When we see hungry people, we feed them—as we do through our food pantry work. When we see that people need medical supplies, we find a way to help them—as we do through Global Links. We meet for worship together, often. We have Bible Studies. We live responsively, even as we know we wait. We do, in fact, practice “a long obedience in the same direction,” individually and together.

Our coin project for Lent is another example of a long obedience in the same direction: it’s a small, steady practice of gratitude and responsiveness. We know that each moment of gratitude (noticing how many lamps we actually have, for example) and each coin given are small things. But small things, done steadily over time, accumulate—both in our hearts and in our giving.

And let’s be honest: in a world with all kinds of problems, it’s kind of a relief to have something clear that we can do to effect change, both in ourselves and in the world. Not only will our hearts be changed, but the Mission Barn will be better enabled to do its work of disaster response and helping people with things like wheelchair ramps. And that is no small thing.

I’m glad that so many of you have responded so positively to this project—I look forward to hearing about what it offered you when we’re done, and to seeing the impact we can have when we give our gifts to the Mission Barn.

I’ll see you in church,

Becky

Prayer

God, today our finitude is rubbed on our foreheads.

The reality of our limits, our fragile bodies,

spoken over us like a curse:

from dust we are made

to dust we will return.

Some days we need to be reminded

that we are not the perfectibility projects

we set out to be.

We are full of bounce and brimming with hope.

All woes, solvable. All problems, a distant whisper.

When we don’t feel like dust,

Bless us, oh God,

in the ways we trick ourselves into believing,

that our lives are something we’ve made,

that all our accomplishments and successes and mastered mornings

add up to something independent of you.

But on days like today, when our heads hang low

Sunk with the grief of our neediness,

Bless us, oh God.

When our joints don’t work like they should,

when we grow sick or turn gray too soon.

when our bodies betray us…

or perhaps they are doing exactly what they are supposed to do.

Tell us again

exactly how you made us:

from dust to dust.

Blessed are we, a mess of contradictions,

in our delusions and deep hopes,

in our fragility and finitude.

From Kate Bowler’s The Lives We Actually Have.