Sterling Severns Devotional, Devotionals, Life of the Community, Staff

When the Door Doesn’t Budge

When the Door Doesn’t Budge
By Rev. Sterling Severns, Pastor

Life has a way of surprising us with change. One day everything feels familiar, and the next we’re in territory that’s suddenly unrecognizable. It might be a diagnosis we never expected, the loss of a job we thought was secure, or a shift in a relationship we counted on. Or it might be more subtle—realizing that something which once made perfect sense no longer feels like it fits. Moments like these can freeze us in place. We don’t know how to move forward, and we can’t go back. So we wait. And wonder. And wrestle with the weight of it all.

In my own experience, there have been more than a few seasons like this—times when the path ahead felt uncertain, and the world around me felt both familiar and foreign. Everything on the outside may have looked the same, but something inside had shifted. And without exception, each time, it’s taken its toll. The waiting. The weariness. The wondering if anything is actually changing at all. There’s a deep vulnerability in those moments, especially when we’ve asked God for help, when we’ve prayed for direction, healing, peace. We show up to our lives the best we can. Still trying. Still hoping. Still doing our thing. But the silence lingers, and the door we’ve been knocking on stays shut.

The longer we walk in faith, the more we come to see the real change comes not when the door swings open, but when something inside us opens instead. Not suddenly, not dramatically, but slowly, quietly, over time. God doesn’t always remove the stuckness, but God meets us in it, reshaping our hearts, softening the places that have grown hard with fear or frustration. Sometimes, when the exhaustion finally gives way to surrender, we discover that the door was never locked after all. We were just too weary to see how close we already were to grace. We lean against it for support, and somehow, we find ourselves on the other side.

God doesn’t wait for us beyond the threshold. God is with us in the hallway, in the waiting, in the ache. In the quiet work of transformation that begins long before the breakthrough. That is the mystery and mercy of the God who answers, not always by changing our circumstances, but by being unshakably present within them.

So wherever you find yourself this week, whether you’re waiting for the door to open, or wondering if it ever will, may you know you are not alone. May you be reminded that presence itself is a gift, that transformation often begins before we even recognize it, and that grace has a way of meeting us right where we are.

Sterling Severns Worship

Homily: When the Door Doesn’t Budge

What do you do when the door won’t open—when you’ve prayed, pushed, and persisted, only to find yourself still stuck? This week, Pastor Sterling Severns reflects on Luke 11:1–13, where Jesus responds to his disciples’ request: “Teach us to pray.” With insight from theologian Robert Farrar Capon, this homily explores prayer not as a formula for success but as a deep practice of surrender and connection.

Sterling walks us through the mystery of persistence in prayer—not to wear God down, but to wear down our own illusions of control. Sometimes the door doesn’t open right away. Sometimes it’s not the door that moves, but us. And sometimes, in the weariness and surrender, we discover that God has been with us all along, even before the door creaked open.

Whether you’re questioning, clinging, or simply tired, this episode offers a spacious, compassionate reminder: prayer doesn’t always change the circumstances, but it opens us to the God who is unshakably present in the midst of them.

Homily Transcript

July 13, 2025 Luke 11:1–13 Rev. Sterling Severns, Pastor

The disciples of Jesus have been following him for a while now. They notice that there’s something different about him beyond just his ability to perform miracles and the wisdom teaching and all the things it’s about. The way that he prays, they notice that when he goes off to spend time with God, he comes back kind of with a reset button having been hit or a renewed resolve. They become aware the more time that they spend with him, that there’s something about the quality, or whatever is that’s happening there in his connection with God that helps him in the moments that he finds himself being criticized. On the other side of the criticism, something that sustains him when he’s clearly getting weary. There is something about the quality of the nature of the way that he prays that sustains him. And so they ask the innocent question, hey, how do we pray like that? Teach us to pray now the cross thing at the beginning of our spiritual journeys, when we first start out, one of the great gifts of the initial period of time that we find ourselves just open and aware to the grace of God is that doors just kind of open for us as we go through them, we have a keen awareness early in our faith, In our childlike faith. 

It seems that when we approach an obstacle, a wall, or, in today’s context, a door, we just kind of assume, maybe, I don’t know how to say it, we assume the door is going to open, and it does. Can you remember a time in your life when things felt pretty easy for a lot of you, that was a long time ago? Anybody? Yeah, for most all of us, if not all of us, it’s been so long since life felt that way that we don’t even remember that moment in our lives. Because the longer that we walk in faith, the more we discover as we do life, that more doors are on the way, right? So whereas at first we may just walk through the door or we just assume God’s going to open it and God opens the door, we’re good, but then the longer that we move along, we find that we have to work at it a little bit more. Here’s the great truth that I’d like to share with you in this brief little homily today, the perception of this passage of Scripture is that if we can just nag it, God enough, God will finally be so sick of hearing us that we’ll get what we ask for. 

Robert Farrar Capon, one of my favorites, the quintessential go to for all things. Parables says that so many of us approach God as if prayer is a vending machine. You know, some of you are so young you haven’t used a lot of vending machines where you understand the frustration of putting all the quarters in and then watching your candy bar get stuck as it slowly is swiveling and it gets stuck, and you find yourself doing what, shaking the living daylights out of it, kicking it. And now you’ve gone and hurt yourself, and now you need to feed your feelings. So you’re going to need two candy bars, not one. And before you know it, and finally, it pops out, and Farrar Capon and says, No, that’s not prayer. That’s not what this author is saying, if you walk away from a parable and it tells you what you went into it, assuming that you knew what it was going to say, you’ve probably missed it. It’s not about wearing God out. 

When I was a teenager, I knew that if I needed to get. Way with something I should approach my mom, not my dad. My dad was the hard liner in our house. I so desperately wanted to go snow skiing, which is such a joke, because in central Tennessee, you don’t have a whole lot of skiing options. You might as well be in Dubai, where you have skiing but like, come on. But sure enough, in Crossville, there was this tiny, little one hill ski resort, and I couldn’t wait to get to it, and my mom said, I am not giving you permission. If your dad says you can go, you can go. And I remember begging my dad at first, and then it was very clear that wasn’t going to happen. And finally, I knew my dad’s buttons enough that I knew if I pushed hard enough at this point with where he was in life, he may very well relent, and he did. The weather forecast was terrible. They were calling for ice, and I actually wore my dad out to the point that he said, Fine, just go. And sure enough, halfway there, we got hit on the interstate, and we ended up spinning out of control and almost hit a tree off of the interstate. A tow truck had to be called pull us back on the interstate. We ended up still the vehicle was operational. We were able to go and we skied our little one hill ski trip, and I came home, and to this day, I don’t know that my dad knows that I was in a car accident on the way there. 

It’s not how it works. Here’s how it works. You didn’t get the life that you thought you would or for the religious types, we didn’t get the life that we thought we should have gotten. It didn’t pan out how we thought it would. And when we approach the doors as they come, one after the other, you know, sometimes in crisis, sometimes in deep pain, and other times, we just get worn out from doing the right thing over and over again, and somehow we just lose the ability to see that God is walking with us, that God is with us. In my own experience, I have had this experience multiple times now in adulthood, where I find myself looking at a proverbial door, and thinking to myself, I know how to get this door open. I’ve seen doors just like this door. I know how to do this. And I even assume that God expects me to be the one that opens it, and I end up beating on that door and turning that handle a million times and kicking on that door to the point that I have no energy left in my body, only to slunk down against that very door, and with what little energy I can muster, throw my hands up in the air and say, God, this is the end. I can’t do it. And sure enough, it’s the moment that I say I can’t, that I find that that door that I’m now leaning against, slunk down, just falls open, and I fall forward with this deep awareness that God just did something that I know I can’t. 

It’s Not about God as Santa Claus giving us what we wish for. It’s not about the vending machine. It’s about our persistence and the necessary knocking. That is more about us wearing our own selves out, our egos out, so that we know that ultimately, prayer is not about getting what we ask for but so much more getting a constant awareness that we are not alone. 

Jesus doesn’t say pray, and let’s see if you earn it. He just says it over and over again. Come to Me and, prayer….. intimacy…. is how God does that best. 

Teach us to pray like you do Jesus, Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Your kingdom come not mine. Your will be done, not mine. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive us, Lord, the way that we forgive other people by your example and please enough doors already lead us, not into temptation, but no matter what, just try to deliver us from ourselves and the evil in us. Amen. 

Amen.

Sterling Severns Life of the Community, Staff, Worship

When We Gather

On Sunday mornings, I have the privilege of sitting up front in the blue fabric chair just behind the pulpit before worship really gets going.

For over 20 years, I’ve settled into that chair nearly every week, watching the congregation arrive for worship. Some of you walk in quietly, take a bulletin, and slip into a pew for quiet reflection, while others of you move through the room greeting one another. And then there are those of you in the Virtual Acre doing something similar in your own way—settling in with coffee, saying good morning in the chat, making space for worship wherever you are.

One of the things I’ve come to love about sitting in that seat is that it gives me such a clear view of what happens next. I get to see the slow, quiet convergence as you arrive from all over, carrying the week behind you, your burdens and joys in tow, and gradually our voices begin to join together.

There’s something beautiful about those first notes of the gathering song. It’s one of those sacred moments when our gathered bodies become The Gathered Body—when the many individual parts begin coming together as one.

As worship continues, that sense of shared space only deepens. When some of you stand to share your testimonies—each one unique, rooted in your own lived experience—there’s this mystery where your stories begin to resonate with all of us. When others of you lead us in song, guide us in prayer, or serve in so many other ways, your offerings invite us deeper into this shared experience of worship.

We start to hear our own questions, struggles, and hopes echoed back.

It’s in that sharing, both spoken and silent, that we remember we’re not just a collection of individuals, but brought together by the Spirit of God, learning again and again to share our lives, lift our voices, and find grace in the faces around us.

It’s one of those times when our scattered lives find a shared voice, drawn together by the Spirit, ready to sing grace into the world.

Rev. Sterling Severns, Pastor

Sterling Severns Worship & Fellowship

Looking Toward Sunday: Becoming the Neighbor

July 13, 2025 – Gospel Focus: Luke 10:25–37

This Sunday we’ll turn our hearts to Luke 10:25–37—the familiar but ever-challenging parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus tells this story in response to a question we’re still asking today: “Who is my neighbor?” In it, compassion crosses boundaries, defies categories, and disrupts prejudice. As we prepare to worship together, here are a few questions to carry with you this week:

  • I wonder what keeps us from seeing the suffering right in front of us.
  • I wonder how courage and compassion might look in our own lives this week.
  • I wonder who has been a neighbor to you when you needed it most.
  • I wonder how God might be inviting us to “go and do likewise,” embodying mercy, justice, and grace in real ways.

Let’s also pray especially for our youth group at Passport Camp this week—that they would experience God’s love and guidance in powerful ways.

I hope you’ll join us Sunday as we listen for Jesus’ call to become neighbors in a world so desperate for compassion.

Grace and Peace,

Rev. Sterling W. Severns, Pastor

______________
Image: Vincent van Gogh, The Good Samaritan (after Delacroix), 1890. Public Domain. Courtesy of the Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam.

Sterling Severns Devotional, Life of the Community, Taste & See

Pastoral Reflection: Grace at the Start


Rev. Sterling W. Severns, Pastor

This past Sunday, we chose to begin worship at the table. Before prayers or offerings, before much else was said or sung, we paused to share Communion—passing trays from one to another, serving and being served, bread and cup in our hands.

It wasn’t about earning anything, or proving ourselves ready. It was about acknowledging something true before anything else: that grace is given. That God provides. That all of us come hungry in one way or another.

In these tender and challenging days, when so many questions swirl about what comes next, there is something quietly powerful about starting there. To recognize that whatever happens begins not with our certainty or our planning, but with God’s own generosity. That nothing we’re about to do—our singing, our praying, our listening, our giving—creates grace. It simply responds to it.

Passing the bread and cup among us reminded us of our shared dependence. It was a small act of trust: receiving what someone else handed us, offering it in turn. A way of saying we cannot provide for ourselves alone. That God is always the one who moves first, offering what we cannot make ourselves.

For those who would like to reflect more on why this small shift in the order of worship can matter so much, I want to share this thoughtful piece that speaks to it beautifully: Grace at the Start: How Moving Communion Changes Everything.

I keep thinking of these words from Rachel Held Evans that many of us have carried with us:

“This is what God’s kingdom is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes.”

–Rachel Held Evans, Searching for Sunday: Loving, Leaving, and Finding the Church

It’s an image worth holding onto.

Because whatever questions we’re asking about the future, whatever uncertainties wait for us beyond the doors of this sanctuary, we begin by acknowledging the grace already given.

And in serving and being served, we remember who we are.

People who are hungry. People who say yes.

People who find, again and again, that God meets us at the table.

Sterling Severns Devotional, Life of the Community, Staff, Worship

Pastoral Reflection: No Turning Back

Sterling Severns

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”

– Annie Dillard

No Turning Back

There’s something unflinching about Jesus here.

Luke says he “set his face toward Jerusalem.”
It’s the moment he stops wandering and starts going.
Not drifting. Not hedging.
But choosing the road ahead—come what may.

He’s honest about it.
Bracingly so.
He says following will cost you.
He says you’ll have to let go of “but first.”
He says you can’t plow straight if you keep looking back.

And it’s not cruelty that makes him speak this way.
It’s love that refuses to lie.
He knows the road leads through suffering.
But he also knows it’s the only road that leads to life.

I think there’s mercy in that clarity.
A grace in being told the truth about what matters most.
Because when you know the cost, you get to choose freely.
And love that’s chosen freely is the only kind that lasts.

I imagine us standing there together in that moment.
Hearing his voice.
Not with shame. Not with fear.
But with a holy honesty that says:
“Yes. Even this. I’ll follow.”


I wonder:
I wonder what “but first” you’re holding onto these days.
I wonder what you’d have to lay down to follow more freely.
I wonder what you might gain on the other side of that choice.

Looking Ahead

As we prepare for worship next Sunday, I hope you’ll take time to read ahead in the Gospel—Luke 10:1–11, 16–20.

Jesus sends seventy others on ahead of him.
He doesn’t weigh them down with baggage.
He sends them lightly, with trust and purpose, to bring peace and healing wherever they go.
He tells them to say: “The kingdom of God has come near.”

If this week is about choosing the road,
Next week is about walking it—together.

And there’s hope in that.
We don’t walk alone.

I wonder:
As you read and pray this week,
I wonder what it would mean for you to go lightly.
I wonder how you might speak peace into someone’s life.
I wonder where you might notice God’s kingdom drawing near.

May God grant us the grace to see clearly,
the courage to choose freely,
and the love to walk this road with one another.

Yours in Christ,

Rev. Sterling W. Severns
Pastor

Sterling Severns Life of the Community, Worship, Worship & Fellowship

Pastoral Reflection: A Moment Worth Holding

“A sacrament,” Frederick Buechner once wrote, “is when something holy happens. It is transparent time—time when you can see through to something deep inside time.”

A Moment Worth Holding

And wouldn’t you know it, last Sunday felt like that.
Not holy in a big, dramatic sort of way.
Nothing flashy. Nothing staged.
But holy in a way that you could feel in your chest.
In the quiet that settled before a hymn.
In the steady presence of people who knew this moment mattered.
In the kind of moment you know you’ll carry with you.

Judy stood there—humble, clear-eyed, and fully herself—and guided us, as she always has, with the kind of wisdom that doesn’t need to raise its voice. She reminded us that Baptists don’t really “do” sacraments. But that doesn’t mean we don’t know when we’re standing on sacred ground.

“This is a transition,” she told us. “But more than that—it’s a glimpse. A thin place. Transparent time.”

She was teaching us to notice the holy humming beneath the familiar. To pay attention.

Honoring Judy

Last Sunday felt like one of those moments where the everyday and the sacred sit side by side, and you can sense something deeper just beneath the surface.

Music lifted us, stories grounded us, and a spirit of celebration reminded us who we are together. We honored Judy Fiske, Organist Emerita, for her years of ministry—decades spent faithfully stitching together worship and community in ways that have shaped us more than words can express.

We hold Judy, Eric, and their entire family in prayer as they step into this new season—a time to rest, reconnect, try new things, and enjoy being together in a different rhythm of life. We also anticipate seeing Judy in worship again in September—not in a staff role, but as a fellow worshiper. We’ll be eager to see her at the organ bench with some regularity, though we’re still discerning what that rhythm will be.

We’re deeply grateful for the many hands and hearts that planned and facilitated such a meaningful day—thank you for helping us mark this transition with so much love and care.
The beauty of that moment continues to echo in the life of our church.

This Sunday’s Gospel: Luke 8:26–39

This Sunday, Jesus steps off a boat and into the chaos of a man’s life. The man’s name is Legion. That alone tells you plenty. He’s a walking crowd of pain.

But Jesus doesn’t flinch. He sees through to the deep inside.
And in that seeing, there’s healing.
In that moment—terrifying and tender and beautifully human—there is mercy.

Not the kind that says “I’ll pray for you” and keeps walking. The kind that stops, listens, lingers. The kind that stays.

Jesus sends the man home, not just well, but whole. With a story to tell.

A Request for Prayer

Like him, we too are walking forward with a story to tell—grateful for healing, grounded by mercy, and reminded that our calling is not just to look back with thanks, but to look ahead with hope.

That’s where we are, church. On the edge of something new.
Listening to the Spirit who whispers, “Now go tell what God has done for you.”

We invite you to be in prayer for our pastoral and music staff, and for our congregation, as we take up the shared work of worship planning and leadership. These next few weeks will be a time of transition—filled with both memory and discovery. Let’s ask God’s Spirit to guide us gently and clearly through each step.

And together, we will keep walking—grateful for what has been and expectant for what is still to come.

Grace and Peace,

Rev. Sterling W. Severns
Senior Pastor

Sterling Severns Building for Hope, Life of the Community, Staff

Building for Hope: A Bold Step, A Shared Journey

Tabernacle is one of just thirteen churches nationwide invited to participate in Building for Hope, a two-year, grant-funded initiative designed to help congregations reimagine how their buildings and land can better serve their communities—and, in doing so, help sustain the mission of the church.

This isn’t a side project. It’s a purposeful process that invites the congregation to explore how we might use our space more fully for the common good, while also building a more sustainable financial future for our ministry.

Rooted in faithful economic practice, this work centers on social enterprise—a mission-led approach to using what we’ve been given (our space, our location, our creativity) to meet real community needs while generating income to support long-term ministry. Social enterprises aren’t about profit—they’re about purpose. Churches across the country are doing things like:

  • Turning unused classrooms into art studios and business incubators
  • Offering coworking spaces and after-school programs
  • Inviting food entrepreneurs to use commercial kitchens
  • Developing affordable housing on church property
  • Partnering with nonprofits to create gardens, clinics, or community spaces

In all cases, the mission leads. Any project we pursue must reflect our calling to love, serve, and seek justice.

Where We Are Now

This past week, two of our team members—Sterling Severns and Ryan Corbitt—joined cohort representatives from twelve other congregations for a national Zoom call to share updates and learn from one another. In just a few weeks, three members of our team will attend the second offsite cohort gathering in Alexandria (May 15–17), returning with new insights and energy for the next phase of our journey.

Before that, the full Tabernacle team will gather on Tuesday, May 13 to complete Session 3 of the Good Futures Accelerator. This session, titled Community and Context, centers on listening: to our neighbors, to our history, and to where God might already be at work. We’ve also partnered with the BGAV to launch a demographic study that will help us better understand the people who live around us—and how we might come alongside their gifts and needs.

Who’s Involved?

Our current team includes: Ryan Corbitt, Jay Hartman, Donna Soyars, Kathy McGraw, Sterling Severns, and April Kennedy. A few others have recently expressed interest in joining the team, and we anticipate welcoming additional members in the coming weeks.

This is an active working team, guiding the process and helping shape how and when the broader congregation is engaged. Importantly, the team does not make final decisions on behalf of the church—it stewards the process, creating space for all of us to listen, discern, and imagine together.

We also want to share a leadership update: Donna Soyars, one of our three coordinating leaders, is stepping back from that coordinating role to focus more fully on her responsibilities as Chair of Building & Grounds. She remains a committed and active team member, and we are deeply grateful for her wisdom and dedication. In the coming weeks, a new team coordinator will step into that role alongside Ryan and Sterling.

What’s Next?

We anticipate hosting the first churchwide gathering in early June, opening the process to broader congregational conversation, input, and imagination. These sessions will continue throughout the year and will be essential in helping us discern what expressions of social enterprise might take shape at Tabernacle.

This isn’t about fixing a problem. It’s about following God’s Spirit into what’s possible—rooted in our story, shaped by our neighbors, and open to where hope leads.

Let’s keep listening.
Let’s dream together.
Let’s build for hope.

Sterling Severns Devotional, Devotionals, Lenten Devotion

The Invitation to Let Ourselves Be Loved

March 13, 2025 ( pages 41–46)

We spend years trying to earn love—or at least, something that feels like it. We wear masks, curating versions of ourselves to gain approval. We achieve, perform, shape our identities around what will make us worthy in the eyes of others. But beneath the surface, a quiet fear lingers:

If they see all of me, will I still belong?

Nadeau wrestles with this tension, reflecting on the ways he spent his life trying to secure love: through success, usefulness, becoming exactly what others needed him to be. He thought he understood love. He believed in it. He knew, intellectually, that God loved him. But there’s a difference between knowing something in your head and letting it reshape your heart.

And when the carefully constructed mask—the one that made sure he was respected, sought after, admired—began to crack, a deeper question emerged:

Am I loved, truly loved, apart from what I do, apart from what I present?

He’s not alone in this struggle.

I would imagine the rich young ruler and the woman at the well both carried a weight they could no longer hold. Both were isolated, but from opposite corners—one less obvious than the other.

The ruler approached Jesus full of confidence, certain that he had done everything right. He wanted confirmation, assurance that he was on the right track. Jesus looked at him—loved him—and invited him to be free (Matthew 19:16-22, MSG).

The woman came to the well alone, burdened by her past, expecting nothing but silence. But Jesus saw her completely, naming the truth she thought she had to hide—and inviting her into freedom (John 4:1-26, MSG).

She knew she needed to be free. He didn’t yet realize he was in a self-made cage.

One walked away, unwilling to release the life he had built. The other ran toward her village, proclaiming, “Come and see!”

Maybe the difference wasn’t in how much they had to let go. Maybe it was in how much they were willing to trust that they were already loved.

And that’s the great truth: Jesus knows who we are through and through—even the parts of ourselves we don’t yet acknowledge, even the parts we try to hide from the world. And still, we are fully cherished.

“People change when they are cherished.”

– Gregory Boyle

Not when they impress. Not when they get everything right. Not when they finally become the person they think they’re supposed to be.

We don’t transform by performing. We transform by surrendering to love.

Some of us have known what it is to be lost, only to realize we have been found. Others may still be searching, wondering if they ever will be. The invitation remains the same.

Let yourself be loved.

I Wonder…

  • I wonder how much of my life has been spent trying to earn love rather than receive it?
  • I wonder if I have mistaken admiration for belonging?
  • I wonder what it would feel like to be fully seen and still cherished?
  • I wonder where I am resisting love?
  • I wonder how God is inviting me to let go of the mask and step into freedom?

This Reflection is Part of a Lenten Journey

This Lent, we’re making space for something deeper—reading Room for Good Things to Run Wild by Josh Nadeau. No book club, no meetings—just a daily invitation to reflect, in whatever way feels right for you.

Learn more, access the reading calendar, and join the journey here: https://www.tbcrichmond.org/an-invitation-to-reflect-a-lenten-journey-together/

More about the book and author: https://a.co/d/45D382Y

Sterling Severns Devotional, Devotionals, Lenten Devotion

Get it together. Keep it together.

March 15, 2025 (Day 10, pages 55–58)

Get it together. Keep it together.

These two phrases are unrelenting. For so many of us, they hum beneath the surface, quietly and destructively applying pressure that has shaped far too many of our days. We tighten our grip, clench our jaw, convinced that if we just try harder, hold on a little longer, everything won’t come undone.

How much more of our precious time on this earth will we spend simply trying to hold everything together? As if survival is the goal. As if control is the prize. We convince ourselves it’s working—until the cracks form. Until what we thought was unshakable begins to shift beneath our feet.

“Faith demands renovation. Grace demolishes what will not sustain.”

Josh Nadeau, Room for Good Things to Run Wild

The ground is shifting, and we feel it.

Could it be that grace is already working its way in—not in spite of the cracks, but through them?

Could it be that what feels like falling apart is actually making space for something truer, something more whole?

Beneath all that crumbles, something unshakable remains.

Love remains. Grace remains. God remains.

Perhaps what’s coming undone was never meant to hold us in the first place.

I Wonder…

• I wonder what I’m gripping too tightly that grace is asking me to release?

• I wonder if I’ve mistaken holding it together for actually being whole?

• I wonder how I might recognize grace in the shifting ground beneath me?

• I wonder if the unraveling is actually an invitation?

• I wonder who I’m walking with—and who is walking with me—all the way home?

___________________________________________________

This Reflection is Part of a Lenten Journey

This Lent, we’re making space for something deeper—reading Room for Good Things to Run Wild by Josh Nadeau. No book club, no meetings—just a daily invitation to reflect, in whatever way feels right for you.

Learn more, access the reading calendar, and join the journey here:

An Invitation to Reflect: A Lenten Journey Together

More about the book and author: https://a.co/d/45D382Y