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Holy Hands

Calloused hands
Soft hands
Gnarled hands
Scarred hands
Shaking and trembling hands
Injured hands
Distrusting hands
Humble hands
All reach toward the grace
You offer so freely.
Extensions of the people
You touch.


If you only knew…

This was Sunday’s sermon at Community Lutheran Church in Sterling, VA, done in spoken word/slam poetry style from the perspective of the unnamed woman in Luke’s Gospel (Luke 7:36-8:3).

If you knew what kind of woman I was,
You would know
that you should run –
Take off,
Say “I’m done”
Flee from the very sight of me,
And never look back,
Not for lack of compassion,
But because the rules tell you so.

You would know
As soon as I barged into that place,
The look of fear,
Sweeping over that Pharisee’s face
is your cue –
Do what our culture says to do.
Walk away – forget what you’ve seen.
If you only knew.

Imagine – I’ve heard it all before.
The whispers, the stares, the shame that floods,
Do they think I don’t care?
Do they think I don’t see the glances?
Praying instead for second chances?
Do they think I don’t feel?
Like I don’t have any worth?
Day in and day out.
I carry it all.
If they knew what kind of woman I was.

But somehow in my heart I know,
You’re not like them.
And so I take the last remaining shred
Of street cred and dignity and go to buy
The alabaster jar.
Hope beyond hope
That you’ll forgive the sin that mars
My life
My future
My relationships.
If you only knew what kind of woman I was.

So I’ve come here among your ranks,
In sheer thanks,
For forgiveness you have yet to bestow.
Low I crouch,
And anoint your feet,
My heart thumps as tears flow freely,
Jesus, will you see me?
If you only knew what kind of woman I was.

I glance Simon in the corner of my eye,
He’s wondering why
I’m here,
Without an invitation
He dines with
The healer of the nations.
“She doesn’t deserve it,
What a waste.”
Waiting to put me in my place,
But unable to pull me
Away from this table,
Even as he burns up inside:
“If he knew what kind of woman she is.”

Every one of my tears
A prayer,
Crying out for all of my years:
“Don’t shove me aside.
Love –
let there be love.
I don’t want to hide.”

And you don’t.

You tell that Pharisee,
Although he thinks he can see,
Although he thinks he perceives,
And thinks he believes,
Rightly –
He’s wrong.
I’m forgiven and free –
Washes over me.
I’m seen and I can see –
You know who I was
And who I can be.

You send me on my way,
“You’ve been saved.”
And for the first time
I’m light,
The weight’s been lifted,
And I want run all around,
From town to town,
“If you only knew what kind of woman I was!
If you only knew what kind of God he is!”

You see,
Because that’s your game,
And forgiving,
A new way of living.
If you only knew what kind of God he is.

But people always misunderstand,
Land to land,
We’re all the same,
Stuck in our sin,
In – ward looking,
Pointing at others,
Blind to our own misdeeds.
On a campus where
Crime is seen as just a youthful fancy,
Or in Latvia –
Women preaching the Gospel
Have made men antsy.
If you only knew what kind of God he is.

Sins of scarlet
Far and near,
Mark our world,
Jar our lives.
Drowning in disappointment –
Is there a balm –
An ointment?
To soothe our weary souls?

So don’t ask me to simmer
When there are people who need
A glimmer
Of hope
A voice and a choice,
In a world gone bad
With people who are mad –
Trapped in their own mistakes,
Trying to break others
Cause they can’t deal
With their own stuff.
If they only knew what kind of people they were,
And could be.

We’ve been anointed,
Appointed to tell the story,
Of YOUR glory,
Of your cross,
Your rising
Your Spirit,
To all who will hear it.
To proclaim your kingdom,
Be heaven to earth
People of peace
Loving the lost and forgotten
If we only knew what kind of people they are.

Because up your sleeve there’s an ace.
Grace –
Yes, a table of grace,
A place
We can meet you face to face,
Touch you
Like a woman
At another table,
Who loved much.
If we only knew…

© 2016. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

(From: "Mary Magdalene" by He Qi - This woman is unnamed, but some have associated her with Mary Magdalene)

(From: “Mary Magdalene” by He Qi – This woman is unnamed, but some have associated her with Mary Magdalene)

“In the Beginning…”

This was yesterday’s meditation/reflection on John 1:1-18 at Community Lutheran in Sterling, VA.


In the beginning,

God’s Spirit, gracefully hovered,

Banking and wheeling, over the swirling chaos.


In the beginning,

God spoke, a voice in the darkness,

Calling forth light, seeing that it was good.


In the beginning,

God moved, bringing forth life,

Giving beauty, shape, and form to the void.


In the beginning,

God stood back, brushed off hands,

And breathed life into all creation – ev’ry being.


In the beginning,

God spoke and creation listened,

Praising God – a rich symphony for God’s goodness.


In the beginning,

God and humanity walked together,

Before we proudly decided to go our own way.


In the beginning,

The Word – God’s own being,

Brought all things into existence – he was light and life.





A new beginning,

Grace – the Father’s heart – took on flesh,

Now near enough for all to see, hear, and touch him.


A new beginning,

God pitched a tent among humanity,

Taking up refuge with those who had strayed.


A new beginning,

The light shone, transforming darkness,

Into daylight, spilling sunlight onto tired shadows.


A new beginning,

Light and life came, but still,

People were blind – stuck in their own ways.


A new beginning,

The gift of a new start,

Graciously and lavishly given to all who believe.


A new beginning,

Power to make us children of God,

A bond so strong, cross cannot conquer, nor death sever.


A new beginning,

A dark tomb looked like the end,

But the hope of sunrise – the Son rising – gave new life.




It’s the beginning,

Each fresh dawn, open to welcome,

The fragile Christ child born in and among us.


It’s the beginning,

Your sins and regrets washed away,

You are free to shine Christ’s light in the darkness.


It’s the beginning,

You are forgiven and cleansed,

Reflecting Christ’s light like sun glinting on the water.


It’s the beginning,

Struggles, worries, sickness cannot hold you,

The love and life of God are coursing in your veins!


It’s the beginning,

God’s glory has come near, seeking you,

How will you bear witness to that brilliance and truth?


It’s the beginning,

God has come among us,

How might you embody God’s love this year?


It’s the beginning,

A new year – a new call to follow;

Celebrate the fullness of grace upon grace we’ve received!



© 2016. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.


Sermon #3 (September 27) in our sermon series “The Way of the Cross: Our Journey with Jesus” at Community Lutheran Church, Sterling, VA.

Peter tried to dissuade Jesus from heading to the cross and got put in his place – told to set his mind not on human things, but divine things.  The disciples argued about who was the greatest and found themselves looking at a child and being told to welcome the least of these.  Now, the disciples run to tattle on someone who is performing deeds of power – driving out demons in Jesus’ name.

Out of breath, they run up to Jesus.  “Teacher! We just saw this guy and he was casting out demons.  In your name! We tried to stop him because he’s not one of us.  We did well, didn’t we?!”  And, much to their surprise, Jesus says, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us.”  I can see the disciples stopping short and muttering, disappointedly, “Uh… ok.  I guess we’ll just keep walking to Jerusalem then.”

In order to understand what’s going on here, it’s helpful to go back earlier in chapter 9.  A man had brought his son to the disciples for healing. This boy was suffering from a demon that in modern terms seems to be epilepsy.  But the disciples couldn’t drive out the demon.  So Jesus casts it out and tells the disciples when they ask why they couldn’t cast it out, “‘This kind can come out only through prayer.’”

Now there is a man casting out demons in Jesus’ name, but he’s not even in Jesus’ group.  In light of this previous failure to do deeds of power like their Teacher, the disciples seem jealous of the other exorcist.  They are insecure, confused, struggling with their identity as followers of Jesus, and perhaps even afraid that Jesus will kick them out of the inner circle.  After all, they are the handpicked twelve and they can’t even cast out a demon!

The refrain that is repeated throughout last week’s text as well as today’s is, “in Jesus’ name” or “in the name of Christ.”  Children are to be welcomed in Jesus’ name.  Demons are cast out and wholeness restored in Jesus’ name.  People are to receive hospitality – a cup of water to drink – in Jesus’ name.  And woe be unto those who cause anyone who would believe in Jesus’ name to stumble.  In short, the name of Christ has tremendous power.

The disciples have heard Jesus predict his death twice already, and they’re trying to get a handle on what they are supposed to do and who they are supposed to be as followers.  In this search for clarity about their identity, the disciples are eager – super eager in fact – to point out the faults and shortcomings of this man operating outside of their little group.  Instead, Jesus uses this encounter to refocus their attention on themselves.  Because they have been called to follow Jesus and bear his name, they shouldn’t stop this man from doing good just because he’s an outsider.  Instead, they should be focused on the ways their actions are preventing healing and good news from flowing to people in Jesus’ name.  Because it’s not about the disciples’ names, but about whose name they carry and how they represent that name.  The actions of the outsider are welcomed while the insiders are warned to be mindful of their own actions.

In baptism, we are marked with the triune name of God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – often with a cross traced upon our foreheads.  It is this name we are to carry throughout our lives.  It is the name in which we are called to live, to love and to serve others.  It shapes and forms our identities.  But as the Gospel points out, because we bear this holy name, we also bear a great deal of responsibility.  Jesus’ words to his disciples ask us pointedly, “how are you getting in the way of the gospel? How are you a stumbling block to others?”

This week, we have been inundated by photos, videos, and news of Pope Francis’ visit to the United States.  While I’ve enjoyed it, and I think the Pope has wonderful things to say, he’s kind of a tough act to follow.  I mean, I can’t say that I’ve talked to Congress, washed the feet of prisoners, called for peace on a global scale, or even had a Fiat take me around DC! What on earth have I been doing with my life?! It is easy to look at his actions and feel like we cannot live up to them, but I really like how President Obama put it in his welcome speech to the Pope: “Your Holiness, in your words and deeds, you set a profound moral example.  And in these gentle but firm reminders of our obligations to God and to one another, you are shaking us out of complacency.  All of us may, at times, experience discomfort when we contemplate the distance between how we lead our daily lives and what we know to be true, what we know to be right.  But I believe such discomfort is a blessing, for it points to something better.”

Each of us, washed in the waters of baptism and marked with Christ’s holy and precious name, has been given a beautiful gift.  The gift of forgiveness and discipleship in Jesus’ name.  We have been given the opportunity to serve God and the world in the name of Christ.  Jesus issues a challenge, calling us to stop judging others and forcing us to look instead at how we may be keeping others from encountering the good news, the living God in their own lives.  Are there things that we hold dear that might be stumbling blocks to others experiencing God’s grace? Maybe it’s as simple as not moving in our pews to make room for new folks.  Or maybe it’s prioritizing television watching over spending time in prayer or devotions.  Maybe it’s in the way we speak about others which cheapens our witness to Christ.  This is the discomfort we experience when contemplating the distance between how we lead our daily lives and what we know to be true.  It’s the discomfort the disciples experienced that day with Jesus and it’s the discomfort that can provoke thoughtful prayer, contemplation and change in our own lives.  It’s the discomfort that can lead to asking for forgiveness and opening a space for the healing of our spirits.  Because Christ has begun a good work in us and will bring it to completion.

We are all tempted to look at those outside of ourselves or our little groups and think that others are doing it wrong or shouldn’t be allowed to do it at all.  Other denominations worshiping in the wrong style.  Neighbors tending their yards in the wrong way.  People praying differently than we do.  But Jesus warns us that our time would be better spent searching our hearts and allowing those who bring about good in his name to continue.  Instead of tearing down, how can we take the opportunity to build up and to point to God’s grace and love?

Recently, there was a story of a Turkish couple who took the money they could have spent on their wedding reception and instead spent it, and their wedding day, feeding thousands of Syrian refugees.  This couple, who are Muslims and not Christians, caused me to pause and to reflect on how I was welcoming others – offering a cup of cold water to the thirsty, bread to the hungry, and shelter to the homeless.  The “outsiders” helped this “insider” see and hear afresh the call of Christ.

Today you will have the opportunity to come forward to receive individual prayers for healing.  As James wrote, “Are any among you suffering? They should pray.  Are any among you sick? They should call for the elders of the church and have them pray over them, anointing them with oil in the name of the Lord.”  Soon, I will invite you to come forward to receive prayers in the name of the Lord for healing, forgiveness, strength, or whatever you may need this day.  Come and be strengthened, remembering the name in which you live, move, and have your being.  Come, and give thanks for the healing and wholeness that comes through life lived in Jesus’ name.  Amen.

© 2015. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.



This is the first sermon (September 13) in our sermon series, “The Way of the Cross: Our Journey with Jesus,” at Community Lutheran.


Today is a huge day! We’re kicking off the Program Year with Rally Day, we’re giving blood, and we’re even training Sunday School and Confirmation teachers.  It’s also the day we’re kicking off our sermon series, “The Way of the Cross: Our Journey with Jesus.”  Over the next six weeks, we’ll be exploring more what it means to be a disciple of Christ by taking a closer look at Jesus’ encounters with others in the Gospel of Mark.

This discussion in today’s text between Jesus and the disciples, and especially Peter, is a great way to start off our series.  Jesus and the disciples are traveling through Caesarea Philippi, an ancient town, with a strong cult to the Greek deity, Pan.  As part of worshiping Pan, there were frequent sacrifices made.  It’s in this area that Jesus asks his disciples, “who do people say that I am?”  They tell him what they’ve heard – that he’s John the Baptist come back from the dead, or the prophet Elijah returned to earth, or maybe one of the other rock star prophets of Israel’s past.

The Ruins of Caesarea Philippi (Banias/Panias) - January 2014

The Ruins of Caesarea Philippi (Banias/Panias); The cave for sacrifice can be easily seen even from a distance – January 2014

I can see Jesus nodding thoughtfully, taking it all in.  And then I see him looking at them and asking, “But who do you say that I am? Thanks for reporting what you’ve heard – that’s well and good, but I want to hear who you say that I am.”  Silence falls over the disciples as they wonder what’s going on.  Slowly, Peter clears his throat and says, “You are the Messiah.”  Jesus tells them to keep quiet about his identity and they continue walking.

I always imagine Peter smiling, truly pleased with himself for coming up with the right answer and thinking, “I’m in good cause I’m with the Messiah.”  Maybe he was even thinking “YES! I AM AWESOME!” Or whatever the Aramaic equivalent of that is.  But, of course, the story doesn’t end there! Nope, unfortunately for Peter’s ego, they keep walking.  Mark’s Gospel tells us, “Then Jesus began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.  He said all this quite openly.”

In this area where people sacrificed animals to satisfy a half-man, half-goat god, fully human and fully divine Jesus reveals that he will suffer and die.  He reveals openly that he will offer himself as a sacrifice, bridging the gap between God and humanity once and for all.  This is too much for Peter.  It messes with his image of who a god should be and what a god should do.  It’s not at all what he thought the Messiah should be about.  Jesus’ teachings about a suffering Messiah are completely the opposite of God who is glorious, mighty and worthy of praise, aren’t they?

Peter can’t take it and so he speaks up, being the bold and the brash fellow that he is.  Maybe he was thinking he’d get two right answers in a row.  No such luck, because Jesus tells him “get behind me, Satan.”  Zing! From all-star disciple to major failure in a few verses.  That’s why I love Peter! We all have those moments where we feel like we’ve got it and we’re moving in a great direction and then … BAM! We realize we don’t have it at all.  It’s like a scene in the 1980s comedy, “The Three Amigos.”  Steve Martin’s character is chained in the enemy’s prison, but he realizes he can move the chains by pulling his arms and legs forward toward the chain release lever.  He slowly creeps forward, saying, “gonna make it.  Gonna make it. Gonna make it.  Gonna make it.”  He reaches the release lever, and shouts, “I made it!” Then is slammed back against the wall with an “Ow.”

This exchange between Peter and Jesus is just like that – Peter thinks he’s figured it out and Jesus clarifies pretty strongly that he hasn’t.

I find Jesus’ words interesting and not just because he just told Peter that he’s acting like Satan, the accuser and tempter.  I find his words interesting because if I had an enemy, the last place I would want the enemy or the adversary or the accuser to be was at my back – I can’t see him, I don’t know what’s going on.  These words are a form of rebuke for sure because they also appear in the Old Testament, but I think it’s also saying something to Peter.

If you’re behind someone, most likely you’re following them.  Jesus tells Peter to get in line – “get behind me.”  Stop setting your mind on human things – the things everyone in this world thinks are important.  It’s like Jesus is saying, “Peter, don’t you see? Those aren’t the things that God cares about.  God has something else in mind – something that involves dying and rising, sacrifice and new life.”  So Jesus tells Peter “get behind me” and to all who are gathered, “take up your cross and follow me.”  It’s a lot harder to follow someone else, the ways of the world, or our own evil hearts, if we have our eyes firmly set on Christ and we are carrying our crosses.

Ok, but what on earth does it mean to deny ourselves and take up our crosses to follow Christ?  Does it mean saying of annoyances we experience, “I suppose this is my cross to bear.”  No.  It means turning away from the things that would lead us away from God and seeking to live out our lives in a Christ-like way.  Carrying our crosses is a constant reminder of whose we are and what he has done.  It is a reminder of God’s sacrifice on our behalf – a sacrifice made out of sheer love.  Who do you say that Jesus is? And what would it look like to live formed by Christ’s sacrificial love, so that we might share that same sacrificial love with those around us?

It might mean spending time working with the hungry children in our area, getting to know them, hearing their stories, and ensuring that they have food.  It might mean welcoming refugees, offering up your resources and maybe even your home so that someone might have a warm, safe place to stay.  It might mean journeying with someone as a Stephen Minister and providing a listening ear and a loving heart.  It might mean sitting with a friend who has lost a job and being there for them.  It might mean spending time tending the gardens of the church so that it looks welcoming for those coming inside.  The possibilities are endless.

The crucifixion, and indeed all of Jesus’ human life, took place in the midst of a period of oppression, poverty, suffering, despair and difficulty.  And the fact that we are called to take up the cross as well means that we are called not to run from the difficulties, the ugliness, or the pain of the world, but that we are called to journey with those who suffer.  Anglican N.T. Wright even described prayer in this way: “Prayer stands cruciform at the place where the world is in pain to hold together Jew and Greek and slave and free. To hold together male and female, to hold together a battered and bleeding world and say, ‘No, there is a different way to be human.’”

Yes, there is a different way to be human.  And ironically, it looks like letting go of the things society upholds in favor of the cross.  It means that in order to pick up our crosses and follow Christ, we sometimes have to say, “get behind me, Satan.  I want nothing to do with you” to the things that tempt us to despair, to give up, to fear, or to forget God’s love for the entire cosmos. So to what do you need to say, “get behind me?” Is it the rat race? Is it to taking on more work in order to seek some kind of esteem? Is it spending money on things you don’t really need? Is it that dread feeling of hopelessness when you look at the world? Is it the voice of scarcity that would tell you to safeguard everything you have and not share it with others because there might not be enough? Is it that nagging voice that says God cannot or will not forgive?

Today, I want to invite us to say to those things what we need to say – to put them in their right place in our lives.  Behind Christ.  Not before Christ.  To say, “get behind me.  I follow Christ.”  As Jesus says in the reading, “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.  For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?” The way of the cross is hard.  It’s arduous and often times it’s not as glamorous as the life of those we see on TV or in movies.  But ultimately it is the way of true life – of life that is lived for something bigger than itself.  For the sake of God and for the sake of others.

Peter may have thought he won the prize with his first answer about Jesus being the Messiah.  And he was right.  But it was actually his mistake that led to the life-giving lesson.  Jesus is the Messiah, but it’s the kind of Messiah he is, and the people we are called to be as a result, that is truly life-giving.  God chooses to work through the weak, the imperfect, the foolhardy and often confused disciples, the brutal cross, and ultimately, the surprising, in order to being about abundant life for all people.  As followers of Christ, we are not perfect, but God has seen fit to work in and through us for the good of the world.  It may not be what we were expecting when we set out on this journey to follow Christ, but it is good indeed.  Thanks be to God.  Amen.

© 2015. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

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