I lay there, wide awake, suddenly aware of any sound that dare pierce the darkness. The breath of my wife was barely audible; she inhaled, exhaled, inhaled again. The creak of heating ducts, circulating warmth into the night air. The quiet night breeze, meandering through trees right outside. The gentle whisper of bed linens rustling, ever-so-slightly, under the vibration of anything that moved.

I wondered what it was, this time, that had roused me. Was it one of the kids, in the room, also unable to sleep? Usually they went to Kathi first. Was it a deer outside our window, newly discovered by the family dog, excitedly barking her alarm?

Slowly realizing there was no external source to point to, my thoughts shifted inward. Normally a deep sleeper, usually it takes a mountain of noise to rouse me. And yet here I lay, in an otherwise near-silent home, now wide awake.

Insomnia.

I hate it when this happens. Fully conscious when I should be deep in slumber. REM cycle now interrupted for who knows how long. There would be no dream state forthcoming anytime soon.

Now to figure out what to do.
In the past I’d tried all sorts of possible cures.

Counting sheep.
Melatonin.
Reading.

Sometimes they work, sometimes not.

Prayer.
Scripture.
Prescription pills.

Each had been attempted, to varying degrees of success.

Facebook.
Candy Crush.
The New York Times.

My cell phone’s blue LED light blinked on the nightstand.
Reminding me that these were options too.

Once, a decade ago, insomnia had been a near-constant companion for months. Fortunately, those days have passed.

But still, I was reminded what was at stake. Insomnia, left unaddressed, had been rough.

I’d beat myself up over it before.
I was determined not to do that again.

Lent
We look to improve what lies deep within in myriads of ways. This time of year especially. The Lenten season we find ourselves in is a time for introspection, reflection, sacrifice. In these forty days we walk, symbolically, alongside Christ, perhaps more intentionally than usual. Hoping to change our ways, to be more like him.

The kickoff to Lent reminds me of New Year’s Day. We love to make deals with ourselves to improve. So we commit to doing more of something, or less, or doing it differently. In the hopes of bettering ourselves, helping others, enhancing the world.

They are high ideals we strive for.

And let’s be honest, you’ve got better odds of making a meaningful life change over 40 days then you do over 365 ?

Culturally we’ve engaged in these sacrificial acts over Lent for centuries. Often we give up chocolate. It’s a reminder that living in the wilderness, awash in temptation, for 40 days, is anything but sweet.

A 2019 study reported on in The Atlantic found that, among those giving something up, the most common sacrifices for Lent are social media (21%), alcohol (18%), chocolate or sweets (13%), and soda or coffee (11%).

It’s fair to say that each of those, in excess, just aren’t good for us.

In modernity Lenten sacrificial practices can be just about anything. I asked Facebook friends what they’re doing to commemorate the season, and each response was different from the next. Of course anyone that’s given up social media wouldn’t have been able to reply to the query, so there’s that ?

Among people that shared their stories some are spending their Lent listening, reading, reflecting. Steph started listening to the Bible in a Year podcast. Jo is reading the Poetry of Lent by Mary Oliver. Ryan – that’s a seminary friend, not me – is watching The Good Place tv series, while contemplating his mortality.

Others observe the season with improving themselves by doing. Lindsay gave up take-out food, adding oatmeal for breakfast. Carolynn is looking to live more simply, sorting one box of papers per day, with the hopes of rising to new levels of simply living by Easter. Kathy is encouraging her congregation to add one thing to their lives that brings them joy – the fasting this year is from isolation itself.

Maryanne remembers as a child her mother would always give up smoking for Lent. But just at work. Every day she’d come home and fire one up.

Others observe the season by doing for others. Kate started donating blood. Laura is walking 40 miles in 40 days, and getting rid of 40 items, with proceeds benefiting the ELCA World Hunger program.

The Weber family is adding in a practice by using a Lenten Kindness calendar. Each night they gather together for the provided reading and plan out how to complete the next day’s kindness challenge. I absolutely love that.

Jonathan is doing a bit of everything, including:
• Giving up drinking alone (to enjoy, not need)
• Giving up watching The Office (to not get addicted to escapism)
• Donating to charity
• Taking the Confirmation kids on a service project to the food pantry
• Nixing fast food on Fridays (to remember Christ’s sacrifice), and
• Being more intentional with prayer and meditation
That’s a long list Jon! Make sure you spend some time sleeping too. It really is important. ?

During our Ash Wednesday service a few days ago Pastor Bryan mentioned it seemed like we’ve been in Lent for the past year.

Dude, I hear you.
Couldn’t agree more.

So if you’re not doing much of anything different for Lent this year, because of the extended season of sacrifice we find ourselves in, you’ve got company.

And that is 100% entirely A-OK.

Claimed
Today’s text from Mark 1 is a familiar one. In it we have water, baptism, heavens torn apart. We have wilderness, temptation, wild beasts. We have a dove, Satan himself, angels. We have good news, beginning to be proclaimed.

This passage seemingly has it all.

Yet this year I found myself drawn to one part of it more than any other.

The voice from heaven.
The voice of God.
Calling down.

Making a bold claim.

You are mine, God tells Jesus.
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With you I am well pleased.

And with that affirmation from Dad, Jesus enters the wilderness. Ready to face temptation. With the Holy Spirit by his side, guiding him though. All the way thorough Christ’s ministry, life, death, resurrection, ascent.

Making it possible that we, too, can be called children of the most high God. Beloved by our Creator. No matter what our backstory of successes and failures may or may not be.

Backstory
Often in Lent there’s this seeming subtext of self-loathing. Or at least the possibility of it. With our commitments to do differently we admit that what we’ve done, to date, isn’t always that great.

Giving up social media suggests how we use it has a downside.
Drinking less suggests perhaps we’re drinking more than we should.
Eating differently means we may not be currently eating well.
Organizing more an indication we’ve been organized less than is ideal.
Trying to solve sleep problems a confession there’s a problem to solve.

In those admissions we run the risk of feeling bad about our current reality. To the point of beating ourselves up, about where we find ourselves, more than we should.

And in even trying, we run the risk of not succeeding, as thoroughly or as well as we’d hoped. Which could lead to beating ourselves up, over the next failure, once again. So before getting too far down that particular rabbit hole, consider this:

That voice from the heavens still calls down.
Remember your baptism, the voice whispers.
In that moment I made a claim, the voice reminds.

Just as Jesus is –

You too are mine, God tells us.
You too are beloved.
From the very beginning to the very end.

You have been grafted into my family, God continues.

One with the Designer of all that is,
One with a Son who loves without limit.
One with a Spirit present, nudging, guiding you –

Every step of the way.

Sure, I want more for you, God shares.
Any good parent always does.

But my love for you isn’t in your doing, or not doing.
It’s in your being, simply being;
Being a part of me, a part of it all.

And nothing –
No ifs ands or buts,
Can separate you from that love.

So keep up with your doing,
Or not doing,
This pandemic has been hard.

Keep on trying to find balance with what you consume,
So ultimately you don’t become consumed with it yourself.

Keep on seeking joy in what you already have,
Realizing, through me, what you have is enough.

Keep on hoping for that full night of sleep,
Knowing in me you’ll find rest for the rest.

Keep on with your reading, meditating, prayer,
For you’ll find me there as well.

There’s going to be wilderness,
And that wilderness can be hard,
Yet it’s an essential part of what makes us alive.

We exist to help realize that part of your prayer, Lord,
that life on earth,
better mirror life in heaven.

Until then –
Just as Jesus wasn’t alone in the wilderness, neither are we.

Just look around.
And remember.
You are God’s own.

We share this reality.
We share this wilderness.
We share in it, together.

Each of us a unique part of the whole,
Each of us impossible to replace.

Most importantly remember this.
You are loved. As you are. In this very moment.
By the source of all that is.

And nothing can separate you,
now and forever more,
from that.
Amen.

The benefits of human touch are many.

Human touch sustains us from the moment we are born. One study found preterm newborns receiving three 15-minute sessions of touch therapy each day, for just a few days, gained 47% more weight than premature infants who got standard medical care.

Human touch helps us learn. Another study found when teachers pat students in a friendly way, they are three times more likely to speak up in class. Similarly, when librarians pat the hand of a student checking out a book, the student says they like the library more. And are more likely to come back.

Human touch helps us understand feelings in others. To quantify this, researchers used a barrier to keep two strangers apart, with only a small hole between them for an arm to fit through. With arm extended, one person tried to convey an emotion, through a one-second touch of the other’s forearm. The odds of guessing the right emotion, by chance, based on the number of emotions available to select, were low: only eight percent.

So when participants correctly identified the emotion of compassion over 60% of the time, accurately IDing feelings of gratitude, anger, love, and fear all over half the time, researchers knew they were on to something.

The study found two notable exceptions, both related to gender, these are kinda fun. When a female tried to communicate anger to a man, via one-second touch, the man had no idea what she was doing. Similarly, when a man tried to communicate compassion to a woman, she had no clue what was going on.

Make of those findings what you will ?

Human touch benefits us all the way to the end. As clergy we get asked to be present bedside with people nearing death, often giving communion, speaking with family, friends, sharing in prayer. But many times, it is the physical touch – the holding of a hand, or shoulder, the touching a cheek, that people appreciate most.

To better understand this from a medical perspective I spoke to Dr. Larry Otteman. Larry is a member here, and oncologist who spent a career working with cancer patients.

Larry told me when someone is dying of cancer, people stop coming to visit. And when working with hospice volunteers initially they don’t know what to do. His advice: Be present. Just touch them. Even if they can’t interact in any other way. It says to them you are touchable. You matter.

During his mother’s impending death Larry recalls being there, in the room. To be out of other people’s way he held her foot, maintaining contact as she neared her end. Physically she knew he was there. Even though she couldn’t see her son, she could feel him there, with her.

Healing Touch
Between the beginning and end of life, perhaps most importantly, human touch has the power to heal.

Human touch is used in massage therapy to reduce pain in pregnant women and alleviate prenatal depression. It does that in both the woman and their spouses. Which is fairly amazing if you think about it.

Human touch is often used by doctors, integrated right alongside their more technical skills. Eye contact and a brief pat on the back, from a doctor, can boost survival rates of patients with all sorts of disease.

This notion, that physical touch has healing properties is, as you might imagine, nothing new. And it is a central theme of our gospel today from Mark 1.

Here we find Peter, one of the disciples traveling with Jesus. Peter’s mother-in-law was in bed. She was sick with fever. Confined to where she lay. Unable to get up. Peter was worried about his relative, of course. So Peter told Jesus of her ailment.

Jesus then went to her,
took her hand,
lifted her up,
and the fever left.

The woman then rose.
The woman then went about her day.

The woman had experienced the touch of Christ.
And in that touch, she had been healed.

It’s worth mentioning what Jesus didn’t do.

He says no words;
Offers no prayers;
Performs no command.

There is no phone call,
No press release expressing thoughts and prayers,
He didn’t even wish the woman well.

Instead, Christ was simply present in another’s pain.
And in that presence? The woman was healed.

Scripture is filled with examples of the power of healing touch.

Jesus used physical touch to –
Give sight to the blind,
Cause the mute to speak,
Make the leper clean,
Raise the dead to life.

“If only I can touch his garment,” says another woman, seeking healing from Jesus, “I will be healed.”

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And she was.

Now
Today, for the first time in eleven months, we are able to worship, albeit with some limits, in person. Our local metrics have improved to a point where that is now possible. To which I can only give a hearty, Hallelujah!

I see people here I haven’t seen in person, in a year. So exciting!

And I’d love, really love, to give each and every one of you a great big hug.

Would that be ok?
We’re all friends here, right?

No?

Hugging probably wouldn’t be too wise, pandemically speaking.

No hugs.
No handshakes.
No high fives.

At least not yet.

Keeping our distance, for now, is a matter of public health.
It is, for now, a best practice to keep each other safe.
It is, for now, how we care for our neighbors near and far.

The last time I accepted a hug from someone outside our immediate family was a few months ago. After presiding over a funeral. One of the daughters of the deceased came over, gave her thanks, held out her arms. Instinctively I reciprocated, and we embraced. It was an entirely natural thing to do.

For we are hard-wired to seek solace in others, by way of human touch. It builds connection, it deepens relationship. Human touch can heal, after all.

Immediately I regretted that hug.
Immediately I regretted that regret.

Such is the complexity of the times we find ourselves in.

We are so much less connected, physically, than we were last winter. And for good reason. Yet we’re worse off, in so many ways, for it.

Mental health diagnoses are on the rise.
Physical health, for many, in decline.

Perhaps our deficit in contact with others helps explains a pandemic phenomenon: pet adoptions this past year are way up. In some cases double what they were before. With many shelters unable to keep pace with demand. All so we can cuddle up with a beloved pooch, or feline, to relieve our feelings of isolation, and loss of human interaction. If even just for a bit.

While not all touch is good – boundaries matter, the #MeToo movement an important reminder of that – physical touch is an important part of what makes us tick.

Michelangelo, the artist that painted The Creation of Adam on the Sistine Chapel’s ceiling, where God and Adam, famously reach out, index fingers extended towards each other, famously said, “to touch is to give life.”

Indeed.

Close
As we begin, ever so slowly, to come out of pandemic, and return, ever so slowly, to our ways of being together, let us take a moment to celebrate.

Let us celebrate the divine gift of touch. A gift bestowed on us by our Creator, from the first moments the universe began.

Let us celebrate the healing properties of touch. Healing touch as modeled by Christ, who wants nothing more than for us to be made whole.

And let us look to a time, where we can once again, be more in touch, with each other, than we currently are.

More connected,
more in relationship,
more complete.

More able to heal others, as we ourselves seek to be healed. As we ourselves seek to be more fully alive.

Lots of love, and a big virtual hug, for now, to you all.  Amen.

Midwestern parent Sarah experienced the first weeks of pandemic the same way many parents with school age children did, schools closed, kids home, kids still needing to learn. Perusing possible science experiments to try with her 6-year-old son and 8-year-old daughter, they settled on one titled “Changing States.” The worksheet began with a photo of an unbroken egg, nestled at the bottom of a jar.

The egg was larger than the opening of the bottle.

The three stared at the image, intrigued. How did it get in there?

Reading further, they learned how. First they must immerse the egg in vinegar for two days. They then watched as the shell gradually transformed from hard and brittle to yielding and springy. The result was a rubber egg they could press their fingers into. An egg and yet not an egg.

Next they needed to create conditions of pressure. Picking up the glass bottle with tongs, Sarah held it down in a pot of boiling water as the air inside expanded, molecules swirling against one another. Sarah then carefully placed the egg-not-egg on the mouth of the warmed glass bottle. The egg began to be sucked down through the opening of the jar, squeezed and contorted. They watched in wild eyed wonder at the spectacle of it all.

Under normal circumstances a whole egg simply can’t fit through an opening smaller than it without breaking. But under the right transformational conditions? A minor miracle is possible.

Betwixt and Between
Reflecting on this, Sarah, who is also a Professor of Anthropology at Indiana University, was reminded of the concept of liminality. Liminality is the quality of times people find themselves betwixt and between two more comfortable and recognizable states of status quo.

As individuals we experience liminal spaces betwixt and between two realities throughout life. It happens when –

• We complete that last college assignment, until the diploma is in hand
• We’re engaged to be married, until the moment we say our I do’s
• Our offer to buy a home is accepted, until the keys to the home are in hand

As a society we can experience liminal spaces collectively, betwixt and between two realities, as well. Arguably the altered reality of pandemic is a really good example of it.

Our children go to school, and yet not school.
We attend church, and yet not church.
We gather, and yet we don’t.

We look back, at the familiar ways that were, and we miss them.
We look around, at the current status quo, recognizing only parts of the whole.
We look ahead, at what we hope will once again be, waiting for it to arrive.

Liminal Christ
Rituals of our faith are filled with liminal moments. Times ripe with anticipation of the expected, but not yet come. We experience it on –

Christmas Eve, singing Silent Night, before the ultimate gift is symbolically born.
Easter Vigil, huddled in the dark, awaiting the dawn of a new Son to rise.

And a liminal moment appears, if we look closely, within a verse or two of scripture from Mark 1.

Then the action resumes, and poof, it is gone.

Immediately before the Mark 1 moment there was a cousin, a baptism, a temptation. And a claim, come down from heaven, stating whose this Son is.

And then an arrest.
That changed things.

Gone was the Baptizer, the messenger, the voice in the wilderness.

In John’s place was a void, a gap, an empty place;
A leadership vacuum needing to be filled.

Following the moment there were:

Disciples, miracles, healings,
Sermons, prayers, breaking of bread,
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We know these stories by heart.
They make Jesus what Jesus is.

Between the two,
After what was gone,
Before what was to come,

We see a liminal Christ –
Betwixt and between two more familiar states.

We see –
A leader no one yet followed;
A healer who hadn’t yet healed;
A savior who hadn’t yet saved.

A Christ.
And yet not a Christ.

The message from Christ, in this liminal moment, was simple.

He proclaimed the time past had been fulfilled,
And the kingdom of God, was now near.

A kingdom asking us to confess and believe in this good news.

Now and forevermore.

When those first fishermen dropped their nets to follow Jesus the liminal moment faded away. For in that moment Christ’s ministry, and all the characteristics we recognize from it, began.

Today
As the winter of our pandemic slogs on we may be tempted to only see what has been lost.

The people.
The spaces.
The rituals.

Loss of the ways of being to which we have become accustomed. What we knew before was familiar, comfortable, and we miss it.

But if we only see what isn’t, well that’s our loss. For liminal moments offer almost limitless potential to reveal what is possible in what is to come.

Those too are the stories of –
healings, breaking of bread,
of life, and death, and life once again.

Those too are the stories of –
care of creation, and
care for each other,
in ways both ancient and new.

Like that egg, we too are being asked to soften our hard, brittle exterior. We too, experience conditions of pressure changing us from within. We too can transform, both individually and collectively, achieving ways of being not possible before.

This is our liminal moment.

Dear Lord, in this time of transition teach us your kindness, your grace, your love. Unite us, strengthen us, mold us. Not back into what we once were, but what you call us to be. Dissolve us, reinvent us, recreate us. Change us into a new state. A state that cares for all of God’s children, without exception. A state that looks more and more, day by day, like you. Amen.

a reflection on this week, as seen through the lens of Matthew 2:1-12.

Four days ago, January 6, was a memorable, memorable day. People know well what this day represents. Those passionate about this sort of thing celebrate every time the date comes around. It puts some at ease. For others it creates anxiety. And for most? It is a sign of stability.

Even more, it represents something we can count on. No matter what.

The date signifies a time of transition, to be sure. A transition from one kind of leader, to another. It is a look back, at a major moment in the not-too-distant past. It is a certification, that the major moment matters. It is, ultimately, a look ahead. To a time in the not-too-distant future. A time marked by –

Change,
Peace,
Hope for brighter tomorrows.

The date, January 6, doesn’t matter just for Americans. The whole world watches. Amazed at the spectacle of it all.

The meaning behind this date is nothing new. It’s quite old; centuries even. Institutions called to oversee the date observe it with great care.

Following what this date represents, consistently, is why the meaning remains.

Heck if you Google it – just type in January 6 – the top search result will tell you exactly what is so very important about this date.

We’re talking, of course, about the Celebration of Epiphany.

Was your mind elsewhere?

Epiphanies
An epiphany is a –

Reveal,
Turning point,
Watershed moment.

The word originates from ancient Greek, epiphanea.
The concept has been around seemingly forever.

An epiphany is a –

Manifestation,
Experience,
Sudden, striking revelation.

An epiphany is a –

Feeling, bubbling up from within.
Rarity, not occurring every day.
Synthesis, of information, put together in new ways.

When epiphanies happen, and are understood and applied, they shape the future for –

Decades,
Centuries,
Eternally.

When epiphanies happen there is no returning to the way things were before. That simply can’t be. There is no putting the epiphany genie back in the bottle. What has been revealed in that moment, of epiphany, can never be undone.

When Archimedes took a bath one day, two centuries before Christ, he noticed the water level rose as he got in. He realized this approach, of placing an object in water, then measuring the amount of water displaced could determine the objects volume. And then realized dividing the weight by volume could determine the objects density. It was an epiphany.

So excited was Archimedes he jumped out of the tub, still naked, took to the streets, soaking wet, and shouted Eureka! I have found it! A major scientific breakthrough had begun.

When Isaac Newton took a walk in the garden one day he noticed an apple fall from a tree. In that moment he realized the force drawing the apple to the ground was the same force causing the moon to orbit the earth. It was an epiphany.

The law of gravity had just been discovered, opening up major breakthroughs in math, physics, astronomy. All thanks to an apple, a tree, a connection between the two never made before.

Epiphany
Most importantly, an epiphany, as the term was originally understood, is a revelation of the divine. It offers deep insight into the relationship between Creator and created. A divine epiphany carries with it –

Weight,
Consequence,
A reordering of all it is we think we know.

And *that* is what we celebrate every January 6.

When kings – tradition suggests there were three – saw a star in the heavens rise it carried new meaning. Sure, they’d seen stars before. But this particular star stood out from the rest. Some say it was brighter, others bigger. Perhaps they, too, heard the hosts of heaven proclaim glory to God that first Christmas day. Perhaps they too, heard those angels make a bold claim, that a savior, for all the world, had been born.

Convinced the stars in their orbit had been newly realigned, the kings traveled to where this one star led. When they found what they sought they bowed down, and they worshipped. They celebrated the arrival of a new king, still quite young. A king that would reign, now and forevermore, very soon.

They brought gifts to mark the occasion. It was a ceremonial coronation of sorts. The three kings certified this divine election, by recognizing Jesus for who he is.

That Jesus is the Christ, God incarnate.
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This wasn’t just an epiphany.
It was *the* Epiphany.

The manifestation.
The reveal.
The watershed moment for all human history.

The Epiphany was not without consequence. For new leadership, when recognized by others, can be scary for some.

Nadia Bolz-Weber, a Lutheran pastor, puts what happened next in scripture this way – “on Epiphany, an insecure ruler named Herod was so threatened by the birth of Jesus that he tried to overthrow the result by putting a hit out on a toddler.”

Ponder that for a bit.

2021
Four days ago, on January 6, our country came under attack from within.

Non-truths were repeated, seemingly without end. Some wielded weapons, others riot gear. The vast majority of rioters were white. Many brought flags: the Christian flag, the Confederate flag, a flag reading “Jesus saves,” just to name a few.

They marched,
They mobbed,
They destroyed.

They tried to disrupt what, in any other year, represents a simple clerical step, along the way to a peaceful transfer of power.

Instead, the day was marked by violence, injury, loss of life.

We’re left to conclude our democracy can’t be counted on as much as we may have assumed. It was a sad, sad day.

As we learn more about the events that unfolded we are left to wonder what epiphanies this day may hold. We’ll synthesize all sorts of information, trying to make sense of it in new ways. May we learn well.

Reflecting on this, for now, I’d like to make a few things clear.

Violence is never of God. Christ came as the Prince of Peace, not a tool of empire. When we see Christian flags, and “Jesus saves” flags, raised in the midst of a violent mob, we know people have been led astray.

White supremacy is sin. Period. For all of us were made in our Creators image, regardless of any differences people use to oppress. The confederate flags that entered our capital speak volumes. Forgive us, Lord. Show us your way.

We are called to love the Lord our God, and to love our neighbor as ourselves, above all else. That includes love of country. When we worship a person, a party, or a platform, it is idolatry.

Six
Four days ago, January 6, was a memorable, memorable day. Christians know well what this day represents. We celebrate every time it comes around.

It puts us at ease.
It is a sign of stability.
It represents something we can count on.

No matter what.

The date signifies a time of transition, to be sure. A transition from a human leader, to a heavenly one. It is a look back, to a birth in a manger. It is a certification, by earthly kings, that this birth matters. It is, ultimately, a look ahead. To a time in the not-too-distant future. A time marked by –

Change,
Peace,
Hope for brighter tomorrows.

That’s the Epiphany.

Twenty
In ten days, January 20, leadership of this country will transition from one person to the next. It’s been that date for a while now. A sign of stability we can usually count on. This year is a little different; that once set-in-stone date may come earlier, depending on the actions of a Cabinet, a Vice President, a Congress.

Amid so many hopes, so many fears, let us pray, for:

Peace, during a leadership transition unlike any in our lifetimes,
Wisdom, for those tasked with keeping us safe,
Justice, for those that wrought violence, often in God’s name.

World leaders will fail us.

They have before.
They will again.

Instead, let us cling to the promise of Epiphany. A day when world leaders bowed down, prayed, and made a bold proclamation.

It is a promise we too can pin our hopes on, no matter what.
It is a promise we too can claim, despite the chaos that swirls around.

That Jesus Christ, over and above all else, is Lord.  Amen.

The report about young Thomas wasn’t the kind any parent wants to see. Tom was considered a poor student by his school. He had difficulties with focus. He was easily confused. In school only for a few months, already he’d been labeled a problem child. Labels like this, applied to someone so young, can be tough to shake. He’d been judged, and written off, seemingly not up to the task of learning alongside his peers.

When mom Nancy heard what was being said about Tom, she was furious. Determined that this early assessment wouldn’t define her son for life she decided to teach him at home. But it wouldn’t be easy. For Tom was the youngest of seven. Nancy’s daily routine was hectic already. A busy household was about to get busier. She wondered how it would all turn out.

Ben
Josiah and Abiah were broke; there was no way around it. They wanted the best for young Ben, but times were tough. Ben was one of seventeen kids; that’s a lot of mouths to feed. After only two years of school, they simply couldn’t afford for him to go back. They thought he’d make a great minister. If only they had more money.

But they didn’t, so Ben dropped out of school to work for his dad. Formal education now complete, at age 10, Ben’s learning would have to be self-led. Future prospects for the boy, by any objective standard, weren’t good. Labels, like being poor and uneducated, can pigeonhole a person. His parents prayed it would work out. Truth be told they weren’t quite sure.

Rod
Rod’s life was destined to be difficult. An African American and born without a tibia in either leg – that’s the shinbone – both of Rod’s legs were amputated above the knee before he turned two. Rod’s mom had a job with modest income. To afford the pricey prosthetic legs her son needed she quit it, and filed for unemployment. It was the only way her son could get the medical care he needed.

As Rod grew his legs needed to grow with him. New sockets, new feet, new knees, all required annual updates. It was tough for Rod’s mom to maintain his complicated care and still pay the bills. Soon the two found themselves without a place to live, moving in and out of shelters over the course of five years.

The unkind labels people applied to them, words like homeless, disabled, unemployed placed limits on what their lives could be. She loved her son. She was doing the best she could. She hoped it would be enough.

The Son
Life for Mary, up until then, was non-descript. Her basic needs growing up were met; she’d been loved, fed, clothed, housed. Even better, Mary was engaged to be married. Culturally at the time this meant her financial prospects were good. Lifelong security, for her and her family, were in reach.

But then some surprising news, courtesy of a messenger from above. She was pregnant, the messenger shared, and would bear a son. And this child would be holy, a king, and rule forever more. Mary was confused, perplexed, afraid. She wondered aloud, “how could this be?”

Much has been made of her chaste status. While that was part of Mary’s question there was more to it. For this news cast uncertainty on everything Mary thought she knew. And created all sorts of related questions.

How could her fiancée not leave?
How could her parents not disown?
How could society not judge?

Unwed mother was a label Mary would prefer to avoid. In her day especially it would come with enormous cost.

And then the bigger question. How could a child, borne from such circumstance, go on to save the world?

The messenger concluded that, with God, nothing is impossible. Mary tried to let that sink in. With God, nothing is impossible. Perhaps, Mary concluded, things were about to change.

Tom redux
Getting back to young Tom and his school problems, it turns out he learned just fine with mom teaching at home. Reading, writing, arithmetic all came naturally. A self-directed learner, he was fascinated with technology, spending hours, then days on experiments he’d dreamed up.

And before you know it Thomas Edison was inventing all sorts of things, from the phonograph to the motion picture camera to the light bulb. They are technologies we rely on to this day.

The labels of confused and unable to think clearly didn’t end up meaning much at all. For Tom was busy making the impossible, possible. Over and over again.

Ben redux
After working for his family, young Ben moved to Philadelphia, where he launched multiple careers. He was a scientist, inventing bifocals, the lightening rod, a flexible catheter. He was a postmaster, ensuring people could send and receive mail. And he was a writer, penning an almanac, his own biography, and writing advocating for the end of slavery.

Growing up poor, with no education, many might conclude Ben wouldn’t amount to much. But the world was his classroom, and he earned quite a living learning from it. Benjamin Franklin spent a lifetime doing the impossible, in so many ways, helping birth a nation.

Rod redux
As a ten-year-old Rod was still homeless, but his fortunes were about to change. By chance he connected with the Challenged Athletes Foundation, and found a coach who offered to teach him to swim. Teaching turned to training towards a goal. Rod’s efforts paid off. In 2014 he made the U.S. Para swimming team, and went on to win both gold and bronze medals in the international competition.

Rod then set his sights on triathlons, becoming a skilled runner and biker along the way. He started with small, local races, building up the miles to try longer events.

Then in October 2019, after years of training Rod hit a major milestone. He completed an Ironman competition in Hawaii, successfully swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112 miles and running 26.2 miles. That’s over 140 miles of racing done in a day. He was the first bilateral above-the-knee amputee to ever do it. Rod’s motto? No legs, no limits.

Now what happens? buy generic cialis Well, initially it steers a little funny, but you tell yourself it doesn’t. Mentat is currently available appalachianmagazine.com uk generic cialis in the market for a very high price. Males generally think that they can have sex with their partner in the cialis generic france bed. They should be backed by a team of experts having a medical background, which is well-versed with the standards and guidelines laid down by the industry. generic viagra from canada Turns out the labels of homeless and legless haven’t slowed Rod Sewell down one bit. Which is what happens when you’re busy making history, inspiring countless others along the way.

Nothing Impossible
With God, nothing is impossible. The words rang in Mary’s ears.
With God, nothing is impossible. Despite the challenges her current reality presents. Despite the unkind labels others might use to keep her down. Mary was pregnant, and unmarried, this was true. But she carried a very special child. It was a responsibility she didn’t take lightly.

“Here I am,” Mary told the messenger. “Let it be, according to your word.” And so it was.
For the rest of the story, tune in December 24. And keep on tuning in after. For the stories of Mary’s baby offer a lifetime of lessons we learn from still.

Close
Our world has been a bit sadder this year than normal. To quote an internet meme, change my mind. There’s no way around it. No need to expound.

As the birth of Christ is heralded, and presents purchased, sermons preached, songs sung, like Mary, we’re offered the chance to proclaim this exciting news.

We want peace on earth, goodwill toward all. We want to be part of a world being transformed as God intends.

If only it weren’t for those labels that tell us we’re –

Too young,
Too old,
Too broke,
Too unfocused,
Too single,
Too unstable,
Too alone –

To take part.

Like Mary we come with our own questions. We have our own versions of how can this be?

How can darkness be vanquished?
How can wrongs be made right?
How can the many become one?

In these moments, let us be reminded of the message from above.

With God, nothing is impossible.

Let it become our mantra, repeating it again, and again, and again.

With God, nothing is impossible.
With God, nothing is impossible.
With God, nothing is impossible.

Etch it into your soul.
Write it on your heart.

In these moments let us mirror Mary, birthing God’s kingdom here on earth.

In these moments let us echo Mary. Here I am Lord. Help me to take part in healing this world you love so. May it soon be. Amen.