Get a Sneak Peek at our Spring Newsletter!
We don’t usually do Big Reveals, but we just can’t wait to share our news with you. Click here to see our hot off the press newsletter. It’s dropping in the mail tomorrow. If you’re not on our mailing list, sign up now - and you’ll never miss out!
GOOD FRIDAY | THORNS
“Then Pilate took Jesus and had him flogged. And the soldiers wove a crown of thorns and put it on his head, and they dressed him in a purple robe.” John 19:1-2
The crown of thorns placed on Jesus’ head completes the wardrobe designed to mock and humiliate him. Look at the one who says he is king of the Jews. Here he stands, beaten, powerless, foolish. Here is the man, the one in whom Pilate finds no fault, the one the frenzied crowd calls to crucify.
The whole scene makes my stomach turn, not only because Jesus suffers, but because I know such cruelty still exists, inflicted on people all around the world. The darkest part of our humanness too often still prevails, and yet Jesus goes to the cross for us anyway. The striking truth of Good Friday lies in that reality: human beings still humiliate, mock and crucify one another, but God loves us, Jesus dies for us, the Spirit intercedes for us anyway.
If we do not confess the painful truth of our own complicity and participation in the ugliest sin imaginable, we cannot fathom the monumental scale of God’s goodness and grace. If we fail to acknowledge our role in perpetuating evil, we too mock Jesus rather than weep at his fate.
That crown of thorns, designed to mock, represents the suffering servant who came to save. The Friday that goes midnight in the middle of the day marks the time when the light of the world overcomes all darkness. The purple robe of humiliation wraps all humanity in the love of God. The good of the One on the cross restores the God-created goodness of each one of us. Today is Good Friday, when we know without doubt the radical, transformative, saving grace of God who takes on the sin of the world, for our sake, even though we cry, “Crucify him!”
Questions for reflection
What does Good Friday mean to you?
Take some time to look at artistic renderings of this story. (Here is a collection of images.) What strikes you about those depictions?
Lord, on this Good Friday, we repent of all the ways we participate in perpetuating cruelty. We confess how often we dismiss our complicity with evil. We turn our heads, unable to look at suffering, when instead we are called to see fully what our sin has wrought. On this Good Friday, we recognize the depth of our sin in order to receive and rejoice in the expanse of your grace. Amen.
Thank you you for journeying through Lent with us. And thanks to Jill J. Duffield for allowing us to adapt from her book, Lent in Plain Sight: A Devotion Through Ten Objects.
HOLY WEEK | TOWELS
During supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe and tied a towel around himself.” John 13:2b-4
I turned the corner, headed to the elevator with my luggage, when I noticed the housekeeper’s cart in the hall. Large, cumbersome, stacked with little soaps, shampoo bottles, coffee supplies, linens, towels — and Bibles. There tucked between the towels was the Word of the Lord… I thought about the people pushing those carts up and down the hallways, cleaning others’ toilets, doing physical work for not much pay — individuals with names and stories. Many, no doubt, fellow disciples who knew intimately and daily what it feels like to pick up a towel and serve. Perhaps that is why Jesus says the last will be first.
Jesus, during the last meal with his closest friends, with hours left of his earthly life, takes a towel, gets on his knees, and washes the disciples’ feet, even the disciples who will soon betray him. The Word and the towel, together, inextricable, in Jesus — and, Jesus says, in us. Maundy Thursday means that followers of Jesus serve. We are servants, servants of the Lord of all, who willingly ate with sinners, touched lepers, welcomed children, and washed feet.
Nothing is beneath us when Jesus is the rock upon which we stand. No one is “less than,” because Jesus died for all. If we do not put the Word alongside the towel and take them both door to door, house to house, town to town, to the ends of the earth, we are failing to follow Jesus. If we forget that those who push heavy carts down long hallways or wake up before dawn to pick up trash or get on their knees to scrub floors or carefully wash the feet of the sick for very little pay, if we forget that they have names and stories, we fail to follow the One who not only knows them by name, but numbers the hairs on their heads.
On this Maundy Thursday, pick up a towel — you can find it right alongside the Word of our Lord — and get moving.
Questions for reflection:
When have you served someone in a physical way, fed someone or washed someone? Who was it? Has anyone served you in a physical way? What was that like for you?
What might it look like to serve someone amidst the limitations of this pandemic moment?
Today, every time you use a towel, be reminded of Jesus’ instruction to wash others’ feet.
Servant Lord, on this day we remember your meal with your friends, your words of teaching, and your act of tender love. You, Lord of all, humble yourself and wash the feet of friend and betrayer and friend alike. You hold back nothing for our sake and we are awed by your grace. We seek only to be more and more like you each day, taking up a towel and sharing your Word, so that through our love the world will know that we follow you. Amen.
Thank you you for journeying through Lent with us. And thanks to Jill J. Duffield for allowing us to adapt from her book, Lent in Plain Sight: A Devotion Through Ten Objects.
Anything Dead Coming Back to Life Hurts | Reflections by Cynthia Ajuzie '19
Originally published in January 2019.
If I’ve realized anything about being at UVa the past four years, it’s that one of my favorite quotes from Toni Morrison’s Beloved holds true. The quote is “Anything dead coming back to life hurts”. (Slight digression: I wasn’t sure if I should write this blog post about how college has further solidified my identity as a Nigerian-American woman, but I often need to my remind myself that being black is only one story that streaks my life and that God has given me many other stories that deserve attention too.)
Merely a few weeks into my fall semester as a third year, I quickly noticed how difficult it was for me to stay on top of my workload. However, I thought that my struggles were just going to be something I overcame by working hard and being strategic with the time I spent studying. School had always been something I felt completely in control of and believed I could excel at with the right efforts, so I didn’t worry too much about my rigorous course load. The night before my first exam rolled around and I remember reviewing notes in my room, trying to elucidate concepts that were still blurry to me. Once I realized that information was no longer sticking in my head, I decided to go to bed. The only problem was that after I did get in bed, I couldn’t sleep. My mind continued strumming through concepts I didn’t understand and my heart felt squeamish in my chest. By 2:30 a.m., I figured I should probably try to talk to someone to see if that would get my mind off of things. I called my mom, who works night shifts as a nurse, and she tried to calm me down for a few minutes. It was comforting hearing her voice and being reminded that my heart and thoughts were not the only sounds that sloshed the earth.
I viewed that night of not sleeping as a fluke that would certainly not happen again because I’d be more diligent in making sure I got to bed earlier at a consistent time each night. However, even with my efforts to apply better sleep hygiene to my life, I continued struggling with anxiety and insomnia multiple times a week. Lying in bed exhausted in the middle of the night, feeling betrayed by and unfamiliar to your own body is one of the worst feelings I have come to know in my life. Insomnia descended me into a pit of loneliness, fashioned by anxiety and I was so unaware of how to plow myself out of it. Many activities that I used to enjoy became lackluster and I dreaded having things to do that would require a lot of energy/thinking. I felt like a walking silhouette of who I knew I was.
Desperately wanting to improve my compromised mental health and not wanting to turn to my parents for help (who come from a culture that struggles with legitimizing mental health issues), I began trying to think of ways to fix myself. I visited CAPs, looked up organic remedies to insomnia, sought prayer from my housemates, bought religious self-help books for sleeping disorders, and had my sister stay on the phone with me some nights in hopes that it would help me sleep better. Nothing seemed to be working long term. With my frustration towards myself and God mounting, I resolved to accept the fact that insomnia had woven it’s way into my life and I’d just have to make room for it on my bed most nights.
The night before my biggest final that semester, I began hearing strongly from God. I was on the floor in the room of one of my housemates who had struggled with insomnia one summer and told me I could stay in her room, so I wouldn’t feel as lonely, while she played worship instrumental music to see if that would help me sleep better. After she had fallen asleep and I was still wide-awake ready for the sun to sprout in a bit, I felt the Lord drop this poem in my spirit based on Psalm 23.
It is well with my soul
For the Lord is so faithful and gracious
He makes me lie down in still pastures
And allows my joy to overflow in abundance
He gives me reasons to sing
He calms my spirit
He gives me strength
He is my strength
After I received those words, I felt lighter. It’s interesting how easily we make room for our struggles to ingest more and more of our lives until something - an epiphany or encouraging word- reminds us that those struggles do not have to permanently suffocate who we are as people. God is our reminder of this fact. And He does it so well. He meets us right where we are, just like He met me in that moment, and tells us that there is hope. He is hope.
I’d be lying if I said that night was the last time I experienced sleeplessness. But, it was the last night I viewed insomnia as some insurmountable entity that characterized all of me. That poem God deposited into my soul made me realize two things:
God is always faithful and his faithfulness is noticeable if we actually open our eyes to see it
God wanted me to stop being so close-fisted with my studies/ future and to relinquish those parts of my life to Him
After I made these realizations, I felt a peace that I had not felt in months. I allowed myself to indulge in the kindness and graciousness of God unrestrainedly. Experiencing a semester racked with sleeplessness and anxiety made me notice how God is a high tower for those who seek Him. His hands are strong enough to carry all of our burdens and His love is deep enough for Him to actually want to carry them. Nights can still be difficult for me, but not as often anymore because of my confidence in God’s faithfulness and his desire to give me rest. I had to go through one of the most difficult seasons in my life for God to revive who I am in him and for him to truly make me a new creation.
John 14:27, Philippians 4:7, John 1:5, 1Peter 5:7-10
Lent 5 | OIL
“But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring oil and wine on them.” Luke 10:33
No matter how many times I hear this story, the physicality of the Samaritan’s compassion touches me. The priest and the Levite go to the other side of the road, literally distancing themselves from the wounded man in the ditch. The Samaritan goes closer, moved by pity. He gets down in the ditch with the suffering traveler, pouring oil and wine onto his wounds. The hands-on care continues as the Samaritan transports the man to the inn and cares for him there. He provides funds for ongoing care and promises to return. All for a stranger.
Who is the neighbor? The one who shows that victim mercy. Just as the cruelty of the robbery entailed physical close contact, so does the mercy that seeks to amend the injuries and pain. Healing cannot happen from a distance. Compassion moves us to act, to get into the ditch, to pour oil on wounds and bandage them, to ensure that a person brutalized and violated knows another side of humanity. Even from a stranger.
Questions for reflection:
When have you been moved with pity to go toward someone in the ditch, either literally or figuratively? What did you do once you got there?
Have you ever been physically cared for by a stranger? When has someone poured oil on your wounds?
Who has been a neighbor to you? To whom are you a neighbor?
What might it look like to draw close with compassion — during a time of physical distancing?
Jesus, this very day, you are calling us to be neighbors to someone in need of mercy. As we go about our tasks and routines, help us to see those suffering in the ditch. Strengthen our faith in you in order to embolden us to move toward our neighbors in need of compassion. If we find ourselves wounded and afraid, send Samaritans to minister to us. May each encounter of this day make manifest our love for you and for our neighbors. Amen.
Thank you for journeying through Lent with us…
Receive our Lenten devotionals by emailing info@theologicalhorizons.org.
Thanks to Jill J. Duffield for allowing us to adapt from her book, Lent in Plain Sight: A Devotion Through Ten Objects. Read the book and join us for a virtual book club discussion at 4pm on Saturday, April 3.
Justice, Mercy & Healing Prayer with author Carey Wallace
We thank Carey Wallace for this rich resource of Scripture and prayer prompts…perfect for a daily journey into God’s heart. It’s designed to be prayed over a month, to be shared with friends and strangers, too. As Carey says, “We continue to believe that, amidst everything else that’s said, the most powerful words in the world are always the one spoken between us and God.”
Justice, Mercy, and Healing
What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. (Micah 6:8)
This is what the Lord Almighty said: Administer true justice, show mercy and compassion to one another. (Zechariah 7:9)
The Lord longs to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him! People of Zion, who live in Jerusalem, you will weep no more. How gracious he will be when you cry for help! As soon as he hears, he will answer you. (Isaiah 30:18)
Justice
But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream. (Amos 5:24)
For I, the Lord, love justice. (Isaiah 61:8)
Learn to do right, seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless, plead the case of the widow. (Isaiah 1:17)
The righteous care about justice for the poor, but the wicked have no such concern. (Proverbs 29:7)
The Lord loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of his unfailing love. (Psalm 33:5)
My justice will become a light to the nations. My righteousness draws near speedily, my salvation is on the way, and my arm will bring justice to the nations. (Isaiah 51:4)
Mercy
I desire mercy, not sacrifice. (Hosea 6:6)
Let us fall into the hands of the Lord, for his mercy is great, but do not let me fall into human hands. (2 Samuel 24:14)
He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy. (Titus 3:5)
Be merciful, just as your father is merciful. (Luke 6:36)
Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. (Hebrews 4:16)
Healing
Heal me Lord, and I will be healed. (Jeremiah 17:14)
I am the LORD, who heals you. (Exodus 15:26)
O Lord my God, I called to you for help, and you healed me. (Psalm 30:2)
Daily Prompts
The rhythm of prompts here are designed to pray one a day between October 3 and November 3. But please use them any way you like.
One prayer we hope you’ll pray each time is for other members of this project: that God will bless and protect everyone who prays with us, and continue to call people into prayer for justice, mercy, and healing.
1. What injustice breaks my heart? Ask God to help us feel His pain over it.
2. Where do I need mercy? Offer these places to God.
3. Where does my community need healing? Pray for healing in these places.
4. What injustice am I blind to? Pray that God will open our eyes.
5. Where does our world need mercy? Pray for God to open our eyes.
6. Where does my community need healing? Pick someone who you deeply disagree with. Pray to better understand and love them, and for opportunities to grow closer to them.
7. What injustice breaks my heart? Pray for someone you know has suffered injustice. Ask God to move powerfully in the situation, with justice, mercy and healing.
8. Where do I need mercy? Thank God for his mercy in as much detail as you can.
9. Where does my community need healing? Pray for healing in these places.
10. What injustice breaks my heart? Ask God to bring justice in that place.
11. Who do I not offer mercy to? Pray for God to open our eyes.
12. Where does my community need healing? Pray for blessing in these places.
13. What injustice am I blind to? Pray that God will open our eyes.
14. Where do I need mercy? Offer these places to God.
15. How do I refuse healing or cause hurt? Pray that God will open our eyes.
16. What injustice breaks my heart? Ask God to show us where we can move for justice in our own lives.
17. Where am I blind for my need for mercy? Ask God to open our eyes.
18. Where do I need healing? Lift our wounds up to God.
19. What injustice breaks my heart? Ask God to help us feel His pain over it.
20. Where does my community need healing? Pick someone who you deeply disagree with. Pray to better understand and love them, and for opportunities to grow closer to them.
21. How do I refuse healing or cause hurt? Pray that God will open our eyes.
22. What injustice breaks my heart? Ask God to give us courage to act for justice
23. Where do I need mercy? Offer these places to God.
24. Where do I need healing? Lift our wounds up to God.
25. What injustice breaks my heart? Ask God to bring justice in that place.
26. Where am I blind for my need for mercy? Ask God to open our eyes to others who have been merciful to us.
27. Where does my community need healing? Pick someone who you don’t like. Pray to better understand and love them, and for opportunities to grow closer to them.
28. What injustice breaks my heart? Ask God to show us where we can move for justice in our own lives.
29. Where do I need mercy? Ask God to show us where we need to show mercy.
30. Where does our world need healing? Pray that God will bring it, beyond what we could ask for or imagine.
31. Where can I not imagine justice being done? Pray not just for justice, but for God’s blessing in these places.
32. Where does our world need mercy? Pray for God to bring it in power.
Lent 4 | SHOES
TheN the [Lord] said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” Exodus 3:35
Moses stood watch over this father-in-law’s sheep. I wonder if, on the day or night the bush caught fire, Moses expected to encounter the Most High God in the middle of a field of sheep? Perhaps, like many of us, Moses relegated the holy to those places designated for worship, set aside for ritual, marked as special and mostly off limits to ordinary people.
God, though, refuses to be boxed in by our expectations or designations. God speaks from the clouds and out of the burning bush. God uses everything from angels and donkeys to proclaim, instruct, and admonish us. God alone constitutes the holy.
Our role is to respond by taking off our shoes, to recognize the holy when we experience it, to turn aside our gaze in humility, follow instructions and listen.
Questions for Reflection
Have you ever experienced holy ground in an unexpected place? What about it made it such? How did you respond?
Why did God instruct Moses to take off his shoes? What did his shoes symbolize?
Have you ever metaphorically or literally taken off your shoes as a sign of respect or humility?
God of shepherds and sheep, Moses and me, you speak to us through unconsumed burning bushes and unassuming, ordinary encounters. You go to extraordinary lengths to communicate to us, assure us of your presence, enlist us in your service. Give us eyes to see and ears to hear. Show us when to speak up and when to be quiet. Tell us when to take off our shoes and when to put on your whole armor. May all we do today reflect our awareness of your presence. Amen.
Thank you for journeying through Lent with us…
Receive our Lenten devotionals by emailing info@theologicalhorizons.org.
Thanks to Jill J. Duffield for allowing us to adapt from her book, Lent in Plain Sight: A Devotion Through Ten Objects. Read the book and join us for a virtual book club discussion at 4pm on Saturday, April 3.
Lent 3 | COINS
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father.” Matthew 10:29
We talk about “compassion fatigue” and burn out, lacking emotional bandwidth, or simply reaching the end of our rope. We project our own human limits on the triune God. Surely, we imagine, God has bigger problems to tackle than ours — be they health related, family dynamics, money stresses, or job woes. This verse tells us otherwise. God cares deeply for us, knowing the hairs on our heads and each word before we speak it. God’s involvement in our lives knows no limits.
Jesus so emphatically wants to communicate God’s providence and omnipotence and loving-kindness that he points to the sparrows, two sold for a penny, of not much worth from our human perspective. And yet, these sparrows that we buy and sell for next to nothing — God notes the death of each and every one. How much more, therefore, does God regard each and every person?
How might we see ourselves, the people around us and around the globe, animals and all creation, if we considered daily their worth in God’s eyes? No portion of land or person, centimeter of earth or centipede, is unseen by our God. All are knit together and known by their Creator.
Questions for Reflection
What do you sell for “two pennies” that God cares deeply about? How might this knowledge shape your relationship to those two-penny creatures and things?
Are you mindful that God loves you so much that there is nothing about you unknown by God? Take time to remember that all your concerns are God’s concerns, too.
God, we give thanks for the sparrows sold for two pennies, the creatures so plentiful we often fail to notice them and for all the priceless people we encounter this day. We thank you, too, for your unfailing love for us. We give to you our deepest concerns and our greatest hopes, knowing that you will take them, honor them, and mold them into something beautiful for you and for us. Amen.
Thank you for journeying through Lent with us…
Receive our Lenten devotionals by emailing info@theologicalhorizons.org.
Thanks to Jill J. Duffield for allowing us to adapt from her book, Lent in Plain Sight: A Devotion Through Ten Objects. Read the book and join us for a virtual book club discussion at 4pm on Saturday, April 3.
A Visual Reflection by Fellow Anna Hickman, '21
“If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it.
― Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon
As a graduating student in 2021 America, there are almost a humorous number of challenges, events, decisions, memories, and systems to reflect on--many of which I considered writing about. Still, I’ve opted not to for the sake of attempting to break a mental rut that goads me to try to find the perfect mystic or academic answer to what seems like unending processing of violations against human dignity alongside existential questions of vocation. It is a deep rut, I confess.
Instead, I will speak in color: red, gold, and black; red for the blood spilled, lives lost, and rebellion of placidity; gold for the small but weighty truths that remain in the fire; black for grief, lies caught hold, and also things yet revealed.
Amidst the chaos, I have few words to offer. So, I will speak in images and invite you to hold them with you, to sit with uncertainty.
seen--but obscured to viewer
honest words
discerning all these open options
holy people on a tightrope
a prayer for sun
red noise respite
untitled landscape
Lent 2 | CROSS
“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” Mark 8:34
What exactly does Jesus mean when he instructs us to take up our cross? If doing so is not simply the burden of human finitude: illness, a challenging family member, a tragedy or hardship, what does Jesus call us to carry? The cross taken up by Jesus leads to taking on the sin of the world, a sacrifice for others, a willing relinquishing of status, power, safety and security. Might ours entail such qualities, too?
We are not Jesus, of course. Some us hold great status, power, and security. Some of us hold little or none. And yet, all of us wield influence in whatever circles we inhabit. In our circles, big or small, do we actively choose to look past our self-preservation and risk own interests for the sake of the vulnerable, the oppressed, marginalized, and fearful?
Denying ourselves, taking up our crosses, and following Jesus may not be as dramatic as martyrdom, but it could be. It may be as simple and difficult as standing up to those with whom we are closest when solidarity with them would keep us safe. It could be advocating for those without a voice even when doing so alienates us from those in power. No matter the end result, daily standing on this three legged stool of solid Christian life prepares us to follow Jesus all the way to Jerusalem and bears witness to him along the route to all we encounter along the way.
Working for justice and being just, loving kindness and being kind, and walking humbly as we follow Jesus make for a life of purpose and joy, strangely synonymous with self-denial and cross-bearing.
Questions for reflection:
What are your spheres of influence? How are you using your influence in those spheres?
Do you own items of clothing, jewelry, or art with a cross? Why? What do those items mean or symbolize to you?
When have your denied yourself as an expression of your faith in Jesus Christ?
Lord Jesus, you denied yourself, took up the cross, and journeyed all the way to crucifixion in Jerusalem. We confess that we resist self-denial, we refuse to take up the cross that requires sacrificial love, we fail to follow when your way challenges our comfort and safety. Help us more closely, more willingly, more nearly imitate you. Amen.
Thank you for journeying through Lent with us…
Receive our Lenten devotionals by emailing info@theologicalhorizons.org.
Thanks to Jill J. Duffield for allowing us to adapt from her book, Lent in Plain Sight: A Devotion Through Ten Objects. Read the book and join us for a virtual book club discussion at 4pm on Saturday, April 3.
Lent 1: BREAD
“There is a boy here who has five barley loaves and two fish. But what are they among so many people?” John 6:9
A large, hungry crowd, twelve nervous disciples, one boy, five cheap loaves of bread, two fish of unknown size, and Jesus. The figures do not add up when compared to the power and compassion of the Messiah. Why is it so hard for us to trust in God’s ability to provide even in the face of inexplicable odds?
Jesus can do more than we hope or imagine with the small resources we willingly give to him in faith. That’s the lesson we need to be taught over and over.
Jesus does not ask of us what we do not have. Instead, he receives what we offer, takes, blesses, uses and multiplies our five loaves of less-than-gourmet bread, the two fish we caught after hours of fishing, our ability to pray, our adeptness with numbers, our knack for sewing, our passion for words, our joy in writing notes to people.
All we need to do is be like the boy, to bravely step forward in the middle of intimidating circumstances and offer to Jesus whatever we have on any given day. Jesus takes it from there….
Questions for reflection:
Do you find it hard to believe that God can and will provide? Why or why not?
When have you experienced a “loaves-and-fishes” miracle? What happened?
What are your five barley loaves and two fish? What gifts are you called to offer to Jesus right now?
Lord, forgive us for how easily we forget that you have the power to do more than we can ever hope or imagine with whatever gifts we freely give to you. Help us to boldly step forward in times of need and offer ourselves for your service. Take, bless and use our barley bread, our fish, our desire to serve in ways that bring relief to those who are suffering. May we too look upon the crowd with compassion.
Thank you for journeying through Lent with us…
Receive our Lenten devotionals by emailing info@theologicalhorizons.org.
Thanks to Jill J. Duffield for allowing us to adapt from her book, Lent in Plain Sight: A Devotion Through Ten Objects. Read the book and join us for a virtual book club discussion at 4pm on Saturday, April 3.
Ash Wednesday | DUST
The Lord God formed the human from the dust of the ground and blew into his nostrils the breath of life; and the human came to life. (Genesis 2:7)
“Dust to dust….” On Ash Wednesday, a day when we remember the reality of human finitude, we remember the friends and loved ones and strangers, too…so many who’ve gone to the grave. We miss them. We remember them even as we remember the One who gives us the sure and certain hope of resurrection. On this day of dust and ash, let us remember that we are surrounded by the household of God, sinners redeemed by grace, limited like us, but ever seeking to imitate Christ, however poorly.
Even as sin clings as closely as gray remnants of ash, mercy surrounds us like a dust storm stirred up by the relentless wind of the Spirit. Remember. Repent. Turn and follow Jesus Christ, singing alleluia even to the grave until God raises Him from the dead and we are overcome with resurrection joy.
Questions for Reflection:
As you begin this Lenten journey, whom do you remember? Who has walked with you when you have reached your limits and helped you get through that difficult season?
Why do you need to be reminded of your finitude, your dustiness? How does God work within and through your limits?
Lord, the giver of every breath, as we begin our Lenten journey, send us your Holy Spirit to blow the dust off whatever in or around us needs new life. Remind us of our limits so that we will once again experience your limitless power…so that even when the ashes have been washed away, others will see in us the face of Christ. Amen.
Join us here throughout Lent for weekly reflections!
Huge thanks to Rev. Jill J. Duffield for allowing us to adapt from her book, Lent in Plain Sight: A Devotion Through Ten Objects. Read the book and join us for a virtual book club discussion at 4pm on Saturday, April 3. Email Karen for the Zoom link: karen@theologicalhorizons.org
Receive all of our Lenten emails by emailing info@theologicalhorizons.org.
Words of Love on Valentine's Day!
Who was Valentine?
Christian tradition recognizes at least three different saints named Valentine or Valentinus, all of whom were martyred. One legend contends that Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers than those with wives and families & outlawed marriage for young men. Valentine defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret—until his actions were discovered & he was put to death. Other stories suggest that Valentine may have been killed for attempting to help Christians escape harsh Roman prisons, where they were often beaten and tortured. According to one legend, an imprisoned Valentine actually sent the first “valentine” greeting himself after befriended a young girl–possibly his jailor’s daughter–who visited him during his confinement. Before his death, it is alleged that he wrote her a letter signed “From your Valentine…”
Words about Love
Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you do with your evenings, what you spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything. Pedro Arrupe, SJ
1 Corinthians 13 from the Common English Bible
If I speak in tongues of human beings and of angels but I don’t have love, I’m a clanging gong or a clashing cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and I know all the mysteries and everything else, and if I have such complete faith that I can move mountains but I don’t have love, I’m nothing. 3 If I give away everything that I have and hand over my own body to feel good about what I’ve done but I don’t have love, I receive no benefit whatsoever. 4 Love is patient, love is kind, it isn’t jealous, it doesn’t brag, it isn’t arrogant, 5 it isn’t rude, it doesn’t seek its own advantage, it isn’t irritable, it doesn’t keep a record of complaints, 6 it isn’t happy with injustice, but it is happy with the truth. 7 Love puts up with all things, trusts in all things, hopes for all things, endures all things. 8 Love never fails. As for prophecies, they will be brought to an end. As for tongues, they will stop. As for knowledge, it will be brought to an end. 9 We know in part and we prophesy in part; 10 but when the perfect comes, what is partial will be brought to an end. 11 When I was a child, I used to speak like a child, reason like a child, think like a child. But now that I have become a man, I’ve put an end to childish things. 12 Now we see a reflection in a mirror; then we will see face-to-face. Now I know partially, but then I will know completely in the same way that I have been completely known. 13 Now faith, hope, and love remain—these three things—and the greatest of these is love.
“An ounce of love is worth a pound of knowledge.” John Wesley
“When love awakens in your life, in the night of your heart, it is like the dawn breaking within you. Where before there was anonymity, now there is intimacy; where before there was fear, now there is courage; where before in your life there was awkwardness, now there is a rhythm of grace and gracefulness; where before you used to be jagged, now you are elegant and in rhythm with your self. When love awakens in your life, it is like a rebirth, a new beginning.” from “Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom” by John O’Donohue
“Poem (4)” (To the Black Beloved) by Langston Hughes
Ah,
My black one,
Thou art not beautiful
Yet thou hast
A loveliness
Surpassing beauty.
Oh,
My black one,
Thou art not good
Yet thou hast
A purity
Surpassing goodness.
Ah,
My black one,
Thou art not luminous
Yet an altar of jewels,
An altar of shimmering jewels,
Would pale in the light
Of thy darkness,
Pale in the light
Of thy nightness.
From “The Divine Comedy” by Dante Alligeri
The love of God, unutterable and perfect,
Flows into a pure soul the way that light
Rushes into a transparent object.
The more love that it finds, the more it gives
Itself; so that, as we grow clear and open,
The more complete the joy of loving is.
And the more souls who resonate together,
The greater the intensity of their love,
For, mirror-like, each soul reflects the others.
Sitting with one another in our sufferings. | Reflections by Fellow Katie Brown '21
This summer I worked as a nurse intern at Duke Cancer Center and this school year I have spent many of my weekends working as a nursing assistant at UVA Hospital. Like a lot of future nurses, I remember writing in my college application and telling people I wanted to be a nurse to help people through their most difficult times. And in a weird way, it seemed almost glamorous to me. However, when I actually began my new job, I quickly realized there was nothing glamorous about suffering.
My main job at the Cancer Center was bringing patients back to a patient room, gathering a patient history, and taking vitals. Though our interactions were often short, patients often confided in me how terrified they were: terrified what a cancer diagnosis would mean for them and their family, terrified to see if the treatment plan was working, and terrified to hope that today would finally be the day they qualified for a clinical trial.
After they would finish talking and the room fell silent, I was often struck by feeling like I needed to say something. And it is so so tempting to fall into phases such as “It’s going to be okay”… “Well, at least you’re at Duke now”… “You’re so brave.” Phrases that we think will make people feel better but, in the end, just minimize their suffering. I even remember realizing that the normal “How is your day going?” when first meeting a patient isn’t always the best question to ask. I quickly grasped that they have been dreading this day, and I never wanted to make them feel like they had to pretend to be okay or say “It’s good” on what really was one of their hardest days.
I quickly realized there really was nothing to say in these deeply painful moments. In reality, it was awkward, uncomfortable, hard, and painful. I would pass them tissues to wipe their eyes and then I sometimes would slip into the bathroom to wipe the tears forming in my own eyes before having to call back the next patient.
This year through my job and living through a global pandemic that has impacted my own life as well as the lives of the people around me so deeply, I have realized the importance of creating spaces where people can be honest about their suffering. For me it has been a year of learning to listen and cry with others and to recognize that I don’t need to offer up an explanation or be afraid that I won’t say the right thing.
Kate Bowler in her book, “Everything Happens for a Reason and other Lies I’ve Loved,” helps provide light on how to think, how to feel, and how to love each other in a world that is broken. She beautifully writes, “What if rich did not have to mean wealthy, and whole did not have to mean healed? What if being people of ‘the gospel’ meant that we are simply people with good news? God is here. We are loved. It is enough.” As Christians we are called to sit with each other in our sufferings while helping each other feel seen, known, and loved.
Student Study Spaces during COVID!
Our friends and partners want our students to know they can have safe and quiet places to study when they need to get out of their rooms and houses. To learn more and sign up for a slot, click on the links below:
Community during Covid | Reflections by Fellow LaNija Brown '22
I came into the fall semester with a lot of enthusiasm. I had been stuck it one place all summer with mainly myself and my amazing roommate at the time. I was ready for that to change. I was super excited for the Perkins fellowship program because I was finally able to intern at a PHYSICAL place ( a big deal during COVID) and I was able to meet with a small group of likeminded people all trying to see God in the everyday, outside of church.
Our book, “How to be An Antiracist” by Ibram X Kendi, did an amazing job explaining all the areas in life/ society that racism can affect. Every month, we would meet, discussing 2-3 chapters of the book at a time. I was impacted by every single one because we really got to see how our different backgrounds affected our experiences with racism. I also liked it because as a Black woman, I really felt like I was genuinely being listened to. The sincerity of my group members pushed me to extend grace to those who don’t know as much about racism and how to navigate it.
My favorite meeting was one of out last ones, where we sat around a fire eating s’mores and talking about colorism. Colorism is a byproduct of racism where there is prejudice against the darkest hued people in a specific racial group. I am not ashamed of my very deep brown skin, I think it is quite beautiful. However, that doesn’t negate the fact that I grew up hearing other black people hurl some of the nastiest insults at dark skinned black women. Also I am aware that even today, in 2021, there is still a general bias against dark skinned black people that is literally rooted in slavery. When talking about this to the group, I just felt a release and all of my frustrations and anger about the topic came out in an unpolished way. Despite this, they listened and offered their own input which was very helpful and affirming to me. I definitely left feeling fulfilled.
This upcoming semester, I am excited to see where God takes our conversations. I feel refreshed and ready to learn more about God and them with each passing month.
Graves Into Gardens | Reflections by Fellow Dorothy Castelly '21
“I’m feeling a Graves into Garden break.” I received this email from one of my housemates while studying for finals in December. Although she was just in the other room, we were both trying to stay off our phones and thus, email was the best mode of communication. After taking a moment to chat, she pulled out her guitar and we began singing. It was a much-needed break after staring blankly at my computer for a while.
Graves into Gardens has become a song that we’ve turned to at different points during the semester to worship and pour our hearts out to the Lord. But that particular day it was a moment of rest, a time to refocus and recognize the importance of the Lord and His presence. It was a reminder to come back to Him and know that He remains faithful to us.
The song is based on 2 Kings 13 when Elisha passes away and the Israelites bury a man in the same tomb as Elisha. They saw an enemy raiding party and unceremoniously put the dead man there. As soon as he touched the bones of Elisha, he was revived. What happened is not a coincidence, but a miraculous story of God’s might. This shows God’s continuing power at work in Elisha, even after his death.
I wonder what that man’s reaction was. Did he run through his town proclaiming what happened to him? I know if I were brought back to life, I would tell everyone about the miraculous thing that just happened to me. I am reminded that God did the same for all of us. He sent his son Jesus to restore us and to make everything new. The consequence of sin is death, but the story does not end with death, but with Jesus. When we come to Christ and submit our lives to Him, we are a new creation. “the old has gone, the new is here!”[1] This is something that we should celebrate daily—that in Christ we have a new life.
I also think of areas in my life where God has turned things around and breathed life. Especially right now in a time where every day is similar, expectations are not met, and plans are canceled, it is easy to lose hope. But the song reminds me that God gets the final word. He takes seemingly dead situations and brings life into them—Graves into Gardens. One line that always encourages me is “You turn mourning to dancing,” which references Psalm 30:11. God can turn any sadness that we experience into joy. Eternal joy that comes from him and is not fleeting.
The last line of the song says, “You’re the only one who can.” It is very humbling when I sit and think about God’s power and might. He truly is the only one who works to turn all situations around for our good and is with us, guiding and leading us along the way.
God remains faithful and is in the business of making things new. Nothing is ever too broken for him or beyond His power or might to restore. We can rest in His promises and know that in Him, everything is taken care of.
[1] 2 Corinthians 5:17 NIV
Martin Luther King, Jr.: Fear & Courage by Karen Wright Marsh
Today we celebrate the life of Martin Luther King, Jr. We all know of “MLK”, our greatest American civil rights icon: larger than life and brave to the core. He saw the right thing to do and he did it. While others pushed for change “by any means necessary,” King lead with nonviolent protests, grassroots campaigns and civil disobedience to achieve the seemingly impossible: legal equality for African-Americans in the United States. Martin Luther King, Jr., was the youngest person to win the Nobel Peace Prize. He is the only non-president to have a national holiday declared in his honor and to be memorialized on the Great Mall in Washington, D.C. Schools, streets and parks America bear his name.
I’m old enough to remember seeing Dr. King preach on our black and white Zenith television. “I have a dream,” he called as the March on Washington filled the screen. The grownups in our family room earnestly debated racial tension, segregation, voting rights, so many things I didn’t understand.
One thing was clear, though: Dr. King never, ever looked afraid. Facing down the terrible fire hoses and police dogs of Birmingham, he declared, “We will meet the forces of hate with the power of love.” To those he called “our white brothers all over the South,” he pledged, “Bomb our homes and we will still love you.”
When Martin Luther King was assassinated four days before my seventh birthday, my young heart shattered. I could only conclude that this is one terrifying world after all, a place where goodhearted heroes are gunned down. Courage only invites trouble.
The Zenith of my childhood flickered with protests, fiery riots, reports of assassinations, hysterical Beatles fans, soldiers in the jungles of Viet Nam. Afraid, I skirted around playground injustices and opted for quick surrender in conflicts at Paradise Elementary School. To this day, I see myself hesitate to act, inhibited by politeness, diplomacy, and potential social fallout. Too often I’m unable or unwilling to raise my voice.
And there stands the one we call MLK, sanctified by the masses as the eternal paragon of courage. Someone out of reach. It’s been said that by enshrining Dr. King, we have sought to remember him by forgetting him. Our admiration has led us to miss the complexity of his excruciatingly human soul.
Martin Luther King, Jr. wasn’t always a prophet. At twenty-five, he was the new pastor of an attractive wooden church in Montgomery, Alabama. The affluent congregation appreciated its dignified minister’s polish and erudition, his talented wife Coretta’s beauty, their precious infant daughter, Yolanda. Reverend King’s attention to sermons, church business matters, weddings and funerals was interrupted on December 1, 1955, the afternoon Rosa Parks simply said, “No,” when asked to give up her seat on a segregated city bus.
The young Rev. King was nominated to lead a bus boycott and agreed, convinced by the promise that the boycott would “all be over in within three or four days.” He regretted the decision immediately, “possessed by fear,” he later admitted, and “obsessed by a feeling of inadequacy.”
No hesitation was on display when Martin Luther King stood before four thousand people at a mass meeting that night. His voice resounded with majestic force: “You know, my friends, there comes a time when people get tired of being trampled over by the iron feet of oppression.” He roused the crowd to action, saying, “We are determined here in Montgomery to work and fight, until justice runs down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream!” On the rising tide of the congregation’s shouts, a movement of cosmic proportions was born. The young Martin Luther King, Jr., would lead it.
King declared that the “regulating ideal” of Christian love inspired his African-American neighbors to “dignified social action” in the form of nonviolent resistance. With Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount as the guide, they stayed off the city buses and walked as a simple expression of Christianity in action. It was Jesus of Nazareth himself who stirred the people to protest with a “creative weapon of love.”
Though some in the boycott called for a more militant approach on the grounds that “violence is the only language these white folks will understand,” Reverend King never wavered from the doctrine of passive resistance. “Nonviolence in the truest sense is not a strategy that one uses simply because it is expedient at the moment,” he said, “Nonviolence is ultimately a way of life that men live by because of the sheer morality of its claim.”
The exhilarating first days of the Montgomery bus boycott turned into long, grueling weeks. December and then January. The Montgomery old guard showed no signs of giving in to the protesters’ demands; in fact, they implemented new get-tough policies. Still, the commitment of the people held fast, inspired by King’s exhortations: “The fight here is between light and darkness,” he preached; time and again he reminded them that “the arc of the moral universe is long, and it bends toward justice.”
Behind the scenes, Martin Luther King, Jr., confessed that he had “started out with an unwarranted optimism” in the face of white intransigence. Some challenged King’s leadership, pointing to him as the chief stumbling block to a real solution. The pressure ramped up. Arrested on false charges, the respectable, law abiding Reverend King was thrown into jail for the first time. By the middle of January, threatening phone calls and letters were coming in at thirty and forty a day. Both Martin and Coretta’s parents anguished over their children’s safety, no matter the justice of their cause.
Martin Luther King reckoned that he was in real physical danger. He would later say, “I felt myself faltering and growing in fear.” One night at a mass meeting he silenced the enthusiastic audience with sober words, “If one day you find me sprawled out dead, I do no want you to retaliate with a single act of violence. I urge you to continue protesting with the same dignity and discipline you have shown so far.”
One lonely January midnight, just twenty-six years old and with no way of knowing the achievements that were to come, Martin Luther King, Jr., reached the end of himself, shaken and ready to quit. Sleepless after receiving one more snarled death threat, King pulled himself out of bed and walked into the silent kitchen. He heated a pot of coffee and tried to think of a way to “move out of the picture without appearing a coward.” The risk to Coretta and his infant daughter were simply too great to continue.
King recounts his experience in vivid detail. He pondered his options, thinking, “You can’t call on Daddy now, you can’t even call on Mama. You’ve got to call on that something in that person that your Daddy used to tell you about, that power that can make a way out of no way.” Weak and alone, King held his head in his hands. He bowed over the kitchen and spoke out loud, saying, “Lord, I’m down here trying to do what’s right. I think I’m right. I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right.” He went on praying, “But Lord, I confess that I’m weak now, I’m faltering. I’m losing my courage. Now I am afraid. “ The people who looked to him for leadership, they couldn’t see him lose courage, for then they would falter, too. But, King admitted, “I am at the end of my powers. I have nothing left. “
It was there in the silence of his kitchen that Martin Luther King, Jr., heard the voice of Jesus speak to him: “Martin Luther, stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for truth. And lo, I will be with you. Even until the end of the world.” Jesus pressed him to fight on; he would never leave him alone. In that vivid encounter, King felt the strengthening presence of the Divine. “Almost at once my fears began to go,” he recalled. “My uncertainty disappeared. I was ready to face anything.”
When the sun rose, King met the day with equanimity, assured that the forces of hate would not prevail. Four nights later a bomb exploded on the front porch of his house. Coretta and the baby inside but unharmed. King, away at a mass meeting, would remember, “Strangely enough, I accepted word of the bombing calmly. My religious experience a few nights before had given the strength to face it.” He rushed home to wailing sirens and pandemonium: hundreds of angry people, many with knives and guns, had gathered outside as white policemen skirmished to restore order.
Standing in the blasted remains of his parlor, King admonished the crowd, “We are not advocating violence! We want to love our enemies—be good to them.” King continued, “This is what we must live by, we must meet hate with love. We must love our white brothers no matter what they do to us. Love them, and let them know you love them.” He said, “If I am stopped, this movement will not be stopped.” Why? Because “God is with us!”
The bus boycott that had been expected to last less than a week went on for 381 days. It ended, at last, in victory when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that racial segregation in transportation was unconstitutional. Through it all, Martin Luther King, Jr., took the long view. “We stand in life at midnight,” he explained, “but we are always on the threshold of a new dawn.”
We all know that contentious battles were on the way, that further violence, arrests and peril would come. As leader of the burgeoning civil rights movement, King travelled over six million miles and spoke more than twenty-five hundred times. He was arrested upwards of twenty times and assaulted at least four times. Yet Dr. King held on to the promises he’d heard that midnight in 1956. Accepting his Nobel Peace Prize, he declared, “I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. That is why right temporarily defeated is stronger than evil triumphant.”
The Martin Luther King, Jr., I watched on the old black and white TV had dignity, a persona which one biographer described as “an almost galactic remoteness, as if the deepest center of him were lost in a secret communion with something far beyond the furors of the moment.” That was the shining martyr I’ve always admired from afar, the man whose speeches have lived on to decorate my children’s school hallways.
So it is a particularly moving experience to return to the first days of King’s journey---to that kitchen table, to the January midnight when young Martin King found himself alone with his fears, at the limit of his capacity to follow God’s call. But Martin knew where to turn; in honest prayer he begged for God’s strong presence. In that vulnerable place, King heard the voice of Jesus. “He promised never to leave me, no, never to leave me alone.”
I have much to learn, I who dodge conflict and even mild disagreement. Young Martin Luther King, Jr., prepared for a pastor’s peaceful life; he envisioned preaching well-prepared sermons to an attentive congregation, loyal wife and children by his side. When the great crisis came, quite uninvited, King’s courage depended not on his own heroics but upon the abiding presence of Jesus. His weakness opened the way for God’s work.
Dr. King found the vital connection between prayer and action. King’s soul was nourished by his intimate connection with God, through prayer that propelled him towards courageous response. His bold protest within a broken society always drove him back to reliance on God.
Can I believe that God is truly present with me? Will Jesus be close by when I risk a worthy confrontation? King’s story holds the rarely told wisdom of the American civil rights movement: that a vibrant spiritual life sustains life-giving boldness in the real world. That even in a night of fear, God calls us to courage.
Encountering God in our Grief. Reflections by Fellow Eryn Meyer '21
We lost a lot in 2020. Every morning we woke up to headlines about new cases and deaths. Some of us lost loved ones. Some of us lost jobs. Some of us lost the opportunity to grieve a lost family member with our community. All of us have lost the life we once lived pre-COVID-19 and had expectations of 2020 that were far from reality.
As difficult as it is, I am learning that it is okay to take the time to grieve what is lost. In fact, it is essential for us to grieve. When we release our sorrow to God, God hears it and grieves with us. Grief reminds us of our humanness. It reminds us of the limitations of this world. When we take the time to grieve, personally and corporately, we release our feelings vulnerably before the Lord.
By owning our grief, we are brought into a deeper relationship with God, enabling us to see new aspects of God’s character and what God desires for us. Walter Sharon, another Horizons Fellow, made an observation about grief in our most recent Fellows meeting. He said, “There is an inherent optimism in grief.” He went on to explain that when people mourn what they have lost, they are mourning what should have been being replaced with what is. Mourning implies that there is a higher standard, a high reality, for which the world is capable, yet we are stuck in the broken version of that world.
As we enter a new year, there are many things that should be which are not. We should be travelling to visit loved ones. We should be able to greet each other with handshakes and hugs. We should be able to expect safety and health for our families. These, and many more losses, are examples of how our desires for goodness are met with loss and brokenness. To grieve is to name these losses before the Lord, recognizing God’s will to restore the brokenness of our world.
Though I am a beginner in expressing grief as a spiritual life practice, going to the Psalms has been helpful. When I feel I don’t have the language on my own, the Scriptures help me express my feelings before God.
Psalm 63:1 is an expression of deep grief and yearning before the Lord:
1 You, God, are my God,
earnestly I seek you;
I thirst for you,
my whole being longs for you,
in a dry and parched land
where there is no water.
Perhaps while reflecting on what was lost in 2020 and preparing for what’s to come in 2021, you can take some time to cry out to the Lord, recognizing how your soul thirsts for God’s goodness.
Though there is no cure for grief, St. Thomas Aquinas offers us some tips on how to encounter our sorrow. He gives us the “five remedies of sorrow”:
à Pleasure
à Weeping
à Sharing our sorrows with friends
à Contemplating the truth
à A warm bath and a nap
Monsignor Charles Pope explains the five remedies of sorrow in this helpful article for the Catholic Standard.
Though Psalm 63 begins with an outpouring of loss and sorrow, it transitions into gratitude for God’s glory and abounding love:
2 I have seen you in the sanctuary
and beheld your power and your glory.
3 Because your love is better than life,
my lips will glorify you.
4 I will praise you as long as I live,
and in your name I will lift up my hands.
5 I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods;
with singing lips my mouth will praise you.
When thinking about 2020, I hope you find time to name the loss you have experienced and express it before the Lord. I also hope, in that grief, you encounter God’s goodness and unshakable promise for the future.
* Sculpture image is “A Voice in Ramah” by Sarah Hempel Irani.
New Year hopes & Epiphany visions.
“The land you are…to take possession of is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven. It is a land the Lord your God cares for; the eyes of the Lord your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end.” (Deuteronomy 11:11-12)
A good journey begins with knowing where you are and being willing to go somewhere else. (Richard Rohr)
Happy New Year & A Blessed Epiphany!
This week, amidst great political unrest, we stand at the threshold of the unknown. Before us lies a new year, an open road and we are going forward to take possession of it. Who knows what we will find? What new experiences or changes will come our way? What new needs will arise? In spite of the uncertainty before us, we have a comforting message from our heavenly Father: “The Lord your God cares for it; the eyes of the Lord are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end.” …The Father comes near to take our hand and lead us on our way today. It will be a good and blessed New Year!
(January 1st entry from the 1925 devotional classic Streams in the Desert by Lettie Cowman, an American missionary to Asia.)
On behalf of all of us at Theological Horizons, I THANK YOU for your partnership, prayers, and tremendous generosity throughout 2020.
As 2021 begins, may God give us the courage to go to a new places and find, among the most common, ordinary people, the One we truly seek: Jesus.
Karen Wright Marsh
Executive Director, Theological Horizons