By Rev. Dr. Roger Kunkel

A good memory is a wonderful gift! The truth is, there aren’t many people with photographic memories. In fact, most of us suffer from memories that fail us at the most inopportune times. Some poet once said this about the mind:

“The only time it ever sits down is when I stand up to speak!”

As important as a good memory may be, however, the power to forget may be equally valuable. With that in mind, consider these vignettes:

Clara Barton, the founder of the American Red Cross, was once reminded of a cruelty done to her. Serenely, she replied, “I distinctly remember forgetting that!”

A physician once said, “My father taught me that one of God’s greatest blessings is the ability to forget some things and go on with life.”

The Apostle Paul knew that there are some things you should forget, and he made it clear in his letter to the Philippians:

“Forgetting those things that are past… forgetting what lies behind, I press on!” (Philippians 3:13–14).

Paul had learned that as wonderful as it is to remember, it is also sometimes good to intentionally forget.

We may need to forget our past accomplishments, past hurts, or past failures. You can pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and start all over again. Remember: no one can go back and make a brand-new start. But anyone can start from here and make a brand-new end.

Let us pray:  O Lord, our Lord, how excellent is your name in all the earth. All creation sings in harmony with you, the master conductor. Except… sometimes we want to sing our own melody. Forgive our stubbornness. May we someday become like the trees which are planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in season, and whose leaves do not wither. In all they do, they prosper.

Walk with those who have received bad news, those who are depressed, and those who are hurting. Give them patience, courage, and hope. Send love to all children who live in poverty and unhappiness. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

A few years ago, the Stewardship Mission Team at our church encouraged us to think about stewardship from a wide variety of perspectives. We reflected on how we might be better stewards—or caretakers—of the various gifts entrusted to us: our health, the earth we live on, our time, our talents, our faith, and even our relationships with others.

This is a really interesting concept to me. How can I be a steward of my relationships with others—friends, family, colleagues, neighbors, sisters, and brothers in Christ?

One thing I know for sure: the dynamics of human relationships can get messy. We step on each other’s toes. We disagree on politics. We make mistakes. We misread and misinterpret. And sometimes our pride rears its ugly head and does damage.

Think about it. What does it do to a relationship when it always has to be my way—or no way? What does it do when I always have to be right… or just have to have the last word… or refuse to be the first to forgive or ever say I’m sorry? What does it do to a relationship when I won’t even listen to another point of view?

Are there relationships in your life that could be different if you could let go of the pride?

If the COVID shutdown of 2020 taught us anything, it revealed the true value of our relationships. When we were locked down for months on end, unable to socialize, we longed to spend time with friends and loved ones. We missed singing songs together in church. We missed shared dinners, quiet conversations, even seeing colleagues face-to-face in the office. All of this makes me reflect on how our relationships do need tending.

Each and every one of us has been given the gift of forgiveness, mercy, and love from Christ. I pray today that you would accept and know these gifts deep within you. And may you share these gifts with a world desperately in need—beginning with those closest to you.

Let us pray:   Holy God, we thank you for friends and family, those who have loved us and enriched our lives over the years. Remind us again of their true worth. Grant us open and humble hearts. We ask in Christ’s name. Amen.

At a very difficult moment in my life, my friend Do In Kim gave me a beautiful gift. Do In was leading a new church development that had been nesting within our church. Over the course of the previous year, we shared some real celebrations and some real disappointments together. And through all of this, we developed a friendship.

I opened the gift at a huge turning point in my life. There was sadness and uncertainty, and I was anxious and scared about the future. The gift was a painting of several Korean characters in splendid calligraphy—nicely framed. I asked what it said. He replied, “It says, ‘The sun shall rise again.’”

Whenever I looked at that painting over the ensuing years, it always brought a smile to my face.

Thank you, Do In. Indeed, no matter how dark the night, the sun shall rise again!

Let us pray: We thank you, O God, for friends—for those we’ve allowed to get close enough to us to share our joys and to walk with us even through the darkest of times. We also thank you for the promise that you are ever doing a new thing, and that you are not done with us yet! We pray for all those today who need to remember that the dawn shall come and a new day will break. We ask all this through Jesus Christ, who is ever bringing life even out of death. Amen.

The Apostle Paul consistently opens his letters with these words:

Grace and peace to you.

Grace comes from the Greek word charis, meaning gift. Sometime back, my friend Bob Smith shared with me that his spiritual mentor defined grace as God’s unmerited, un-discourageable love. Other scholars tell us the word can be translated: joy, gift, pleasure, acceptance, favor. Another definition: favor done without any expectation of return.

Wow.

The word peace comes from the Hebrew shalom—harmony, well-being. The Greek word is eirene—which means every kind of good. Joy, acceptance, unconditional love, and every kind of good to you.

Author and pastor Rob Bell points out that this greeting was used in every letter by someone who had spent considerable time in prison—even shackled in chains. This greeting, this blessing, this deep way of being, was offered by someone who was often deprived of the basic necessities of life—someone who had been shipwrecked, stoned, beaten, and who knew he would eventually be killed. Even in the midst of great difficulty, there was a centering and an offering of grace and peace.

For Paul, grace and peace were not just for those close to him. Many in his congregations had hurt him, had wronged him.

Bell raises the question:

What would it be like to be so rooted and grounded in grace and peace that we could forgive people who may have wronged us, cheated us, stabbed us in the back? What would it be like to be people so soaked in grace and peace that we could extend these gifts even to those who have most broken our hearts? How would it feel to be able to let go?

I don’t know about you, but I need grace and peace in my life.

When Paul begins his letters with the salutation Grace and peace to you, he is reminding his people only of what they have already received from Christ—what we all have received from Christ. And he is also reminding them that these are the same gifts they are to share with each other and with the world. It is the foundation of every letter. And it is the foundation of our faith.

Grace and peace to each of you this day.

Let us pray:  Thank you, O God, for your acceptance, joy, unmerited favor, un-discourageable love, and well-being. May these, your gifts, wash over us and flow through us. Amen.

Several years ago, a local church in Jacksonville ran a newspaper ad that read:

We welcome everyone! We extend a special welcome to those who are single, married, divorced, gay or just not sure, filthy rich, dirt poor, no habla inglés. And a special welcome to those who are crying newborns, skinny as a rail, or could afford to lose a few pounds. We don’t care if you’re more churchy than the Pope or haven’t been in church since little Joey’s baptism.

We welcome you if you are over 60 but not grown up yet, or a teenager who is growing up too fast. We welcome soccer moms, NASCAR dads, starving artists, tree-huggers, latte sippers, vegetarians, junk-food eaters. We welcome those who are in recovery or still addicted. We welcome you if you’re having problems, are down in the dumps, or don’t like organized religion. We’ve been there too.

If you blew all your offering money at the dog track, you’re welcome here. We offer special welcome to those who think the earth is flat, work too hard, don’t work, can’t spell, or are here because Grandma is in town and wanted to go to church.

We welcome those who are inked, pierced, or both. We welcome those who could use a prayer right now, had religion shoved down your throat as a kid, or got lost in traffic and wound up here by mistake. We welcome tourists, seekers, and doubters, bleeding hearts… and you!

We welcome you because if you’re good enough for God (and you are!), then you are good enough for us!

I love that. The fact is: you are good enough for God. Jesus made that crystal clear.

In the Gospel of Matthew, he offers this invitation:

“Come to me, all who are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

Let us pray: We thank you, O God, for your unconditional love for each and every one of us. We ask today that grace would fall like rain upon us. Heal us. Redeem us. Empower us to grow more and more into the image of Jesus, in whose name we pray. Amen.