A few summers back, our family went out to see the giant Sequoia trees of California. They are truly spectacular! Some of them grow as much as 300 feet tall and are as old as the time of Christ. We were told that, strangely, these towering trees have unusually shallow root systems that splinter out just under the surface of the ground. They stay shallow in order to absorb as much of the surface moisture as possible. You would think that would be their weakness. You would think that storms with heavy winds would bring these giants crashing to the ground. But they don’t, because the trees grow in clusters. Their roots intertwine, providing tremendous support.

Friends, family, and communities of faith all function for us in this same way, don’t they?

In his book Can You Drink the Cup?, Henri Nouwen writes, “In community, we say: Life is full of gains and losses, joys and sorrows, ups and downs—but we do not have to live it alone. We want to drink our cup together and thus celebrate the truth that the wounds of our individual lives, which seem intolerable when lived alone, become sources of healing when we live them as part of a fellowship of mutual care.”

Today, may we give thanks for the friends and family in our lives who, like the mighty Sequoias, undergird us with strength and hope.

Let us pray: God of Grace, we thank you for the people who you have brought into our lives that make the journey a little more beautiful. And today we especially pray for those who feel lonely and forgotten. May they know your presence with them. Surround them with your love and care. We ask in Jesus' name. Amen.

There is a compelling scene in the book of Esther. Esther, who is Jewish, has become the queen of Persia. The king doesn’t know she is Jewish, and he is bribed into issuing a decree to have all Jewish people in the kingdom destroyed. Esther’s cousin Mordecai tries to get Esther to plead with the king for their lives. Esther is scared to plead with him, and she begins to make excuses. But Mordecai tells Esther:

"Do not think that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews. For if you keep silence at such a time as this, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another quarter, but you and your father’s family will perish. Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this.”

Up to this point, Esther’s life seems to be storybook. Everything is falling into place for her. But then all of a sudden, her cousin tells her: If you keep silent... if you choose not to act—don’t think you are off the hook. Yes, God’s going to act one way or another, but here you are, Esther, the need is right in front of you. Maybe God has put you here for a reason.

I don’t know if you’ve ever looked at your own life and thought: Maybe God has put me here for a reason. Maybe I have this education, maybe I have these gifts, maybe I had that moment of failure, that hardship, that luck, that blessing for a reason.

For Esther, the need to act was clear. If we look at the world around us, we see hungry children in our schools, people who are lonely, others who are desperately looking for something deeper in life. We see drugs and violence.

I can’t imagine a time in history when the world has needed people of faith more—people who have the courage to act, to give, to love, to serve.

Esther risked her life. She used her place in the world, and God used and blessed her efforts. Today, may you ponder the statement: Perhaps God has put me here for such a time as this.

Let us pray: We remember today, O God, that you have blessed us to be a blessing. We ask you today to meet us right where we are. Heal us, redeem us, make us whole, and set us free once again, that we might be instruments of your love and grace. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Psalm 8 offers this prayer, “O Lord, our Sovereign, how majestic is your name in all the earth. When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon, and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?”

The Hebrew words “mindful” and “care” could also be translated as “remember” and “visit.” “What are human beings that you remember us, mortals that you visit us?”

This Psalm is a hymn of praise, born out of a moment of wonder and awe. And it invites us to share in that wonder and awe.

Sometimes, when I’m sitting on the ocean, I’m awed by how small and insignificant we are in the grand scheme of things. Or, when looking up at the stars, it’s hard to grasp how far away they are… If you could travel at the speed of light, it would take more than four years to reach the nearest star. Thinking about how vast it all is makes me realize that the God we worship is far bigger than we can ever imagine. God created all of this and continues to create. Stars continue to be born; life continues to thrive.

I think about other moments I’ve had, and I know you’ve had them too. Eugene Peterson put it this way: moments “…when ‘Life’ spills over the containers of mere survival or utility.” Moments when we realize there is something more going on in the world than just getting by.

Maybe you’ve experienced this sitting far out on the ocean in a sailboat, or on a mountaintop, or at the birth of a child, or even at the loss of a loved one, or during a stirring piece of music. We catch glimpses of the connections between everything we see and everything we cannot see. We sense transcendence, perceptions that there is more going on here than we can account for.

This Psalm, among many others, calls us—compels us—to stop and sit in awe and wonder; to marvel at the beauty of the gifts God has given us; to notice the holy and sacred in the everyday, and to respond with open hearts and our deepest praise.

Let us pray: Awesome God, we thank you for those holy moments, moments that are often few and far between. Today, we ask you to help us notice the beauty of your handiwork in creation, to catch glimpses of your Spirit at work in our lives, and to stand in amazement and wonder. We praise you for the gift of life, and for your love that binds us together, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

One of the greatest compliments a person can give is to say, "l need you!" The words melt our hearts and impel us to want to help. We all need to feel needed. A crucial part of friendship is to be able to admit our inadequacies and say to others, "l need you!" We can be sure that if we can't say that to others, they will probably never say it to us. 

Actually, confession of our needs is an expression of healthy self-esteem. We value ourselves enough to believe that we are worthy of another's care. Those who cannot express their needs usually end up unable to help others. Sadly, a man I knew committed suicide; he did not share his needs. What a loss! We were created for fellowship with God. There will be restlessness, an emptiness within us, until we rest in Him and allow Him to fill the God-shaped vacuum. 

Let us pray: Loving God, without you, we are truly scared stiff of making mistakes, of being ridiculed or rejected or missing out in our always fumbling uncertainties. So today we pray that your Spirit will hover over us to enable us to separate the light from the darkness. Encourage us to keep getting up and going on no matter how many times we have tripped up and fallen down crying. So move in among us that we may grow in your Spirit and live with passion in this amazing life. How wonderful are your ways, O Lord, how marvelous are your gifts of grace. Straighten the backbone of our beliefs and deepen our commitments to your way so that the roots of faith will reach the center of our hearts. God, we need you. In Jesus' name. Amen.

You may know that American author Flannery O’Connor was a sincere Christian. Even though her writings are not classified as religious works, they are deeply spiritual. You may not know that in her mid-twenties, she was stricken with lupus, a terrible disease that attacks the joints. This severely restricted her movement, and she died young at the age of 39.

At one point, O’Connor’s aunt encouraged her to travel to Lourdes, France, to take a healing bath in the waters of the famous shrine there. O’Connor agreed to go, but only reluctantly. She wrote, “About the Lourdes business, I am going as a pilgrim, not a patient... I am one of those people who could die for his religion easier than I could take a bath for it.”

O’Connor understood that while miracles occasionally happen, they are not among God’s promises to us. While I am sure she would like to have been healed, in her own life she found that her faith was about more than just receiving.

Sometimes we pray for miracles, and I never discount that possibility. With God all things are possible. At the same time, the witness of people of faith over the centuries is this: Even in the midst of our own struggles, there is something restorative about giving and serving others. When we get outside of our own heads and focus on something other than ourselves, at a minimum, our spirits are lifted.

I don’t know what you might be going through in your own life, but today I pray that God would give you the strength you need day in and day out. And, in giving to others, however that might look, may you find deeper meaning, hope, courage, and even joy.

Our prayer today has been handed down to us over many centuries. It was written by Thomas à Kempis in the 1400s. Let us pray: Write your blessed name, O Lord, upon my heart, there to remain so indelibly engraved, that no prosperity, no adversity, shall ever move me from your love. Be to me a strong tower of defense, a comforter in tribulation, a deliverer in distress, a very present help in trouble, and a guide to heaven through the many temptations and dangers of this life. Amen.