Yesterday, I reflected on the story of Adam and Eve. The truth is, there are ever going to be temptations – not only to do what we know we shouldn’t do, but also to take more than we need, or to try to have it all.

We don’t like limits, do we? In our culture, we’re often told you can have it all! You can do it all! You can be it all!

But is that true?

Even on a very surface level, we know it’s not. I think about my daughter Cori who plays the guitar. She’s away at college now, but I remember her deciding she wanted to learn how to play. If you ask her today to play something – she can play almost anything. She went to All-State three times for classical guitar in High School and now plays bluegrass. And it almost seems not fair – she makes it look so easy. She has so much fun with it. But for her to get there, for her learn, she had to say “no” to 100 other things. It took hours and hours and hours of practice. But she said I’m saying yes to this intentionally.

Isn’t that usually how it works? Doesn’t saying yes to one thing require us to say no to others?

I think about how if I want to be non-anxious and have a deeper sense of peace and centeredness, then I can’t fill every spare moment with appointments or meetings. I have to carve out time for prayer, reading, and mediation. If I want a good marriage, then I can’t be out with my friends at the bar every weekend. If I want to keep a legacy of bitterness from infecting my children, then I can’t share everything I know. If I want to be balanced, centered, and know God on a deeper level, then there are going to be things that I have to say no to.

What I’ve come to realize is that the “no” is not an end in itself but no opens up possibilities of growth, depth, and commitment.

Thinking back to the story of Adam Eve – if this is a story not only that happened – but that happens, it raises the questions: How do I recognize what the temptation is for me, today? In this world of abundance, what are the limits that are life-giving? What do I invite into my life, and what do I refuse? What do I say yes to? And to what do I say no?

Those are not always easy questions to answer. But many have found that a little reflection and prayer go a long way.

Let us pray: God of Grace, help us to be the kind of people who live intentional, reflective lives – so that we might know what is the next right step for us to take. May we ever recognize the limits of what is good and healthy and life-giving. May we seek your guidance and follow your lead. In Christ’s name. Amen.

Friend of Dial Hope, I have a confession to make. Are you ready for this? I am an in-curable hoper and I want you to follow suit. I have a bias that no problem on earth is ever truly insoluble; problems are opportunities filled with possibilities. I do everything in my power to solve problems rather than create them. And I firmly believe that hope is our sustaining friend. It keeps us going through the good times and the restless nights of our souls.

To be sure, you will be sorely tempted to despair at times. Some of you listening to or reading this message are terminally ill, some of you are lonely and depressed, some of you are learning how to live with physical and emotional pain. I advise you: ward off cynicism and cultivate hopefulness. It is a choice you will be called to make daily.

The cynic says, “Blessed are they who believe in nothing, for they shall not be disappointed”. The hopeful person says, “Despite all of life’s ills, pains, and problems, it is still a beautiful world.” Such an attitude will make all the difference in your world. For the hoper, unlike the wishful thinker, is willing to work his or her head off that it might just come to be. We live as we hope. Good friends Kathy and Harry Dodge reminded me that Emily Dickinson wrote, “Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.”

Let us pray: Loving God, it’s morning again…another day knocks. The tide of light rises, slides down the walls, across the ceiling, into my eyes, purging the darkness, slowly smoothing the crinkles of sleep. A particle of light has pierced our hearts reminding us to begin again, to get up and go. You promise to bless us so we may be a blessing to others. You give us contagious enthusiasm, so we can go on limping, hoping on every step a testament of gratitude. We scratch the ears of dogs, laugh at the ballet of cats and Pelicans, and dolphins. Help us this day to hear the cry and gurgle of the newborn, to learn from hundreds of teachers, some of them homeless, poor, and uneducated.

Awaken us to the beauty of the mockingbirds, the Milky Way. For You alone, O Lord, are our hope. You alone are our safety, our strength. May we – even with our fears and anxieties, our insecurities and uncertainties – trust, totally trust in your loving care and plan for our lives. Thank you for hearing this prayer. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

When the Rev. Dr. Samuel Shoemaker was the rector of Calvary Episcopal Church in New York City, he had an old building fixed up and began a mission to the down-and-out men of the Bowery. A famous cartoonist became interested in the mission and drew for Dr. Shoemaker a moving poster. In the poster, a homeless man was depicted standing against a wall, while the cross from the mission was showing from around the corner. The caption read, “There’s a place nearby, where a Carpenter still mends broken men.”

I think that is beautiful. But I am also deeply aware that it’s not just homeless people who need mending. It’s also people like you and me. It is people with broken hearts and broken dreams; people suffering from despair or addiction; people who have made mistakes and people who take on the weight of the world.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus said, “Come unto me all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”

May you and I never forget that indeed, there is a Carpenter who still mends broken hearts and broken lives.

God of Hope, we all have broken places in our lives. We need you, and we draw close to you now asking you to mend us and heal us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

I once heard about a young naturalist who found a cocoon and watched as a new butterfly struggled to emerge from it. He was completely captivated, amazed at this miraculous happening. But then he made a huge mistake. He took out his pocket knife and cut the cocoon so that the butterfly would not have to struggle. The butterfly flew out at once – but it was it very weak and did not survive long at all. The man later learned that it was weak because it did not have to struggle in its own birth.   

So often we forget there may very well be blessings in our own struggles: in our striving to learn a new discipline or skill; in our struggles to raise our children or care for elderly parents; in our personal battles against self-serving ego or addiction, and even in carrying our everyday burdens. In the moment, it is very difficult to notice. However, these struggles sometimes add depth to our character and put muscle in our faith. We can become spiritually and emotionally strong, and emerge on the other side deeper, wiser, more compassionate, and more faithful.

In your own life struggles, may you remember that God is with you in these hardships. May God give you eyes to see the blessings that are ever-present. And, may you never lose faith.

Let us pray: We love you, Lord, and we trust that you hold us close. Even through the darkest night and the deepest valley, you are there. We ask you to give us the courage to face the moment. Form in us an inner strength and a faith strong enough to see us through any circumstance. Keep us ever mindful of your blessings that surround us on every side – even today. Amen.