“And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds…” – Hebrews 10:24

Sometime back in the ’80s, Skagit County decided to build a new jail. The original building was located on top of the courthouse, a metal structure that was probably freezing in the winter, steaming hot in the summer, and miserably cramped. The new design promised to be the latest in technology, larger, safer, and full of cameras. My husband Dennis was a paramedic at Skagit Valley Hospital and he and the rest of his crew were invited to visit the jail before it was officially opened so if they had to go and pick up an inmate they would have an idea of the layout and protocols. I was permitted to join the tour and gathered with the group outside THE DOOR on that chilly day. The portal opened silently and our guide pointed out that it was six inches thick but it wasn’t quiet when it closed after we entered, it made a huge booming noise. The rest of the tour showed us no privacy, hundreds of cameras, and a special room with a drain in the middle of the floor for inmates detoxing from alcohol or drugs. No way I wanted to end up in that facility.

Last year, a group of us at St. Paul’s formed an OPOP team, One Parish, One Prisoner. OPOP is an organization that matches an inmate who is going to be released with a dedicated team with the hope that with support, love, prayers, and visits, when this person is liberated from the prison’s walls, they will not return because of a lack of housing, food, driver’s license, programs to help with drug and alcohol addiction, absence or no family members, unpaid fines and no money.

I’m not sure why our incarcerated friend was chosen for us but I feel it deep in my soul that he will be like the starfish I picked up on the beach in Florida and placed back in the ocean so it would survive, that with our OPOP team, the OPOP organization that started us on our journey, our congregation, the community and with God’s help, he will survive.

Thank you, Lord, for helping us to heal and restore a person with love and good works. Amen.
-Mary Ann Taylor

“For I received from the Lord that which I also delivered to you …” – 1 Corinthians 11:23

There is nothing that touches me the way the Mass touches me. Whether as a child receiving communion for the very first time in a non-denominational church my grandmother took me to (I was about nine or ten, unbaptized, and actually thought coffee hour snacks were being served early as the plate with the Chiclet-shaped bread and little cuplets [sic] of grape juice were passed from person to person in the pews) or as a priest administering the Sacrament, I have never not known the presence of God in the Mass. I remember my first communion in an Episcopal church – by which time I was a young teen (and still unbaptized) – and that which I came to learn was called the “prayer of humble access” (“we are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs from under thy table, O merciful Lord …”) taught me not to fear coming to the table (for all my sins both known and unknown), but to delight in coming to the table by the invitation of One who wrapped me in his own worthiness. We are not worthy, but “thou art the same Lord whose property is always – ALWAYS – to have mercy.”

It was not just the words of institution that were passed along to St. Paul, but the gift of mercy, the gift of grace, the gift of God’s very own presence in the breaking of the bread and sharing of the cup. Paul is clear. These things aren’t given to us by the other Apostles but from Jesus. Like Paul, a priest may stand behind the Altar, but it is Jesus who consecrates the elements; it is Jesus who breaks the bread and shares the cup. I am not worthy, but through God’s grace, I am healed. It is well with my soul.

God, you take a simple thing like bread and knead yourself into it so that we may have life. You take the simple juices of grapes, crushed, stored, and (in the fullness of time) pour into them your Spirit so that we may have joy. So allow those elements to enter our very own bloodstream, that we may find strength and courage to deliver unto others what you have delivered unto us – health, holiness, and well-being; in Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.
– Fr. Keith Axberg

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 2:5

Wow – the same mind as Christ’s mind! I remember thinking that must be impossible. Especially in my early days of serious Christianity. And then, ever so gradually, God began to teach me that, indeed, it was not only possible but also His will for me. I learned that my job was to listen to Him and follow His directions. Sometimes His directions seemed a little unusual – like the time I had a secure job in which I could use my nursing skills well. It seemed that He had a better plan – a complete change of nursing field in which He was able to use my skills even better and lead me to a Master’s degree, faculty position, and school nurse jobs until retirement. Because I listened to His mind.

Dear God, help us to focus on letting your same mind be in each of us. Amen.
-Barb Cheyney

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.” – Philippians 2:5-7 (emphasis mine)

Verses 6-11 of this passage are said to be a hymn about Christ, and it is part of verse 6 that I have emphasized above. It just renders me speechless to know that Jesus “did not view equality with God as something to be exploited” and that he chose to be born in human likeness, giving up all of the powers that He had as the second person of the Trinity. He chose to be born in an occupied land to people who had no power or prestige. He was born in a manger, in a filthy place instead of in a castle. He worked as a carpenter, which I have heard was more like a construction worker of sorts at that time. The Son of God chose to give up everything he had and to live among us. How amazing and earthshattering is that?!?!?

A few years ago on Maundy Thursday, I was kneeling in prayer while the altar was being stripped, and my mind went to Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. He was praying that he wouldn’t have to die on the Cross. He knew it was part of the plan, He knew it would be excruciatingly painful, and He was having what seemed to be a moment of fear. What came to me that night was that Jesus is present with us in those liminal times when we are about to face some kind of transition. Those kinds of times are really scary for me because change is scary. Yet, Jesus emptied Himself and became human to understand the fear that we face, and He is there with us as we are facing it.

How amazing is our Lord!

Lord, we thank you for choosing to give up equality with God so that you could come and live as one of us, die in our place, and make it so that death is not the end. This gift of love is more than we can fathom. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, treat each other with humility and honor.” – Philippians 2:5

Something was growing in my body that did not belong there. Not only that, but it could spread, and eventually could kill me. It was the dreaded “C” word, the one that had claimed my mother and my friends, Marilyn, Susan, and Jane – among others.

My prognosis was good; surgical removal of my reproductive organs and associated lymph nodes should completely take care of it. That was good news, but I mourned the loss of the parts of my body that helped define me as female, wife, and mother.

I experienced Philippians 2:5 as I approached family friends and co-workers with my diagnosis. I was treated with humility and honor as others shared their, often similar, experiences. My sons and their families all came to visit on Christmas before the surgery. Members of St. Paul’s created a prayer quilt and prayers for my recovery were tied into the quilt. Medical professionals helped me understand the various options that were available and listened to my concerns and fears.

At the hospital, while waiting for my surgery, I sat with my prayer quilt and several of the medical workers stopped to ask about it and to wish me well. As I waited for the appointed time, I was apprehensive but calm. I could feel the prayers surrounding me and upholding me. All was well with my soul.

After the successful surgery, friends and coworkers continued to provide prayers and support with food, texts, cards, and messages. The community lived out the mind of Christ in treating me, and one another, with humility and honor.

Dear God, help us to have the mind of Christ and to treat one another with humility and honor. Bless all those who are ill and be with their families and caregivers. Give us grateful hearts, for we pray in your most holy name. Amen.
-Cathey Frederick

“…at the name of Jesus every knee should bow…” – Philippians 2:10b

Every morning, and again every evening, I genuflect at the foot of my bed, saying the simple prayer, “Bless us, Lord, this day we pray/Bless us, Lord, this night we pray.” I have been doing this since I was a young girl. It reminds me, the first thing each morning and the last thing each night, to bend my knee in adoration and confession and thankfulness and supplication in Jesus’ name.

And here, today! The Prince of Peace rides in again into our hearts and our lives, atop a donkey. If I were to line that palm-strewn path, my eyes moist and hands uplifted, I would sink to my knees at the sight of Him. “Hosanna!” I would cry out in the humid air, my robe puddled at my bare feet, my tongue parched.

Picturing history is easy; I’m a historical novelist. But my books are filled primarily with fictional characters who live and laugh and love and lose, a mirror of readers’ lives. Placing ourselves in history is different, and radically intimate. Today, I see Him, I hear Him, I reach out to Him, reflecting on His Holiness as He rides toward His death for you and me.

Dear Lord, I bend my knee to you today and every day. Amen.
-Ashley Sweeney