Sermon October 9-10

2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c; and Luke 17:11-19

A couple of canoers were traveling down the Pembina River in Manitoba, Canada. After a few hours, they fell into just watching the scenery pass them by…trees… flowers…the occasional turtle… Eventually, they came upon some people picking berries. One of the canoers looked up and, realizing what had happened, shouted to them, “Oh no! Are we in the United States?”

The canoers, in fact, had unintentionally crossed the 49th parallel—that invisible line that separates Canada from the United States—and ended up near Walhalla, North Dakota. This might sound like something that should have happened back in the pioneer days of the 1800s. Actually, it was around the mid-1990s. The landscape simply hadn’t changed much from the river’s point of view, and the latitude line wasn’t marked with a major fence or signpost. It was simply an arbitrary point—like the difference between walking through Nebraska or Iowa—lots of corn and fields. Without those human-made signposts, not much would distinguish the two.
This notion speaks very clearly to our lessons for this week. Throughout the readings, boundaries are being crossed, and eventually, no one knows who is ‘inside’ or ‘outside’ of them. Our reading from 2 Kings is particularly complex with these outsider/insider relationships. We encounter so many social implications that there is not really a distinct line to separate for sure who is in or out at any point in the text.

Here we have Naaman, a commander of the Aramean army, which would make him an insider there, whom God has given victory, making him even more of an insider to the Biblical audience. However, he has leprosy, a disease which automatically makes him a social outsider anywhere. The army captures an Israelite girl and has her work for Naaman’s wife, so she would be a double outsider there—a female and a foreigner in Aram. But then we find out that she knows of a prophet in Israel who could cure Naaman, which makes her an insider with her privileged and possibly life-saving knowledge. Naaman goes to Israel, where he would be an outsider, with a letter and some treasure from the king of Aram, indicating his superior status as an insider. The king of Israel is really upset, thinking the more powerful kingdom of Aram is picking a fight with him, to which he is a powerless outsider. However, Elisha steps in, an insider for sure, and has Naaman sent to him. Naaman arrives in all sorts of grandeur—chariot, servants, etc—but Elisha doesn’t even come out to greet him. Naaman is treated as an outsider where he thinks he should be an insider, which makes him mad, and he leaves. His servants, outsiders, advise him to listen to the prophet. He finally does, recognizing his outsider position, and is made well. He returns to acknowledge Elisha as a prophet and God as the One true God.

Whew. Did anyone follow that? Just when we think we have it figured out, the story takes a strange turn and shows us that we’re clearly wrong. That’s perhaps not so different from our world today. At church, I talk to this person and this person, and at work or school, it’s this person and this person—but not that person. Where do we draw lines? What do we value? What do we think we have figured out?

Naaman thought he had it figured out. He brought a letter from the King of Aram and a bit of treasure. Money and political power. However, it is going to take more than money to heal him of his condition. He is going to have to surrender his pride and his beliefs about ethnic and social boundaries.

Who is important in this text? Naaman and Elisha are the named characters, so that seems pretty obvious. What about the little girl who started it all…simply by expressing her faith? A female, a double outsider, is practically a non-person in this ancient time and place. If she had never voiced her belief in God and the truth that there was a prophet in Israel, Naaman would not have even known where to turn to be healed. He would likely have ended up a faceless, nameless leper swept into the void of history and time. However, because of this one true message of faith, this little Israelite maid changes the lives of many who hear her words—Naaman, his family, the Arameans under his command, and even us today.

It’s like that with the lepers in the gospel text as well. Ten are healed by Jesus, but only one recognizes the true miracle and returns to thank the source of the gift, of all gifts, in fact. This is another double outsider, a Samaritan and a leper, and this non-person of society sees the true message and changes our lives as we hear the story.

Who are the people we would usually ignore? Who are the outsiders or non-persons in our society? In our lives? Who do we hesitate to greet or welcome as an honored person and fail to recognize as a Child of God? How do we let go of our discomfort and let others in?

Naaman lets go of his hold on the social norms by listening to his servants. His wife demonstrates wisdom by letting go of her superior household status to listen to the Israelite maid. Naaman himself is an outsider in Israel—a foreigner—who acknowledges Elisha as a true prophet of the One God and is healed. Jesus has a reputation for overturning social norms and does so once again here—he includes the Samaritan as one of the lepers who is healed.

Faith is not just for one select group of people…as we’ve studied and grown as a faith community throughout the centuries of our history, we’ve begun to understand more fully what that means. In church ministry we’ve recently begun to break down boundaries of age, gender, race, political leanings, and ethnicity to open ourselves to and incorporate more and more of God’s people—allowing these people to serve as the Spirit moves and calls them. This is something to really celebrate. However, it makes us ask the question what’s been stopping us from going further? Maybe, like Naaman, we’re really the outsiders thinking we should be treated as insiders. Perhaps, like the lepers, we’re so stuck on being insiders and following the expectations of our usual routine that we miss the bigger picture.

The boundaries we still have—even the ones we’ve broken down, are human boundaries. God’s love does not recognize them. God heals all—Naaman, the foreigner. Jesus heals all—including the Samaritan. The stories show us that perhaps sometimes the outsider—the one to whom we would say “you don’t really need to come in,”—has the greater sense of gratitude and the purer heart for faith and worship. The rest of the people in the stories aren’t wrong, necessarily, the lepers do what Jesus tells them to by going to the priest, the kings and those in Israel aren’t criticized for not knowing, but it is the outsiders who are lifted up as going the extra mile, so to speak. They recognize the miracle and are so moved that they return to say “thank you” for the gift.

Who are the outsiders still in our society? Where are we failing to recognize the Spirit in them and the witness they bring? How do we reinforce the boundaries society has set up for us—political borders, racial discrimination, gender roles? Considering a simple question can test for this—When do ‘we’ use the word ‘they’? We can’t ignore differences, every bit of us is part of who we are. For example, I am a blue-eyed, brown-haired, left-handed American woman from North Dakota with ethnic roots in Germany, Norway, and Holland. Chances are, you are not, but who you are and who I am is informed and completed partly by these traits and should be celebrated. I have something unique to offer because of them, and so do you. We can’t and shouldn’t ignore the differences that give the world such wonderful variety. However, we can dissolve the boundaries society would have us create based on those differences.

Our Psalm today ends with this verse, “The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. God’s praise endures forever.” Who may practice their reverence for God? Who has a good understanding if they practice it? Israelite or foreigner? Men or women? ALL. All those who practice it have a good understanding. There is no specific select group of people who are ‘in’ or ‘out.’ Once we start to recognize that, we might begin to see our church, our faith community, less like a building with walls and more like that river in Canada—the one where you can’t tell where that boundary line actually is—because it isn’t really there except in our minds.

“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; all those—ALL those—who practice it have a good understanding. God’s praise endures forever.” AMEN.

More Thoughts for This Weekend

In researching 2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15, I found that most of the commentaries did address, at least to some degree, the outsider/insider dynamic at work here. Some reflections I found particularly intriguing:

“When we read the Bible carefully we notice how often it features prominent outsiders. This inclusion of outsiders, Spina argues, is ‘neither incidental nor haphazard in the biblical witness.’ These outsider stories often include a significant plot reversal in which the ostensible insider is cast in a negative light and the outsider is portrayed as superior in virtue or faith. In his book Spina considers seven of these stories where the outsider is mainlined and the insider is marginalized — Esau... Jonah, Ruth (a resident alien who remarries a Hebrew), the woman at the well in John 4 who had married five times, and then the lectionary passage for this week about Naaman in 2 Kings 5.
“...‘No outcasts,’ writes Garry Wills in What Jesus Meant, ‘were cast out far enough in Jesus' world to make him shun them — not Roman collaborators, not lepers, not prostitutes, not the crazed, not the possessed. Are there people now who could possibly be outside his encompassing love?’ Instead of defining other people as beyond the pale of God's love, we'd do better to emulate the apostle Paul, the consummate Christian insider, who in the epistle for this week contemplates the real and harrowing possibility of his own banishment to outsider perdition (1 Corinthians 9:24–27).”
--“The Journey with Jesus: Notes to Myself” by Dan Clendenin

“So Naaman departed and took much treasure with him. Yet the price which Naaman had to pay to be healed of his leprosy was even greater than that. Money can do much, yet it never yet purchased for a [person] the healing of [the] soul
or thepeace of [the] mind.”
--“II Kings Exposition” by Raymond Calkins in The Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. 3

Also, as Jennie pointed out, there is the honor/shame system of the Ancient Near East to consider. This should be interesting!

Breaking Boundaries--Thoughts for the 10th

Moving right along, I am guest-preaching this coming weekend at a nearby church in Lincoln. As I mentioned earlier, this church will be using the lectionary texts, and are having a “Women in Ministry” Sunday. Essentially, this means that all parts of the service will be facilitated by women (except presiding at the table since the available ordained people at this church are men).

At first, I was a bit nervous about preaching a faithful and contextually relevant sermon. However, both the Gospel and Old Testament texts this week contain stories in which very unexpected people are lifted up as examples of faith. This would lend itself to celebrating the boundaries that have been dismissed as well as looking to ones that may still need to be.

In the Gospel pericope, the Samaritan is the one leper who turns back to thank Jesus for his healing. Earlier in Luke, Jesus had referenced the story of Naaman (this week’s First Reading) as the foreigner who acknowledged Elisha as a prophet and was healed. While these selections have complementary themes, I think my focus might lean towards the lesson from 2 Kings 5.

Simply looking at this text from 2 Kings becomes confusing when trying to figure out who is 'in' or 'out.' As the situation and context change for the people mentioned, so does their perceived status. A quick attempt to attach such labels might look like this:

Naaman himself is a commander in the Syrian army (insider), but is a leper (outsider). In his house is an Israelite maid (outsider in Syria) who serves his wife and tells them of a prophet in Israel (where she is an insider). Naaman goes to Israel (as an outsider), bringing a letter from the king of Syria (where he is an insider), which makes the king of Israel think that the demand to cure leprosy is a trap intended to start a quarrel with Syria. He remembers the prophet Elisha (insider), and sends Naaman there. Elisha does not come out to greet Naaman, but orders him from afar to go wash (treated as outsider). Naaman is offended by this treatment (outsider thinking he should be an insider), but does what is asked with the encouragement of his servants. He is healed (insider), and goes to thank Elisha and praise God (acknowledging his place as a person for whom the boundaries have been broken).

The intricate complexities of this story mirror those of our modern society. When we start thinking about who is “in” or “out,” we almost inevitably set ourselves up for a shock. Both the Old Testament and Gospel texts seem to be advocating a sort of breaking down of those social boundaries. I will be interested to see how the commentaries address these issues.

Sermon--October 2-3

Luke 17:5-10; Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4; Psalm 37:1-9
It’s a fairly average day. You wake up, get dressed, maybe eat breakfast, brush your teeth, and head out the door. Go through the normal routine. By the third or fourth cup of coffee or can of soda you start waking up. You try to catch up or keep up with the work at hand, and wonder if there is supposed to be more to a day than this. It’s not really a bad day, but it’s not a good one either. Nothing bad happened, but you didn’t really make a difference anywhere, and that’s the problem. Nothing happened. The status quo remains. You go home, sleep, and hope tomorrow is better. Tomorrow you’ll make a difference. Today was just…today. You survived.

How many of you can remember having at least one of those blah days? Yeah. We all have those days. It’s no use pretending that there aren’t days when we just don’t feel totally with it. Days where we’re not at the top of our game, ready to tackle all of the tasks before us, or even completely awake. I think it’s safe to say the people in today’s readings are also having one of those days. They’ve had a lot of…stuff…laid on them recently. They want to see something done about it, but just can’t seem to get going. Habakkuk sees the wicked prospering and can’t understand where God is in all of this. The disciples have gotten some requirements from Jesus about how they should live and what they should do, and they’re just trying to keep up. Even the Psalmist seems to be trying to cope with the social imbalance of the wider world.

…tired days, stressful days, days when that one little thing seems to be the last straw, days where we simply go through the motions to survive, days when we don’t think we can take another minute of whatever is happening, but we have to keep pretending that we’re just fine and happy about it all.

Enough is enough. We don’t have the energy to deal with all of this and keep a smile on our faces. Enough is enough. We don’t see it getting better any time soon, and we even maybe think we’ve failed. We’re not alone in this. We’ve got a history stretching back thousands of years filled with faithful people—role models, even—who have had days just like this. Having bad days is not a new problem. The disciples feel the weight of living their lives, too. They call out “Increase our faith!” Before them, Habakkuk sighs “How long, O God?” We are most definitely not alone.
And we haven’t failed, either. Such days happen, and they happen to everyone. Is it okay to have an off day? Of course. God doesn’t leave us just because we’re not feeling “happy” about everything. In fact, there’s really no interest in any of these stories for putting on a false happy face. Honesty, authenticity is what is recognized here. What happens when Habakkuk voices his honest frustration? God answers. God says, this might not happen right now, but the vision will be fulfilled. What happens when the disciples say they don’t think they have enough faith? Jesus answers, you do. Faith as small as a mustard seed is enough.

God answers, Jesus answers, the Holy Spirit empowers us to move on. We will have bad days, but we won’t be stuck on our own in them. Perhaps the question is not whether we will have these days, or even if it is okay to have them, but what we do when we’re in the midst of those days. What are we looking for?

The disciples ask for more faith. This seems admirable at first glance. The disciples acknowledge that God is the source of faith, that it’s not something they can supply for themselves. Why do they ask, though? Maybe they want to better live the life God has called them to live. Maybe they want to heal more, forgive more, cause no one to stumble. It’s really speculation at this point. Maybe they want to be told they did well. Maybe they want to be told they are done with their work. Maybe they want someone to say “thank you.” Maybe they want to know that they’re not totally missing the point.

Jesus answers them. He says, if you have faith like a mustard seed you could tell this tree to replant itself, and it would. Jesus isn’t trying to make fun of the disciples, but simply telling them that the faith God gives is enough...something the size of a mustard seed is enough. Be ready, though, because the mustard seed has the ability to change, to grow, to produce and scatter more seeds. In these few words, Jesus reminds them that they have this faith, they just need to realize it. They are doing just fine, and they are going to be all right.

And Jesus goes on. Speaking as a servant himself, he says, “Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, 'We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!'"” It’s a word of caution. Are we looking to earn thanks or praise? We are the servants. When all is said and done, there is nothing we might do to earn thanks or praise or anything from God. All is a gift, including the faith we need—and have—to get through the day.

It’s okay to have bad days, yes, but that doesn’t mean we are stuck in them forever. Jesus calls the disciples back to the reality of their lives of service. He reminds them that they are part of a larger community, and that they do have the faith it takes to face their challenges, even if sometimes they need to be reminded of it.

We say it nearly every week in church “I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.” The church, the communion of saints—a history stretching from Adam to Habakkuk to the disciples to the person sitting next to you today.

It is not just one person—me or you—left to face the world and the day to day trials that come with it. We are connected to something much bigger—the body of Christ. Some days, I confess, I do feel like the hand or foot that fell asleep, but I also realize that there are eyes and ears and voices working on those days. On those days, I can lean on and take comfort in the witness of the larger community—the witness of Habakkuk as well as the witness of the person next to me. On those days, I take comfort in knowing somewhere out there is the arm or leg that will shake me awake. Eventually, the dreary day will pass for me, and perhaps I can be that person for someone else to lean on. Maybe on that day it will be my turn to shake someone else awake.

God answers Habakkuk, saying that the world as it is will not change magically overnight, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t hope. It is an answer for us as well. Our world will not change to perfection, there are no promises of happiness or elation each and every day, but that doesn’t mean we have failed. Like Habakkuk and the disciples, we listen for God and remember that life is not all bad days, either. It’s full of good and bad and in between. Each one is a gift and opportunity to live faithfully and remember our connection to the larger community of faith, where it’s okay to be yourself—happy, sad, joyful, sorrowful, and just blah.

Jesus answers the disciples, saying that they already have what they need to face the world around them and affect the change they seek. This is also an answer for us. We have what we need to face the world around us. We remember that each day is a new possibility, a chance for us to learn from the mistakes of yesterday even as we leave them behind and try again. It’s a chance to live, to learn, to look for and find those moments when life makes sense again—when we hear Jesus saying, “You’re doing just fine, and you’re going to be all right, keep going.”

Thoughts for the Third

When looking at the texts for October 3, I was intrigued by the amount of outcry there is in each of the lessons. Habakkuk cries for justice, the disciples beg for more faith, and Timothy is encouraged in his tears and sufferings. Even the Psalm, which offers words of comfort, seems to be speaking to someone who has had—at the very least—a really bad day.

I’m sure any of these could be more deeply explored and easily lend themselves to such a subject. In the interest of being a bit less scattered, I will be focusing on the gospel—Luke 17:5-10.

The two commentaries I have found to be most helpful thus far are those of David L. Tiede and Fred Craddock. Regarding Jesus’ reply to the disciples’ plea, Craddock says,

“The conditional clause in verse 6…could translate [as] ‘If you had faith [and
you do].’ Jesus’ response, then, is not a reprimand for an absence of faith but
an affirmation of the faith they have and an invitation to live out the full
possibilities of that faith.” (200)*

David L. Tiede comments on this passage as a whole. Though most commentaries I’ve seen tend to completely separate the section on the mustard seed from the one on slaves doing what is required, Tiede draws them together. He looks at their themes and proximity to one another and says

“If desperate please for ‘more faith’ are excluded on the one side, boasting at
obedience is forbidden on the other. These words of Jesus are used by Luke to
fill out the discourse, and they assume particular force in this context. This
is not a denigration of the servant or a pronouncement of human worthlessness.
The Jesus who is among his disciples as ‘one who serves’ is not ‘putting them in
their place.’” (294)**

It will be interesting to see where the rest of this exegesis goes. For now, I’m not ruling out referencing the other readings, but I think I will be focusing on this for most of the sermon. As aslways, thoughts/feedback welcome!

*Fred Craddock, Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching: Luke, John Knox Press, Louisville.
**David L. Tiede, Luke: Augsburg Commentary on the New Testament, Augsburg Publishing House, Minneapolis.

Looking Ahead--October Sermons

With one sermon complete at my internship site, I've begun to think about the next one on October 3. The readings for the day will be

Habakkuk 1:1-4, 2:1-4
Psalm 37:1-9
2 Timothy 1:1-14
Luke 17:5-10

After preaching on October 3 at my site, I will be guest preaching at another church in town on the 10th. This church will be having a 'Women in Ministry' Sunday, but will be using the lectionary texts for the service. The readings for the 10th are

2 Kings 5:1-3, 7-15c
Psalm 111
2 Timothy 2:8-15
Luke 17:11-19

I am excited to have the opportunity to work on sermons for two consecutive Sundays. However, I am a little nervous about finding a connection between the texts for the 10th and the congregation's contextual theme of 'Women in Ministry.' Thoughts?

Sermon September 4-5

Luke 14:25-33, and Malachi 4

A few days after I’d learned that these texts would be the first I would preach on in Lincoln, I was talking with my brother on the phone. During our conversation, I told him the general gist of the gospel lesson for today. After a short pause, my brother’s voice came back across the line to me, “What gospel are you reading?”
What gospel are you reading? That’s a valid question. This isn’t the happy or easy proclamation we like to hear on Sunday mornings. The fact that today we have the last of our prophets, Malachi, is no coincidence, either. These last words of what has become our Old Testament proclaim the possibility of a curse. If we back up just a bit, we find out that Malachi is criticizing the Israelites for being lazy. They’ve been offering sub-standard sacrifices—the lesser choices from their flocks and herds—and practicing empty or meaningless ritual. Essentially, Malachi points to the truth that the Israelites are becoming complacent in how they honor the God who brought them back from exile. Their actions are not reflecting the visions that earlier prophets had for them. Their worship life has become an empty gesture…meaningless without the actual devotion of the people. So he tells them they’d better wake up and start paying attention. Elijah is coming, and if things aren’t better, God’s curse will follow.
Like Malachi’s pronouncement to Israel, Jesus’ words in Luke seem equally harsh. Jesus tells the crowd they must hate their family and give up everything to follow him. Wow. That’s a big order. Now, we must take into account the context of ancient Israel. In its time, “hate” likely meant to detach or remove yourself from the care you had for something, rather than the strong emotional word we know it as today. Since the family or clan to which you were attached was almost a possession in itself—a name that established your status, honor, and societal position—removing yourself from that would have been extremely difficult. To do this really meant giving up possession or privilege.
Detach yourself from the opinions of your family. Act without care of what they may think in order to follow the life that God has called you to live. Give up the best things in your life. That’s still a really big order—one I’m not sure I could ever fill, and I’m not sure the crowd can, either. Jesus says three times that they’re “not able” to be his disciple. The builder may not be able to finish the building, and the king cannot defeat the enemy. Jesus doesn’t ask anyone to go into this blindly. Jesus wants his followers to have faith, yes, but also to understand—to count the cost and know the outcome. Likewise, we need to realistically look at the things asked of us. We may be laughed at for trying—as the builder is. We may realize we cannot do this on our own—as the king does. That is the truth—we can’t do this on our own. We can’t ever do enough on our own to ever earn any part of our salvation. We cannot even fully follow Jesus on our own; we need God’s help for that, too.
This doesn’t get us off the hook, however. Although we are saved from sin through grace alone, we’re not given a license to go out do whatever we want, knowing it will be fine. We are called to let go of the things that society tells us we should cling to. We are called to a life of discipleship—of following Jesus—and we may do this not in order to be saved, but because we already are. The grace that saves also inspires. It inspires us to live in a way that reflects what we have been given. It inspires us to find our gifts, our passions, our callings, and asks us to live them out—giving them as freely as we have been given them…to live as one who loves God so much, all else is hatred by comparison.
Following Jesus is more than just a state of mind. It’s not about thinking the right thoughts. It’s about knowing that we are, as Luther said, freed from sin through faith alone. The question, then, is what have we been freed for? How do we live as those who are free? How do we live faithfully?
This weekend, many of us will get a day off to recognize the fact that we do work—all the time. We have to work—to act—in order to function and survive. If we look a little closer at our readings, we find that the stories in Luke—and Philemon and Malachi, for that matter—are calling us to ask ourselves what we are working for and how we are acting in a way that reflects our beliefs. Okay, that makes sense. Generally, we do act in ways that reflect our beliefs. This weekend is also the Husker season opener, as one or two of you may know. Chances are, those football players have acted in a way that reflects their belief that football is a worthwhile activity. They’ve practiced over the years, run miles, endured physical pain even, to play football this year. Some of them maybe had to even live through not being the best at their sport right away, but worked to get better.
So back to the question my brother posed at the beginning…what gospel are we reading? Are we reading a gospel that is full of musts and have to's? Have to do this in order to get that. Or, are we reading a gospel that is full of possibilities and challenges?
I like to think it’s both. We’re reading gospel of musts and have to's which help us realize how lost we are if we don’t have God’s grace. We’re reading gospel that challenges us to look at ourselves and our lives—to find out where the Holy Spirit is giving us gifts, passions, and callings, to serve God and God’s world. We’re reading gospel that asks us where we’re holding back or hiding our gifts. We’re reading gospel that hopes that we will disregard public opinion and risk not being our family’s favorite for the sake of doing what the Holy Spirit is calling us to do. We’re reading gospel that challenges us to dissolve the distinction between family and non-family, between friend and stranger, and give all people—rich, poor, weak, strong—the same consideration.
Malachi makes it easy for the Israelites, in my opinion—he evaluates the situation at hand and tells them exactly what they need to do to live more faithfully…stop being lazy when it comes to the choice of sacrifice given to God and remember who brought them out of exile. I can’t do that for you. I wish someone could do that for me—just walk up to me and say ‘on Friday, you need to go here and do this.’ Whatever ‘this’ is—watch a movie, call a friend…but the truth is, we are each unique, and I cannot tell you what gifts God has given to you or what passions and callings God has laid on your heart. I can only remind you that you’ve already been saved, and that you have been given the ability to live in a way that reflects whose you are. I can only encourage you to listen to God’s word and hopefully realize that you are in fact empowered by God to be God’s children.
It’s not easy—we’re being asked to take seriously what we could be. You know what I mean—potential. Potential is a frightening word, but I’d say it’s a word that’s worth the risk. This week, we recognize and remember that we work and act every day. I’d invite us all to risk remembering that we have been empowered to be God’s people and to act as such. That is an amazing gift—a gift worth exploring...a gift worth realizing. AMEN.