Tag Archive: Life


This was Sunday’s sermon, preached at Community Lutheran Church in Sterling, VA on the Parable of the Talents.

The parable Jesus tells of the talents is all about risk. It’s not really about the amount of money involved, but rather what each of these servants or slaves does with what the Master gives him. In the Greek, it says the first two servants “worked with” the insane amounts of money they were given – 5 talents is about 75 years’ worth of wages and 2 talents is 30 years’ worth of wages. Even the servant who was given 1 talent was given a lot – that’s 15 years’ wages! That’s hundreds of thousands of dollars in today’s money.

So the Master gives extravagantly of his money to his servants – he hands it over to them to do with it as they will. And when he returns, the only one he is angry with is the one who didn’t do anything – the one who played it safe and buried the talent in the ground. It’s not because he didn’t make more money or didn’t make enough money, it’s because he acted from a place of fear: “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground.”

While the other two servants were given huge amounts, they acted out of abundance and decided to invest it and see what would happen. Their reward was being able to enter into the joy of their Master. But the third servant acted out of fear, real or perceived, did nothing with what he was graciously given, and, in the end, his fears became reality.

We have been entrusted with the greatest treasure – the Gospel. Each of us has been given the lavish gifts of God’s forgiveness and grace. But the trick is that we weren’t given these gifts to keep them to ourselves – we have received them to share. We have good news to share with those who ache to hear a kind word. We have been given forgiveness and hope for those who despair and feel they can’t go on. We have seen a way of peace and reconciliation that we can proclaim and live out in a broken and violent world. We have the love of Christ to share in our actions and our words.

In seminary, we were talking about taking risks for the sake of the Gospel and sharing the good news. In that conversation, one of my favorite professors said, “a glorious failure is better than a tepid success.” Hmmm. That really stuck with me.  Success is good, but I would rather try something different or off-the-wall in the hopes that it might better communicate or show God’s incredible love, than just play it safe. The Gospel is worth too much not to take those risks.

Yesterday, I heard of NFL player Jason Brown, who at the height of his career was one of the best centers in the league and had a $37 million dollar contract with the St. Louis Rams. But in October of 2012, he walked away from it all, even as his agent told him he was making the biggest mistake of his life. He left in order to become a farmer in Louisburg, North Carolina. He had never farmed a day in his life. He learned by watching YouTube videos. Yes, you can do anything by watching YouTube! His plan? To begin “FirstFruits Farm” a farm that would donate the first fruits of every harvest to those in need, as well as providing other opportunities for people in the community. He describes it as the most rewarding thing, the most successful thing, he’s ever done.   As he says, “Love is the most wonderful currency that you can give anyone.”

A common phrase to hear nowadays is YOLO – Y O L O – or, “you only live once.”

Even though this phrase can be used to encourage wild or irresponsible behavior, it’s true that we only live once. So how are we going to use our lives? God has given us an abundance of gifts, and as the parable shows, even one talent, is more than enough. So how are we going to use what we’ve been given – the love of God, our lives, gifts, and finances – so that we bear fruit in the kingdom of God? We may not be called to walk away from the NFL or start a farm, but how is God calling you and this community to take risks for the Gospel? Will you work out of the abundance God has given you, or are you caught up in fear about falling short, failing, or not using what you’ve been given well? God knows that we will fall short or fail, and that’s ok. But are we willing to step out in faith and take risks to serve God?

Let us pray… you have given us amazing gifts out of your generosity and your abundance. You have given us the gift of salvation and forgiveness, the wonderful news of your love and grace. “So teach us to number our days that we may apply our hearts to wisdom.” Free us from our fears and anxieties to take risks for the sake of your Gospel. Help us not to bury the gifts you have given us, but to work with and use them to bring hope and the joy of Christ to all people. Amen.
For more information on Jason Brown, check out these articles:

© 2014. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

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Last Sunday’s sermon on Matthew 16:21-28, preached at Community Lutheran Church in Sterling, VA.

Peter has got to be one of my favorite disciples. I mean, last week, he gets a gold star for naming Jesus as the Messiah. And then this week, Jesus is calling him Satan. In my mind I imagine Peter frolicking around saying “Jesus is Messiah! I got it! I got it!” Then in the next moment, he’s looking down at his shoes and saying, “I don’t got it…”

To use a recent metaphor, it was like Jeff and me trying to kayak between Chincoteague and Assateague on Monday. We could see where we wanted to go and were paddling together thinking, “we’re getting there!” But then when we looked around, we realized we hadn’t gone anywhere and we were, in fact, drifting backwards due to the currents and the wind. So sad. One step forward… two steps back.

And frankly, don’t we all sometimes feel like Peter must have felt?I know it’s usually the minute I think I’ve got something figured out that I realize, “nope! Still oblivious!” And really, who can blame Peter for his outburst – for trying to stop Jesus from talking about the fact he must suffer and die? Peter is listening to his Lord – his friend – and he’s hearing that this person he loves is going to suffer and die. No one wants to hear that someone they love is hurting or dying. And no one is really certain what to do or what to say when someone they love is hurting. No wonder Peter takes Jesus aside and tells him, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”

Jesus’ response makes it clear that his future suffering and death on the cross aren’t easy for him either. He responds by calling Peter, “Satan,” a word meaning “the adversary.” Jesus hears in Peter’s words the temptation to abandon his mission. And his forceful response shows that whereas Peter’s insight about Jesus as the Messiah was divinely given, this statement is temptation from the one who opposes God. Although Peter might have thought he was being helpful and saying there had to be a better way to save the world, Jesus straightens Peter out by saying he’s not looking at things from God’s point of view.

As the Talmud says, “We do not see things as they are, we see things as we are.” Peter saw as he was – sad and afraid of what might come down the road for him. He couldn’t see that this was the way to new life.  He couldn’t see that Jesus’ suffering and death would bring about new life for all of creation. He saw things from a human, not divine, point of view.

And boy is that easy to do! Believing in Jesus and loving him, ok. But denying yourself, taking up your cross, following someone else, and losing your life… that’s a hard sell! Who really wants to do that? Who wants to die to themselves in order to gain new life? I’m just fine where I am now, thank you very much!

But that is what Jesus is calling Peter and us to in this passage. It’s what we are invited into when we are baptized. In those waters and with ancient words we are crucified with Christ and raised to new life. We die to our old selves and as the Apostle Paul describes, we are clothed with Christ. We’re marked with the cross of Christ forever. That is not only a phrase we say, but a part of our identity – in baptism we are made a people of the cross, saved by God’s grace, and called to follow the way our Lord and Savior walked.

Called to turn from ourselves and our own egos and to turn toward God. Called to turn from merely serving our own desires to serve and care for others. Called to practice dying to our selfishness in order to listen for and obey God’s call in our lives.

         Whoa. That’s a tall order. Frankly, it sounds exhausting and like a lot of hard work. I like the way Audrey Assad puts it in her song, “The Way You Move:”

I know that the hardest part
of love is not the
things I have to give, no
It’s what I give up, I’m giving up ground
and I’m trading in my solitude for safety now,

All my pride, you know it doesn’t stand a chance
against the way you move,
You’re tearing up roots & breaking down walls,
and I don’t stand a chance at all,
against the way you move.

I think she hits the nail on the head. It’s hard to hear Jesus’ call in this morning’s reading because it challenges us to let go of our pride for the sake of the Gospel. To die to ourselves in order to be free to experience new life and transformation in Christ. It’s a call that requires sacrifice for the sake of God’s rule and for the benefit of others – even those we don’t particularly like. In a society of individualism, instant gratification, and consumerism, so many things bombard us and promise to make us better or happier people. It’s especially hard to turn away from those things in order to follow this challenging, but life-giving call of Jesus.

So what are you unwilling to let go of or to lose in order to follow Christ? Maybe it’s your reputation. Maybe it’s your money. Maybe it’s your feeling of superiority. Maybe it’s control. Maybe it’s your idea of success. And what about us as a congregation?

We want to grow, but it’s so hard for us to really let go and say, “Ok, God. I’m all yours. Help me to follow you, even if it’s into places I don’t want to go. Shape me into the person you’re calling me to be.” We find ourselves thinking, “what will I be giving up in order to grow deeper in my faith?” Or, “God, what are you going to change about me or ask me to do?” Or, “God, I’m scared that you will call me to something I cannot possibly handle.”

Following God is hard because it requires sacrifice and probably doing things we don’t readily want to do. Look at Jeremiah. He was serving as God’s prophet. He called God’s word a joy and a delight and he took these words on wholeheartedly, living them out. As he says in the reading, he didn’t even hang out with the fun crowd, but sat with the weight of God’s words of judgment to the people on his shoulders. And now he’s fed up, hurting, indignant and telling God he feels like he got suckered into something that he doesn’t really want to do anymore!

And God’s response is interesting. If you come back to me and continue to do my will, you will speak my words as a prophet and people will listen and turn to you.   Even though they fight against you, I will give you strength so that they will not overtake you. I will be with you even though this road is difficult. This is the promise we, too, have in Christ. In taking up our crosses and following Jesus, we are going where he has been and he is accompanying us on the journey. No matter what. It is not a promise of an easy life, but the promise of Emmanuel, God with us through it all.

When we find ourselves stuck in a rut or overwhelmed by fears or worries, remember that carrying our crosses is never something we do alone. Even Jesus had help carrying his cross from Simon of Cyrene. We too, need help from Christ and from others in the body of Christ to carry our crosses. When we are baptized and marked with the cross, parents, sponsors and the entire congregation promise to help us live out our faith in the world.  

Because, ultimately, the act of taking up a cross is public.   Those condemned to die by crucifixion were forced to take up their cross and parade to the location of their execution. It was a public humiliation. And when we take up the cross, the ultimate symbol of Christ’s love and obedience, it is a public event. We don’t simply do it in the safety of our own homes, but it calls us to go out into the world and follow Christ in word and deed. We take up the cross for the sake of others. We bear one another’s burdens and lay down our lives that we might find new life in the people and places God calls us to encounter.

To be a disciple means to not only be a follower, but to be a student. As we think about the school year and Sunday School beginning again, we are reminded that we are called to be life-long students of Christ and his cross. We are students always learning what it means to walk in the way of the cross, to turn from ourselves and to God.   To turn outward, instead of being curved in upon ourselves, Luther’s very definition of sin. We may balk at or stumble and fall under the weight of the cross, but we are never alone in trying to carry it. Thanks be to God. Amen.

© 2014. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

This was Sunday’s sermon on the raising of Lazarus and the amazing new life Christ gives us right here, right now.  The text was John 11:1-45.

 

What does it mean to be raised from the dead?
And what does it mean to be Holy Spirit led?
What does it mean to be truly, abundantly alive?
And what does it mean in Christ to thrive?

John’s Gospel gives us a wonderful story,
About death, resurrection and God’s glory.
It all started with one of Jesus’ closest friends,
Who had an illness that was proving tough to mend.

Lazarus’ health was going quickly downhill,
And his sisters, deeply worried that he was so ill,
Sent messengers to Jesus in whom they believed,
But from his place that Rabbi chose not to leave.

In that time in which Jesus waited and stayed,
Dear Lazarus died and in a rock tomb was laid.
The sisters cried and the community mourned,
And when Jesus arrived, they all felt torn.

“If you had been here, he would not have died.”
Martha choked out to Jesus as she cried.
“And still I believe that whatever you ask,
for God it will not be too great a task.”

Seeing the pain of all who’d come together to grieve,
And filled with sorrow, that Death should cleave,
The gift of life from his own beloved friend,
Jesus went to the tomb – what should’ve been the end.

Then, loudly he shouted, “Lazarus, come out!”
Out he came – he was alive, without a doubt!
But it wasn’t enough to leave him alive and wrapped,
Jesus asked others to unbind him – he wouldn’t be trapped.

He was miraculously free to go about his life,
But that meant that once again he entered the strife,
Of living in a world of pain, hurt and weariness –
A world sometimes filled with loneliness and dreariness.

Just as Jesus stood weeping at his friend’s tomb,
So we will soon stand in the dreary gloom
Of that Friday and Saturday that went down in history
Holy and terrible days shrouded in a veil of mystery.

But we know that this is never the end of the story;
At the end of those days is brilliant Easter glory,
The gracious light of the resurrection dawn,
The victory of Sin and Death forever gone!

Jesus doesn’t just promise resurrection down the road,
But also new life now that from his heart freely flows.
How often though, do we miss this invitation,
While struggling with life’s trials and tribulations?

We experience the sting of our own mistakes,
Feel the weight of our sins and the errors we make.
And how often do we hard-heartedly refuse to forgive,
Not realizing that we’re making it harder to live?

We suffer with terrible illnesses and situations,
We bear witness to wars among the nations.
We hear horrific tales of woe on the news,
And all of these stories have us singin’ the blues.

But against all of this Jesus offers a new way to live,
A way of hope, peace and joy that he alone can give.
He doesn’t promise we’ll avoid hardship as we travel,
Instead he’ll walk with us even when things unravel.

Being alive means stepping out of the cave,
It means shedding the clothes you wore in the grave,
Putting on the brilliant outfit of your baptism,
Embracing life as God’s child in Christ arisen.

It means listening deeply and trying hard to hear,
The calling of God whispered in your ear.
Seeking to use the gifts you’ve been given,
To make this world a place for kingdom livin’.

It means walking though life with a spirit of gratitude,
And cultivating a prayerful servant-leader attitude.
It means being vulnerable and loving others,
And getting hurt for doing so, against our druthers!

It means stepping out into the great unknown,
Going in faith, even shaking, outside our comfort zone,
Maybe meeting people we think are different from us,
Only to then ask – why were we making such a fuss?

It’s finding the magic and miracle in each human life,
Finding the beautiful and divine in a world simply rife
With all too much tough stuff, worry, fear and stress –
A world where God chose to be present nonetheless.

To each of us Jesus calls, as he did to poor Lazarus,
“Be free! Come out! Get out of your well-worn ruts!
Step into the sunlight and embrace the transformation
I’m working now in you – it’s a celebration!

Look at the things I’m doing around you all the time,
They range from the subtle to the outright sublime,
Still, they occur around the world every second –
Do you see them? Do you hear how they beckon?

I want you to take notice of the Spirit at work –
When you hear it, your ears upward should perk!
Whether it’s a story of reconciliation or hope,
Don’t keep it to yourself – no way, uh-uh, nope!

Share it with those you encounter along your way,
Look for the new life I’m bringing about here, today.
Healing and resurrection happen in great and small things,
Incredible schools in Rwanda – a flower blooming in spring.

I have set you free to be creative, bold and to serve,
So do not be afraid and gather up your nerve!
What dreams are you dreaming about this place?
How will you respond to my abundant grace?

Will you help one another through life’s struggle?
Will you prioritize knowing me as you schedule-juggle?
Will you give money to feed the poor and share my gospel?
Will you walk in faith and trust, doing the impossible?

You’re full of my Spirit and I’ve made you alive,
I’ve given you life and I want you to thrive,
So don’t stay locked away, trapped in your tomb,
But come out and change the world – BOOM!”

Amen.

© 2014. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

 

A Gut-moving Experience

This was the sermon I preached on June 9 on the “Widow of Nain:” Luke 7:11-17.

Jesus has just come to Nain, a village southeast of Nazareth.  He’s traveling with his disciples and a large crowd after successfully healing a centurion’s servant.  As they come up to the gate of the village, they encounter a funeral procession.  There are crowds shuffling slowly and people weeping for the man who has died and is now being carried out of the city on a bier.   In the heart of the crowd, Jesus sees this man’s mother and tells her, “do not weep.”  And without another word, he touches the bier, halting the procession in its tracks.  The widow and the crowds are waiting, silent and tense, not knowing who this man is or what he is doing.  What might he do?  Might he actually have the power to do something?

Jesus stands next to the bier and says in a clear voice, “Young man, I say to you, rise!”  Suddenly the man sits bolt upright and begins to speak!  As Jesus hands him over to his mother, the crowds begin to glorify and praise God, calling Jesus a great prophet and saying that God has looked favorably on them.  From that small village of Nain, stories of a great prophet ripple out, eventually reaching John the Baptist.

This morning’s Gospel reading is a very short story.  There’s very little dialogue and, although a man is raised from the dead, it’s not one of the better-known stories we hear in scripture!  But as I was reading this story again, I was struck by the phrase, “When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her…”

Now, if there’s one thing you all should know about me, it’s that I am a huge language nerd.  Actually, I’m a huge nerd in general, but let’s just focus on the language part for now.  I love learning different languages.  I enjoy learning about where words come from and the ways in which languages reflect cultures.  So when I heard this phrase about having compassion on the widow, I thought back to Greek class.

You see, there’s a really fun Greek word for what gets translated in our Gospel reading as “to have compassion on.”  The verb used is splanchnizomai – if you’d like, I invite you to try saying it because it’s really fun!  Splanchnizomai.  This fun foreign word connects to the word for guts.  That’s right, Jesus saw her and his guts were moved.  Weird, right?  Well, in many cultures of the day, the guts were thought to be the place of deep, tender emotion.  Love, compassion and affection were not matters of the heart, but matters of the gut.  I think “I ❤ New York” works much better than “I gut New York,” but I digress.

Jesus is walking in the village and he sees a sight that hits him in the gut.  It stops him in his tracks and causes him to reach out and to address the people and the situation in front of him.  He sees not only the widow’s sorrow, but also her glaring need.  He knows perfectly well that in his culture a single woman without a husband or son to care for her would lose her place in society and would have to rely upon charity to survive.  He knows that she not only weeps for her son, but also for the dire straits she’s now in – for the uncertainty that lies ahead.  He sees this and it hits him hard.  And so he acts, speaking a word of hope and promise, telling her not to weep.  And then he raises her son with only a few words, restoring not only his life, but the widow’s as well.  Both of them are restored to life and also to their places in the community.

Jesus’ response to the situation – the compassion he feels upon seeing this sad sight – isn’t just a miracle story.  It helps the people of Nain, the people hearing Luke’s Gospel, and us, today, to identify Jesus with God.  Throughout the Hebrew Bible, God is described as being a God of mercy, compassion and faithfulness.  God’s character is one of love and justice – of caring for the poor, the orphan, the widow and all of those who have been marginalized.  Jesus’ compassion on the widow signals that he is connected with God.  Through Jesus’ movement of love to the very center of death and the miracle of raising this young man, the villagers identify him as a great prophet, as someone who is bringing God’s favor and mercy to them.  God has visited them and all of them have in some way experienced not only God’s favor, but new life.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Jesus’ encounter with the funeral procession.  They were on their way, participating in a difficult part of every day life, when they were stopped.  They were interrupted by God enfleshed.  But even Jesus was powerfully impacted by what he encountered.  His compassionate, divine gut told him to get involved and to act.

I know there have been times in my life when I have seen situations and felt compelled to reach out.  But I also know there are just as many times I’ve ignored these promptings.  How often do we go through life, checking off things on our “to do” lists, moving along and doing our own thing, ignoring, intentionally or not, the widows around us?  Ignoring those in need of tender care and also justice?  What does it take for something to hit us in the guts and cause us to sit up and pay attention?  Do the situations we see around us or in the larger world – the poverty, problems with bullying, lack of clean water, malaria, violence – move us with compassion to do something?  Or do we walk on by?

A few weeks ago, a photo posted online hit me in the gut and stopped me cold.  It was a picture of a couple embracing in the rubble of the garment factory that had collapsed in Bangladesh in April.  It was a shocking picture because they looked peaceful, like a couple in love with the backdrop of a horrific tragedy.   It was a picture that saddened me, but also made me upset that so many, 1,100 people, died due to unsafe working conditions.  It was also a picture that made me uncomfortable because the garments made there could easily be the ones on my back.  As I was looking at the photo of the couple buried in the rubble and now thinking about the gospel for today, I wonder, how might God be calling me to respond?  Might God be calling me to a greater awareness of the high price of my clothes? Might God be calling me to speak up for better working conditions at garment factories?

“A Final Embrace” photographed by Taslima Akhter on April 25, 2013

Like the widow and the crowds in Nain, God through the Holy Spirit interrupts us along our way, inviting us to participate in what God is up to in the world.  The difficult thing is being open to being interrupted – letting ourselves be moved by compassion to do something that maybe was never on our radar screen.  Letting ourselves be moved by the Spirit to take risks for the sake of the gospel.  Letting ourselves be moved out of our comfort zones and beyond our fears to follow Christ, the one who gives abundant life.

The young man in this story is not the only one who has died and been brought back to life for a second chance.  In some ways, we may be dead to what is going on around us in the world, hesitant to get involved because we fear we do not have the skills necessary, or because we wonder what others might say if we stepped outside of the box.  Maybe we doubt that we could even make a difference.  But just as Jesus brought the young man back to life, he stands before us, beckoning us to rise and to live in the fullness of the life he longs to give to us.

Every day we can remember that, in baptism, we too, have died with Christ and been raised to new life in him.  We have been marked with the cross and gifted with the Holy Spirit.  We have been given the incredible opportunity to go out, led by the Spirit, to participate in the work of sharing life and hope with others, especially those in need like the widow of Nain.

And one of the fantastic gifts we’ve been given is that we’re never in this alone!  We have the community of faith to help us discern how God may be leading us individually, as a congregation, and as a larger church to respond to those stirrings of mercy and compassion we feel.

With stories of violence in the news or the recent tornadoes in Oklahoma we know all too well that we will see and hear difficult or even downright awful things in the world that hit us in the gut and move us.  The question is, how is God calling us to respond? Is it with prayer? Is it with donations of clothing, food, water or money? Is it by giving of our time? Is it by learning more about the situations and discerning with the community how to respond?

Christ has given us new life through his death and resurrection.  And we have been generously invited to share that gift of life with others in his name.  What an amazing opportunity!  May the Holy Spirit continue to interrupt our lives, to shake us up and stir in us, moving us with compassion and driving us to actively participate in God’s work in the world.  Let’s just say I’ve got a good gut feeling about it.  AMEN.

© 2013. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

“Soak it up”

Sponge!

A very wise professor told me before I came to München to “soak it up”  – to take it all in and to simply soak everything up.  In the hustle and bustle of school and internship, these were grace-filled words for me to hear.  He didn’t say “you have to do this, this, this, and this while you’re there.”  He just said “soak it up.”  And with that, I was free to get into anything and everything! (There are, of course, still some requirements for studying!)

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to “soak it up.”  About what I want to learn here, about what I want to return home knowing.  About what it means to absorb life to the fullest.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been reading One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are by Ann Voskamp.  A dear friend gave this to me as a gift before I left and I’ve been slowly reading and chewing on Voskamp’s poetic and insightful words ever since.  The book is about the author’s journey towards living a life of eucharisteo (“to express gratitude for benefits or blessings – ‘to thank, thanksgiving, thankfulness.'” – where the word “Eucharist” comes from!).  Her journey is about learning to give thanks for the little as well as the big things in life.  To give thanks for the good things, as well as learning how to live a life of thankfulness in the awful, difficult things.  At the urging of her friend, she begins writing a list of one thousand things she experiences as gifts.

After reading the book, I’ve been inspired to take up such a practice and it’s made me sit up and pay attention.  Each day, heading to my German course, I have a ten minute walk to the bus, a ten minute ride on the bus, a five minute wait for the U-Bahn, a fifteen minute ride to one station where I change trains and then ride another ten minutes to the stop for my class.  Finally, it’s a three to five minute walk to the building where the class is.  I say this not to point out that it’s a complicated commute, but to show that that’s a lot of time and many different places in which to see the gifts of God.  Thinking about gifts, giving thanks, and soaking up life, I’ve been keeping my eyes open to see what God is up to.  And it’s not just about seeing either – I’ve been paying more attention to sounds, to the feel and texture of things, the taste of delicious food, and even to different smells!  It’s been working on my heart, too – keeping it open to the possibilities, the unexpected, the things that I normally miss.  My heart has been more open to seeing things in a different light – maybe even in God’s light…

Back to this idea of “soak it up…”  Sponges soak things up.  The German word for “sponge” is Schwamm.  It’s a pretty fun word.  But as I think about it, it seems to be connected to the word for “swim” (schwimmen, schwamm, schwomm, geschwommen).  Ok, sponges come from the ocean – that much should be clear.  But more than that, sponges seem to passively absorb things.  Swimming, on the other hand,…that’s active.  That means diving in, moving through the water, swimming to the bottom and coming back up for air to see where you are and what’s going on.  Swimming is actively engaging in an environment.

And there’s another connection I’m seeing with this soaking up life idea, giving thanks, being fully present and engaged, and swimming.  Any guesses?!  It’s baptism! In baptism, we were washed clean and freed through Christ’s death and resurrection to engage fully in the world.  To really live – to engage in the world.  To soak it all up.

So that’s what I’m trying to do while I’m here – to try out as much as I can, to embrace the opportunities life presents, to live fully present and in deep gratitude and appreciation of all that I’ve been given – of all that we’ve been given.  In Christ, we all have been freed to dive in and experience life as it’s happening.  I can dive in and accept the invitation to drink Korean tea with my housemates or have wonderful spontaneous conversations with people from all over the world.  I can dive in and join fellow theology students for translation sessions.  I can spend a few moments in a busy day looking at gorgeous red flowers peeking out of window boxes.  I can smile at a child’s laughter on the train or a tired dog sleeping at the sun.  I can soak up München.  I can soak up Frederick.  I can soak up life.

There’s a blessing I have loved ever since I read it in Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals:

“May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you : wherever he may send you;
may he guide you through the wilderness : protect you through the storm;
may he bring you home rejoicing : at the wonders he has shown you;
may he bring you home rejoicing : once again into our doors.”

To me, this speaks not only of bringing me home to America rejoicing at what I’ve seen here in Germany, but also to one day (when the time comes!) bringing me home to God.  A journey home that involves rejoicing and giving thanks each and every day of my life.

© 2012. Annabelle Peake Markey. All rights reserved.

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