In the face of unexplained suffering, the disciple trusts God. God does not always give us answers; God promises to be with us.

ellievsbear
YOU ARE THE REASON
cherry valley forever
ojovivo

No title available
d e v o n

Andulka
Game of Thrones Daily

titsay
sheepfilms

bliss lane
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Mike Driver

JVL

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
NASA
𓃗
occasionally subtle
🪼
Show & Tell
seen from Malaysia
seen from Pakistan

seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Australia

seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from France
seen from Iraq

seen from United States
seen from France

seen from United States

seen from Brazil

seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
@smallinspire
In the face of unexplained suffering, the disciple trusts God. God does not always give us answers; God promises to be with us.
Where was God?
Where was God when hate grew so dark in two young men's hearts, drawing them to violence? Where was God in a factory over the years as inspections went undone? Where was God? God was there. Protecting us. Providing us hope. Healing and forming us more closely into God's likeness. God is always there - even in our darkest moments and days in which we may not realize it until later. March 25, 2007. It's a day that haunts me and for a long time a day I thought God forgot about me. It started out like any other Sunday when I was home from school. We had worship in the tent set up in the parking lot - a temporary house for our contemporary service. I had new sandals and new jeans and a new internship. I'd just found out I'd been selected as Michigan field director for the student arm of the Obama campaign. And even though Spring Break was ending, it was a good day. After lunch, I got into my car as always. Loaded with freshly cleaned laundry and music playing I started back to school. 80/294 to 80/94 to 94 to 196 I drove. From Illinois through Indiana and into Michigan. But then something went wrong. Instead of singing along as I drove, I was flipping. My car was tumbling down the side of the road. It haunts me. The flipping. Some days I can see the ground above my head whether my eyes are closed or not. In the haunting and fear and hurt, I sometime wonder where God was that day. The tow truck guy who later came to remove my broken and crumpled car asked about me. "She didn't make it did she?" He asked sadly as he surveyed the damage. Where was God that day? God was surrounding me, I now know. Protecting me from harm. I got myself out of that car. And survived with only bruises and cuts and a sore shoulder from my seat belt. No concussion. No broken bones. I've struggled and been haunted by that day. Wonder where God was and why God saved me and not the countless others who are in their car when something goes wrong. But I know God was with me and God still is, even in my fear.
Religious Leaders Call for Faithful Action to Prevent Gun Violence
What began as the hope of a dozen clergy leaders to relieve the grief of their community by calling for common sense measures to prevent gun violence has grown into a national outcry by thousands of religious leaders.
I was honored to join with clergy from all 50 states in standing with our brothers and sisters from Newtown to send an open letter to our senators this week to take long overdue action to prevent gun violence.
"To see the rising incidence of gun violence from Chicago to Newtown, Camden to Aurora, Detroit to Tucson – and how that violence particularly targets the young and the poor, especially in America's urban communities - and yet to refuse to take the steps we know would reduce harm is a violation of religious values so severe that we are compelled to speak out," the Newtown clergy wrote.
That is why more than 4,000 faith leaders signed the letter. It's why clergy are mobilizing and organizing in ways not seen in a generation. It's why congregations across the country are taking part in a national Gun Violence Prevention Sabbath this weekend, and why faith leaders appeared in a public service announcement demanding our nation's leaders take action.
When the spotlight fades and the public attention has moved on to the next hot topic, we – the clergy –are still there, helping to pick up the pieces. As the Newtown clergy so eloquently reminded us, "it is we who are asked to answer why this happened, to bind up the brokenhearted, and to explain why nothing in Newtown or our many communities will ever be the same again."
We know that nothing any of us do will bring back the victims murdered at Sandy Hook Elementary School or any of the 2,600 killed since.
But make no mistake about it – ending gun violence is a responsibility that we all must embrace and struggle to own. It is a personal responsibility, a communal responsibility, a social responsibility and a national responsibility.
We must do all we can to prevent the next tragedy.
We've seen some success: Last week, the Senate Judiciary Committee affirmed crucial legislation to prosecute straw purchasers and end gun trafficking. On Tuesday, they passed two more bills out of committee – one to create universal background checks and the other focused on school safety.
Today they are expected to vote on the critically important assault weapons ban, which is essential to building a truly comprehensive gun violence prevention package.
Whatever happens today, our work as clergy is far from over. We must continue to push for targeted investments and proven strategies to reduce the gun violence that plagues our cities every day. Our work continues until legislation banning assault weapons, creating an enforceable universal background check system, ending gun trafficking and mandating the prosecution of straw purchasers is passed by both houses of Congress and signed by the President.
But beyond legislation, as we approach Passover and Holy Week when so many of us mark the promise of a renewal of life, we must re-commit ourselves to stepping out of the pulpit after our sermons are concluded to live out our calls to be peacemakers and repair the world.
My prayer is that with courage and boldness, we may open our eyes, our ears and our hearts to act, to build lifelines to healing and to be peacemakers in our time.
- Pastor Michael McBride for the Christian Post
A loss for words
I have no words for what I've seen and heard the past couple of days. No words to explain the heartache and loss I've witnessed after spending time with victims of gun violence. I met Neil, whose 6-year-old son was killed in Newtown. I met Steve, whose 23-year-old son was killed in a home invasion near Clemson University. And I met family members and survivors from the shootings at Aurora and Virginia Tech. Their stories will stay with me, just as I'll never forget witnessing Steve describe his son's wound to a doctor, asking the doctor if his son was in pain. There are no words right now. Only grief. And the refrain of a familiar song "God is God and I am not I can only see a part of the picture He’s painting God is God and I am man So I’ll never understand it all For only God is God" God is God. I may not understand why things happened or why some are so resistant to changing the way things are. And I can't heal the pain of those I met but I can work to give them a voice so that maybe something will change and nobody else needs to suffer the same pain they do.
On Being a Methodist, Saying Goodbye and Letting Go
Sometimes being a Methodist sucks.
I was baptized, confirmed and married in the Methodist church. As I’ve gotten older and continued on my faith journey, I’ve made the conscious decision to remain a Methodist.
My brother’s Godfather once told a story of a trip he took to Europe – a trip in which unlike other denominations were generally associated with their country of origin, Methodists were identified as “the people who help people.”
But sometimes that identity is lost or forgotten. And sometimes being a Methodist just plain sucks.
It sucked the day I sat at my desk nearly in tears watching us hatefully debate full inclusion of our brothers and sisters in Christ.
It sucks in the hours lost to committees debating minutia, stuck between forceful personalities positive they are right.
But it sucks the most in the times that come with a goodbye.
Over the course of my life, at the three churches of which I’ve been a member or attended regularly, I’ve known more than 20 pastors. That’s almost one pastor for every year of my life.
Some years saying goodbye was harder than others. In many ways it’s like mourning a loss.
This year, however, seems to suck more than others.
Perhaps it’s because this year the Pastor leaving is one of the first to get to know me. I’m not my parent’s daughter. Or the kid who grew up in the church. Or another one of the college kids. I’m me.
Perhaps it’s because in a tradition rooted in listening for God’s plan, the process seems to have left God out.
Either way it’s another lesson in God’s crash course on letting go.
It’s a class I’ve been stuck in for the past year and a half as God has tried to get through my head that I may have a plan, but it may not be God’s plan.
That may be the lesson in all of this and I know that God’s plan will take me places I never imagined, but learning it sure sucks.
Making Baby Jesus Cry
So here we go again. It's that time of year -- when we stop eating chocolate or consuming caffeine. When we bury "alleluia."
Today as the obligatory Facebook statues appeared in my newsfeed announcing what people are giving up, I found myself getting frustrated.
A few years ago, as we approached Lent, my coworkers and friends (who during the rest of the year rejected religion), announced they too were giving something up. What I don't remember -- and it doesn't matter.
At the time it was a joke -- "don't want to upset Baby Jesus."
While I still chuckle a little bit at the memory, in today's frustration it lost some of the humor.
When did Lent just become a second chance at our New Year's Resolution?
Is that all Lent is now? And does God really care if I don't eat chocolate for 40 days?
Lent is supposed to be a time meant to struggle with our doubts and our humanness. But it's become easy -- not that refraining from chocolate or caffeine is especially easy -- but it's a lot easier than confronting our failures, our imperfections and what is putting distance in our relationship with God.
It's not about whether or not we make Baby Jesus cry.
For me, this year, I'm confronting my inclination to stay silent, neglecting the gift of words I've received from God.
One of my favorite writers once wrote:
"I love writing but hate starting. The page is awfully white and it says, 'You may have fooled some of the people some of the time but those days are over, giftless. I'm not your agent and I'm not your mommy, I'm a white piece of paper, you wanna dance with me?' and I really, really don't. I'll go peaceable-like."
And it's true. Blank paper is terrifying, even more terrifying than giving up chocolate or caffeine.
This year, I'm going to worry less about making Baby Jesus cry and more about becoming the whole person God intends me to be, which is what Lent is for.
"These are the moments when it’s embarrassing to be a Christian. I’m not embarrassed to believe the extravagant claims of Christianity: that Christ was born to a virgin, died for our sins, physically rose from the grave and is returning to rule the world. But I am embarrassed to be associated with some of the people who claim his name."
Pastor John S. Dickerson on CNN Belief Blog (http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2013/02/09/my-take-a-word-to-christians-be-nice/?hpt=hp_c1)
The Savior We Need
Do you remember that toy? Yeah, that one. The one you always wanted. The one you kept asking your parents for, telling them that if they got you this one toy you would never ask for anything again.
When you finally got the toy, was it everything you expected? Or was it somehow . . . different?
And it’s not just toys that leave us with this feeling. It’s the new teacher, the new iPad, the new house. The “new” arrives and it’s . . . different. Not what you expected. And often not what you thought you wanted.
That feeling you’re remembering now – that the thing you wanted is . . . different than you expected – was the same feeling some people had over two thousand years ago.
Their hometowns were occupied and they wanted a savior. He would be a great warrior who would come and defeat the Romans, they thought. Or perhaps a powerful king.
They did get a savior, but he was not at all what they expected.
The savior was a baby. And not even a baby born to a wealthy or royal family, but one born in a stable because his family had no place else to go.
He wasn’t the savior they wanted, but the savior they needed.
It’s because of our own expectations that we need Advent – not a time to wait for the gift we think we want, but a time to prepare to receive the gift we need, the gift of love and hope that comes with the baby savior.
I'm ok with you because you don't quote scripture at me.
is what my open-minded, tolerant liberal friend told me one day. Somehow she had missed what I'd ever actually said about why I voted the way I did. Or the scripture at the bottom of every email I send from my personal email address.
"I can't support your candidates"
Six years ago, I hadn't yet started my sophomore year in college but there I was volunteering at the Democrats' booth at the local community fair. I was there on behalf of a professor running for State Senate. Afraid to be seen supporting Democrats in this community, people would walk past the booth, stop, look around and quickly walk past again, grabbing literature as they breezed by. That is until one man. He stopped. And stared. And pointed. I don't remember if it was at me or at the booth, but he pointed and said "I can't vote for any of your candidates because I'm a Christian." I can't remember what I said. I probably pointed out that the guy I was there for was a professor at a Christian college and an elder in his church. I was told I didn't belong there...that I shouldn't be there.