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Posted by Taylor Lewis Guthrie Hartman on August 3 2014

Psalm 145:8-9, 14-21
Matthew 14:13-21

The beginning of this story is oft ignored. I, myself, ignored it three times in my first readings. Listen again: Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him on foot from the towns. When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick. The story begins in sadness, in grief. Jesus withdrew on the boat to be alone, to weep, to remember; he immediately before this had heard of his cousin, John the Baptist's, death. Beheaded at the request of King Herod's niece during a raucous birthday celebration for Herod, John died in a gruesome and meaningless manner. A death made possible by fear - fear of John's prophecy, of the power he said was coming in the form of Jesus. Scripture tells us, His disciples came and took the body and buried it; then they went and told Jesus. And this is where our story picks up - Jesus, in a boat, trying to grieve alone. 

Posted by Betty Berghaus on July 27 2014

Romans 8:26-39
Matthew 13:31-33

How many of you had a mustard seed in a piece of jewelry growing up? I had one in a necklace. I remember being by my mother how this tiny little seed could grow into a big tree, and that this was a sign of God's love for me. I liked to wear it. But I had no idea what a mustard tree looked like because we didn't have one in our yard or neighborhood. Still, I was impressed, in the way that young children are impressed. But I don't think I really understood the mustard seed any more than I understood that Jesus died on a cross for me.

Posted by Chris Tuttle on July 20 2014

Psalm 139:1-12, 23-24
Matthew 13:24-31, 36-43

Right in the middle of the sermon, I looked over to my right and I saw it. It was three Sundays ago in St. Giles Cathedral, the high kirk of the Church of Scotland, and I was staring at a stool. The sermon was a thoughtful exposition of a text from Matthew, but I couldn't see the preacher very well, and it was easy in such a beautiful place to get distracted. Then I noticed her stool, and it was right there. Back on July 23, 1637, the worship leader for the day stood to begin worship with the Anglican Church's new prayer book - not Reformed worship, mind you, but the Anglican prayer book. The first phase of the reformation in Scotland was about Catholic versus Protestant. But after they mostly firmly decided Protestant, they then had to decide Reformed or Anglican, the Church of England. The minister that day in Scotland using the prayer book of the English was experienced as betrayal. Legend holds that one Jenny Geddes was so enraged that she hurled a stool, striking the dean of the Cathedral in the head, starting a riot.1  

Posted by Chris Tuttle on July 13 2014

Psalm 119:105-112
Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

When we started, the weather wasn't all that bad. The day before it had been low 70's and sunny, far better than what you'd expect in Scotland, even in the summertime. In many ways, the whole trip had been leading up to this - flying overnight from Raleigh to Philadelphia to Glasgow, tromping with our bags through the city to our hostels, a beautiful art museum near Glasgow University, lawn bowling on some fields prepared for the Commonwealth Games, slated to start in a month. A few of us fell asleep at lunch; a few at dinner. 

Posted by Taylor Lewis Guthrie Hartman on July 6 2014

Psalm 91
Matthew 11:28-30

In 1987, I broke my right leg in three spots because I didn't listen to my mother tell me that jumping on stairs was a horrendous idea. My independent streak was strong as was my defiant streak. With a cast that went up to my waist and doubled my weight, my parents ended up carrying me lots of places. I was too short and small for regular walkers and crutches so we had to wait for pint-sized medical equipment to be ordered. In the meantime, while I milked my new condition with new Cabbage Patch dolls and a healthy dose of balloons, I also milked by dependence on my parents. I loved being carried around again like a baby, being doted upon. But, after a while, it got old and I wanted to move on my own again.