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Psalm 51.3-4, 12-13, 18-19

For I know my transgressions *
and my sin is ever before me.
Against you only have I sinned*
and done what is evil in your sight.
Cast me not away from your presence*
and take not your Holy Spirit from me.
Give me the joy of your saving help again*
and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.
The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit;*
a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.
Be favorable and gracious to Zion,*
and rebuild the walls of Jerusalem.

Every now and then, Jojo, my four-year-old daughter, will make her sister cry. She will accidentally knock over Natalia, who is 10 months old, or give Natalia a little push when she’s annoyed or just hug her a bit too tightly. When this happens, Jojo rarely says she’s sorry, but she will crawl under the table or hide her face or cry.

Which is good. Maybe that’s a strange thing to say when your kid feels bad, but this is how I know she’s not a psychopath. And it’s a sign that she’s learning. Learning that what she does has an affect on others, and learning that the feelings and needs of other people matter.

What is required of us as adults is not much different, really. A sacrifice to God is a troubled spirit, the Psalm says.

Of course, as I get older it all gets more complicated. I rarely make people cry now, but I still harm others, and crawling under the table won’t do much good. Rather, a broken and contrite heart might lead me to apologize to Denise, my wife, or give a friend a call. And a troubled spirit might even lead me to participate in a march for justice or call my elected leaders. In each case, it’s the nagging sense that something is not quite right that leads me to change, to repent or to act.

After Jojo runs away or cries or hides, she’ll typically go and give her sister a hug. A gentle hug. This is a bit like rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem in the Psalm. And you can’t rebuild until you acknowledge that something is broken.

Remorse and contrition are useful to me. They are sometimes painful. Like many people I occasionally lay awake at night thinking of the most selfish moments in my life. Things done and left undone. The times I could have been better, been more present for my friends and family, kinder to people around me, done more for my community. When my own selfishness or self absorption blinded me to the harm I did to people I cared about. And probably to people I’ve never met. This place, where I am troubled by my sins, isn’t really a place to dwell, though. It’s not the destination, but the first step away from brokenness and pride and selfishness toward something better.

A broken and contrite heart is a sacrifice to God, and it is a teacher, guiding me toward a better version of myself, toward healing and reconciliation and hope.

You can listen to the reading and reflection by clicking here.

Isaiah 55.10-11

For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there until they have watered the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

We’ve seen plenty of snow lately. It’s beautiful when it’s falling but then it starts to get messy and we get tired of it. We just want it to melt and go away. We look for warmer weather and we spread the snow out hoping it will just melt away. What was the purpose of the snow anyway? All that it does is make traveling harder and all the work we have to do to move it around hurts our backs. I guess playing in the snow was good for our kids and sledding is fun. If we go further we do need the moisture in the ground and that will help our plants to grow.

We were given God’s word through his son. Jesus came to us to teach and to show us the way. He endured ridicule and testing. Some couldn’t see the reason that he was here. Others followed him and their lives were changed, much like the plants. He spent his entire time on earth teaching in one way or another. He couldn’t go back to his Father until his purpose had been fulfilled. His purpose was fulfilled by his death and resurrection so that we may live.

We need to remember when we see the snow or rain that it does have a purpose and we just need to wait. The good news is that Jesus died so that the wait could be over for us and we will have eternal life because of that.

You can listen to the reading and reflection by clicking here.

1 Peter 5.1-14

Now as an elder myself and a witness of the sufferings of Christ, as well as one who shares in the glory to be revealed, I exhort the elders among you to tend the flock of God that is in your charge, exercising the oversight, not under compulsion but willingly, as God would have you do it—not for sordid gain but eagerly. Do not lord it over those in your charge, but be examples to the flock. And when the chief shepherd appears, you will win the crown of glory that never fades away.

In the same way, you who are younger must accept the authority of the elders. And all of you must clothe yourselves with humility in your dealings with one another, for “God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.” Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him, because he cares for you.

Not a ladder, but a ripple. I often find myself thinking in pictures. As I read (and re-read and re-read) this passage from Peter, I found myself moving from the image of a ladder or hierarchy to the image of a ripple.

When Peter begins his advice with his identity as an elder, it took me a moment to understand that he is NOT advocating for a strict hierarchy: just the opposite. He asks that the elders “tend the flock… willingly… not for sordid gain, but eagerly.” He tells those same elders, “Do NOT lord it over those in your charge, but be examples to the flock.” Coming from my experiences with my mother’s Korean family—where each aunt, uncle, and sibling has a unique title and rank based on birth order—this has not always been my experience of elders.

When Peter turns to the young ones, he asks something more familiar to me: “accept the authority of the elders.” But then he tells all of us to “clothe ourselves in humility in our dealings with one another” so we can “humble ourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God.”

As imperfect people, we might proudly pretend to have power over each other: to lord it over others on some occasions, or cower on other occasions. But as Christians, we are all “witnesses of the sufferings of Christ.” And as the children of God, we all “share in the glory to be revealed.”

We—young people, old people, in between people, and unsure people—are being asked to stop pretending that we are on a ladder—above some people or below others. We are being asked to embrace our lives as the ripples in water: when the mighty hand of God moves the water, we are asked to feel it—to move with it and flow out our best example to those around us. When we are touched by someone’s example, we are called to move in concert—sharing that glory to be revealed in all directions.