with them when they arrive; on the beach Jesus eats a meal with the disciples.  Here in Luke the disciples are still afraid and Jesus uses food as a way to comfort them.  He eats fish with them, something we are sure they would have done together, as fisherman and fishers-of-men, many times.

If the church has done one thing right over the years, we can at least say we haven't failed at the food = comfort part.  "Sharing food is so simple, and yet so important."

After funerals, there is food; after weddings there is always cake; when we celebrate a milestone in the church, there is food; when we celebrate a new beginning with a baby, we bring food to their home.  When we know that not all of our neighbors are able to do the same, we provide food; when strangers are caught in systems that prevent them from the fullness of life, we provide food.  Whether its food pantry, or a soup kitchen, a potluck at church, bringing food to someone in their home, or communion on Sunday, "in breaking bread together, we find reassurance, security, comfort."

Familiarity and  comfort are found in the risen Christ.  Jesus is still the "same ol' " Jesus, "the guy they loved, their friend and master.  He was still the man who had walked with them by the sea and ate fish, cooked over a fire, day in and day out."  Jesus may not be able to physically offer us a piece of fish, but Jesus draws us into that familiarity.  As we wrestle with the risen Christ, and what the means, the fear, the questions, the doubts, Jesus draws us "into the miracle and reality of his resurrection."

Won't you come break bread with us this Sunday morning, and join us in feeling the reality and miracle of the resurrected Christ?

Blessings... Laura

There are countless times when I have thought over, re-hashed, listed, catagorized, theorized, analyzed, or otherwise overthought situations, information, and decisions in my life.   Sometimes there is a running circle of I-should-have-dones that paralyze me for the next thing coming.  Nine times out of ten, I know what the answer is, I just forget to stop digging for more information.  

I'm a music teacher.  And there are many times, once a student has done the work of learning notes, words, fingerings, terms, and more, that they just need to stop thinking and do it.  They need to get out of their minds and into their hearts in order to make it to the next level of musical expression. It is the same principle in sports.  Athletes need to do the same thing in order to run a 4-minute mile or a marathon. And only the few who can get beyond the fear actually achieve those hurdles.

Recently, a friend asked me to work with his son who was auditioning for a part in a musical.  He had 16 bars to prove his worth.  Dad had helped him learn the notes and the words, but they were both stuck on making it work.  We talked briefly about what needed to be done physically to make the sound happen, and the son understood what needed to be done, but the kid wasn't doing it. He knew he could and he wanted to, but he couldn't get out of his own way.  

I told him that no matter what I did, he had to keep singing.  We started and I pushed him in the chest and told him to risist, all the while he was singing.  I tried like hell to push him over and he pushed right back.  He began making some glorious sounds he had never made before.  Dad was dumbfounded. And so was son. It wasn't too high.  It wasn't too hard. It was just too scary. All I really did was make him think about something else.  I made him get out of his own way.  It was in him all along.

Nadia Boulanger was a famous French music teacher who coached a number of American composers of the Twentieth Century.  She once said that her only job was to turn on the light and ask why the student couldn't turn it on for himself.  She knew that her students possessed everything necessary to succed. They just needed to get out of their own ways.

The word is already planted in us.  We know what needs to be done.  But we are afriad.  Afraid that we don't know the notes.  Afraid we will make a mistake. Afraid that if we run a mile in six minutes that we have failed.  Afraid of the judgement of others.

Funny thing.  My oldest son seems to know the truth. Shortly after discovering Power Rangers, he made a note for everyone in the family.  It was a few years ago, and I'm not sure how his brother's note survived the piles of paper in the house.  But he knows that hope is in his brother.  It is in you, too.  

This past week, I have been re-reading a favorite historical fiction novel called The Expected One. Similar to Dan Brown's approach with The DaVinci Code, Kathleen McGowan weaves together pieces of histories, stories, and images to create a compelling account of Mary Magdalene, her life in the teachings of The Way, and the aftermath of Jesus' crucifixion and resurrection.  The story, in may circles, is considered heretical, and the results of that heresy are played out in the modern story line of the book.  I am not a biblical scholar, so I'll skip over any thoughts I might have about which historical pieces are supported and which are creatively manipulated by the author, but I will share my experience reading it for the first time.

I was travelling on business when I was pregnant with Andrew and had two long cross-country flights.  After the first, I knew I would need something better than television and magazines to occupy time during my evenings in the hotel and on the flight home.  I picked up the book on my first evening, read about three quarters of it during my stay, and - on the third day - took the return flight home.  It was there, in a single front-row seat, adjascent to the flight attendant's station, that I found myself weeping overtly at the foot of the cross.  McGowans description of scene was vivid, and her care in expressing Mary's overwhelming emotions carried me directly into the moment. The roar of the engines and the scraping metal sounds of the wobbling  beverage cart drowned out the sound of my sobs, Mary's sobs, as Jesus died.  Had they not, I'm sure the passangers behind me would have thought that the pregnant lady in the front was about to come unglued.  The stewardess had her suspiscions and eyed me closely.

I write today, on Good Friday, having calculated that I have one hundred and one pages to finish reading after I sing the Agnus Dei at service tonight.  I know what's coming.  But I will still read into the night. And I will weep.  I will follow Mary's example, because I love Him. And because God reveals himself to those who love Him, as he did to Mary that first Easter morning.

May your Easter refelctions be blessed by these thoughts.

                                                                                                  - Blessings, Amy