Recently, a pastoral colleague shared with me the concept of “one sermon,” that each preacher has basically one sermon that they preach. For example, the late Rob Heberer always preached that Jesus is God, often ending up in the upper room with Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. The message that I generally preach is that everyone belongs in God’s…something.
Historically, and in the gospels, we reference the kingdom of God or of heaven. So usually I preach that the kingdom of God is at hand and all are welcome in it. “Kingdom” has fallen out of favor, especially in progressive circles, for at least two reasons. One, “kingdom” implies a king, not a queen, and reinforces the patriarchy. God is neither male nor female (or perhaps is both male and female, or perhaps is genderfluid). To identify God as a king limits our ability to perceive God’s feminine nature. Two, modern Western society has moved beyond concepts of royalty in favor of democracy. Sure, Great Britain is formally the “United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland,” and its constituent countries acknowledge the sovereignty of their queen, but the real power rests in Parliament.
So “kingdom” has too much baggage. What else can we use? Many people use “kin-dom” instead. Because of its similarity, when I’ve used it in my sermons, people in the congregation probably heard it as “kingdom.” But the implication is that we are part of God’s kin, God’s family. I used to like it and use it a lot, but the novelty kind of wore off. It’s a made-up word that seems more of a distraction than anything else.
“Family” might work. It would certainly fit the Biblical narrative. Historically, all governments were extensions of the family. Individual nuclear families comprised a clan; clans comprised a tribe; tribes comprised a nation. The king or emperor was considered to be like a father to his subjects. Unfortunately, modern families have decayed. We are less connected to our families now than they were in antiquity, back when children inherited property or learned a trade from their parents. Mobility has meant that our families have scattered to the winds without the same sense of intimacy that we should have with God. Also, while I have been blessed with three wonderful, loving families—my family of origin, my family by marriage, and the family of which I am the father—not everyone can say the same. Some people have suffered abuse and neglect from the people who should love them the most. Others, particularly people who are LGBTQ+, have been rejected by their families. One answer to that is to say that God’s family is the ideal to which human families aspire. True enough, but the word can trigger a lot of bad memories.
I don’t have a good answer, but perhaps some synonyms for “kingdom” will work. “Realm” or “reign” aren’t bad. “Realm” connotes a place, so maybe the “realm of heaven” makes sense. “Reign” connotes an action, so perhaps we can celebrate Christ’s reign rather than Christ’s kingship. “Dominion” has some of both connotations: both the place and act of God’s rule. We just need to be wary of the slippery slope from dominion to domination or domineering behavior. “Commonwealth” is perhaps the democratic counterpoint to a kingdom, but there is no connotation of anyone being in charge. “Protectorate” has potential—God as our sovereign and our protector.
What about “nation”?
20 But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. 21 He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that also enables him to make all things subject to himself.
We hear a lot about white Christian nationalism lately [1],[2]. The problem in many corners of the Christian church is that people equate the United States of America with the kingdom of God. We are not tasked, though, with taking political power and using it to impose our interpretation of God’s will on our fellow Americans. That was actually one of the three temptations Jesus encountered in the desert. He chose to reject the path of worldly power. We too are tasked with submitting ourselves to God’s reign in our lives. We are not to think of ourselves as Americans first, but as Christians first. Perhaps if we proclaim the coming nation of God we will remember to set aside our American nationalism and let Christ be our president, our supreme justice, and our commander in chief who wages peace throughout the world.
Jesus came to grant all people citizenship in God’s nation.
In a recent sermon, I mentioned a concept that I picked up from “Find Your Inner Monk.” We don’t learn philosophy and spirituality and ideology in a vacuum. We don’t simply observe our surroundings and make sense of them on our own. Rather, we form our attitudes and beliefs within our communities of belonging.
Our first community of belonging is our family. As teenagers, each person then starts finding new communities to join. Some find belonging on sports teams, others in clubs, still others in musical ensembles (choir, band) or other artistic endeavors. Or in a church, or in a gang. Each community forms its own belief system; each member both absorbs the community’s beliefs and contributes to their formation and propagation.
I am an advisor to Common Call Campus Ministry, which recently had an event titled, “What Is Progressive Christianity?” It was an information session open to the community. I firmly believe that there are students on campus who find their best path to God through other campus ministries. Yet I also believe that there are students who cannot find belonging in any of those communities, and therefore believe that they are not welcome in God’s kingdom. Our mission is to help those students learn and grow as they seek the path God has chosen for them.
An unfortunate circumstance has emerged over the past few decades. Where before, communities had a lot of diversity of viewpoints, now they are all becoming more single-minded. We see this in politics: both parties are being taken over by their extremists who are purging (or trying to purge) those who disagree with them. We see this in churches: each denomination or association is adopting theological stances that tend to push out those who disagree. I am proud to be a member of a denomination (PC(USA)) that not only endorses gay marriage, but also allows gay ordination. Unfortunately, some of the largest congregations in our presbytery could not stand to be associated with a denomination that held those beliefs, and left. As a result, our presbytery has become more liberal because we lost those conservative voices.
Last night, I had the pleasure of attending The Gathering, which is a group of people who have been disaffected from existing churches. They are striving to formulate just who they are and what it means to be in community with each other. My prayer for them is that they find a way to disagree agreeably, and keep their priorities aligned. Patrick Wilson opened the evening with some discussion of the Great Commandment:
34 Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. 35 One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: 36 “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”
37 Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ 38 This is the first and greatest commandment. 39 And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ 40 All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”
Jesus’s entire ministry was an exposition of this commandment. Through words and deeds, he showed how we can love God, and how we can love our neighbor. Yet we still struggle with his teachings and seek to limit God’s dominion over our lives (say, to just Sunday morning) or to limit who we consider to be our neighbor.
Yet if we keep this commandment front and center, we can avoid many of the pitfalls that so many churches fall into. So often, we obsess over petty slights, or argue minor points of doctrine or behavior. Jesus taught that we can disagree about almost everything, except for the fundamental value of each person. If we love each other, we can remain in community together and then grow and change together, each seeking the path that God has laid out for us individually and as the body of Christ.
For a little over two years, I have used a planner called a Monk Manual. The motivating principle behind it is that monks are some of the happiest and most productive people. Steven Lawson, the creator of the Monk Manual, studied the monastic life and developed a way to achieve similar results in secular life. His approach encompasses these ten principles:
Gratitude
Simplicity
Intentionality
Order
Generosity
Relationships
Reflection
Presence
Balance
Transcendence
The question is, how can we incorporate these in our daily lives? Lawson developed the Monk Manual as a way of integrating spiritual practices that lead to living out these principles. Just last week, I started a program he calls, “Find Your Inner Monk,” which delves deeper into these concepts.
I want to focus on just a few today to set the stage for the rest of our time together. The first is simplicity. Simplicity begins with letting go. Monks express this tangibly by paring down to the essentials—both emotionally and physically—liberating themselves from the things that weigh down their mind, body, and spirit. The vows of poverty and chastity are the tangible expressions of a dedication to simplicity. Much easier said than done. If you start making a list of all the things in your life that you “need,” you will find that it includes many things that were unknown a generation ago. Do I “need” a smartphone? Probably not, but getting rid of it is unimaginable to me.
Next, there are relationships. Monks vow chastity, but do not live without love. Instead, they embrace a different kind of love, the chaste love of brotherhood. In the same way, we can have lives filled with loving relationships. In the Monk Manual, there is a spot for daily gratitude. Most of my entries there are people with whom I have a relationship—sometimes family members, but often friends who enrich my life, or even casual acquaintances who reveal God to me. Hospice nurses cite that the biggest regret of the dying has nothing to do with achievements or financial investments—but has everything to do with relationships. I’m an engineer and an introvert, so for much of my life, I’ve focused on developing a few close relationships. Over the past few years, I’ve tried to broaden my social circle. The pandemic has made that difficult—I think everyone’s social circles have been collapsing just because it is SO HARD to get together. Still, I’ve been striving to stay connected with old friends and develop new friendships.
The last principle I want to discuss is presence. Presence means letting go of the past and the future and being fully in the moment. It means really listening to the person you’re talking to, rather than thinking about what you’re going to say next. We are so used to control that it’s hard to let go, and trust that it really is going to be okay, after all. Engaging with what’s right in front of us, which means giving ourselves fully to the present moment, requires vulnerability—which can be terrifying. But if you’re ever with someone who has real presence—like my friend Ashley Brooks—it’s exhilarating. Their openness and presence are contagious and make you more open and present with them.
Simplicity, relationships, and presence—three ways we let go of our attachments to the material world and surrender to God. This week’s Gospel lesson is the opening part of the Sermon on the Plain, which is Luke’s parallel with Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount. As in Matthew, Luke opens the sermon with blessings, but unlike Matthew, Luke includes the woes here as well. We see these pairings: Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled. Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry. Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh. Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep. Basically, if you’re down, you’ll be lifted up; if you’re up, you’ll be brought low.
The blessings are for those who trust in God. The woes are for those who trust in worldly things. If you are rich and you think you can rely on your wealth, you will be reluctant to trust in God. But as the saying goes, you can’t take it with you. One day, you’ll have no choice but to surrender all that you have. If you release your attachments now, you can break free of the cycle of blessing and woe inherent to our world and you’ll be more able to live in God’s realm now. Jesus’s message that the kingdom of God is at hand reminds us that we can live in God’s kingdom now, not later. But living in God’s kingdom means not living in a worldly kingdom.
Jeremiah has similar curses and blessings. Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals, but blessed are those who trust in the LORD. Then Jeremiah follows up with a reminder that, “The heart is devious above all else.” It’s easy to turn your whole life over to God, or rather to say that you’re turning it over, but hard to really let go. Most often, we say that we will put our trust in God alone, but then don’t follow through. On Sunday, we believe that God will provide, but on Monday, we go to work or check our investments. When I was working with Rocco to design our new house, I started out with the intention of downsizing because our family doesn’t need so many attachments—but by the end of the project, we ended up with a bigger house and more storage space for all the stuff we don’t really need. I’d like to let go and trust in God completely, but it’s a struggle every day.
It’s important to remember, though, that these blessings and woes are not commands, but rather are descriptions of reality. If you put your trust in your wealth, you’ll worry about every dip in the stock market. If you are attached to your possessions, they wind up owning you. If instead you let go of your possessions and trust in God, there’s nothing you can lose. I’m reminded of Nino—some of you know him from the Mission. He went through some things, including alcohol addiction and prison, but then found Jesus and turned his life around. He posted once on Facebook, “I don’t have much but I have it all.” He has let go of all his material needs and dedicated himself to serving God, and he’s filled with joy. It’s always great when he stops by the Mission. He lifts people up and makes the community better just by his presence, which reflects the glory of God.
Nino has enough. We live in a society where a scarcity mindset prevails. We worry that we won’t have enough time to do everything we “need” to do. We worry that we won’t have enough money to be secure. So we chase after more money, which uses up the time we don’t have. I was listening to a recording by Father Richard Rohr recently, and he pointed out that our homes and kitchens are full of “time-saving devices,” and yet we have less time than ever. The pursuit of abundance leaves us always feeling scarcity. We think, If I just have X, I’ll be happy. I just need a new car, or a new job, or a bigger TV, or a faster computer. Then we get it, and it’s nice at first, but eventually it leaves us unsatisfied. The more we have, the more we want, and the less it satisfies.
So the opposite of scarcity is not abundance. The opposite of the scarcity-abundance trap is enough. Kurt Vonnegut wrote this poem as an obituary:
True story, Word of Honor:
Joseph Heller, an important and funny writer
now dead,
and I were at a party given by a billionaire
on Shelter Island.
I said, “Joe, how does it make you feel
to know that our host only yesterday
may have made more money
than your novel ‘Catch-22’
has earned in its entire history?”
And Joe said, “I’ve got something he can never have.”
And I said, “What on earth could that be, Joe?”
And Joe said, “The knowledge that I’ve got enough.”
Not bad! Rest in peace!”
Enough. Instead of striving to have what you want, enough-ness is wanting what you have. The root of this enough-ness is relationships.
Father Rohr reminds his audience that many poor people in Third World countries are much happier than relatively well-off people in America. The reason is that instead of relying on things, they rely on each other. They know that if they are in need, their family or their neighbors will help them out. Instead of putting their time and energy into building up a big bank account, they build up a big social account—wealth in the form of social connections. Elsewhere I have heard this called the gift economy. I give something to you, not as a loan against some future gift you’ll give me, but as an investment in our friendship. And maybe you won’t “pay me back,” but in sharing of myself, I help build up a community of belonging where people support each other. God’s realm is built on something even more powerful: the grace economy. We share not only our time and resources, which are limited, but also God’s grace, which is limitless. God’s grace multiplies our efforts and strengthens our relationships.
I mentioned that I started a program called, “Find Your Inner Monk.” It’s described by Monk Manual founder Steve Lawson as a pilgrimage, but a pilgrimage that takes place in your daily life. In the first lesson, he talks about how we form our ideas, values, and goals, and how we answer life’s big questions. Especially in America, we have this image in our minds of the solitary individual deriving answers from first principles and formulating their own vision of how the world works. That image drives the phenomenon of those who say they are spiritual but not religious, instead seeking answers to life’s questions on their own. But Lawson points out that that’s not a reflection of reality. In reality, the influences on our ideologies and beliefs are first our communities of belonging, then the broader culture, and then our personal experiences. That is, our communities of belonging have the strongest influence, and the more we feel belonging, the more permeable we are, the more open we are to the community’s beliefs.
As we let go of our worldly attachments and invest instead in relationships, we build up those communities of belonging. The more I give to this church, in time, talent, and treasure, the more I feel a part of it, and the more it molds me into its image. We should work towards making our church both a place where people feel complete belonging, and a place where we lift up Jesus Christ and his self-sacrificing love as the ideal that we are all striving to achieve.
I’ve noticed something curious about the human psyche. You would think that receiving a gift would make you value the giver more and make you feel more a part of the giver’s community. But that hasn’t been my experience. In reality, it is in giving that we ascribe more value to the receiver, and in giving that we feel more a part of the receiving community. It’s as if the receiver validates our gift, and therefore validates us as a person and as a member of the community. That’s why so many people volunteer at the Mission and at GRACE and at all of the other charitable organizations in town. That’s why a great way to reconcile with someone is not to give them something, but to ask them for a favor, which shows that you value them.
So to build a true community of belonging, we need to value the gifts each person has to offer. If we want to grow in our impact on our community, we don’t need to raise more money for charity, although that won’t hurt and I would still encourage you to give on this Souper Bowl Sunday. We don’t need to be more entertaining, or to have more programs. What we need is to create spaces where people feel valued, where the gifts they have to offer matter. Some people have financial resources they can share; others have musical or artistic talents, or know how to fix things, or know how to organize and plan, or are good with numbers, or whatever. All of us have life experiences that we can share, things we have learned that can help others see God in a new way. All of us have a yearning to love and be loved.
A community where people truly feel belonging, where they can bring their full selves and all their life experiences and skills and talents, has a name: the kingdom of God. I’m not sure how to build such a community, but Jesus tells us that the kingdom of God is at hand. It’s nearby, just waiting for us to enter it. Let us all strive to create spaces where people can give of themselves, their whole selves, and receive in return the grace of God and membership in God’s glorious kingdom.
Well, here we are, first Sunday of February. How are you all doing on your New Year’s resolutions? I didn’t make any resolutions, per se, but did intend to change my morning and evening routines. I have been somewhat successful in changing my evening routine, but my morning routine is another story. My intention was to go running every morning to stay active. Well, New Year’s weekend was bitterly cold and also deer season, so I didn’t get off to a very good start. Since then, I’ve gone running occasionally, but not regularly.
My dear friend Ashley Brooks recommended a book to me, Resisting Happiness by Matthew Kelly. I finally got around to reading it over winter break. One of its motivating concepts is the idea that we resist things that we know will make us happier. I know that I feel better and have a better day when I run in the morning, and I know that I enjoy the run itself, and yet I struggle to convince myself to get dressed and go when it’s 12° outside or when there’s freezing rain, sleet, and snow on the way, or 6” of snow on the ground. In the same way, I know that praying, reading the Bible, and other spiritual practices will bring me closer to God, yet I resist doing them. We all have this resistance inside of us.
There’s one concept in the book that I take issue with. It’s the idea that we can choose or seek “happiness.” So often, seeking happiness becomes a search for hedonistic pleasures. But that kind of happiness is fleeting. What the author is really talking about is the deep joy that comes from our relationship with God and with God’s people.
It’s hard to know, though, what choices we can make to become happier or more joyful. In a podcast about our relationship with time, I heard a concept that can help: Choose enlargement. It’s hard to know which paths will lead to happiness or joy, but it’s often easier to know which path will enlarge you. For example, playing an instrument well requires hours and hours of practice, much of it drudgery. I wouldn’t say that I enjoy playing scales or arpeggios or chord progressions, but I know that those exercises make me more able to make music. The example in the podcast was parenthood: Nobody will claim that getting up in the middle of the night to change a dirty diaper is “fun,” but parents do it because it’s part and parcel of the parenting journey.
In today’s reading, Simon reacts to the miraculous catch by saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” In what way was he sinful? I mean, we never hear that he was a murderer or thief or anything. Partly, I think he recognized his sinfulness in comparison to the perfection of Jesus. But more than that, he recognized his finitude, his limitations. We all fall short of the glory of God because we are limited. We love some people more than others. We acknowledge that people in our community, state, nation, and world are in need, but we don’t help them all. Compared to the Lord of Creation, we are small people of limited capabilities. But if we each choose a path that leads to enlargement, to making us a more complete person, we will become better versions of ourselves.
One way we can enlarge ourselves is to become a part of something bigger than ourselves. Let me explain. As an individual, if I see someone who is homeless, I can give them a little money or food, but that’s about it. But if I connect to The Mission, I can help that homeless person get meals regularly, have a place to stay, and get other services they need. As an individual, I can teach a few people about a few topics in electrical engineering. As a professor at a university, I can contribute to a large number of students becoming fully-qualified electrical engineers. We all have a desire to be a part of something bigger than ourselves.
And that’s basically why we are here today, right? We want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves, and what’s bigger than God’s family? In the sanctuary today, there are a few dozen members of Christ’s body, but we are connected to other Presbyterian churches in our presbytery, synod, and general assembly, and more broadly are connected to all expressions of Christ’s teachings. We are all connected throughout time and space. We are connected to the great cloud of witnesses, the communion of saints who enjoy the abundant heavenly banquet. We are connected to poor Simon who just wanted to catch a few fish, but saw God’s realm breaking through and dropped everything to follow Jesus. Simon saw a glimpse of the heavenly banquet that is to come and chose to be a part of it—chose enlargement.
In following Jesus, Simon was promised that he would be a valued part of Jesus’s efforts to build his kingdom. As we heard in the introit, Jesus promised to make Simon worthy. He promised that Simon would do important work fishing for people.
Jesus asked Simon to leave everything he had, everything he thought was important, and abandon his own earthly desires. Simon’s yes had to be followed by a thousand nos. We are finite. We have limited time and resources. We can only be in one place at a time. So, to say yes, I will do this thing for Jesus, means saying no, I will not do these other things for myself or my family or my job. This is a hard calling. I’ve been listening to a recording of lectures by Father Richard Rohr, a Franciscan friar, wisdom teacher, and founder of the Center for Action and Contemplation. Father Rohr reminds us that in the affluence of America, it is hard to obey Jesus’s call. We are bound with golden shackles—unwilling to let go of the things that make our life comfortable, for the sake of following Jesus. This is the part of the sermon when I preach to myself—as much as I’m willing to give to God, I’m very happy living in a nice house and driving a nice car and having a nice life. I struggle to turn away from my career as an engineering professor and spend more time and energy on God’s kin-dom.
But Jesus didn’t ask Simon to set aside his true self. I know it’s a metaphor, but Jesus told Simon he would still be fishing, but for people instead. In the same way, Jesus asks us to bring our true selves, our whole selves, to his service. Jesus doesn’t ask me to cease to be an engineer or a scholar, but instead to bring my skills and talents to bear on his Gospel. Each of us have special gifts that we can use in God’s service. We are all grateful for Jeff and Lorie devoting their musical gifts to God. Nora brings her lifetime of teaching children to her stewardship of the Presbyterian Preschool. I’m glad that Ming brings the skills he developed over an illustrious career as an academic leader to his membership on the PNC. In ways too numerous to mention, we each have skills and talents that we have developed over our lives that we can draw upon and dedicate to God’s service, to building up God’s kin-dom.
Here in Rolla, there are surely thousands of people, maybe more than ten thousand, who are not connected to Christ’s body, which is the church. Jesus is drawing all people to himself, reconciling the whole world and seeking an intimate relationship with each person. He calls us to help in this work, to build up connections person-to-person so that we can experience God’s kin-dom here and now. But the challenge is too big. I cannot personally tell ten thousand people about the love God has for them. Even as a congregation, we can’t possibly reach everyone. But that doesn’t excuse us from trying to reach someone. We need to start somewhere.
Let’s start by thinking about who is not here. Who is not worshipping in the sanctuary this morning? Well, for starters, our homebound members and others for whom worshipping remotely is preferable due to their life situations. Today, that group is probably a bit bigger than usual because of the weather. Some of us, particularly the deacons, are called to help those members stay connected to Christ’s body even if we don’t see them in our sanctuary. Looking beyond our members, let’s think about those vast groups of people who aren’t here. There are the younger generations, by which I mean anyone under the age of 50. For a variety of reasons, many of them have heard the message that they are not welcome in God’s kin-dom. Some have been explicitly told that “their kind,” whatever that means, aren’t welcome in a particular church. Or maybe their friends have been excluded, and so they won’t go anywhere their friends aren’t welcome. Or maybe our inward focus, on the worship style, architecture, music, and programs that matter to people like us, implicitly excludes people who are intimidated by our sanctuary, dislike our music, or whatever. By failing to meet them where they are, we send the message that they aren’t welcome, that they don’t matter to us.
Jesus said, Come, follow me, and I’ll teach you. He knew that Simon would be in challenging situations, dealing with people he had nothing in common with or even people he hated, such as tax collectors and Roman soldiers. In the same way, Jesus knows that if we follow him, we will be challenged. We’ll meet people who have very different life experiences from us. We’ll meet people who are made anxious by the very things that bring us comfort and who need comfort that we don’t know how to provide. We’ll meet people dealing with problems we cannot even conceive of.
We are called to bring our whole selves to those encounters. I will never cease to be an engineer or a professor, no matter what happens in my career. I think like an engineer, solve problems like an engineer, and communicate like a professor. I cannot change my past experiences that have formed me into the person I am today, and that’s OK with God. Like removing chaff from wheat, Jesus removes just those things that hold us back from participating in kin-dom building while retaining that core, that nugget of self, deep inside of us. Jesus promises, though, that he will be with us. When we peel back those layers of worldly attachments that separate us from God and each other, we are left exposed and vulnerable. Yet Christ is always with us, protecting our true selves, loving us completely, and enabling us to share his love with our neighbors.
Serenity is what comes when you stop wishing for a different past. Courage is what we need to build a different future. We all, each one of us individually and our congregation as a whole, can have a future filled with God’s glory if we choose it. If we choose to go where God is calling us, we can experience a taste of the abundant life that is to come when God’s realm is complete.
When Simon saw God’s realm breaking through, he immediately responded, “Go away from me, for I am a sinful man.” He realized that, like all of us, he was limited. He was not ready to participate in the full abundance of God’s realm. Jesus said, It’s OK. We don’t have to change the whole world by ourselves. Jesus is the one doing the work, really, and anyway, the world is a big place. All we can do, and all we are asked to do, is to follow Jesus and change the world for one person. And then another. And then another.
I’m not sure what or where my true calling is. I have some idea, but I’m still groping blindly for the next step. What matters is that I’m trying to follow God’s call. It’s OK to be wrong, but it’s not OK to quit trying. I’d like to close now with a prayer written by Thomas Merton that encapsulates what I’m saying, and that I hope will be helpful to you, each one of you, as you strive to follow where Jesus leads you. Let’s pray:
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. Amen.
