In 2 Corinthians 6:11–12, the Apostle Paul writes, “We have spoken frankly to you Corinthians; our heart is wide open to you. There is no restriction in our affections, but only in yours. In return… open wide your hearts also.”

The truth is, Paul had given so much of his time, energy, and heart to them. He had been honest about his own shortcomings and failures. He laid it all out there. He was essentially saying: I’ve poured my life out for you. I’ve given everything I have and more. I’m asking you to open your heart to me, too. I’m asking for your affection… I’m asking for your friendship.

It’s not easy to risk putting yourself out there like that, is it? We get a real sense of Paul’s humanity here—his desire to be loved and known.

C.S. Lewis once wrote:

To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket—safe, dark, motionless, airless—it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love is Hell.
(The Four Loves)

It can be tempting to fortify the walls of our hearts and not let others in. It can be tempting to be stoic and not allow others to see us or know us too deeply. But on the other side of this vulnerability is something that gives life meaning and value. And we are reminded of how God risks loving us.

The Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue put it this way:

The two longings deepest in your heart—the longing to love and to be loved—are not merely psychological needs; at a more profound level, they are the stirring of God within you.

Let us pray: God of Love, in Jesus Christ you walked among us. We thank you for your incarnate love. We also thank you today for the people you have brought into our lives—for neighbors, friends, family, our church family, and others who walk the journey with us. We pray today especially for those who feel lonely. May they know your presence and love even now. Grant us your grace, your patience, your forgiveness, and your love—that we might be better friends to those we love, and better able to reach out to those who need us most. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Ellen Edwards Kennedy once wrote:

“When I began to take Jesus seriously, I began to look at a particular young woman with scorn. I felt little but contempt for her—her quick temper, her selfishness, her spiteful gossiping, and the way she took her loving family for granted. Any time she was mentioned, I could think of very little good to say.

But one day, as I was leafing through an old photo album filled with pictures of her, Jesus’ Spirit spoke to my spirit and said, concerning this young woman, ‘I have always loved her, despite her failings, and I have forgiven her. I want you to forgive and love her, too.’

As I gazed at the young face in the photos, my heart filled with compassion for the girl. Along the way, in her search for meaning, she had made many mistakes. God gave me a gentle love for her and the ability to forgive. That moment of healing—when I decided to forgive and love her—also gave me new strength and a new freedom to love others as never before… because the young woman in the pictures was me.”

Sometimes, the hardest person to forgive is ourselves.

In Psalm 103, we read:

“As far as the east is from the west, so far God removes our transgressions from us. As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for us.”

And in Romans 8:38, the Apostle Paul writes:

“Nothing in all of creation can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.”

May you know—deep in your soul—that there is nothing in this world that can separate you from God’s love. God has forgiven you. May you, in turn, forgive yourself. 

Let us pray: May your grace wash over us again this day. May your grace, mercy, and peace sink deep into our souls, that these gifts would be ours to share. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

I love the story about a man who wanted to take his money with him beyond the grave. One evening, as he was thinking about death, he prayed fervently about this concern. An angel appeared to him and said, “I’m sorry, you can’t take all your wealth with you after death, but the Lord will allow you to take one suitcase. Fill it with whatever you wish.” Overjoyed, the man got the largest suitcase he could find and filled it with pure gold bars. Soon afterward, he died and arrived at the gates of heaven. 

St. Peter, seeing the suitcase, said skeptically, “Hold on, you can’t bring that in here.” The man explained that an angel had given him permission. Peter checked with the angel Gabriel, and the story was verified. “Okay,” said Peter, “you can bring the suitcase in with you—but I’m curious. I’ve got to see what you brought.” Opening the suitcase to see what in the world this man had considered too precious to leave behind, he exclaimed, “I don’t believe it! You brought pavement?”

The story is humorous, and it carries a grain of truth. Many of the things we consider valuable in this life will not be the same things we value at the end of life.

In the midst of life, we often focus on what we can accumulate: wealth, titles, power, prestige. But in the end, most people tend to care more about the relationships they cultivated—or failed to cultivate: friends, neighbors, and family.

The old bumper sticker, “He who dies with the most toys wins,” is quickly countered by another: “He who dies with the most toys still dies.”

The truth is, the love, hope, and peace we share with the world while we are here live on well beyond us, in the lives of those we’ve touched.

At the end of a memorial service I attended years ago, the pastor left us with this challenge:

“When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. May you live your life in such a way that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.”

Let us pray: We remember today, O God, that our time here on earth is limited. In the gift of the time we have left, help us leave the world a better place through our giving and through our loving. Amen. 

The Apostle Paul often wrote about the church as the Body of Christ. In 1 Corinthians 12, he puts it this way:

“Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”

What a great way to think about the church!

Many people, when they think about church, think of it as a building, or a pastor, or an institution. But Paul says, No, no, that’s not it. The church, in some mystical way, is Christ’s body—Jesus raised from the dead, Jesus alive. His body, his work, his ministry—here on earth today—in us!

I remember at a previous church, one of our preschool teachers and her husband lost their son, who was just a few days old. He was born with a tumor on his neck. I remember going over to their house and sitting with them. When I arrived, they really didn’t want to talk. I asked if she wanted me to leave, and she said, “Please stay.” So we sat. She and her husband wept. And we sat.

I asked if she wanted me to pray. And she said, “Right now I can’t pray. I can’t have faith. But you can pray for me. The church can pray for me. They can hold my faith for me…”

And we did. We held onto her faith for her. We prayed for her until she was again able to pray for herself. We had faith for her until she was able to hold it again on her own.

Some of my friends say they don’t go to church because they struggle with the idea of the church as an institution. So do I. But at its heart, that’s not who we are. It’s people.

The church is organic and alive. It is you and me, and our lives joined with the lives of others. When we get it right, it can be beautiful, life-giving, and even sustaining.

Let us pray: God of grace, we thank you for the people in our lives who have walked with us through the ups and downs, the joys and sorrows of life. I pray today especially for those who feel alone. Draw near to those who need you near. And use each of us—even as we ourselves are being healed—as your hands, your heart, and your feet: together, your body, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

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

There is a strange sentence in one of the Psalms: “I will keep a muzzle on my mouth” (Psalm 39:1). These are the words of a man sorely tempted to spread gloom and despair and discouragement. Yet he held himself in check, knowing there was enough pessimism around, that he should rally the courage of those who felt down and out. That’s good advice. The world is longing for words of assurance and encouragement. When will we ever learn? People don’t want to be put down; they are crying out to be lifted up. The choice is ours; we can encourage, or we can discourage. 

Isn’t it sad that many people think they are divinely ordained to point out all the bad things, show us all the problems, underscore all the negative? Isn’t it tragic that some choose to be gloom spreaders rather than uplifters? It is so much more fun to lift people up than to tear them down. Each one of us has the power to make others feel better or worse. And, making others feel better, generally makes us feel better. 

One of the great personalities of the early church was Barnabas, which means “son of encouragement.” He was an encourager. He put flesh on the verse, “Therefore encourage one another and build up each other” (1Thessalonians 5:11). Simply put, we need to be people who listen, who care, who affirm, who help and support one another. The choice is ours. We can encourage or discourage. 

Let us pray: God of love, forgive us for marching to the beat of drummers other than you. May we resolve today to get our lives back with your plan and purposes. Transform our gloom, despair, discouragement, and negative/mean spirit into positive encouragement and affirmation. Remind us to gossip the Gospel of good news and joy and hope because of Jesus Christ. Now may God surprise you with grace in at least three or four places where you never thought to look for it. In Jesus’ name. Amen.