Daily Devotions and Podcasts

SCRIPTURE Ephesians 6:10–18, The Inclusive Bible Finally, draw your strength from God, and from God’s powerful strength. Put on the full armor of God so that you can stand firm against the tactics of the devil. WORDS OF HOPE Buffalo Soldier Day.  I first heard the words "Buffalo Soldier" from Bob Marley. The first time I heard the song, it didn't come to me as history. It came as rhythm, as memory carried through music before it ever became a lesson in a classroom. Long before I knew who the Buffalo Soldiers were, the song invited me into a story that was larger and more complicated than I could have imagined. Music has a way of preserving stories that official histories sometimes overlook, reminding us that memory is carried not only in books and archives but also in voices, communities, and culture. As I began learning more, I found myself listening differently and asking deeper questions. I also found myself watching Peter Kater's documentary series How the West Was Lost. The title itself stayed with me. Growing up, I often heard people speak about how "the West was won," but the documentary invited me to consider another perspective. For many settlers, westward expansion represented opportunity and the fulfillment of a national dream. But for many Indigenous nations, it meant something profoundly different: the loss of homelands, broken treaties, forced removals, disrupted cultures, and generations of grief and resilience. The West was not simply won; for countless Indigenous communities, it was also lost. Holding those truths together has changed the way I read history. It has reminded me that faithfulness begins by listening to voices that history has too often pushed aside and by allowing our understanding to grow when we encounter stories we were never taught. Yet Buffalo Soldier Day also asks us to remember another story, one that cannot be separated from the first. Buffalo Soldiers served during westward expansion, where Indigenous nations—including the Apache, Cheyenne, Dakota, Nez Perce, Navajo, Modoc, Lakota, Utes, and many others—were defending their homelands, cultures, languages, and sacred relationships to the land. Holding these histories together is not easy, and perhaps it should not be. History is rarely neat. It rarely fits into categories of heroes and villains. More often, it reveals human beings trying to survive within systems far larger than themselves while those very systems continue to inflict profound harm on others. Black soldiers were not symbols; they were people navigating the difficult realities of a nation still shaped by racial injustice. Indigenous peoples were not background figures in the American story; they are sovereign nations whose histories, cultures, and voices continue today. To honor one story does not require erasing another. In fact, justice demands that we remember them together with honesty and humility. It reminds us that God is encountered not by ignoring history but by entering it truthfully. God does not ask us to sanitize the past or smooth over its contradictions. Instead, God calls us to listen carefully to those whose voices have too often been marginalized and to recognize that Scripture continually draws our attention toward the vulnerable, the oppressed, the stranger, and those pushed to the edges of society. From the Exodus to the prophets, from Mary's song of liberation to the ministry of Jesus, the biblical story repeatedly reveals a God who hears cries for justice and who invites people into the difficult work of repair, reconciliation, and hope. That work is never about creating new enemies. It is about confronting whatever diminishes God's image in another human being and participating in God's ongoing work of liberation. And the work is still not done. The work of telling the truth. The work of listening before speaking. The work of resisting the temptation to erase or oversimplify difficult histories. The work of building communities where dignity is shared, justice is pursued, and peace is rooted in truth. The work of becoming people who recognize God's image in every neighbor and who refuses to let fear, prejudice, or indifference have the final word. God's liberating work did not end with the Exodus, nor with the resurrection, nor with any single justice movement. The Spirit is still moving. The Gospel is still calling. And we are still invited to participate in the sacred work of liberation, reconciliation, and hope. PRAYER God of Exodus, God of the oppressed, God who still speaks- Hold us in the struggle for truth, shape us in the work of justice, and lead us toward a peace strong enough to carry history without denial. Amen DEVOTION AUTHOR Reed Kirkman