Renewal Works

Psalm 119:33-40

33 Teach me, O Lord, the way of your statutes, and I shall keep it to the end.
34 Give me understanding, and I shall keep your law; I shall keep it with all my heart.
35 Make me go in the path of your commandments, for that is my desire.
36 Incline my heart to your decrees and not to unjust gain.
37 Turn my eyes from watching what is worthless; give me life in your ways.
38 Fulfill your promise to your servant, which you make to those who fear you.
39 Turn away the reproach which I dread, because your judgments are good.
40 Behold, I long for your commandments; in your righteousness preserve my life.

This year, Monday Matters is focused on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

What's worth watching?

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. -Philippians 4:8

The psalm reprinted above, a psalm you may have heard in church yesterday, is really a cry for help. The psalmist asks God to teach, to give understanding, to keep him on the right path, to turn him from reproach, all part of a longing for God to show the way. Have you ever shared in that longing?

The zinger that I find whenever I run across this psalm comes in v. 37. The psalmist asks the Lord to “turn my eyes from watching worthless things.” What we watch is often where we give our hearts. You might say that we are what we watch. What are the worthless things that come into our vision? By way of confession, I think of the excessive time I spend on social media. I think of the shows I watch that are hardly edifying, that do the spirit no good. I think of how my derangement syndrome causes me to watch the news over and over again, not making me more informed. Just making me mad. I think of a whole other kind of worthless thing: the savoring of resentments, the envy of those more fortunate than myself, the active resistance to forgiveness. All worthless.

It all leads to the question: what are things that are worth watching? It occurs to me that with the passing of Wendell Berry, we could take wisdom from those who watch the world through poetic lens. For instance, perhaps the most famous of Mr. Berry’s poems, “The Peace of Wild Things.”

Maybe we turn to the watchful eye of Annie Dillard, from her book Pilgrim at Tinker Creek:

Then of course, there’s the wisdom of Mary Oliver:

Or the teaching of Rabbi Abraham Joseph Heschel:

And no surprise, Jesus as poet as well as prophet and priest, guides our vision.

Finally, St. Paul speaks of what we should look for, where we should be looking:

There’s a lot to look at in this big, beautiful world. Some of it is worth our attention. Some of it: not so much. The practice of faith, the discipline of faith, the journey of faith, is a lot about where we choose to focus, what we look at, what we watch. May this week we be given grace to watch what is worth watching.

-Jay Sidebotham

Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45c

1 Give thanks to the Lord and call upon his Name; make known his deeds among the peoples.
2 Sing to him, sing praises to him, and speak of all his marvelous works.
3 Glory in his holy Name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.
4 Search for the Lord and his strength; continually seek his face.
5 Remember the marvels he has done, his wonders and the judgments of his mouth,
6 O offspring of Abraham his servant, O children of Jacob his chosen.
23 Israel came into Egypt, and Jacob became a sojourner in the land of Ham.
24 The Lord made his people exceedingly fruitful; he made them stronger than their enemies;
25 Whose heart he turned, so that they hated his people, and dealt unjustly with his servants.
26 He sent Moses his servant, and Aaron whom he had chosen.
45 Hallelujah

This year, Monday Matters is focused on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

True religion

As I was looking up which psalms were to be read in church yesterday, my eyes drifted off to note the collect assigned for the day. It’s one that catches my eye each time it comes around. My interest lies in the prayer: Increase in us true religion. What do you think constitutes true religion? Who gets to decide?

Right now, there’s a lot of debate in our nation about the role of religion in our common life. There are forces insisting on injecting religious texts and precepts into schools, medical decisions, public policy. When I consider the policies of those pushing for religious intervention, I’m all the more convinced of the need for separation of church and state. There are any number of folks claiming religious authority that I would not want deciding for me what true religion means. (I appreciate the wisdom of theologian Dave Barry who noted: People who want to share their religious views with you almost never want you to share yours with them.) And I’m certain that a vast majority would not want me to select the person to determine what true religion means in our common life.

Now maybe if Dolly Parton was in charge, I’d want her to do that work. I would not be alone. Lacking that opportunity, think with me this morning about what true religion is all about.

You may have heard Psalm 105 in church yesterday. It provides insight into true religion. It begins and ends with praise, by giving thanks to God and by glorying in his name. As the psalm begins with praise, it ends the same way, with a simple hallelujah. In other words, true religion begins and ends with a humble recognition that our lives unfold in the presence of a power greater than ourselves, in the confidence that such a greater power is in essence about love. That can be hard to believe at times, but if we can even embrace of bit of that as true, I believe it leads us into true religion, which is an attitude of gratitude and a spirit inclined toward praise. Start today with some thanks and praise.

The psalm calls for our own intention and participation in true religion. It instructs us to search for the Lord and his strength. We are to continually seek his face. There is a persistence called for by true religion. We have skin in the game. We are meant to continue the search even as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death. What does that search look like for you this morning?

The psalm calls for us to remember. Religion finds its roots in the word religio which means to bind again. There’s an aspect to religion that involves remembering what God has done. We do that every week in the eucharist, with a prayer that includes in one form or another a citation of the good things that God has done in the past. That portion of the eucharistic prayer is referred to in technical liturgical terms as anamnesis. Literally not amnesia. Not forgetting. How quickly we forget. Religion brings us back. And it does so not in isolation but in community. We can’t do this alone. As we are bound again to a tradition, we are bound to each other.

One aspect of true religion not noted in this particular psalm surfaces later in the New Testament. In the letter of James, a practical guide to putting faith to work in the world, the author says that, among other things, true religion is a matter or helping orphans and widows (James 1:27). I take that as shorthand indicating that true religion exhibits a preferential option for the poor, finding Christ in those pushed to the margins. If you heard a reading from Romans in church yesterday, it speaks of the call to pray for enemies, to forgive them, to be in relationship with the “lowly”. That’s such a Jesus thing. According to St. Paul, Jesus did not take equality with God as something to be grasped but emptied himself, taking on the form of a servant (Philippians 2).

We live at a time when it may be more palatable to be spiritual and not religious. A lot of that has to do with the dismal way that religious institutions have failed, the damage they have done, the injustices in which they have been complicit. Which makes it all the more important, as religious endeavor to search for the Lord and his face, to continually seek his face. Think today about how you might define true religion. What are its key components? How might you practice it this week?

-Jay Sidebotham

Psalm 138

1 I will give thanks to you, O Lord, with my whole heart; before the gods I will sing your praise.
2 I will bow down toward your holy temple and praise your Name, because of your love and faithfulness;
3 For you have glorified your Name and your word above all things.
4 When I called, you answered me; you increased my strength within me.
5 All the kings of the earth will praise you, O Lord, when they have heard the words of your mouth.
6 They will sing of the ways of the Lord, that great is the glory of the Lord.
7 Though the Lord be high, he cares for the lowly; he perceives the haughty from afar.
8 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you keep me safe; you stretch forth your hand against the fury of my enemies; your right hand shall save me.
9 The Lord will make good his purpose for me; O Lord, your love endures for ever; do not abandon the works of your hands

This year, Monday Matters is focused on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

Before the gods I will sing your praise. -Psalm 138:1

This phrase from Psalm 138 (reprinted above) points to the belief reflected in scripture that the biblical people lived in the presence of all kinds of gods. As the children of Israel made their way through the wilderness, headed for the promised land, again and again they were warned: Don’t be taken in by the local gods. We find it not only in the stories of the Hebrew Scriptures, where we run up against Baal and Molech and a bunch of other deities. It also turns up in the New Testament, when Paul goes to Athens (Acts 17…great story…take some time to read it later today) and comments on the various gods worshipped by the Athenians. There’s even a statue to the unknown god, just to cover all bases. We might be tempted to regard this polytheistic way of thinking as quaint. We might think we have outgrown such primitive notions. But it may provide an opportunity to think about the various gods we continue to worship. Where do we, as individuals and as culture, ascribe ultimate value?

I’m almost finished reading a great book (highly recommend) by Samuel Wells, Rector of St. Martins in the Fields in London and former chaplain at Duke. The book is entitled Humbler Faith, Bigger God. As someone who has clearly spent time among smart and skeptical college students, he presents objections to the Christian faith and outlines a way to respond to those objections in order to generate a lively faith, a faith to live by.

There’s a wonderful passage in which he goes through the ten commandments and talks about how each of the commandments addresses the fact that we don’t think we are enough or have enough. That sense of not-enough-ness is timeless. Each of the commandments can identify the fact that we don’t think we have enough.

Covetousness, adultery, bearing false witness among others, can be seen as a belief we do not have enough. When he gets to the first commandment, which says you shall have no other gods before me, that clearly indicates that in life, there are many things we might regard as holy, as ultimate, as worthy of our worship. When we do that, he believes it’s saying that our God is simply not enough.

Not surprisingly, he says it better than I can. Addressing the second commandment (having no idols) he writes:

Surely the psychology of this is that God is not enough – not big enough, or at least not near enough. So shall I make a god I can relate to, a god my size – a car perhaps, a career maybe, even the scales that tell me how much I weigh. And now we’re getting nearer the heart of the problem. There’s an abiding anxiety that we don’t have enough – not enough property, not enough time, not enough love, not enough language. But the heart of the matter is that we feel we don’t have enough God.

He then writes, in God’s voice:

I am a God of abundance, who gives you more than enough, far more than you could ever want or need, who created galaxies no one may ever see, who has depths of forgiveness no sinner may ever require, who gives in Jesus more love than you could ever realize.

The author of Psalm 138 recognizes there are other gods we might turn to, perhaps more accessible. But that author offers a bigger picture, moving into unfettered praise of the God of creation. That psalmist had glimpses of a god who all the kings will praise, and at the same time great enough to pay attention to the lowly.

J.B. Phillips wrote a wonderful, small book called Your God Is Too Small. I think that’s what Mr Wells is after. A bigger picture. How can we arrive at that broader view, that singular focus this week? No other gods. Jesus said: Seek first the kingdom of God and all these other things will be added to you.

There may be a course correction needed as we all contend with divided attention. We may not have chapels in our homes dedicated to the worship of Baal, but I venture a guess that we all are pulled in many directions. With awareness of that, we shift our focus to gratitude for all good gifts around us, with awe for the beauty of creation, with worship of a God who does far more than we can ever imagine, a God from whose love we can never be separated.

-Jay Sidebotham

Psalm 85:8-13

8 I will listen to what the Lord God is saying, for he is speaking peace to his faithful people and to those who turn their hearts to him.
9 Truly, his salvation is very near to those who fear him, that his glory may dwell in our land.
10 Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other.
11 Truth shall spring up from the earth, and righteousness shall look down from heaven.
12 The Lord will indeed grant prosperity, and our land will yield its increase.
13 Righteousness shall go before him, and peace shall be a pathway for his feet.

This year, Monday Matters is focused on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

Grace and Truth

I’ve been traveling the past two weeks in pilgrimage in the United Kingdom, having spent a few days on the island of Iona, moving on to Northumbria. I was not able (or smart enough) to send this reflection from the wilds of Iona, so you’re getting it late, with the psalm from Sunday, August 9. I’ve learned all kinds of stuff on this journey, suspecting that I must have slept in for a few seminary classes in church history.

I learned about King Oswald, whose feast day was observed last week. He grew up in the seventh century, and went into exile in Ireland and Iona. He wanted to bring the gospel to North Umbria. So he sent the first missionary, Corman, whose ministry bombed. Corman soon returned to Iona, complaining that the Northumbrian people were stubborn and impossible to teach. What a relief to know that modern day clergy would never make such a complaint! For their part, those Northumbrians complained that Corman was a harsh teacher, maybe proclaiming truth but doing so in an off-putting way. What a relief to know that modern day parishioners never regard their clergy in such a way!

Oswald did not give up. He sent another monk named Aidan to take on the mission. Aidan met the people with patience and grace, walking with them, turning down a horse to ride on because it put him above the people, talking to them and most important listening to them. He stayed to become bishop of Lindisfarne, carrying out a ministry regarded as fruitful. The graciousness of his ministry was strong enough to be recounted many centuries later.

The key to Aidan’s success: he not only communicated the truth of the gospel, which the people had not heard, truth they needed to hear. He also did so with grace and humility. He refused the gift of a horse, preferring to walk among the people. I was intrigued by this glimpse into church life in the seventh century. It shows that little has changed over the years. We still these days find plenty of religious people who will bring their truth with harsh rigidity and very little listening. Religious people convinced that they have the truth can run with that confidence, and in the process run over people. As Dave Barry asked: Why is it that religious people want to tell you what they believe but never want to hear what you believe? Ever experienced that? We hunger for those who can bring truth with grace, recognizing that the two need to go together.

The psalm you may have heard in church last week, reprinted above, speaks of mercy and truth meeting together, righteousness and peace kissing each other (Psalm 85:10). It brings to mind the prologue from John’s gospel, in which the author speaks of the Word made flesh. That prologue says that Jesus arrived, full of grace and truth. It’s so clear to me that we need both.

Truth without grace was Corman’s downfall. Have you ever had someone present what they thought was the truth in such a way that you felt judged or diminished? Have you ever presented your truth that way? The lack of grace in such presentation can make the most important truth inaccessible.

Grace without truth may be what Bonhoeffer had in mind when he spoke of cheap grace. Grace and mercy and compassion find their greatest impact in the context of a realistic assessment of the human condition, that fact that we fall short, that fact that we need help, the fact that help comes from a source higher than ourselves.

Going back to the beginning of John’s gospel, Jesus comes to us full of grace and truth.

The gospels are shot through with truths that challenge us. Jesus said that any who would follow him must deny themselves, take up the cross and follow. He says that if you want to find your life, you have to lose it. At the same time, he graciously invites all who labor and are heavy laden to come to him, to find that his yoke is easy and burden is light. He himself stretches arms of love on the hard wood of the cross to draw all humanity into his saving embrace. Expansive grace meets the hard truth of that hard wood.

So what do we do with all that? We look to Jesus, full of grace and truth. We are called to remember that when we share our truth, we are called to do so with grace and humility. When we speak of righteousness, we are called to do so with mercy. Might you have occasion this week to hold those two things together, to practice them both?

-Jay Sidebotham

Below you will find a new resource offered by the Center for Discipleship and Renewal at Forward Movement (the new initiative of which RenewalWorks is part) called Sharing Our Stories, with a brief introduction from Robert Hendrickson, Chief of Discipleship Initiatives at Forward Movement.

Dear Friends in Christ,

This short series is about something wonderfully simple and deeply important. It is focused on learning to tell the story of God’s friendship with us, and discovering that sharing our faith is one of the most natural expressions of discipleship.

Before we begin, one small confession. Along the way we stumbled over lines, laughed at ourselves, had microphones misbehave, found strange camera angles, and made more than a few mistakes.

The course is less than perfect because following Jesus has never been about getting everything right the first time.

Discipleship is joyful experimentation. It’s trying, learning, growing, and trusting that God is at work even in our imperfections.

We hope these sessions encourage you not only to tell your story, but to discover in new ways that God can use it just as it is and laughs alongside us as we learn and grow together in faith.

Yours in Christ,

Fr Robert Hendrickson

We are excited to introduce a new short video course to support worshipping communities growing in faith. Sharing Our Stories will help disciples understand, develop, and pray with their own stories of faith in conversation with stories from the Bible, the saints, and other Christians.

These three videos - each lasting fifteen minutes or less - are now available on the Cedar website, where you will also find a downloadable discussion guide and a transcript of the course. The videos are also available on YouTube.

Designed for adult formation sessions or leadership retreats, the videos may be watched in person or online in a group with guided conversation, or at home and then discussed later in small group settings. The course is ideal for one 90-minute session or three separate shorter sessions.

The course features Robert Hendrickson, Chief of Discipleship Initiatives at Forward Movement, Andrew Stravitz, Episcopal priest and Marriage and Family Therapist, and Kristin Tovar, artist, entrepreneur, writer, and community builder. In this course, they teach practices of story-sharing that will help participants further engage the story of God in their lives. Exploring a theology of friendship with Christ through modern and ancient stories, groups will be guided through a meaningful and engaging practice designed to help share your stories and to grow in love of God and neighbor.

Episode One, “The Scripts We’re Given,” explores the religious scripts we are often handed in American culture, and why they do not capture the fullness of our lives in God. Participants are guided through practices of discovery and bearing witness to their own stories.

Episode Two, “Friendship with God,” deepens the engagement with Jesus’ stories of friendship, with special care to plumb those stories and our own with responsibility and love.

Episode Three, “You are the Letters of God,” explores where Jesus is most active in Scripture and in our own lives. Participants are led in an exercise to help them explore and share their own stories in light of Scripture.

As a pilot course for Cedar, feedback is welcome as future short courses are in the works. Please email Taylor Devine, Church Relations Coordinator for Discipleship Initiatives, to request a review form or to provide feedback.

Psalm 17:1-7, 16

1 Hear my plea of innocence, O Lord; give heed to my cry; listen to my prayer, which does not come from lying lips.
2 Let my vindication come forth from your presence; let your eyes be fixed on justice.
3 Weigh my heart, summon me by night, melt me down; you will find no impurity in me.
4 I give no offense with my mouth as others do; I have heeded the words of your lips.
5 My footsteps hold fast to the ways of your law; in your paths my feet shall not stumble.
6 I call upon you, O God, for you will answer me; incline your ear to me and hear my words.
7 Show me your marvelous loving-kindness, O Savior of those who take refuge at your right hand from those who rise up against them.
16 But at my vindication I shall see your face; when I awake, I shall be satisfied, beholding your likeness.

This year, Monday Matters is focused on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

Vindication

Each week, I focus on a psalm presented by the lectionary. I respond to a word or phrase that grabs my attention or piques my interest. This week, I kept thinking about vindication, a word found not only in Psalm 17 (verse 2) but in many other psalms. The author of the psalm trusts in his ultimate vindication. It seems like the author thinks he has proved himself to be so special that he has earned the vindication of the Holy One. God is lucky to have him on the team. I find that attitude less than attractive, as it implies that God owes it to the author to vindicate him, as the author believes that God will find no impurity in him, that the psalmist has given no offense with his mouth. Let’s just say that I would not be able to make those claims for myself.

It got me thinking about one of Jesus’ parables, heard in church recently (see Matthew 13). A person planted a field. Good plants grew up. In the middle of the night, weeds were sown and grew up among the good plants, all intertwined. Folks working in the field ask the owner if the weeds should be uprooted. They want immediate vindication. The owner says to leave the weeds alone. Relax. They will be taken care of in due time.

There are various interpretations of the parable. That’s what makes parables so wonderful. Here’s what I take away: It’s not really our job to obsess about the bad things that crop up in the world. We won’t get rid of them. We aren’t the ones who need to fix everything. For some mysterious reason, those weeds are here among us, perhaps within us. We are called to trust that God will take care of them in the end, that God will bring about justice. As St. Paul said: It is God who justifies. We are called to wait for God’s vindication, called to believe that will happen. Maybe to take to heart the wisdom of Julian of Norwich: All will be well and all manner of things shall be well. When we are animated by that kind of trust, it changes the way we look at the world, at ourselves, at other folks. It has the potential to lower our anxiety. It can help us get along with others better. The repeated biblical injunction to avoid judging other people is a way of leaving the judgment to God.

That doesn’t mean we abdicate the call to address events in the world that trouble us. In fulfillment of baptismal promises, we strive for justice and peace and respect the dignity of every human being. I’m moved by the witness of St. Pauli Murray: “In not a single one of these little campaigns was I victorious. In other words, in each case, I personally failed, but I have lived to see the thesis upon which I was operating vindicated. And what I very often say is that I’ve lived to see my lost causes found.” Another vision of vindication came from martyr Alexei Navalny, who in his non-anxious way said before his eventual murder by Putin: “Everything will be all right. And even if it won’t be, we’ll have the consolation of having lived honest lives.”

Ultimately, a belief in God’s vindication is an expression of hope. Not vindication based on our own moral magnificence, not vindication due to our remarkable management skills, but vindication of God’s way in the world. What would it look like to trust in that vindication? I’m working on it. It’s a work in progress, for I can get all worked up about the things I see going on in the world, wanting to order the things that I see as out of order. I want vindication that my point of view is the right one. I can wish for bad things to happen to people who I think are doing bad things. My search for vindication too easily becomes vindictive.

The message of the psalm is that God is the source of vindication. God will be the ultimate healer of the world. As we make our stand on the hope that God is in charge, that God is about love and healing, we are freed to do whatever is set before us. To follow Jesus who came to serve. To be merciful with ourselves and those around us. To do our bit to make the world better and kinder. That’s a wonderful way to wait for God’s vindication. Experiment with it this week.

-Jay Sidebotham

Our Rector went on sabbatical for 3 months in the fall of 2025.  We were all a bit nervous – we’re a small church with one paid clergy member, and we were about to go 3 months with only our part-time parish administrator and the Vestry to hold everything together.  We just wanted to get to Advent without everything falling apart.   

“You should do Renewal Works while I’m away,” our Rector said.  We had started Renewal Works in December 2019, and had gotten through the Spiritual Life Inventory before the Covid pandemic derailed our plans to do the workshops.  We weren’t sure if it was a good idea or a bad idea to try again while he was on sabbatical, but we decided to go for it. 

And guess what?  It was a great idea!  In many ways it was something that brought us together as a congregation.  Our Rector was away, we had to steer the ship ourselves, and through our conversations and discernment in the four Renewal Works workshops, we got to figure out what direction we wanted to go.  It was a risky move for our Rector (what if we discerned a direction he didn’t like, or didn’t play to his strengths?), and empowering for us. 

I think we came out of the process with more autonomy as a congregation.  We had worked through this discernment process on our own, come up with ideas and initiatives, and developed a sense that we could generate the enthusiasm and excitement necessary to start and complete new things.  Going forward, we know that we are the ones who have to do the work to make things happen, and not simply defer to the Rector or wait for him to give us a push.  Our Rector has learned that he can be more hands-off, and let congregational leadership take the lead, giving him more time and energy in other areas.

- Neal Christopherson

Psalm 105:1-11, 45b

1 Give thanks to the Lord and call upon his Name; make known his deeds among the peoples.
2 Sing to him, sing praises to him, and speak of all his marvelous works.
3 Glory in his holy Name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice.
4 Search for the Lord and his strength; continually seek his face.
5 Remember the marvels he has done, his wonders and the judgments of his mouth,
6 O offspring of Abraham his servant, O children of Jacob his chosen.
7 He is the Lord our God; his judgments prevail in all the world.
8 He has always been mindful of his covenant, the promise he made for a thousand generations:
9 The covenant he made with Abraham, the oath that he swore to Isaac,
10 Which he established as a statute for Jacob, an everlasting covenant for Israel,
11 Saying, "To you will I give the land of Canaan to be your allotted inheritance."
45b Hallelujah!

This year, Monday Matters is focused on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

What do you seek?

During the time leading up to Easter, a church I know and love offers a program called the Catechumenate, taking that name from an ancient Christian tradition. In the early days of the church, the Catechumenate functioned as preparation for adults who wished to be baptized at Easter.

The congregation I have in mind broadened the vision for this program to include people eager to know more about faith, folks who sought renewal of faith, folks finding their way back into church, some former nones and dones. Each year, near Easter, participants in this program would stand before the congregation to share reasons for their participation. According to tradition, the clergy would ask each participant this question: What do you seek? The answer: A deeper life in Christ. This Monday morning, I’m wondering how you might answer the question: What do you seek?

Since we’re journeying back to ancient church traditions, let me share what I’ve learned about baptisms of adults in the first centuries of the church. Like the service of Holy Baptism which we now practice in the Episcopal Church, that early liturgy included lists of renunciations and lists of affirmations. The lists were quite long. In the Prayer Book of the Episcopal Church, those are summed up in three renunciations and three affirmations.

In the early church, baptism was held on Easter Eve, at the Great Vigil of Easter, an all night service that would challenge contemporary worshippers who grouse when a service goes over an hour and who time the clergy's sermons lest brunch plans suffer. But I digress. The renunciations were said facing west, the place where the sun went down, the place of darkness, the home of barbarians. (We sometimes think of the west as the place of enlightenment. That has not always been the case - topic for another rant.)

When it came time for the affirmations, the candidate would turn 180 degrees. If the timing was right, candidates would see the sun breaking the horizon, which may be the origin of Easter sunrise services. I’ve been told that the change of direction, facing east, is where we get the word “orientation.” In that change of direction, candidates turned to the light. How might you make that shift in direction?

All of this church history is prompted by a psalm you may have heard yesterday in church (Clergy had the choice of four different psalms in yesterday’s lectionary). What caught my eye was a particular verse (v. 4) from the psalm reprinted above. It speaks about continually seeking God’s face. It invites readers to search for the Lord and for the Lord’s strength. It’s a call to a new direction. It's about setting a new intention.

We read in many places about how God searches for us (e.g., Psalm 139 which begins: “Lord you have searched me out and known me.) Jesus made that point in his parable about the lost sheep. A shepherd leaves 99 sheep to go look for one wanderer. It’s a picture of extravagant grace, a reminder that all that we do is gift, as God seeks each one of us.

But this psalm reminds us that we have a role to play. It describes what one of my theology professors called the synergy of our faith, God seeking us as we seek God. St. Paul described the synergy this way, as he told the Philippians: Work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who is at work in you. The letter to the Colossians puts it this way: If you have been raised with Christ, seek those things that are above.

With that in mind, what does the process of seeking look like for you? Like those catechumenates, like those baptismal candidates turning to the light, it’s about choosing direction, being oriented towards a life with God, setting that life with God as our intention, turning to the light. Once we’ve made that choice, once we’ve felt a call to head in that direction, it’s about stepping into that new pathway.

That’s where spiritual practices come in. We search for the Lord with our prayers. As the psalm points out, that happens especially in and through expressions of praise, our attitude of gratitude, giving glory to God’s name. It comes with the prayerful recognition that our help is in the name of the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth. We search for the Lord by remembering how God has acted in the past, finding that remembrance in the stories of scripture, finding it in community life. We search for the Lord by seeking Christ’s presence in all persons, loving neighbor as self, respecting the dignity of every human being. We search for the Lord by serving others, in the spirit of the one who said he came not to be served but to serve. All of these practices help us find the deeper life in Christ for which we search.

What do you seek this week?

-Jay Sidebotham

Psalm 86:11-17

11 Teach me your way, O Lord, and I will walk in your truth; knit my heart to you that I may fear your Name.
12 I will thank you, O Lord my God, with all my heart, and glorify your Name for evermore.
13 For great is your love toward me; you have delivered me from the nethermost Pit.
14 The arrogant rise up against me, O God, and a band of violent men seeks my life; they have not set you before their eyes.
15 But you, O Lord, are gracious and full of compassion, slow to anger, and full of kindness and truth.
16 Turn to me and have mercy upon me; give your strength to your servant; and save the child of your handmaid.
17 Show me a sign of your favor, so that those who hate me may see it and be ashamed; because you, O Lord, have helped me and comforted me.

This year, Monday Matters is focused on wisdom conveyed in the treasures of the book of Psalms. We'll look at the psalms read in church before Monday Matters comes to your screen.

There is more.

Jesus said: Take my yoke upon you and learn from me. (Matthew 11:29)

A pastor shared a story about an elderly parishioner who had faithfully attended worship her whole life. She was in church every Sunday, a pillar of the community. In her later years, by some mysterious movement of the Spirit, her faith was renewed. It came alive in a new way. This became apparent to this pastor, who pleaded with her to share her story with the congregation. She resisted. (One might have lovingly referred to her as one of the frozen chosen.) The pastor persisted, so she finally agreed to bear witness at an 11am service. She made her way to the lectern and began her talk: “Here’s what I want to tell you. There is more.” That was her testimony: There is more.

I’ve been told that there are three ways to view our lives, three ways to write our own stories. We can see ourselves as hero, star of the show with the hint that the universe revolves around us. We can see ourselves as victim, savoring our resentments, cherishing them like trophies. Or we can see ourselves as learners, ready for something new. The message here: the role of learner is the way to go.

Which brings me to the psalm you may have heard Sunday in church. It begins with a prayer that God would be our teacher. The psalmist is ready and eager to learn. There are any number of places in the psalms where God is identified as the one with something to teach us. So I’m wondering this morning: What would you like to learn? What would you want God to teach you? How might those lessons, those coaching sessions take place?

It all begins with an openness to learning, an openness to something new. The risk in being a committed religious person is the temptation to think we have arrived, that we know all we need to know. In our research with churches, we find that 25% of surveyed congregations fit an archetype called “complacent.” That led one of our congregations to suggest a change to the tagline for their church: St. Swithin’s (name changed to protect the innocent): We are spiritually shallow and fine with that.

If by chance we do wish to join the psalmist in asking God to be our teacher, we need to show up for class. We need to put ourselves in a place where we are ready to learn. In the spiritual realm, that happens through spiritual practice. We read and meditate on scripture as God’s lesson manual, in the confidence that scripture contains everything necessary for salvation. We commit to a regular rhythm of prayer, which includes time spent listening as well as talking. We dedicate ourselves to service, in the confidence that when we put faith into action, we learn what it means to be a Christ follower.

I have found in my own journey that I learned a lot when I had an opportunity to be a teacher, when I had to figure out how I would share my faith, share my story, share my confidence that there is more. The very first thing I volunteered to do as a young adult who had recently edged his way back into church was to agree to teach kindergarten Sunday School. I was terrified. I spent more time preparing for that half hour class than I have prepared for any class since. I’m not sure those kindergarteners learned a lot from me. I learned all kinds of things from that process.

The psalms speak about many ways we can relate to the Holy One. In this particular psalm, the role of God’s servant, the role as God’s child are also highlighted. These and other ways describe a relationship with God. But focus with me this morning on the idea that God is our teacher.

And if the idea of God as teacher is too mysterious, too nebulous, set your sights on Jesus, often referred to as teacher. I’m told that the meaning of discipleship is not fully captured in the idea of being a student. But that is a big part of what it means to follow Jesus. I often picture Jesus the teacher, making his way from town to town, followed by a gaggle of disciples, teaching them as they went. I compare that to doctors who move from room to room in a hospital, followed by a group of residents, learning as they move together. Teaching happens in word and action. To learn from him in order to become more like him. Think of it as an apprenticeship.

In that process, we will not fully realize that Christ-like character. But in that process, we will always have a next step. Think this week about what it means to be a learner. And remember, there is always more.

-Jay Sidebotham

The following reflection is offered by the Rev. David Sibley, Rector of St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Walla Walla, Washington.

The best decision any person can make in this life is to be a disciple of Jesus Christ: to commit to the work of daily spiritual growth so that we may be formed, day by day, more into Jesus’ image and likeness by the grace of the Holy Spirit. The same is true for congregations– the best thing we can do is choose to commit to becoming communities that are visibly dedicated to the daily practices of following Jesus. 

When I was called to Saint Paul’s Church in Walla Walla, Washington, the congregation’s profile expressed a hunger for spiritual growth, and a willingness to commit to that project. Just before the pandemic broke in 2020, we committed to RenewalWorks to craft a plan to move forward. Just after finishing the spiritual life inventory, the pandemic put a kibosh on group workshops, but we worked to use the data we gathered to try and shape a path forward focused on discipleship. We found that, much like many Episcopal congregations, we had room to grow – the opportunity to embed the Bible into our congregation’s life; to change the attitude of leadership away from execution of tasks to the prioritization of individual and congregational spiritual growth. 

Emerging from COVID-19 offered a unique opportunity for congregational reinvention – and Saint Paul’s embraced what we learned with gusto. A new emphasis on participation in small groups for prayer, study, and fellowship became a key charism of the parish’s life. Parish-wide and small-group study of the Bible using The Path and the Book of Common Prayer accompanied by Walk in Love was integrated through our Sunday worship, children’s formation, and small groups. Those groups were then invited to extend their curiosity to the places the Spirit drove them – everything from studying Women in the Bible, to Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life Together, to some studies by Methodist pastor Adam Hamilton. After six years of work, by the time my sabbatical came around in late 2025, it was naturally time to take stock of our work – where have we come? How have we grown? What might God be calling us to do next? 

I chose to raise the stakes even further – what if St. Paul’s revisited RenewalWorks again, but do so while I was on sabbatical? What if we surveyed the congregation without the 500-lb gorilla that is my presence as a parish priest, and trusted the Spirit and our community to Strategic Discernment that was truly and completely by the hand of the disciples within the congregation? The Vestry agreed to take on this momentous task during my time in rest. I returned to results that astounded me in all the best ways. 

In our intervening years between the two cycles of RenewalWorks, the parish has markedly improved at integrating the Bible into all aspects of our life. We’ve grown our appreciation for the unconditional love and grace of God for us and for all people by leaps and bounds over several years ago. People longed to serve, not sympathetically through a few select ministries – but as a building block of parish life. 

Perhaps best of all, it has been our lay leaders that are now hard at work turning RenewalWorks’ Strategic Discernment for Spiritual Growth into near immediate action – in large part because the vision for the next phase of the parish’s life is bigger than the priest, bigger than the Vestry, bigger than the Workshop Team – it belongs to the whole parish. New service projects have been organized by lay leaders in our Spiritual Growth and Outreach Guild to craft us into being “the church who serves” in ways that are accessible to the whole congregation, not merely those who have abundant free time. A new emphasis on connecting people and getting them moving on pathways to spiritual growth has become a key task for our Hospitality and Welcome Guild. Our Stewardship and Finance Guild has turned dedicated attention to promoting an understanding of stewardship as a discipline of the spiritual life – a perpetual act of thanksgiving for God’s grace and goodness. 

What will come next? It’s hard to say, as the Spirit always has surprises for us – and we know that what RenewalWorks has given us isn’t a Strategic Plan, but rather Strategic Discernment – a way of being led not by our ego, but by the Holy Spirit. I may not know what’s next, but I’m encouraged – for we know that where two or three are gathered, Jesus Christ will be present – and will show us the way. 

- The Rev. David Sibley, Rector of St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Walla Walla, WA