In the Gospel of John (15:9), Jesus said, “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.”

Think about that. Think about the love a parent has for a child.

Yesterday was Father’s Day. If you’re a father, what is your love like for your child? If your child is hurting, you hurt. If your child is in danger, you protect her. If your child messes up—and she’s still young—you may discipline her, you may correct her, but you would never stop loving her.

As a parent, if I thought it was good for them, I would do anything for my daughters. Anything. I would gladly give my life.

This is the kind of love Christ has for you—fierce, unconditional, willing to lay down his life… for you.

“As the Father loves me, so I love you…”

Jesus goes on to say, “Abide in my love.” Abide in it. Dwell in it… tap into it… draw strength and nourishment from it.

Today, I pray that you would know Christ’s love for you in the very deepest part of your being. May you live and give out of the abundance of that deep well. May his love, grace, and peace be gifts that you have to share with a world desperately in need.

Let us pray:
We thank you, O God, for fathers and for all who have loved us with a fierce, unconditional, and sacrificial love. We thank you also for your love for us in Christ—a love that knows no bounds. May that love fill us to overflowing. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

In the book of Micah, the prophet describes the sad state of affairs in the world around him. The faithful are nowhere to be found. Injustice and corruption reign. Families are falling apart at the seams.

Despite all this, in verse 7 he says:
“As for me, I will look to the Lord, I will wait for the God of my salvation; my God will hear me.”

So often, we find ourselves surrounded by darkness. We see hungry children in our communities. We hear about violence and injustice. We worry about our jobs, our parents, or our friends.

In his own life, the prophet Micah didn’t ignore the issues or pretend they weren’t real. No—he named them. He lamented. And then he held fast to hope.

In a Wednesday night study, our small group was encouraged to share with God in prayer exactly what was on our hearts. We were given the instructions to be real, to be vulnerable. It is true that God already knows what we’re facing. God already knows what we’re going through. However, something powerful happens to us when we are able to speak our lament, to name our prayer, to open our hearts.

In the New Testament, James reminds us:
“Draw near to the Lord, and he will draw near to you.”

Let us pray: God of grace, we all know the feelings of anxiety and stress. Often we feel the pain of the world around us. It is part of our shared humanity. I pray today especially for those who need you near. Give each of us the courage to face—and even to name—our fears. In spite of the darkness, help us to trust you. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

One summer when I was in seminary, I served as a chaplain to the homeless. I was working in a ministry housed in the basement of an old Episcopal church in downtown Atlanta, and I remember being struck by a mural painted by one of the homeless guests at the shelter.

It was a depiction of life on the streets. Seven characters were hanging out in a party-like atmosphere. There was an intellectual wearing glasses, but his tie was crooked, his shirt untucked, and a bottle of booze in his hand. Others were dirty and dressed in tattered clothes. In the painting, you could see their sickness and despair. Broken bottles littered the ground, and the sky was black and ominous, flashing with lightning. In the foreground was a sign that read:

“Warning! Our Creator has issued a severe storm alert for non-recovering addicts. Effects will be disease, famine, and death! Take shelter now in the name of Jesus!”

I found myself staring at this painting for a long time—maybe because it represented so vividly the life I witnessed on the streets each day. And the question that kept coming to my mind was: Where is Jesus in the midst of all this hunger, heartache, and human suffering?

As I reflected, part of the answer became clear. Jesus was there—suffering within the people we sought to serve. But he was also present in the open hearts of the shelter volunteers. Jesus was there in the care and expertise of the drug counselors. He was there in the hands of those who served the food, and in the love and financial gifts that kept the shelter going. And Jesus was there—reaching out in love to both those who were serving and those being served.

Let us pray: Open our eyes to see the need in the world around us. Open our hearts to break at the things that break your heart. And then, Lord, give us the courage to reach out in your name and make a difference. We pray in the name of the Risen Christ. Amen.

Yesterday, we reflected on how some of us have been told—by parents, coaches, or friends—in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, “You’re not good enough. You’ll never measure up. You’re not worthy.” Those tapes run through our heads and affect our lives. They manifest not only as rejection or low self-esteem, or hesitance to get close to others… but also as a constant anxiety that pushes us to compare ourselves to others or prove our worth.

I have a good friend who is a pastor in another part of the country. He’s a working machine. He rarely takes a day off—working nearly 70 hours a week. His wife, who works in the corporate world, keeps the same schedule. They hardly see each other.

A few years ago, he told me he was so busy after Christmas that he couldn’t take a break. His family went on vacation without him. I asked, “Why don’t you take the vacation your church is offering?”

He replied, “I just can’t. They need me.”

I said, “Yeah, they need you not to burn out!”

Later in the conversation, he laughed and admitted, “I don’t know who I’m trying to impress.”

I remember in seminary we were introduced to the theologian Karl Barth. He wrote 13 volumes of Church Dogmatics, among many other hefty works—and his writing is so dense, I could spend an hour on just one paragraph.

Not too many years before his death, Barth was asked if he could summarize his theology. In all seriousness, he responded with the words of a beloved children’s song:

“Jesus loves me, this I know,
for the Bible tells me so.”

I find it beautiful that decades of research, writing, and deep thought led him to a simple but profound truth. This is the basis of our faith.

Once again, I share this beautiful passage from Isaiah:

“But now thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine…
You are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you…”

Let us pray: Gracious God, thank you for your love for us—a love that never ends. Help us to accept that love in the very deepest part of our being, that we may live and give out of that foundation. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Today’s message was written by my friend, Rev. Roger Kunkel, founder of Dial Hope.

A great British preacher of a generation ago told the story of a young servant girl who had no formal education yet was deeply spiritual. She had a strong sense of compassion, a concern for people. When this minister visited her one day and asked how she spent her days, she said, “My work is very demanding, and I don’t get much time off, so I can’t serve the church as much as I would like. But I have come up with a plan that lets me do what I can,” “What is that?” asked the minister. She replied, “Well, I always take the daily paper to bed with me at night.” He was puzzled. “Tell me about that. I don’t understand.” “Well,” she said, “l read the page with the birth notices, and I pray for the babies that have been born; then I read the marriages, and I pray that they may be happy and true, and next I read the deaths, and I pray that God’s comfort may come to those sorrowing homes.” 

That young girl was not far from the Kingdom. Why? Because she had discovered the spirit of loving compassion. Loving compassion, Jesus called it the most significant sign of discipleship. In John’s Gospel, he said it like this: “l give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples” (John 13:34-35). As deftly as a magnetic needle points to the north, so the heart of Jesus immediately zeroed in on the neediest person in the crowd. 

The poet put it this way: 
Love in your heart isn’t put there to stay; 
Love isn’t love till you give it away. 

Let us pray: God of love, you who have the whole world in your hands, we claim to be one nation, under you, and that you are the One in whom we trust. We are aware that you have called us to love you and one another, and we pray that you will remind us anew that love, to be love, must be expressed in action. Give us hearts of loving compassion. In Jesus’ name, Amen.