Daily Devotions

Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

“Hosanna!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!

Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.  Mark 11:7-11

Finally now Jesus appears in Jerusalem.  He is the anti-Caesar.

Coming in peace he rides a colt rather than a stunning white full-size horse.  He neither follows nor leads an impressive army.  There are no long lines of newly captured slaves or other signs of great military conquests.  His path into town is a steep descent down a narrow path, not the broad avenue specially designed in Rome for processions just like this…traveled by all the previous big dogs, each trying to outdo the rest in pomp, splendor, and majesty.

He reaches Jerusalem and, oddly enough, not much is going on.  I picture here Dakota Avenue, the main street in my hometown, after all of the businesses have closed for the day.  All is weirdly quiet.  So Jesus heads back out to Bethany for the night.

We reenact this scene every Palm Sunday.  A crowd gathers outside of the entrance door.  Somehow the crowd always seems a bit smaller than it really ought to be.  We are remembering, after all, the entrance into the last week of the life of the Savior of the world.  But far more people aren’t there than are.

A normal Sunday might be cause for 30% of a congregation’s membership to make it to worship.  But that number is divided between two or more worship services…and the Palm Sunday thing happening outside the church doors is right at the very beginning of worship which means it leaves out the late comers, and those who find it hard to walk, thus the crowd outside is always just a little bit less than we expect.

Why are we surprised at that?

The old joke in North Dakota is that the cold winters “keep the riff raff out.”  I never really understood that line (it always seemed to me that we had plenty of riff raff anyway…not to mention that we never used the words “riff raff” other than the times we sought a silver lining in the dark cloud of freezing our toes off.)  But there is something in Mark’s telling of the Jesus story about lines being drawn and sides being chosen and crowds being fickle and Jesus ultimately being left very much alone.

We would love to fool ourselves with the notion that we would have stuck by Jesus to the end.  There is a little bit of Peter in all of us bystanders.

And while I would prefer to gather on a Palm Sunday with 100% of the membership of a congregation, and many of their friends, it won’t happen.  It won’t happen because we have heard the story too many times so we think we already get it.  And even if we get it, seeing it sometimes might be too much.

There wasn’t much going on around the temple.  So Jesus called it a night.

Let us pray:  Dear Lord, as we turn now to spend the rest of our time in Mark, we are drawing ever closer to that cross off in the distance.  As we hear again what you have done for us, we pray that you might continue doing the work of salvation in us, that we might join you in that healing work around us.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it.  Mark 11:1-6

Today just happens to be the 24th anniversary of my ordination.  Today’s text reminds me of one of the great stories I have learned along the way.

Pastor Don Carlson was my senior pastor in my first call.  He began his ministry as an associate pastor and part time camp director.  One time he was planning a trip for the youth of his congregation and they were one van short of what they needed for a cross country drive.

Don just happened to notice that a businessman in the small town in which he lived had just bought one of those big old brand new luxury vans with the fancy paint jobs.  But Don didn’t really know the guy.  He wasn’t a member of his church.  He wasn’t even a Lutheran.  But he had a great van.

One day Don was at the local minister’s meeting and he happened to sit beside a wise old Episcopal priest.  As they were talking, Don told the priest the story about how they needed a van and how Don had noticed the new van in town.

The old priest told Don (and this is why I remember this story): Never hesitate to ask for what you need to do the Lord’s work.

It doesn’t even look like the two disciples even asked.  Jesus told them they would find a colt tied up and they should just take it.  Jesus gave them an answer should anyone ask, but still, this looks an awful lot like horse thievery. (A hanging offense in the American West, I’m not sure about the cultural rules in Bethpage or Bethany.)

They take the colt and, sure enough, they get caught.  “The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.”  It works.

Jesus has a divine appointment.  He is following a path that will lead him straight into the teeth of worldly power and authority.  That he “saw” the colt helps us see that Jesus knows where he is going, he knows what is going to happen, and he knows what he is doing.

He is doing the Lord’s work.

Never hesitate to ask for what you need when you’re doing the Lord’s work.

Let us pray:  Dear Lord, we come back now, in our journey through Mark, to join you as you enter Jerusalem.  We know what lies ahead and just knowing that feels like opening an old wound that seems impervious to healing.  Yet we know that the pain of healing is often worse than the pain of the initial injury.  As we follow you in your own calling, make us all the more mindful of the ways that our own callings echo yours.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.  Mark 10:46-52

I have often thought, and still often think, about how life might have felt before human ingenuity kicked into gear and produced something helpful.  The latest blessing came into my life a couple of weeks ago.  It is a little machine that sits next to my bed that regulates my breathing, stops my snoring, and helps me get more rest.

I’m typing into a laptop computer, connected to the Internet, that will send what I write out to desktops, laptops, tablets, and smart phones all around the world.  In minutes.  Someone, somewhere, might even read what I write this morning – it will feel like I’m talking straight to them.  Like a personal message from a complete stranger.

I can see what I’m doing because I’m wearing reading glasses, which I still need despite having had eye surgery ten years ago, which replaced the contact lenses which replaced the glasses which I first got in the 4th grade.  I still remember the day that I left Dr. Lindberg’s office into a brand new world.  I remember stepping off the curb that suddenly felt three feet high as I looked off into the distance and actually saw the world the way God intended me to see.

The list would get very long if we counted all of the mechanical marvels that have improved our lives since the day that blind Bartimaeus cried out to Jesus for help. We have seen wondrous and wonderful changes that improve human life.

But some things haven’t changed.

There are still voices that call for help even as the crowd tells them to shut up.

And there are still ears that hear those voices and respond with the question that will always feel like blessed rain on parched soil – What do you want me to do for you?

Helen Keller, herself unable to hear, see or speak as a child, lived in silent darkness until the right person showed up in her life to ask that question.  What do you want me to do for you?  Out of her darkness she emerged to bless the world.  She grew to be a teacher, a leader, a speaker, an advocate.

As Helen herself said, “The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision.”

May we, who follow the footsteps of Jesus, hear well the voices of those who suffer, responding with compassion, as we are able.

Let us pray:  Heal our broken and limited vision, O Lord.  Open our ears when we refuse to listen, our eyes when we fail to see.  Thank you for those who seek to bless others in real, practical and down to earth ways.  May we, so blessed, always follow you, knowing that the footprints before us include those of once blind Bartimaeus.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.” And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?” And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?” They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized; but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.”

When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John. So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”  Mark 10:35-45

It has been many years since I read Robert Fulghum’s “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten” so I can’t remember if “standing in line and waiting your turn” is in there…but if it isn’t, it should be.

I think of that line on a daily basis.  Every morning when I drive to work I have to turn left off of Hiway 6 and get in line on the feeder road for I-10.  Every morning the line on the feeder road snakes its way back virtually all the way.  And every morning I am tempted to jump over to the right lane, fly past all of the waiting cars, and then find a Honda I can bully out of the way with my Ford.

Twenty years ago I would have probably made a game out of how close to the front I could push it.  Every commute was a NASCAR event back then.  But it seems that things have changed for me.  It would be great to call it “patience” or “maturity” but the truth is probably closer to “sloth” or “fear of getting a ticket or a fender bender.”

All I know for sure is that now I notice myself, on a daily basis, making room for the other cars.  A few minutes here or there don’t much matter in my line of work anyway.  I just notice that I notice such things now.

So I do understand James and John and their eagerness to budge to the front of the line.  What amazes me is Jesus.

Notice that he doesn’t shame James and John.  At all.  Even in front of the other disciples.  He doesn’t criticize their impertinence, he simply responds to their question with a question.  And his final answer, if you can call “I don’t know” an answer, comes across with a certain kind of…what is it?…sad resignation or knowing compassion?

Then comes the teaching moment.  Leadership in God’s kingdom isn’t about playing King of the Mountain or First One To the Interstate or even sitting in the seat of honor.  Leadership in the kingdom means serving, sacrificing, giving, even getting out of the way.  Which, when you think about it, means that everyone under the lordship of God is a leader.  Leadership is not a zero sum game.

So what’s our hurry?

Let us pray:  Dear Jesus, we so often forget the lessons of leadership which you taught us, not only by words but by your own example.  We confess that there is  more than a little James and John in us.  Forgive our impatience, even our impertinence, and teach us to lead by making way for others.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them; they were amazed, and those who followed were afraid. He took the twelve aside again and began to tell them what was to happen to him, saying, ‘See, we are going up to Jerusalem, and the Son of Man will be handed over to the chief priests and the scribes, and they will condemn him to death; then they will hand him over to the Gentiles; they will mock him, and spit upon him, and flog him, and kill him; and after three days he will rise again.’  Mark 10:32-34

This is now the third, and the last, time that Jesus will tell his twelve closest friends about his impending death.  Evidently Peter has learned his lesson.  He keeps his mouth shut.

We know this story pretty well.  Perhaps too well.

Thousands of people have been killed over the past couple of weeks inSyria.  Is it an uprising, a civil war, or chaos?  None of that matters much to the people left behind, caught between their grief at losing a loved one and their terror at the thought of being next in line.

Seldom does a week go by inHoustonwithout hearing yet another gruesome story about Mexican drug lords (a fascinating choice of words) fighting (another interesting word) their battles over turf and power.  The use of “lord” should be utterly banned in the media style sheets for such bloodthirsty criminals and you can hardly call it “fighting” when an SUV rolls up to a little village and rounds up defenseless men and women soon to be treated with less humanity than a rooster at a cockfight.

Yes we know the story of innocent people suffering at the hands of powerful people who care for nothing but more of what they already have.

We know the stories of good men shot down in their prime.

We know the story of crowds suddenly turning, manipulated by the voices in the front of the room.

We know that someone provides bullets, sells guns, buys drugs, elects leaders…and maybe it occurs to us that no one is really on the sidelines of such atrocities.  There is a little bit of every one of us involved.  We’ve heard the words “you are your brother’s keeper” and “when one suffers, we all suffer; when one rejoices, we all rejoice.”  We can’t close our eyes tight enough or cover our ears completely.  We’re surrounded.

Perhaps we know the story too well.  It doesn’t shock us anymore.  This story of the famed and fabled “Son of Man”, this long expected Messiah, who comes not with armies to right the wrongs of a broken world but only to be himself broken as he is hung by his arms to a suffocating death.

Jesus will soon enterJerusalemas he has entered into life itself.  He will enter the temple, enter the courtyard, enter the suffering of a broken world.  Now we’ve heard the story again.  Will Jesus enter us as well?

Let us pray:  Lord, we are with your disciples.  We too feel both fear and amazement at hearing again the words of your suffering and death from your own lips.  We don’t want to look but we can’t look away.  May we continue to see you in those who suffer and those who seek to help.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

Peter began to say to him, ‘Look, we have left everything and followed you.’ Jesus said, ‘Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age—houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields, with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.’  Mark 10:28-31

What has the Christian faith cost you?

Seriously.

This isn’t a question about earning your way into heaven based on an installment plan of saintly behavior or earthly suffering or even serving consecutive terms on a church council.  It is a simple question.

What has the Christian faith cost you?

This past Saturday we had a funeral at our church of a woman for whom the Christian faith was more than a factoid of her ethnic identity, more than the legacy of her family tradition.  The 92 years of her life were grounded in the church of her childhood, the church in which she raised her children and lived her adult life, and the church where she spent her last years. The church, her faith, wasn’t a place she visited occasionally when she felt like it, it was the heart of her identity that she carried into every facet of her life.

And she would have been the first to tell me that last paragraph was hyperbole.

As I spoke at her funeral, I talked a bit about watching her slowly walk into church on Sunday mornings with her walker.  About noticing how her daughter had gone out of her way to bring her to God’s house, to the table where she found meaning, purpose, and hope.  The last meaningful words I heard her say were the Lord’s Prayer as we had communion together, with her children, in the last bed that would hold her before she entered eternal rest.

I’m still carrying her into this week for she continues to remind me that following Jesus is the only journey worth walking.

Yes Peter, you did leave everything to follow Jesus.  Good for you.  Do you have any idea (of course you don’t, you couldn’t, you were too caught up in the daily grind of life just like we are), how millions of us would give everything, anything, to have just one day of your life?  Just one day to see our Lord in the flesh.  To hear his voice.  To watch him touch lives.  To speak to him and hear him respond.  Peter, we would give everything for that and you got him for three years!

So yes Peter, you made tremendous sacrifices and you would continue to make them until the very end.  As have millions of saints down through the years.  People investing their lives, their time, their money, their passion, their commitment, their compassion, to love their Lord by living God’s will to the best of their ability.

And now the baton has been passed to us.  Now we, who stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before us, are the ones gifted with the calling to be Christ in the lives of our family, our friends, our neighbors, our community.

This is too much to do alone so we band together in communities of faith.  We do our part so the party can continue.

What has the Christian faith cost you?

Let us pray:  Dear Jesus, you know us, everything about us.  You know what we grasp too tightly, you know what we fritter away, you know our hearts.  Renew our desire to follow you more closely, to serve more willingly, to give more freely.  Encourage us, as we face life today, with a gentle reminder that it is all worth it.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

Then Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, ‘How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!’ And the disciples were perplexed at these words. But Jesus said to them again, ‘Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.’ They were greatly astounded and said to one another, ‘Then who can be saved?’ Jesus looked at them and said, ‘For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.’ Mark 10:23-27

Wealth is a complicated subject in the Bible.

In the Old Testament, wealth is a sign of God’s gracious favor.  Abraham became very wealthy, as did his descendants.  Solomon accumulated Bill Gatesian (is that a word?) wealth.  The “promise” in the Promised Land included all the best things one could imagine, a land flowing with milk and honey.

On the other hand, Abraham’s descendants also went belly up and took their empty bellies toEgyptwhere they became slaves for 400 years.  Solomon’s wealth choked him and blinded him from seeing the error in his idolatrous ways.  Even the Promised Land turned out far less promising that originally envisioned.

Then came the prophets with their scorn toward those who laid upon ivory beds and drank wine from golden goblets, all the while neglecting the poor, the stranger, the orphan and the widow.

And even though a complicated subject, in the common sense of people….wealth remained a sign of God’s gracious favor.  The rich were blessed, the poor were…not.  And it was far better, still is in our own day, to be wealthy.

“How hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!”  What will this text say to us this morning?

Usually at this point we start back-pedaling.  We say things like “It isn’t how much we have (as long as we made it honestly), it is what we do with that we have that matters.”  “It isn’t our wealth that is the problem, but how much we LOVE our wealth that is the problem.” (Amazing, isn’t it, just which Bible verses people still remember in a largely biblically illiterate culture.  People who have to go to the table of contents to find Romans still know that a tithe is 10%.  Ironic.)

How about we keep things very down to earth this morning?

If we understand, as I do, the “kingdom of God” as a relationship defined by surrendering our lives to the lordship of the God who loves us rather than about getting into a very exclusive celestial country club called “heaven”, the simple reality is that wealth can get in our way.

We don’t need to trust God – in this life – when we have plenty of money in the bank and the strong likelihood of more to come.  We can largely do what we want.  We can even pretend to be masters of the universe and choose to define ourselves by the purse we carry or the watch on our wrist.

Nor, quite frankly, do we need to trust God – in this life – if we are poor.  We can choose instead to bewail our misfortune, blame the universe, and drown our sorrows away just like the rich spend theirs away.

In other words, Jesus nails us with these words precisely because we still are stuck in measuring our holiness, our value, our worth, by our net worth and that will never get us anywhere beyond being possessed by our possessions.

The path Jesus is opening up looks much more like liquidation than it does mergers and acquisitions.  Surrender looks much more like, rich or poor, “Lord, what would you have me do with the gifts you have given me?” than it does “Look at what a good boy or girl I am!”

Let us pray:  Lord, we know that, by any standard, we are wildly more wealthy than anyone has ever been.  We have more luxuries, more conveniences, more security, than previous generations thought possible.  Teach us to be content with what we have, to manage well the gifts you have given us, and to seek your guidance as we surrender our wills to yours.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

As he was setting out on a journey, a man ran up and knelt before him, and asked him, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ Jesus said to him, ‘Why do you call me good? No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments: “You shall not murder; You shall not commit adultery; You shall not steal; You shall not bear false witness; You shall not defraud; Honor your father and mother.” ’ He said to him, ‘Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth.’ Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions.  Mark 10:17-22

The story begins with a young man going on a journey.  Normally, one prepares for going on journeys.  You carefully pack just what you need.  Not too little because you don’t want to arrive unprepared at your destination.  Not too much because it is irritating to pay an extra $50 for an airplane ticket for your suitcase.

You just take what you need.  Which varies, of course, by your own sense of what you need.  (Me?  A pair of pants can last a week but I bring another in case I spill.)

So we’re assuming he is all packed up and ready to go on his journey.  He might even be in a hurry to leave…although I doubt it.  (Why hurry when your journey will happen on foot or on a horse or camel that will pretty much travel at the speed that a horse or a camel is willing to go.)  But the text says that the man “ran up and knelt before” Jesus.  So he was either in a hurry or there was a certain intensity about everything this young man does.

Notice that I’ve twice called him a “young” man…but the text here in Mark is silent as to his age.  Not so inMatthew 19where Matthew calls him a “young man.” Luke 18calls him a “ruler.”  Neither Matthew nor Luke mention Jesus “loving” the man as he points out the one thing he lacks.  All of which I find fascinating because it tells me that the writers of Matthew and Luke, both of which wrote with copies of Mark available to them, once had to wrestle with this text in the same way that we are doing today.  But we, rather than improving Mark, will simply listen and allow the text to speak to us.

Does it make a difference whether or not this man is young or not?  Of course it does. A young man asking the “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” is simply setting himself up for how to really succeed in life, how to really have it all.  Perhaps especially a privileged young man with a family legacy to live up to.  A young man asking that question is an ambitious striver who doesn’t want to miss out on anything.  He is setting out on a journey, secure in the hope that there will be many journeys ahead of him in a life that seemingly stretches out forever.

But an older man?  An older man who has already done all that was necessary to acquire a fortune and has now learned the painful lesson that riches might allow him to be unhappy in lots of interesting places but it doesn’t change his root unhappiness.  Older men don’t run…so if this man was older, he was also desperate to know the answer to eternal life…for he could very well be setting out on his last journey.

Either way, the answer is the same.  Keep the commandments and lose the extra baggage.

Mark, Matthew and Luke all tell us the man turns, dejected, and walks away grieving.  Only Mark tells us that Jesus loves him.

Sometimes we regret asking certain questions.  For once asked, we must then live the rest of our lives with the answer.

Let us pray:  Gracious Lord, we begin another week this morning.  We are preparing for a busy day at home, at work, many of us working to earn our daily bread.  As we walk our own journeys through life, open our hearts to take stock of our stuff.  Help us understand what “enough” means for us and remind us of our call to see that all people have enough.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.

People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them; and the disciples spoke sternly to them. But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.’ And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them. Mark 10:13-16

If you are older than 50, the odds are very good that the church of your childhood had a picture on a wall of Jesus in a garden setting, standing in the doorway before a door that had no handle.  Equally likely, there was another picture of a smiling Jesus holding children on his lap.

I am convinced that there is tremendous power in this image of Jesus – the One who took children on his lap, took them up in his arms, laid hands on them and blessed them – precisely because there will always be that little child in us who still needs to be loved, to be nurtured, to be hugged, to be valued.  When we see this Jesus, even in our minds, meditating on this image, we find comfort available no other place.  And it remains freely available to us and that is a good thing.

Obviously we will never have the opportunity to hear the writer of the gospel of Mark being interviewed on public radio so we will never know the answer to this question…but this is one of the questions I would ask:  “Tell us, did you put these verses of Jesus welcoming children to himself immediately after talking about divorce on purpose or was that a later editorial accident?”

I’m thinking these verses are put exactly where they are on purpose.  For children, as much as we extol their childlike virtues and helicopter our lives around them and tell ourselves how important they are, will ever remain weak, powerless, and vulnerable to the decisions and behaviors of the adults in their lives.

So I see this image of Jesus welcoming children – and the stern and plainly irritated and all too full of themselves disciples standing behind them – and I’m seeing the pain that is all too often inflicted on children.

Children losing their families and childhoods as they are caught up in the childishness of their divorcing parents.  Children, inconsolable, even as their parents do everything in their power to be there for them and with them.  Children victimized by pedophiles, even those leveraging the power they have as family friends, religious leaders, coaches, teachers.

Children dying of malaria.  Children, hungry because the rebel troops won’t allow the food aid to pass to the refugee camps.  Children in substandard schools because they happen to be born to parents living in the wrong zip code, or the wrong corner of a zip code.

This list could go on and on and on.  We look back at our own lives and we look around at the world and we see, through the eyes of the children we once were, the children we now love, the children under our sphere of influence, and we see sin both as victims and victimizers.

And we crawl up on Jesus’ lap for comfort.  He smiles at us.  He makes room for us.  He helps us up.  Wiggles a little so we’re more comfortable.  He gives us that time and we realize that we have never ever been so deeply loved, valued and treasured.  No matter who we are, where we’re from, what we’ve done.

Jesus knows us and loves us.  He holds us until we feel just a little better.  Then he sets us down and tells us to go play nicely with others.  And we go, not so far as to get out of his sight, but we go.

Let us pray:  Dear Lord, thank you for making time in your life for children.  Thank you for the parents who loved us as well as they could, no matter what happened to them or to us along the way.  We pray today for adults who long for the parents they will never see again on this side.  We pray for children, that every child might receive just enough of what they need in life to flourish and develop into the people you have created them to be.  In Jesus’ name.  Amen.