“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death…” – Philippians 3:10

Many travels have led to this town, to this road; rough, steep, all uphill. Arrogance, stiff necks, ignorance have brought this about. People line the road crying, laughing. Why are they milling around? What have they come to see? Wild eyes look expectantly, then turn away. The human river pulses as it stares. Horror truly is fascinating. Could they walk this road? Can I? I press on.

Clamoring voices, strident demands, churning fears swirl by their own energy, going nowhere. Arguments are countered, fists are held higher and higher, faces contort into ugliness, molded by hate and fear. But still, I press on, dragging a burden forced on me, but shouldered by my own will. No matter the lies, the temptations, the derision, I press on. This is too hard a thing to do! This is too great a thing not to do. And so I press on. Surely, there will never be another time when one person sacrifices another for their own sake! So I press on. The noise of the crowd fades. Tears and blood blind my sight, the burden crushes me and I fall. A face, a cloth, the tears of another offered to me, so I can press on. Sound diminishes, feeling is numbed, spirit surrenders utterly to final blows. I am lifted, and all is dark.

Resting peacefully in the arms of the One, all fear and pain subside. There are no sounds now but that of gentle breaths, no motion but the heart softly beating.

Blessed One, “help me press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.” Amen.
-Carol Treston

“…this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.” – Philippians 3:13b-14

Every now and then, there’s that unhappy 3 a.m. awakening with my mind spinning over past occasions in my life where I was rude, or cruel, or insensitive, or thoughtless, and there’s nothing I can do to fix it now: recipients of my worst self’s thoughts and behaviors are not available for my apologies, confession, correcting, reconciliation.

So, what can I do at 3 a.m.? I think my choices are limited. But I can confess my failures to God. I can ask for forgiveness. That’s a start. And if I print out this excerpt from Philippians and tuck it near my pillow, I can practice “forgetting what lies behind” and press on toward the goal, trusting God (see above). In the morning all things can be new.

Dear Lord, help us to press on, despite our past shortcomings, as we are moving toward the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus. Amen.
-Tom Worrell

“I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like him in his death…” – Philippians 3:10

Thirteen years ago today, at 3:47 a.m., my son Daniel was born by emergency c-section at 29.5 weeks gestation. I had developed HELLP Syndrome, a nasty variant of preeclampsia (a pregnancy complication), and both Daniel and I would have died if they had not delivered him immediately. I was completely blissed out during my first 24 hours of motherhood due to all of the medications I was on to save my life, but everything became very real once all of those medications wore off. I then spent the rest of my weeklong hospital stay suffering from PTSD from the trauma surrounding the birth situation as well as postpartum depression (PPD). My mother had flown up to Montana from northern California to be with me, and it was really hard for me when she left the hospital each day. My former husband Jon and I spent the next two months commuting two hours each way to and from Great Falls to visit Daniel in the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) as he finished growing and developing enough to come home.

When I was ready to come back to work to conserve part of my maternity leave, my primary care physician made the mistake of letting me read my surgical report. At that point, I learned exactly how close I had come to dying that night, and I was really angry at God. I had tried to eat the best I could while pregnant, had changed up my medication to avoid things that would hurt Daniel, and had really tried my best to stay healthy. Yet, I had multiple serious respiratory viruses, strep throat, and they had done a chest x-ray for bronchitis the night my HELLP Syndrome went into overdrive. Why had I been forced to suffer so much?

It turns out that my HELLP Syndrome was likely a genetic issue because they had been watching my mother for preeclampsia when she was pregnant with my twin brother and me. We found out 10 ½ years later that I have a clotting issue that is stress-activated, and that probably contributed to why I was so immunosuppressed during my pregnancy. Emotional healing came when I got involved with the Promised Walk for Preeclampsia in 2011, and I became the survivor speaker for the San Jose event in 2014. I started being vocal about what had happened to me, and the lives of a few of my friends were saved when they were diagnosed early and able to get as close to full-term with their kids as possible. Knowing that other people avoided my fate because they knew the symptoms helped me to find a context for dealing with my suffering.

Lord, you suffered on the Cross so that death would not be the end for us. Be present with us in our sufferings and help us to know that you understand the pain we feel. Amen.
-Jen McCabe

“But whatever things were gain to me, those things I have counted as loss for the sake of Christ.” – Philippians 3:7

Janis Joplin famously sang that “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose.” She was singing about her relationship with Bobby McGee, of course, and noted how she had shared her soul with him. It’s a love song, and we learn she’s been abandoned by her dear Bobby. I find myself contrasting that with a scene in Jurassic Park where Dr. Grant, the dinosaur expert, takes the park’s owner’s grandchildren under his wing. They had been abandoned by the lawyer who was supposed to watch out for them. Young Lex says, “He abandoned us. He left us!” and Dr. Grant responds, “Yes he did, but that’s NOT what I’m going to do.”

The proof of the pudding is in the tasting, they say, and it’s true. Grief finds us all. I don’t like to bemoan the fact my mother abandoned our family when I was a young lad, but she did. I don’t like to bemoan the fact that I have occasionally been tossed under the bus by those charged with taking care of “their” people, but I have. People and events conspire to beat us down, and there are times I can feel the tendrils of so-called good intentions twisting ‘round my heart, constricting it, squeezing it, and twisting it with some sort of perverted pleasure. Like Jesus on the cross, I want to cry out, “God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

But then I look into those rich, brown, piercing eyes of the One who steps out from the tomb and says, “I haven’t. I haven’t abandoned you.” I see tears streaming down his blood-streaked face and realize he has taken my pain upon himself, that what I had thought to be “unbearable,” was made bearable precisely by his act of love in life and on the cross, from the cradle to the grave. Suddenly, resurrection has brought healing so that, despite all else, it is now truly well, with my soul.

God, it is so easy to try to fill the void of abandonment with the accretions of accomplishments, but nothing can fill the void of the God-shaped hole in my heart except you. So help me move aside all things – good and bad – so that you may come in to continue the work begun in Christ to make this soul a home fit for you. Only then will it ever be well with my soul. Amen.
– Fr. Keith Axberg

“Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ.” – Philippians 3:7

“Whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ.” I certainly can’t present as sterling a set of credentials as Paul…but I think I can come pretty close. I was born in America in the mid-20th century — a true child of empire. More to the point, I was born white, male, and of Protestant northern European ancestors. That’s a whole lot of privilege, and having traveled the world, I have had a visceral appreciation of its value. That said, the example of Christ is a constant reminder that my “righteousness” comes not from the circumstances of my birth and background, or even what I have been able to accomplish because of them, but comes instead through “straining forward” in my effort to live into the Gospel message.

Lord, in the midst of my worldly striving, keep me ever mindful of the surpassing value of knowing you, Christ Jesus my Lord. Amen.
-Michael Boss

“Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal; but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.” – Philippians 3:12

June 10, 1969 – our second wedding anniversary. It was a time of great tumult in our country with antiwar sentiment running strong. I was a Navy wife, and my husband was in Vietnam. Needless to say, I keenly felt the conflict that was going on in our country and I missed my husband!

We had been fortunate that he received a deferral to finish his master’s degree, so we spent our first married year living, studying, and in my case, teaching, in Norman, Oklahoma where we had met and married. Now, I was in Florida, and he was hal
f a world away. Unlike today, when communication can be instantaneous, letters took weeks to arrive. And yet, it was well with my soul.
Jesus had truly made me His own as, shortly after our arrival in November of 1968, I was hired by Jacksonville Public Schools as a traveling music teacher. I was responsible for three schools, one on the base where I saw the students once every two weeks, one in Neptune Beach where I was the token white teacher in an all-black school and saw the students weekly, and one in an inner-city Jacksonville mixed neighborhood that had been split by the freeway and I saw the students weekly. From the standpoint of teaching the students music, it was not an ideal situation, but it kept me busy and involved. In addition, the principal at the inner-city school recruited me to teach GED math and English to a delightful group of adults who made me a part of their learning community.

I truly felt that all was well with my soul on Sunday mornings at St. Paul’s by the Sea in Jacksonville Beach. Every Sunday, the service concluded with the sung prayer, Eternal Father, Strong to Save. A whole community was praying for my husband.

Jesus, thank you for helping us move forward with our goals and for making us your own. Thank you for blessing our marriage and helping us to share your love with the world. Amen.
-Cathey Frederick