Daily Devotions and Podcasts
Prayer: Lord, help me to see You in every part of my day, even in the places I least expect. Open my eyes to Your presence in the ordinary and the extraordinary moments of life. Amen.
The Cathedral of Hope Devotion Ministry began as an answer to Progressive Christians who wanted to start their days with a little insight, observation, or wisdom about the Christian faith from their own point of view. Conservative internet devotions were abundant, but there was not much out there for liberal thinkers. The need was clear.
Being a large church, we had a generous amount of writing talent available and also a large number of congregants with theological training who were not on the pulpit. In the early days of the ministry, most of the writing was done by the clergy, but gradually the majority of the writers emerged from those lay volunteers.
That dynamic is still in place as new authors are always joining in to keep the ideas fresh. It’s a fitting structure for any center of progressive thought. This particular Body of Christ has many voices and each one has a unique and important story to tell.
SCRIPTURE ļ»æ Acts 8:36-39 As they traveled along the road, they came to some water and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water. What can stand in the way of my being baptized?” And he gave orders to stop the chariot. Then both Philip and the eunuch went down into the water and Philip baptized him. When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord suddenly took Philip away, and the eunuch did not see him again, but went on his way rejoicing. WORDS OF HOPE The Spirit meets people on desert roads. Waters of grace and acceptance are always close at hand. In Acts 8, Philip encounters the Ethiopian eunuch on a lonely stretch of desert road. The eunuch is powerful in the court of the queen of the Ethiopians and faithful enough to journey all the way to Jerusalem to worship. And yet their body marks them as different. According to religious tradition, they do not fully belong. Their devotion is real, but their access is restricted. Still, there they are—on the margins, reading scripture aloud, hungry for understanding, thirsty for grace. Author and theologian Christina Cleveland, in her book God is a Black Woman invites us to imagine God as a trans Black woman: a God who knows what it is to be surveilled, dismissed, excluded, and yet to remain fierce in love. A God whose body has been declared “out of place,” whose wisdom has been ignored, whose presence has been policed—and who nonetheless shows up precisely where life is hardest and hope feels most fragile. On that desert road, it is this God who draws near: not enthroned in the temple but walking alongside a seeker whose body has been deemed a problem. When the Spirit sends Philip to the eunuch, Philip does not interrogate their worthiness. He does not demand conformity or correction. He does not ask them to leave parts of themselves behind. He listens. He shares the good news of Jesus. And then, without hesitation or condition, Philip baptizes them. The chariot stops. Water appears in the wilderness. Joy erupts. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke often of the “beloved community”—a vision of God’s future breaking into the present, where dignity is not rationed and justice is not delayed. Acts 8 is a beloved-community moment. On that road, the arc of the moral universe bends—not because institutions finally caught up, but because the Spirit refused to wait. The eunuch asks the question that echoes through every liberation struggle: “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” God’s answer is immediate and holy: Nothing. For trans and gender-diverse people, Acts 8 proclaims a tender and revolutionary truth. Your body does not disqualify you. Your identity is not a barrier to grace; it is an invitation to it. Baptism was never about fixing bodies or erasing difference. It was never meant to restrain joy or delay belonging. Baptism names what has always been true: you are already claimed. Already beloved. Already held by a God who knows marginalization from the inside. Roadblocks were never the Spirit’s idea. Neither were borders around joy. The Spirit who hovered over creation, who led people out of bondage, who met a eunuch on a desert road, still moves today—calling us toward freedom, dignity, and love that refuses to be fenced in. The Spirit meets people on desert roads. Waters of grace and acceptance are always close at hand. DEVOTION AUTHOR Thomas Riggs
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Words of Hope Podcast
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SCRIPTURE ļ»æ Acts 8:36-39 As they traveled along the road, they came to some water and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water. What can stand in the way of my being baptized?” And he gave orders to stop the chariot. Then both Philip and the eunuch went down into the water and Philip baptized him. When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord suddenly took Philip away, and the eunuch did not see him again, but went on his way rejoicing. WORDS OF HOPE The Spirit meets people on desert roads. Waters of grace and acceptance are always close at hand. In Acts 8, Philip encounters the Ethiopian eunuch on a lonely stretch of desert road. The eunuch is powerful in the court of the queen of the Ethiopians and faithful enough to journey all the way to Jerusalem to worship. And yet their body marks them as different. According to religious tradition, they do not fully belong. Their devotion is real, but their access is restricted. Still, there they are—on the margins, reading scripture aloud, hungry for understanding, thirsty for grace. Author and theologian Christina Cleveland, in her book God is a Black Woman invites us to imagine God as a trans Black woman: a God who knows what it is to be surveilled, dismissed, excluded, and yet to remain fierce in love. A God whose body has been declared “out of place,” whose wisdom has been ignored, whose presence has been policed—and who nonetheless shows up precisely where life is hardest and hope feels most fragile. On that desert road, it is this God who draws near: not enthroned in the temple but walking alongside a seeker whose body has been deemed a problem. When the Spirit sends Philip to the eunuch, Philip does not interrogate their worthiness. He does not demand conformity or correction. He does not ask them to leave parts of themselves behind. He listens. He shares the good news of Jesus. And then, without hesitation or condition, Philip baptizes them. The chariot stops. Water appears in the wilderness. Joy erupts. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke often of the “beloved community”—a vision of God’s future breaking into the present, where dignity is not rationed and justice is not delayed. Acts 8 is a beloved-community moment. On that road, the arc of the moral universe bends—not because institutions finally caught up, but because the Spirit refused to wait. The eunuch asks the question that echoes through every liberation struggle: “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” God’s answer is immediate and holy: Nothing. For trans and gender-diverse people, Acts 8 proclaims a tender and revolutionary truth. Your body does not disqualify you. Your identity is not a barrier to grace; it is an invitation to it. Baptism was never about fixing bodies or erasing difference. It was never meant to restrain joy or delay belonging. Baptism names what has always been true: you are already claimed. Already beloved. Already held by a God who knows marginalization from the inside. Roadblocks were never the Spirit’s idea. Neither were borders around joy. The Spirit who hovered over creation, who led people out of bondage, who met a eunuch on a desert road, still moves today—calling us toward freedom, dignity, and love that refuses to be fenced in. The Spirit meets people on desert roads. Waters of grace and acceptance are always close at hand. DEVOTION AUTHOR Thomas Riggs
READINGS “This is the air I breathe, This is the air I breathe, Your Holy presence living in me.” ( From the song, Breathe, by Michael W. Smith. Lyrics by Marie Barnett - 2012) “The whole problem is to establish communication with one’s self.” E.B. White WORDS OF HOPE Breathe. Love. Hope. Act. Pause where you are for a moment, and as best you can take a deep breath in. If you are congested or otherwise compromised, breathing may not be as easy for you. Still, you are breathing or you’d be dead! Take a deep breath in now—and briefly hold it. Then slowly release the air back into the world. You are connected to the world through your breath. Feel the connection. We are connected now, whether you are listening to a narrator giving voice to my words aloud or are reading these words with your own vision. A connection has been made. Human beings are designed for connection. It is in our DNA. It is the reason that solitary confinement is a far worse form of punishment than any other for those imprisoned. It is why orphaned babies fail to thrive if they are not given touch, attention and affection. If you are feeling overwhelmed by life, pause and focus on your breath. If you are troubled by social injustice, political discord, or government that seems unresponsive to genuine human need, take a breath. You are not alone and you are not powerless, though it may seem that way. The Spirit of God is at work for good, despite human suffering, conflict and turmoil. That truth doesn’t imply that everything gets resolved exactly as we would like or as timely as we would hope. Creation has been set in motion by the God of Grace who values Free Will and Liberty greater than control. Therefore evil, too, must exist. Dr Martin Luther King calls our attention to Theodore Parker’s now famous observation, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” Breathe. Do lovingkindness. Work for justice. Stay connected with yourself, your Higher Power, and the Spirit that moves, empowers and births Hope from despair. Breathe. Love. Hope. Act. PRAYER Come Holy Spirit and stir up a fresh wind to blow over our nation and all the world. Refresh us, empower us, redeem us, that we might rise, empowered by Love, to seek Justice in the name of the Prince of Peace. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Rev. Dr. Gary Kindley Pastoral Psychotherapist DrGK.org
READING Every January, we perform this ritual together. We shake off the indulgence of the holidays and brace ourselves for improvement. We tell ourselves that this will be the year we get it together…that any mess was temporary…that with the right plan, the right habits, the right mindset, we can finally become the person we were always supposed to be. This is not a small thing. In the United States and Canada…, New Year’s resolutions have become a kind of secular sacrament—an annual recommitment to the belief that limits are a problem to be solved. But what if they aren’t? –Kate Bowler, “A Resolution for People Who Are Already Doing Their Best” WORDS OF HOPE Kate Bowler expresses a perspective that we would do well to examine. At the beginning of every year, we are barraged with advice about New Year’s resolutions from all our communications modes. Searches turn up the following: “New Year, New You,” a flurry of entries with varied numbers of “best” resolutions—from 18 to over 100, “achievable” resolutions, resolutions “that you’ll actually keep,” fun resolutions, resolutions that will inspire you, and so on. In addition, there are essays on why we make them, why we break them, and even neuroscientific analysis. And now we have apps that can help us measure our progress and mood daily. (The premium version of one starts at $39.95 and gets you access to professionals, daily tracking, analysis and more.) ļ»æ Overwhelmed yet? Several years ago I stepped away from making resolutions in favor of New Year’s prayer, listening deeply throughout the year for the Spirit’s guidance and periodically taking stock. This year, though, Kate Bowler’s reflection struck a chord in me. A religion professor at Duke Divinity school, writer, and podcast host, Bowler also is a historian of American self-help. Her research suggests that over and over again the message we hear is “the only limit is you. If you could just overcome the mental block, the laziness, the lack of discipline, then the “real” version of your life could begin.” Particularly for those who struggle with perfectionism, this message can feel like massive bullying. In 2015 Bowler’s perspective changed radically mostly from being diagnosed with stage four colon cancer at the age of 35. “The fantasy of unlimited agency collapses quickly when your life includes chronic illness, caregiving, grief, uncertainty, or responsibilities you didn’t choose. Which is to say, we are all ushered into the “fellowship of the afflicted” (as Margaret Feinberg calls it) one way or another.” This year she suggests trying to practice “limited agency.” “I don’t mean the kind of resignation that says, “oh well.” I mean the kind of clarity that comes when you’ve hit the edge of what you can do and you stop pretending otherwise. Limited agency is the humility to admit, I don’t get to steer the whole story, paired with the courage to say, but I can still choose something. It’s a celebration of small, real choices made inside real constraints. Not a fantasy of transformation. Not a dramatic reinvention. Just the steady practice of asking: what is mine to do, and what is not? Sit for a moment with how those last paragraphs strike you. Does defensiveness rise up inside? No way; I can do a lot more than that! Does curiosity arise, wondering if there might be something helpful in her perspective? Do you find a truth about your own life—and the burden of constant striving? Something else? I invite you to take whatever comes up into prayer and listen for the voice of the Spirit. PRAYER Oh, You who know us better than we know ourselves, guide us lovingly into a life of wholeness and purpose. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Dr. Pat Saxon
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