The garden could perhaps be better described as a small-scale farm with all kinds of vegetables, from kale to corn to cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, herbs, beets: you name it; they had it. So, after taking time to bless each plot individually, we began our work. Serene is the first word that comes to mind reflecting on the experience of digging rows for the corn and planting seeds while absorbing the pleasant warmth of the sun on our arms and neck. Friendly is the next word that comes to mind as we chatted with each other and with the sisters, all of us delighting in our efforts, knowing every scoop of worm castings and every drop of water would in some way contribute to the happiness of the sisters and the community at large with whom they intend to share much of the food. It was the beauty that attracted us initially, and the serenity and the friendliness that kept us happy and working hard. Combine that serenity and friendliness with the homemade food from homegrown ingredients, the playful dogs and cats, and the meaningful prayer services, and Ora et Labora (Prayer & Work) was nothing short of a vacation within the enchanted realm of St. Mary's convent. Personally, I am eager to be involved in what will undoubtedly be many future service trips from Sewanee.

- Peter Kennedy, C'13

*photos courtesy of Sister Madeleine Mary of St. Mary's Convent

ALLELUIA!  CHRIST IS RISEN! 
THE LORD IS RISEN, INDEED!  ALLELUIA!

Such joy there must have been that first Easter morn: that kind of undefinable, uncontainable kind of joy....the kind of joy that comes from deep within. Who would have EVER thought that Jesus would be (could be) raised from the dead?? Only hours before, the lives of his disciples had just about come to an end as well. Their leader, teacher, friend and companion had been brutally beaten and nailed to the Cross. He was left there to die. And die, he did. And in his death, their hopes were dashed. They spent that sabbath in grief, together ........devastated, numb, clinging tenaciously to their memories of Him.   How would they go on? LIke all of us who have known such pain.... by putting one foot in front of the other. That's what the women did the next morning. With the passing of the sabbath, they knew they would now have to prepare His body properly, for burial. And so, to the tomb they went, dreading the deed that lay before them. Imagine the queer feeling that came over them, when they first saw the stone that had been rolled away. What in the world?? Later, Mary Magdalene would peer inside, only to see the linens folded neatly, and two angels in white, sitting where her master had once lain.   

"HE IS NOT HERE! HE HAS BEEN RAISED! ", they said, "by the power of the Most High God".  

The joy of Easter Morn comes with the sure knowledge that God's love reigns supreme. And that nothing, (and now, not even death) can ever separate us from the love of God.... as witnessed to us in the life, death, and resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.  HAPPY EASTER!

- The Reverend Annwn Myers, Associate Chaplain

“Jesus Christ, I’m alone again.

So what did you do those three days you were dead?

Jesus Christ, I’m not scared to die,

But I’m a little bit scared of what comes after.

Do I divide and fall apart,

Because my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark?

The ship went down in sight of land.

And at the gates, does Thomas ask to see my hands?”

Today is the day of the tomb. A dark tomb, devoid of light, color, and life. The day where Christ was dead, and all hope felt lost. The day of the pit, of the deep, of the 11 hiding, wondering what went wrong, and where had hope gone? Will he come back? When the earthquake struck and his life blood ebbed--was that the end, both for him and for us?

The words above come from a lyric by the band, Brand New. They are searching words, ones that have always resonated deeply within me because of their honesty and the clarity of the questions. Jesus Christ, what did you do those three days you were dead? The lyricist speaks of a fear of what will come after the last breath is taken--will I divide and fall apart as my lesser bright is encompassed by my dark? The words drip with the pain of the lyricist, pain embodied in Thomas' doubt and in the fear of that day of waiting. What if he doesn't come back?

What if he doesn't come back?

On Saturday, we are reminded of suffering, and its inevitability within the human condition. Fear. Grief. Pain. Destruction. Loneliness. Mary's suffering. The suffering of the 11. Our expectant suffering of what may or may not come to pass. However, suffering is no stranger to God. The book of Lamentations is a witness to the suffering of the Hebrew people after the fall of Jerusalem in 587 BCE during their exile in Babylonian slavery. The carnage and destruction they experienced was rampant. The book provides a language with which the community can deal with suffering. "Streams of tears flow from my eyes because my people are destroyed." They had been to the Promised Land, but were now in exile, suffering in slavery. Waiting and hoping.

Last week I had the opportunity to attend David Roby's new play, "Sometimes there's God so quickly." Sometimes maybe there is, sometimes there isn't. But the play revolved around rape and environmental degradation and destruction. The similarities between the two were powerful--both involve being stripped, both involve taking, both involve disregard and disrespect. Both involve suffering.

But I think that's what Jesus was doing the three days he was dead. He was in solidarity with our suffering, waiting expectantly for resurrection and redemption--for new life. Right there with us, among all of the dirt and tears and death. Today is the day of the grave, and without it, there could be no reason for the day of celebration. Both stand next to one another, celebration and suffering.

"The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
      When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight." Kahlil Gibran in The Prophet

Today might be suffering, but tomorrow there is celebration, and they do not exist without one another. Just as now there is night, there will soon be sun rising once again. Today is Exile. Today is suffering. Tomorrow is Exodus. Tomorrow is salvation. Tomorrow is life. And Christ is in both.

With expectant breath for the risen Son:

- William Watson, C'13

- The Reverend Tom Macfie, University Chaplain, C'80, T'89

Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be answerable for the body and blood of the Lord. Examine yourselves, and only then eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For all who eat and drink without discerning the body, eat and drink judgement against themselves. For this reason many of you are weak and ill, and some have died. But if we judged ourselves, we would not be judged. But when we are judged by the Lord, we are disciplined so that we may not be condemned along with the world.

Today we experience the profundity of Maundy Thursday, commemorating the Last Supper of Christ with his apostles. 1 Corinthians 10 helps us understand our own role in the Eucharist as Christ’s people: we participate in the body and blood of Christ. This means that we remember the slain body of Christ for our sins, yet we simultaneously share in the benefits of Christ’s crucifixion as we participate in this holy meal.

The symbolism of the bread we share goes further: although we represent a multiplicity of viewpoints, cultures, and theologies, we become one through the Eucharistic meal we share at God’s table. By partaking of one bread, we are united with the body of Christ – both the physical, sacrificed body of Christ and the metaphorical body of Christ: his church, our fellow worshippers.

If we read on to Chapter 11, however, we find that our own participation in the Eucharistic meal must be preceded by the reality of fellowship with Christ and his followers. We are held accountable for our own preparation before the Lord’s table. We are to examine ourselves – not, let us notice, others in the next pew – to determine our worthiness to partake of the Eucharistic meal. Through this look into our selves, we discern the meaning of the elements of bread and wine and examine our own spiritual health.

The rich imagery of the Maundy Thursday service helps us absorb the significance of this passage. The altar is stripped, reminding us of Christ’s impending death. We wash one another’s feet, reminding us of Christ’s love and his commandment to imitate his humble acts of service. We participate in the Eucharistic meal, with Christ’s death and resurrection heavy on our hearts.

Almighty God, help us to examine our own lives that we may be worthy of coming to your table. Remind us of the significance of the gifts of Christ’s body and blood and the spiritual benefits we have gained through his death and resurrection. We thank you for the gift of your son; grant us the humility to serve others in his name. Amen.

Kristin Hanson C ‘12

“The stone that the builders rejected
   has become the cornerstone;
this was the Lord’s doing,
   and it is amazing in our eyes”?’

When it comes to Jesus’ parables, I always have to do a double take. My initial reaction is usually to cram the story into some sort of logical, surface-level box. In this case, it would be easy to dismiss this story as merely an allegory for the Jews’ rejection of Christ, and while that may be true, I don’t think we can stop there. If we don’t dig deeper into this story, if we forget the bottomless quality of the parables, we can miss all of the nuances and surprising new insights that it has to offer.

Jesus' parables combine realistic details from first-century Palestinian village life with details that are strange and not the way the ancient world, or even our world today, operates. Jesus is trying to explain, in a way that his audience will understand, what the kingdom of God is like. In this parable, it is entirely possible that a vineyard owner would send a servant to tenants to collect his share of the produce. It is even plausible that the tenants would resent the landowner who had, perhaps, bought up their family plots and converted them into a vineyard, a common practice at the time. It would have been economically beneficial, while at the same time, creating a power differential between him and the tenants: making them dependent tenants rather than independent landowners of these small plots. What seems odd, though, is that the tenants would repeatedly abuse and even murder the landowner’s emissaries without any reprisal. In interpreting parables, often the glimpse into the kingdom of God comes to us through these types of strange details.

It’s all too easy to play the blame game with this parable, and throughout Christian history, many interpreters have. An allegory that highlights the murder of God's Son by Jewish leaders and the transfer of Israel's privileges to the Church can quickly become fodder for anti-Semitic rhetoric if one is not very careful. We must remember that this is a critique by a Jew to fellow Jews, designed for edification, not condemnation, and rather than using this passage to indict others, we should focus on the lavish outpouring of divine patience and mercy that the landowner demonstrates in sending his beloved son. Even though these tenants have pushed their luck, blown their all their chances, plucked his last nerve, and pressed every last button, they cannot call a halt to the height, depth, or duration of his mercy. And the same is true when we look at the person staring back at us in the mirror. We push the limits on God’s patience, but he continually showers us with grace. For me, that means coming back, each and every day, and reminding myself that my worst days are never so bad that I am beyond the reach of God's grace, and my best days are never so good that I am beyond the need of God's grace.

- Emily Rhodes, C'12

As we come into the end of Lent and the midst of Holy Week, I find myself in yet another place of pause - peace - contemplation. We have to get ourselves ready, to shift gears yet again, and to make some sense of the past 40 days as we look with hope unto the next, and all the days after that. In this letter, Paul says that they were able to "rely not on ourselves but on God", and that "on him we have set our hope". These particular words especially speak to me as I think about what it means to not be able to do things completely on my own, without having to rely on anyone else - even God.

I find this very hard to do, wanting to think of myself as an independent, intelligent, and able person, who by now has "figured a few things out" about life. I don't want to have to rely on anyone, especially God. I am someone who has trouble asking anyone for anything. It takes strength to be humble, and great courage to find the strength for this humility. Sometimes it's easier to just puff up and attempt to hold your own.

Lent has been a time for me to practice humility. In prayerful pause and realization of my own inability to do absolutely everything for myself, I have learned what it means to offer up not only what it is I need help with, but parts of myself I've kept locked away. I've learned that we can't necessarily "trust in our own strength or wits to get out of it" (from Peterson's Message), and that our own prayerful presence is part of our own rescue.

For it is only in God and in the Christ-like substance of God in each other that we can truly find the power to overcome "burden beyond our strength...despair(ed) of life itself." Humility brings us outside of our own self, a hard and scary thing to do, for the uncertainty is dark - but so is the tomb - the empty tomb that so soon will promise resurrection and new life.

I can't wait - but for now, I humbly must.

Father, give us the humility which realizes its ignorance, admits its mistakes, recognizes its need, welcomes advice, and accepts rebuke. Help us to sympathize rather than discourage, and to build rather than destroy. Help us to see within ourselves as well as without, and to love as selflessly as you have loved us. In your Son's name we pray, Amen.

Mary Emma Kingsley, C'13

Then they came to Jerusalem. And he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling and those who were buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold doves; and he would not allow anyone to carry anything through the temple. He was teaching and saying, ‘Is it not written,
“My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations”?
   But you have made it a den of robbers.’
And when the chief priests and the scribes heard it, they kept looking for a way to kill him; for they were afraid of him, because the whole crowd was spellbound by his teaching. And when evening came, Jesus and his disciples went out of the city.
In the morning as they passed by, they saw the fig tree withered away to its roots. Then Peter remembered and said to him, ‘Rabbi, look! The fig tree that you cursed has withered.’ Jesus answered them, ‘Have faith in God. Truly I tell you, if you say to this mountain, “Be taken up and thrown into the sea”, and if you do not doubt in your heart, but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you. So I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.

‘Whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone; so that your Father in heaven may also forgive you your trespasses.’

This passage has always been an interesting and thought-provoking story for me. The picture that I usually have in my mind does not include Jesus flipping over tables and cursing things. When I first read over this passage it reminded me that while Jesus is fully God, he is also fully human. As a human, he experienced the full range of emotions that we do every day. Not only that, but he has done some of the same things I have done. While I have never cursed a Fig tree, I have many times become angry with Chic-fil-A for not being open on Sundays. There is something very comforting to know that our Lord and savior really does know exactly how we feel, even in our less than perfect moments.

After my initial reading, I went back to the scripture and continued to look into what was going on in the mind of Christ.  Around my third or fourth time reading these verses, I began to see what I believe Jesus was really saying in this story. The issue here was not about Jesus being hungry, but about what we as followers of Christ are supposed to do. The Fig tree was created by God himself to create figs, just as we were created to continue Christ’s work in the world. When Jesus goes up to the Fig tree and sees that is has not produced fruit it causes him to curse the tree, being disappointed with it not carrying out the work it was given to do. At the same time, once Jesus enters into the temple he flips over tables and makes it clear to everyone that this is not what the Temple was built to do. The Temple is supposed to be a Holy place for people to go and worship God and carry out good works in his name. It seems to me that Jesus is saying just as these things have a purpose to produce good, I have given you a purpose to be carried out for me. Some people may call it destiny or a calling. If you think about it, our calling is really what most of us are looking for in college. Were looking for what we are supposed to do with our lives. I believe that Christ offers that explanation by simply saying “do what I have created you for” which is serving and glorifying him to all people. Of course, at times this is a hard task. However, just like the Fig tree, even when it is not our season we are to produce good fruits of labor for Christ. It is important to understand that we do not do these things because we owe Christ for dying on the cross for us or because our good works will get us into heaven, rather we act because once we know and have felt the love of Christ we cannot help but desire to serve him. It is important, especially at this time in our lives, when we our studying and choosing our career paths for our  future to keep in mind what Christ wants us to be doing as well. We were each handpicked by God for a specific purpose and it is our job to serve Christ in whatever way he has planned for us. As we move from Palm Sunday into the beginning of Holy week, I would like to challenge each and every one of us to discern exactly what Christ wants for us to do with our lives for him. Not all of us are going to be priests or missionaries, but no matter what profession we are called to, Christ has work that we are intended to do and our mission is to discover that purpose for our lives.

One of the principal rules of religion is, to lose no occasion of serving God. And, since he is invisible to our eyes, we are to serve him in our neighbor; which he receives as if done to himself in person, standing visibly before us. – John Wesley

-Michael Sahdev, C'14

Then he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there; and he said, ‘It is written,
“My house shall be a house of prayer”;
   but you have made it a den of robbers.’

Every day he was teaching in the temple. The chief priests, the scribes, and the leaders of the people kept looking for a way to kill him; but they did not find anything they could do, for all the people were spellbound by what they heard.

Our mental images of this salient moment in the Gospels are likely to be informed by the more detailed description found in John’s rendition; ‘Jesus went up to Jerusalem and found in the temple those that sold oxen and sheep and doves and the changers of money sitting. And when he had made a scourge of small cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep, and the oxen; and poured out the changers’ money and overthrew the tables’ (2:14-15).

I find this episode from the Gospels difficult to come to terms with because I am a Christian pacifist, and have been since my time at Sewanee as a student in the late ‘90s. It is the power of Christ’s nonviolent actions that I find so compelling, and how this nonviolent approach has inspired changemakers as diverse as Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Leo Tolstoy and Thomas Merton. Indeed the peacefulness of Christ’s life is not a modernist revision; it was at the core of his ministry, it was the paradox that alluded so many of his contemporaries, including the disciples; the Jews had expected the messiah to come in the form of a warrior king who would lead them to marital victory over their imperial oppressors. Instead they were confronted with a servant king who taught parable and paradox rather than revolution.

Still there’s this scene at the temple, Jesus with his whip unleashing his fury on the merchants and lenders. What to make of this? Are there simply limits to nonviolent response? When push comes to shove is violence the only reasonable course of action? Countless words have been written trying to resolve such ponderous questions, so I won’t add to them here except to say that having been a witness my own country at war for the past ten years has done little to convince me that violence is an effective solution to complex problems.

In reflecting still more deeply on this passage, I begin to focus not on what Jesus did as much as where he did it, in the temple itself, the sacred space, the place of prayer and intimate connection with the divine. In this I can see a clear analogy to my own life, in the need to fight to preserve this kind of sacred space within my mind and within my heart. Like the temple in Jerusalem, my mind and heart are often occupied by material and worldly affairs and I lose my connection with the transcendent. In this contemplative season of Lent, Jesus’ act of clearing the temple feels like a reminder to clear out those holy places within myself, to fight for the time and the energy for the clarity and the discipline to set my mind on highest things, to study and marvel at my interrelationship with all things and so also with the divine. This kind of fight is not against others but against ourselves, which course is our hardest and most prolonged struggle of all.

-Skip Bivens, C'99 & Acting Assistant Dean of Students

May God Bless you with endless love letters!

Anna Alikhani C’14

When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, ‘You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.’

I have always been deeply perplexed by the relationships between Jesus and the disciples.  It seems dynamic and constantly changing, so that I never feel that I have a firm grasp on the dimensions of the interactions.  This ever-changing relationship, however, offers to us a picture of our own relationship with Christ.  We are imperfect and must constantly strive to increase our devotion and service to the one who so willing laid down his life for us.  As we approach Holy Week, I can only imagine what it would have been like to hear Jesus describe his fate.  Rather than offer their friend and Lord solace however, James and John ask a favor of Jesus, that they may be granted a position to forever sit in his glory.  While this response may be callous and selfish, it highlights the imperfection of man in the light of Jesus and allows Him to respond with comforting words.  When the ten remaining disciples become angry with James and John, Jesus offers them reassurance that they too have the ability to shine in the glory of Christ.  To be “great” or “first,” they must humble themselves the way the Lord has and they way he will express his humility in death. 

During this time of Lent, we must humble ourselves to shine in the glory of Christ.  We can do this through prayer, service, reflection, and sacrifice, but we must remember to emulate the Son of God in his humility.  Jesus says that he “came not to be served but to serve,” a model that man should strive to follow.  The culmination of Lent in Holy Week allows us to fully grasp our inadequacy in the face of Jesus giving his life to forgive our sins.  It humbles us more than any of our own actions ever could and reasserts the importance of our continued service to God and our fellow man.  Let us continue to foster our humility and reflect on the sacrifice of Jesus, the greatest and must humble servant of all.

-Mary Margaret Winn, C'13

As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honour your father and mother.” ’ He said to him, ‘Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.’ Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.

Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, ‘How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!’ And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, ‘Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.’ They were greatly astounded and said to one another, ‘Then who can be saved?’ Jesus looked at them and said, ‘For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.’

Peter began to say to him, ‘Look, we have left everything and followed you.’ Jesus said, ‘Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.’

Giving up our Cheese Strings

The first time I heard the story of Jesus and the rich man, I was a six-year old Sunday School devotee.  I was still at the point in my faith where God was a Colgate-smiled, golden-tanned, white-robed, well toned, middle aged man who sat watching my daily to do’s from the magnificent marble steps of a cloud-perched Parthenon. 

My mother recalls me bouncing down the hall one morning after Sunday School, anxiously retelling how Jesus instructed a man to give away all his money in order to get to heaven.  This, of course, is a perplexing thing for a six-year old to ponder.  Money is what bought me my new American Girl doll, Felicity, at Christmas.  Money was what supplied my cheese string and cinnamon apple sauce addiction after a long day of 2nd grade!  At this point my little mind was most likely winding away at one golden question: how could Jesus, looking at me with love just as he regarded the man, want me to forfeit my dolly, my cheese strings, and my cinnamon apple sauce? Now that’s just not very Jesus-y.

The thing I couldn’t grasp when I was a child was what lay beyond Jesus telling the man to give away his riches.  Like the wealthy man, I too went to church on Sunday and children’s bible study on Wednesday nights. I too didn’t steal, tried my hardest not to lie or be jealous, respected my parents, didn’t take Gods name in vain. These are things all of us try to do.  But these are just the beginning of Christianity: we need Jesus to bring us into Gods glory. What Jesus is trying to tell the man, to tell us, is to have faith in God.  When we have faith, when give up all of our American Girl dolls, cheese strings, and apple sauce cups, God will protect us.  Through faith, we are saved from harm, hunger, sadness: everything.

-Megan Ebel, C'15

Reading through 2nd Corinithians, it is helpful to understand where Paul is coming from when he writes this letter. Imagine this book of the Bible as a diary entry: 1st Corinthians notes all the problems with the Church of Corinth and 2nd Corinithians reveals Paul's personal struggles and joys of his ministry throughout the conversion process.

I think the most important line Paul writes in this passage is in Verse 6 of Chapter 3: "He has made us competent as ministers of a new covenant--not of the letter but of the Spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life." Paul was dealing with a very large task by entering and witnessing in the town of Corinth. With God's help, he realized the most important problems and crafted a plan to present Christ to this town and church. When faced with challenges like this in our lives, we have to realize that these works are not our own doing, but God's work in us. This does not only apply to not being arrogant about ourselves to other people, but in our hearts we know what our motives are. The most fascinating aspect of the Christian faith I have found is the ability God gives us to "boast" in Jesus Christ. Jesus so incredibly represents all of our sins that are left behind and eliminates all judgment by the law. This is the only religion where we are not trying to live up to a god's standards, rather our God came down to earth to chase after us. When we boast in Jesus, it is a unique opportunity God has given us to spread the joy of being in Christ.

One of the best ways to witness the Christian faith is to show the joy of the "spirit" in our lives. This spirit is the most encouraging presence we have and is easily visible to others. As we take advantage of the opportunities God has given us to witness, remember that it is not our own work, but God's work in us. This most importantly gives us confidence that God is with us every step of the way, just as He was with Paul approaching the town of Corinth.

- Charles Warren, C'15

‘For everyone will be salted with fire. Salt is good; but if salt has lost its saltiness, how can you season it? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with one another.’

I must say, this is not the most enjoyable passage to read.  I don't know about you, but reading about the pitfalls of sin always makes me uneasy--probably because like each and every person I myself am full of sin.  The very word 'sin' is uncomfortable for me; self-reflection on it highlight bits of myself that I do not like to think about and would rather sweep under the proverbial carpet of my mind to collect dust and mold.  And yet I find myself unable to shy away from my own faults and flaws when I read what Christ has to say in this passage.

I certainly hesitate to take it literally; if I did then I would be without hands and feet and eyes pretty quick.  Yet I do not think that God is asking me to cut off my appendages, sinner that I am.  The hope that I find in this passage is the commonality we all share as human beings: that we are not without sin.  We all will find our minds directing our hands, feet, eyes, and bodies towards negativity that is hurtful to both ourselves and others at some point or another. 

Christ recognizes this.  He knows each of us, and knows each sin, each wrong we commit.  Yet He does not shy away from calling us to be responsible for our actions, to attempt to live a life worthy of the blessed compliment of being made in God's image.  A footnote in the Bible I have reads, "often sin can be conquered only by radical spiritual surgery."  Yes indeed, God calls for us to turn from our sin and turn towards God.  At times this can be the most radical act we take.  Without negating the pain and complications that we all have faced, are facing, and will face, Christ ushers forth the example of a life lived for God.

Gracious God I pray for the strength to admit my wrongs, and to accept my flaws.  Allow me to turn towards you, and know that I may rest in your arms even as I fall.  I thank you for the responsibility and freedom to deny the sin that exists within me, and ask for your forgiveness when I fail.  Amen.

-Rob McAlister, C'12

The one who prays using a private "prayer language" certainly gets a lot out of it, but proclaiming God's truth to the church in its common language brings the whole church into growth and strength. I want all of you to develop intimacies with God in prayer, but please don't stop with that. Go on and proclaim his clear truth to others. It's more important that everyone have access to the knowledge and love of God in language everyone understands than that you go off and cultivate God's presence in a mysterious prayer language—unless, of course, there is someone who can interpret what you are saying for the benefit of all.

Think, friends: If I come to you and all I do is pray privately to God in a way only he can understand, what are you going to get out of that? If I don't address you plainly with some insight or truth or proclamation or teaching, what help am I to you? If musical instruments—flutes, say, or harps—aren't played so that each note is distinct and in tune, how will anyone be able to catch the melody and enjoy the music? If the trumpet call can't be distinguished, will anyone show up for the battle?

So if you speak in a way no one can understand, what's the point of opening your mouth? There are many languages in the world and they all mean something to someone. But if I don't understand the language, it's not going to do me much good. It's no different with you. Since you're so eager to participate in what God is doing, why don't you concentrate on doing what helps everyone in the church?

So, when you pray in your private prayer language, don't hoard the experience for yourself. Pray for the insight and ability to bring others into that intimacy. If I pray in tongues, my spirit prays but my mind lies fallow, and all that intelligence is wasted. So what's the solution? The answer is simple enough. Do both. I should be spiritually free and expressive as I pray, but I should also be thoughtful and mindful as I pray. I should sing with my spirit, and sing with my mind. If you give a blessing using your private prayer language, which no one else understands, how can some outsider who has just shown up and has no idea what's going on know when to say "Amen"? Your blessing might be beautiful, but you have very effectively cut that person out of it.

I'm grateful to God for the gift of praying in tongues that he gives us for praising him, which leads to wonderful intimacies we enjoy with him. I enter into this as much or more than any of you. But when I'm in a church assembled for worship, I'd rather say five words that everyone can understand and learn from than say ten thousand that sound to others like gibberish. (translation from The Message)

The Message translation of the Bible says "Go after a life of love as if your life depended on it--because it does" 1 Corintihans 14:1. How encouraging, yet challenging is that statement! Paul is urging us to put aside our earthly treasures, and focus on what is everlasting, which is our relationship with Him. In this passage he speaks of God-given spiritual gifts, and prayer language. He challenges us to not only develop an intimate relationship with God through prayer, but to proclaim His truth to others as well. It is here that we can realize our faith in God, and relationship with Jesus is too good, and too important to keep to ourselves. Sharing your faith and the truth in Jesus' teaching I believe can come in a multitude of ways, but there is no doubt that the Bible calls all believers to share Christ's love. Paul tells us that when we are sharing the truth, we should do so in everyday speech. I challenge you to think right now of one way you can proclaim God's truth, through love today, whether it is big or small.

- Rachel Dunn-Rankin, C'12