Monday - August 12, 2024

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

SCRIPTURE Ephesians 6.13-17 Therefore, take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on that evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm. Stand therefore, and fasten the belt of truth around your waist, and put on the breastplate of righteousness… With all of these, take the shield of faith, with which you will be able to quench all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. WORDS OF HOPE Decades ago, I remember my grandmother sitting at her ancient Singer sewing machine, finishing one of the hundreds of little shirts she routinely made for a local Baptist Orphan’s Home, while quoting today’s reading from Ephesians to me. She loved the colorful symbolism and knew the word pictures would remind me of the brave Round Table knights and Sherwood Forest rebels whose adventures inspired my imagination in those days. Lancelot and Robin Hood never failed to douse the flaming arrows of the evil ones. She was also quick to remind me that the list of weapons was symbolic and what Paul was talking about was the power of the Word of God. She mentioned the Apostle Paul in a familiar tone, as if she had gone to high school with him. Observing her silver-gray hair, pulled back into a bun, I thought she probably had. Now, being about the same age she was then, I know she wasn’t that old after all, but her wisdom was. One example of her eternal wisdom was another observation she made about this passage. “You don’t have to go too far from home to watch out for those flaming arrows.” She was referring to her ongoing religious debates with her sister, my Aunt Nora, about how a good Christian should behave. Nora was our Presbyterian church’s self-appointed expert on proper religious tradition. (She was also the church gossip.) I overheard one of these sessions from another room once. I remember Nora lecturing my grandmother about not always standing up with the rest of the congregation during appointed times of the worship service. “I’m old, Nora,” was my grandmother’s only comment. “I don’t care how old you are,” Aunt Nora retaliated. “A good Christian always stands up!” My grandmother thought it over briefly and then casually replied. “Then why do you stand up?” I left the other room to avoid being discovered doubled over with laughter. Today, my grandmother’s words are still with me. There are more flaming arrows flying now than I can ever remember, filling the air, the airwaves, and social media with hateful words and accusations as to who a true Christian really is, but more frequently who isn’t. It takes the whole armor of God and sometimes even an old Singer sewing machine to remember the difference. PRAYER Thank you for the power of your words and the generations of your followers who have lived their lives by them. Amen DEVOTION AUTHOR Dan Peeler Order of St. Francis and St. Clare

SCRIPTURE  Proverbs 4: 25-26 Let your eyes look directly ahead and let your gaze be fixed straight in front of you. Watch the path of your feet and all your ways will be established. WORDS OF HOPE Never has this scripture been more meaningful than during my recent back injury. When leaving the hospital in a brace that strongly resembled gladiator armor, I was sternly warned I could neither turn left, right or bend down. In fact, I was told I should simply look forward and walk slowly so I didn’t fall. Maintaining that straight forward position was extremely uncomfortable. It didn’t matter if I was sitting, walking or whatever, the longer the brace stayed on the more cumbersome it became. Soon I was struggling to do anything except as suggested, just keep looking forward. My thoughts were running rampant with what I couldn’t do, where I couldn’t go and how long I would be in this gloom. I became so focused on unfinished projects, what needed attention and what I should be doing instead of just “being in the moment”. Then it hit me, what a metaphor of my life as I sat there at my desk, being forced to “only” look forward! The most precious gift we are given is free will, which allows us to change our thoughts. Ultimately the choice is mine to look back on what was, be afraid of what might be, or look forward to possibilities. God didn’t build those walls of fear, I did. The Great Wall of China was built out of fear. Its fortress was so high and thick no one could ever knock it down or climb over it. Ironically, the few times they were invaded, someone bribed the gatekeeper and the opposing army simply marched through the open gates. I had let distractions take my eyes away from being at peace and stopped looking forward. It was time to remember; I can’t plow a straight line while focused on what’s behind me. PRAYER God of peace, thank you for allowing the brokenness to become a vessel of gratefulness, for free will and the promise of everlasting love…Amen DEVOTION AUTHOR Donna Jackson

SCRIPTURE  Luke 10:29 And who is my neighbor? WORDS OF HOPE It’s Sunday morning, so Sage and I are taking an early, early walk. Though it’s no longer dark, the clouds are just barely tinged with rose blush. As we turn east and pass one house after another, those who live there come to mind—the young woman in dental school and her house mate, the couple with a 3-year-old autistic son, a retired veteran with mobility challenges who grieves the death of his beloved German shepherd. Though Sage is a curious dog and friendly with most everyone, she has her favorite neighbors, so she tugs me toward the house across the street where a family--husband, wife, and adult son—abide. Last year they started a lawn and clean up service and are some of the hardest working people I know. Sage is hoping for a belly rub or scruff of her fur before they go off to work, but they are not out yet, hopefully still enjoying a well-deserved rest. As we come to the end of the block, an ache fills my chest. Though the light is on, no Sarah sits on the front porch enjoying the morning and no Keith engages us with his stories. Nor does Osso, their deaf yellow lab, voice his defense of the house as we come by. When Keith told me they were moving about month ago, it was like a kick in the gut. I really miss them. Keith’s warmth and willingness to chat draws people out. Over time we talked of his prize- winning barbeque sauce recipe, his former job filming Dallas Cowboy games for a local TV station, being at the lake, families, and much more. We’ve exchanged fresh tomatoes from his garden and peaches from my favorite orchard in East Texas, and recently he shared a delicious Mexican casserole he made. Once, when Sage’s legs hurt too much to walk any more, he stayed with her while I got the car and took her home. No politics, though, except for one day we slid that way unknowingly when he named the downtown church they attend—one which preaches hatred for gay people. I winced inside, but with this gracious, caring couple---well, that hatred just didn’t stick. Every morning and evening I still sense the emptiness of where they would have been. Grief over neighbors who have moved away is one of the many types of unattended sorrow we carry. I am so grateful for my good neighbors and this morning I hear the ancient question: Who is my neighbor? The answer expands in concentric circles wider and wider. My neighbor is the unhoused woman in a black hijab who takes shelter near the QT, the chatty clerk at Tom Thumb, the irritating solicitors who ignore “no solicitation” signs, the crews tearing up our streets for a city project, but who at the end of a hard day pause to play with Sage. My neighbor is a sister grieving her brother Lindsey Graham and the advocates working passionately to secure safe medical care for women in anti-abortion states. Neighbors are Israelis and Palestinians both carrying ancient wounds, the starving people in the Sudan and the ebola nurses seeking to save lives in Eastern Congo. My neighbor is the great Pacific octopus and the grizzly bear feasting on salmon. Starburst and black holes, neighbors of the universe, all God’s creation. PRAYER God of all creation, expand our hearts and minds to embrace the universe of our neighbors until we can say, with John Donne: No one is alien to me. Amen. DEVOTION AUTHOR Dr. Pat Saxon

SCRIPTURE  Psalm 139:7-10 Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there; If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there. If I take the wings of the dawn, If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea WORDS OF HOPE In our search to truly get to know who God is, have you ever thought of God as the provider for our spirit? Most of us are familiar with Matthew 6.31 which gives us assurance that God is the sustainer of our lives: “So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?” It emphasizes material provision, but we need much more than food to live a vibrant and spiritually productive life. What about all those intangible needs which we experience every day? How often do you stop your running around and thank God for divine nourishment given to your spirit and your emotional well-being? When things go wrong and the future looks bleak, God's loving presence is a certain source of comfort, guidance, and soul peace. I am reminded of the old story in which a follower of Jesus went for a walk along the seashore. He envisioned walking with God and looking back on the two sets of footprints in the wet sand, symbolic of his prayer life. But this day, his prayer life seemed to have dried up, events in his life were going from bad to worse, and in his deep despair, he wondered if he could go any farther in life. In his prayer, he started to complain to God: "Where are you when I need you? It seems that you have let me down when I really need a lift from you to carry me through these troubles." Looking behind him at the footprint trail in the wet sand, he noticed only one set of prints. He assumed that it was evidence that they belonged to him, and that God had deserted him. He complained more until the ever-present divine voice interrupted and spoke to him. "The single set of footprints which you see trailing in the sand, they are my footprints which were made as I carried you in my arms through your troubles and pain." PRAYER So often we fail to recognize your constant care for our lives, especially our spiritual life. Rather than complaining when things are difficult, may we focus our eyes on you, the One who promises to pick up our spirit and carry us into more peaceful times. DEVOTION AUTHOR Donald (Luke) Day Order of St. Francis and St. Clare