I freely admit that the devotionals I put together are a labor of love, but they are also a team effort.

The picture at the top of each devotion on here was taken by Josh Applegate, a photographer from northern Colorado. I found it on the website Unsplash, which provides pictures that photographers have uploaded for others to use.

My deepest thanks to my writing team: Ashley Sweeney, Barb Cheyney, Bob Johnson, Bonnie Schuh, Cathey Frederick, Kathy Fleck (Sister Katherine, OSB), Keith Axberg, Lara Cole, Marilyn Allen, Mary Ann Taylor, Michael Boss, Fr. Paul Moore, Sandy McDougall, Tom Worrell, and Vicki Wesen.

All Scripture passages used are from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) unless otherwise specified.

Blessings to you and happy Easter!
-Jen McCabe

“And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.”-1 Corinthians 13:13

We introduced this Lenten Meditation series naming some of the anxiety that is floating in our world, and what the Church has to offer—agape love that comes not from within the world but beyond it, a love so profound that it gives itself for the good of the world.
We have just relived the story about that love, how Jesus suffered, was crucified and died for us, that we might live. Today, on Easter Sunday, we celebrate the power of that love to overcome all the anxiety in the world and come out on top. But it’s more than just winning a boxing match with evil. The resurrection is the great vindication of love, proof that love does have the final word, no matter what the world around us might be telling us. The hope of the Christian is precisely this. We know that God is healing and restoring the world, even bit by bit, in spite of all the setbacks and losses, and that we, you and I, have tasted of that healing and restoration and are now sharing in the work.

That work is internal. St. Paul said, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition, make your requests known to God, and the peace of God that passes all understanding will keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. (Phil. 4:7.) The risen Christ offers us peace that passes all understanding, peace rooted in his resurrection, something that lets us stand apart from the anxious situations in the world that would otherwise drag us down into despair.

That work is external. When Jesus cleanses the temple (Matt 21, Mark 11 and John 2,) he was not just incensed at the irreverence of the situation. The temple authorities charged the temple tax in Jewish coin, and pilgrims from around the Roman Empire had to change their foreign currencies into the acceptable currency. Money changers regularly gouged exchange rates unfairly. He was fighting to heal and restore the temple as a house of prayer for all nations so that God’s peaceful kingdom might reign on the earth. The resurrection gives us a place to stand in the midst of the anxious injustices of the world, pointing the way to God’s peaceful kingdom.

God of all peace, we live in an anxious and divided world: Grant us to so live the power of your Son’s resurrection, that we might bring your peaceful kingdom to bear on the healing and transformation of the world, through whom, with you and the Holy Spirit you live and reign in peace and glory, we pray. Amen.
-Fr. Paul Moore

“For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” -1 Corinthians 13:12

Yesterday, I mentioned my trip out to Washington fourteen years ago to say good-bye to my grandfather. After a teary good-bye with my grandfather that afternoon, my mother drove me to Everett to drop me at the train station before continuing down to Seattle for her flight back to California. I pulled myself together, figuring that I would be on the train in my own roomette within two hours and could have the next eighteen hours to work through my sadness before I reached Montana, where my now former husband Jon and I were living at the time. Luck was not on my side, however, because a construction crane fell across the tracks in Seattle, delaying the train by seven hours. Five hours into that seven-hour delay, my ability to retain my composure was shot completely from being tired, hungry, and grieving having to say good-bye to one of the most important people in my life. I called my former father-in-law in tears, and he listened and prayed silently while I sobbed for forty-five minutes. I was sobbing so hard that I was unable to talk and had to write something on a piece of paper to show the security guards who were alarmed at how hard I was crying. Eventually, my train arrived from Seattle, and my porter led me to my roomette where my bed was turned down and food was waiting for me. After eating something, I collapsed on the bed, exhausted from crying.

I like to think that my experience that night gives me some insight into what the disciples were experiencing today on Holy Saturday. Their beloved teacher, who many of them expected would kick the Romans out of Palestine as a proper Messiah would do, had been put to death the day before in a grotesque manner meant to serve as an example to anyone who thought of threatening Rome’s power. Most of them had fled the garden of Gethsemane, and Peter had denied knowing Jesus to keep from meeting a similar fate. Presumably, they were all locked together in the Upper Room, trying to make sense of what was going on.

Both the disciples and I were accurate descriptions of today’s verse from 1 Corinthians 13. We were so consumed by our grief that we could not see what was actually happening. Our view of our situations was that of seeing “in a mirror dimly … [knowing] only in part.” The disciples would eventually know the whole story. In the last fourteen years, I have learned that love transcends death and that my grandfather is with me daily, even sending me rainbows from heaven when I need assurance that things will be OK.

Thank you, Heavenly Father, for people in our lives who sit and hold space with us when we grieve. Help us to remember that death is not the final answer and that our present knowledge is only of part of the picture. Amen.
-Jen McCabe