Starting with Scripture

About Starting with Scripture

Starting with Scripture is a short, reflective podcast that invites you to slow down and begin with the Bible—one passage at a time. Hosted by artist, illustrator, and seminary student Raquel Busa, each episode opens the weekly Gospel reading through gentle storytelling, theological reflection, and creative curiosity. These reflections are not sermons or lectures, but thoughtful pauses—space to wonder, notice, and listen for where God might be meeting us in ordinary life. Rooted in the Lutheran tradition and shaped by art, caregiving, and community life, Starting with Scripture is for anyone seeking a quieter, more accessible way to engage the Gospel. Whether you listen while walking, coloring, journaling, or resting, this podcast is an invitation to begin your week grounded in grace. We start with Scripture—because God is already there, waiting to meet us.

Publisher

Raquel Busa

Category

religion & spirituality

Language

en

Explicit

No

First episode

27 Oct 2025

Latest episode

8 Jul 2026

Latest episodes

18 episodes in the feed.

1. 

   8 Jul 2026

   Starting with Scripture: Consolation in the Garden

   This week, I'm basing doodles of devotion on the parable of the sower found in Matthew 13:1-9 and 18-23. I remember learning about this parable in Sunday School, and I thought I understood it then. God is a sower. He's throwing seeds around. Some seeds grow. Some seeds don't. Some become fruitful, and some do not. But now, as an adult, I find myself asking a question that I didn't have to when I was seven years old. What does it mean to be fruitful? My wife and I decided not to have children, and some days after coming home from a chaotic children's party, I'm 100% sure we made the right choice. But there are days when I'm not so sure. And on those days, I like to lose myself in the garden and seek consolation among the plants. You see, some plants bloom. Others do not. Of those that bloom, not all of them are pollinated. Of those that are pollinated, only a fraction will produce viable seeds that will grow. And then, as in the parable we read today, some seeds get eaten, some seeds fall on the stone and can't take root. Some are scorched by the sun; others are choked by thorns. Some don't receive enough light. And still there are those that fall on good soil and bear fruit. But what does it mean to be fruitful? Sometimes, because I'm not a mother, I feel like I'm one of those seeds choked by thorns. Society has its own definition of fruitfulness. Society tells us that to be fruitful is to produce, to achieve, to grow, to multiply, to prove our worth in ways that can be measured. Society tells us what life is supposed to look like. It tells us what a family is supposed to look like. It tells us what success, beauty, usefulness, and value are supposed to look like. But I don't think that is what God means by being fruitful. In this parable, Jesus is talking about the word of the kingdom. Some hear it and do not understand it. Some receive it with joy, but let it go when life becomes difficult. And some hear the word, but the cares of the world and the lure of wealth choke it. Some hear and understand and bear fruit. What's interesting about this parable is that the first time Jesus spoke, it was during a time when it was dangerous to follow Jesus. The people hearing it knew a life of persecution. They knew fear. They knew what it meant to hold on to faith even when the world around them made faith costly. So I ask again, how am I fruitful? Or maybe what I'm really asking is what gives my life worth? When I look at nature, I can pan out and see a bigger picture. The seeds that do not grow and the plants that do not flower or bear fruit are actually not worthless. They still belong to the ecosystem. They feed the vast and complex web of bacteria, fungi, worms, insects, animals, and even other plants. They protect, they shade, they nourish. They become part of life in ways that we are only now beginning to understand. So maybe the parable is not asking me to measure my life by society's standards. Maybe being fruitful isn't about proving my life has worth. Maybe being fruitful is trusting that God has already given my life worth. I believe in a loving God who sees the whole garden. A God who knows what is growing beneath the surface. A God who does not look at us the way society looks at us. A God who does not measure us by productivity, parenthood, wealth, beauty, status, or success. God sees us and loves us. And maybe knowing, trusting, and surrendering to that love is where fruitfulness begins. So what does this all mean for doodles of devotion? Well, first of all, thank you for listening. This episode of Starting with Scripture made me feel extremely vulnerable. I actually considered not publishing it. But it also felt liberating to share it with you because sometimes I feel like an imposter because I don't have children of my own and I'm illustrating for families. I have to pan out and remind myself that families come in all shapes and sizes. For this week's doodles of devotion, I'm going to try to focus on two points. 1. God plants love in everyone. And sometimes love is hard to grow because we feel afraid, worried, left out, or even pressured. 2. Being fruitful is not about being perfect or producing something impressive. The fruit is love, care, courage, welcome, mercy, and trust

2. 

   10 Mar 2026

   Starting with Scripture: If Only We could See Eachother.

   This week’s starting with scripture is going to be a little different. I have been invited to preach at Trinity Lutheran Church in Sunset Park, Brooklyn, this Sunday. So I wanted to use Starting with Scripture as a place to not only explore the gospel and brainstorm Doodles of Devotion, but also to draft my sermon for Sunday. I would love to get your feedback. Please leave me a comment on Patreon. When I preach, I try to consider all of the text from the lectionary. This Sunday, the congregation at Trinity will read the following texts: 1 Samuel 16:1-13, Psalm 23, Ephesians 5:8-14, and John 9:1-41. You should know that I was invited to preach at Trinity because they are celebrating women’s month and wanted to hear a woman’s voice. The texts for this week do not include a single woman. I’m not surprised, because women appear in only a small fraction of biblical stories—about ten percent. Interestingly, when women do appear in the Gospels, they are often portrayed as people of extraordinary faith. The Samaritan woman at the well becomes a preacher. Mary Magdalene becomes the first witness to the resurrection. Again and again, the people society overlooked are the ones who see Jesus most clearly. So why then are there not more stories of women? The books of the Bible were written within cultures where men held most of the positions of authority. Those cultural realities shaped which stories were written down and preserved. But when we look carefully, we still find women whose faith changed the course of the story. So, again, I am not surprised that the texts we read today do not mention women. But maybe that’s why I was called to preach on this particular Sunday to teach the congregation how to look at Scripture from the perspective of a woman. And perhaps in doing so, I can encourage you to look at each other with holy curiosity. So that we can make space, welcome, and affirm those who are different than ourselves. Even though the blind person in this story is a man, as a woman, I can relate to his story, because he is someone who is misunderstood because of his body. Here is someone who was born physically different than other people. And because of his physical differences, he is judged. But he is not judged by God. Jesus tells us, “He was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.” In the end, this gospel makes it clear that those who are more concerned with myths, stereotypes, and law are the ones who are really blind. They are blind to love.  Jesus says, “I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see may see and those who do not may become blind.” In this story, there are two kinds of blindness: the man who cannot see, and the people who refuse to see him. Each one of us in this room is different. Each person here was made intentionally by God. And each person in this room knows what it feels like to be othered because of one of these differences. But what if we learn how to see each other? Have you ever heard the term, “I’m not racist, I don’t see color”? Although well-intentioned, it misses the mark. If you don’t see our differences, what is it that you see? Our color, sexuality, culture, language, and yes, our gender, shape our experiences and give each of us a unique perspective of God. We all carry beautiful stories precisely because of our differences. Love is not pretending we are all the same. Love is learning how to see one another clearly. Throughout history, certain bodies have been questioned, controlled, or dismissed—women’s bodies, disabled bodies, queer bodies, bodies that don’t fit expectations. These are just a few examples of the ways people have been misunderstood simply because of who they are. But again and again, the Gospel shows us that Jesus moves toward those bodies, not away from them. He moves towards the blind and those afflicted with leprosy; he moves towards women. What would it mean for us to truly see one another—not through stereotypes or expectations, but through compassion? Maybe it begins with asking ourselves: Whose stories have we misunderstood? Whose lives have we judged too quickly? Whose experiences have we not fully seen? Jesus didn’t heal the blind man simply so he could see the world. He healed him so the world could learn how to see him. And maybe that is the invitation for us today: to open our eyes—not just to the light, but to each other. So that’s my sermon for Sunday. I may change things here or there, maybe add a personal story. But I don’t want to make it too long because I have to translate it into Spanish and say it in both languages. So what does this mean for Doodles of Devotion, and how can I bring this message to life visually? I decided to draw portraits of influential women with disabilities, in honor of Women's History Month. By focusing on these remarkable women, we can celebrate both resilience and diversity, and highlight stories that are often overlooked.

3. 

   4 Mar 2026

   Starting with Scripture: From Darkness to Living Water

   The Gospel Reading John 4:5-42 (NIV) 5 So he came to a town in Samaria called Sychar, near the plot of ground Jacob had given to his son Joseph. 6 Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon. 7 When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, “Will you give me a drink?” 8 (His disciples had gone into the town to buy food.) 9 The Samaritan woman said to him, “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.) 10 Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God and who it is that asks you for a drink, you would have asked him and he would have given you living water.” 11 “Sir,” the woman said, “you have nothing to draw with and the well is deep. Where can you get this living water? 12 Are you greater than our father Jacob, who gave us the well and drank from it himself, as did also his sons and his livestock?” 13 Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, 14 but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” 15 The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water so that I won’t get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water.” 16 He told her, “Go, call your husband and come back.” 17 “I have no husband,” she replied. Jesus said to her, “You are right when you say you have no husband. 18 The fact is, you have had five husbands, and the man you now have is not your husband. What you have just said is quite true.” 19 “Sir,” the woman said, “I can see that you are a prophet. 20 Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem.” 21 “Woman,” Jesus replied, “believe me, a time is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. 22 You Samaritans worship what you do not know; we worship what we do know, for salvation is from the Jews. 23 Yet a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. 24 God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth.” 25 The woman said, “I know that Messiah” (called Christ) “is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us.” 26 Then Jesus declared, “I, the one speaking to you—I am he.” 27 Just then his disciples returned and were surprised to find him talking with a woman. But no one asked, “What do you want?” or “Why are you talking with her?” 28 Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, 29 “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did. Could this be the Messiah?” 30 They came out of the town and made their way toward him. 31 Meanwhile his disciples urged him, “Rabbi, eat something.” 32 But he said to them, “I have food to eat that you know nothing about.” 33 Then his disciples said to each other, “Could someone have brought him food?” 34 “My food,” said Jesus, “is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work. 35 Don’t you have a saying, ‘It’s still four months until harvest’? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields! They are ripe for harvest. 36 Even now the one who reaps draws a wage and harvests a crop for eternal life, so that the sower and the reaper may be glad together. 37 Thus the saying ‘One sows and another reaps’ is true. 38 I sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the hard work, and you have reaped the benefits of their labor.” 39 Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I ever did.” 40 So when the Samaritans came to him, they urged him to stay with them, and he stayed two days. 41 And because of his words many more became believers. 42 They said to the woman, “We no longer believe just because of what you said; now we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this man really is the Savior of the world.” Reflection The story has many similarities and differences to the one we read last week. In last week’s story, Nicodemus came to meet Jesus at night. There is a lot of symbolism in the fact that it happens at night. Some commentators say that Nicodemus was spiritually in the dark, trying to understand what Jesus was explaining to him about the Holy Spirit, eternal life, and faith. Nicodemus, if you remember, was also a religious leader. How could it be, that a religious leader has difficulty understanding what Jesus is describing? It’s not for a lack of literacy or education about scripture. Then could it be for a lack of trust, a lack of faith? This week, instead of someone approaching Jesus, Jesus is the one doing the approaching. It’s Jesus who decides to travel through an area where the Samaritans lived. Mind you, the Samaritans were considered religiously unclean and dangerous, but Jesus decides to go through that area anyway. Jesus stops at the well. Jesus speaks to the woman first, and the scandalous conversation between a Jewish man and a Samaritan woman happens in the daytime. Not just any time of day, but at noon, when the sun is at its highest point in the sky. When these two speak, this Samaritan woman doesn’t take much convincing. She’s never even heard of Jesus before, but here she is, now convinced that he’s a prophet, that he’s the Messiah. She’s so convinced that she even runs to tell other people and bring them to Jesus. She’s not a teacher like Nick. She didn’t know who Jesus was, and now her heart is filled with faith. God calls us as we are. It’s God’s grace that gives us faith. When we read these stories side-by-side, they speak volumes about our own individual faith journeys. Each of us is different, and these stories show two characters who eventually reach their destination, but at their own pace. There is so much more symbolism in the story of the woman at the well. The well is a meeting place where men and women find love, and we find examples of this throughout scripture. But Jesus doesn’t want the Samaritan woman to fall in love with him in a romantic sense. He wants her to fall in love with God. And this is a symbol of the discarded container. The water is no longer necessary after you receive actual living water, and it seems that the discarded container means that she did receive living water after all. There are so many symbols and metaphors throughout this passage that maybe, when I sit down to illustrate doodles of devotion, I can illustrate the metaphors and symbols on one side of the page and the meetings that are typically agreed-upon on the other side of the page. And allow the reader to match the picture to the meaning. I think this would be a really nice way to build upon what we did last week, as the stories build on each other.

4. 

   24 Feb 2026

   Starting with Scripture: Signs, Wind, and Wonder

   The Gospel Reading John 3:1-17 (NIV) 3 Now there was a Pharisee, a man named Nicodemus who was a member of the Jewish ruling council. 2 He came to Jesus at night and said, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.” 3 Jesus replied, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.” 4 “How can someone be born when they are old?” Nicodemus asked. “Surely they cannot enter a second time into their mother’s womb to be born!” 5 Jesus answered, “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit. 6 Flesh gives birth to flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. 7 You should not be surprised at my saying, ‘You must be born again.’ 8 The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” 9 “How can this be?” Nicodemus asked. 10 “You are Israel’s teacher,” said Jesus, “and do you not understand these things? 11 Very truly I tell you, we speak of what we know, and we testify to what we have seen, but still you people do not accept our testimony. 12 I have spoken to you of earthly things and you do not believe; how then will you believe if I speak of heavenly things? 13 No one has ever gone into heaven except the one who came from heaven—the Son of Man.  14 Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the wilderness, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, 15 that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.” 16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. 17 For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him. Reflection This text was triggering for me. When I read verse 3, “Jesus replied, ‘Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again,’” I cringed. It reminded me of a time in my life when I felt pressured to believe, to accept, and to proclaim my faith out loud, without being invited to explore or ask the questions that would help my faith grow. If you get anything from me, through Starting with Scripture or Doodles of Devotion, I hope it is this: faith is a lifelong journey. And questions are not the enemy of faith; they are often the doorway to it. Nicodemus is such a beautiful example of someone on a faith journey. And here’s what I love: Jesus engages him in conversation. Jesus gently leads and teaches him. He does not rebuke him for his questions, his confusion, or his lack of understanding. He certainly does not pressure him. In this episode, I’m going to explore who Nicodemus is, what “signs” are in the Gospel of John, and what Jesus is saying about faith and the Spirit. And finally, I’ll brainstorm how to illustrate these ideas for families in this week’s Doodles of Devotion. If you have ideas about what I could draw or what questions I might ask families, please share them in the comments. I would truly welcome your suggestions. Who Is Nicodemus? Nicodemus is a Pharisee, a member of a Jewish religious movement devoted to interpreting and faithfully living out the Law. In the Gospels, Pharisees are often portrayed as being in tension with Jesus. So the fact that Nicodemus seeks Jesus out at night and even acknowledges that Jesus is from God is significant. It’s even rebellious and dangerous. What are Signs? Nicodemus says, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God. For no one could perform the signs you are doing if God were not with him.” Notice that word: signs. The Gospel of John consistently uses “signs” instead of “miracles.” That’s important. In seminary, we just learned about the use of the words signs versus Miracles in the Gospel of John, and I’m excited to be able to share this with you. In antiquity, Jesus was not the only one who performed miracles. Moses, Elijah, and even the apostles are all described as performing miracles. In Exodus, the magicians of Pharaoh even replicate some of Moses’ signs. So if people other than Jesus can perform miracles too, then miracles by themselves cannot be the decisive proof of who Jesus is. A miracle, therefore, is a sign that points beyond itself. It invites interpretation. Cool huh? It is one thing to say, “Something extraordinary happened.” It is another to say, “This reveals who God is.” Moving from event to meaning, from “this happened” to “this reveals God’s presence”, requires faith. Jesus recognizes the seed of Faith in Nicodemus and helps his faith grow. Born of Water and Spirit Jesus responds to Nicodemus by saying, “Very truly I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.” Nicodemus takes this literally and is understandably confused. How can someone enter their mother’s womb a second time? Jesus clarifies: “No one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and Spirit.” From a Lutheran perspective, we hear echoes of baptism here, water and Spirit together. New birth is not something we achieve; it is something God does. Faith itself is gift. We are born of the Spirit not through our effort or intellectual mastery, but through God’s gracious action. Jesus then uses the image of the wind: “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” It’s such a beautiful analogy. The wind is real. We experience it. We see its effects. But we cannot control it or fully explain it. Faith is like that. The Spirit moves. We experience transformation, trust, courage, love, but we cannot manufacture them. In Lutheran theology, this protects us from turning faith into a performance. Faith is not something we prove. It is something the Spirit awakens. Poor Nicodemus still struggles to understand. And yet Jesus continues teaching. He does not dismiss him. Then comes one of the most beloved passages in Scripture: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son…” And notice, God did not send the Son to condemn the world, but to save it. That is pure Gospel. Grace first. Love first. Salvation as a gift. At this point, we don’t know exactly where Nicodemus stands. His understanding is incomplete. But that doesn’t disqualify him. Faith can begin in curiosity. It can begin with questions. It can begin at night as a rebellious act. Later in the Gospel of John, we see Nicodemus again. This time, he is defending Jesus during the day. He tries to convince the Pharisees that Jesus has the right to a fair hearing. After the Crucifixion, Nicodemus shows up again to help prepare Jesus’ body for burial. Nicodemus keeps showing up, and his faith continues to grow. Illustrating the Invisible So now I’m asking: how do I illustrate this for families? Not just for children, but for multigenerational households, for seniors, for people who learn differently, for anyone who needs something tactile and visual to enter the story. Jesus talks about wind, something invisible yet powerful. That reminds me of the artist Andy J. Pizza, who once created illustrations of invisible things: hope, gravity, time, echoes, dreams, and so much more. Things we believe in and experience, even though we can’t see them directly or often even understand them completely. Perhaps the challenge this week is to visualize the invisible. What does faith look like? What about the Spirit or grace? These are difficult to depict, which is likely why I feel both excited and a bit nervous. Please pray for me. I believe this creative experiment can expand on Jesus’ analogy of the wind, Spirit, and faith.

5. 

   17 Feb 2026

   Starting with Scripture: Our Own Wilderness

   Gospel Reading: Matthew 4:1-11 (NIV) 4 Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. 2 After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry. 3 The tempter came to him and said, “If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread.” 4 Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Man shall not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” 5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. 6 “If you are the Son of God,” he said, “throw yourself down. For it is written: “‘He will command his angels concerning you, and they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’” 7 Jesus answered him, “It is also written: ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. 9 “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.” 10 Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’” 11 Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him. So in our gospel reading, Jesus is baptized, and then the Spirit leads him into the wilderness. For 40 days and 40 nights, Jesus was alone, hungry, and tempted. But before we talk about temptation, I want to talk a little bit about the wilderness and what it was for Jesus, so that, in turn, we can reflect on what the wilderness is for us today. Jesus lived under the Roman occupation, and that was a world with oppressive taxation, violence, economic disparity, and even government-sanctioned murder. So when the devil tempts Jesus to turn stones into bread, we might ask what is really being offered. The devil is tempting Jesus to take the easy way. Feed yourself. Forget the system. Forget those who suffer because of the system. It would have been easier for Jesus to secure his own personal survival without confronting the empire. But guess what? Jesus doesn't sell out. As I prepare for Starting With Scriptures and for illustrating doodles of devotion, I sometimes read the queer Bible commentary, and I'm so happy I did, because it framed this story in a way that really resonated with me and helped me understand it more deeply. The commentary compared Jesus' baptism to a queer person's coming out and coming into one's own identity. So for a queer person, that means shedding internalized homophobia and shame, accepting God's love, and embracing the truth that queer folks are also made in God's image. Wilderness then becomes those moments when that beloved identity is tested. So for queer folks like me, wilderness can look like being told to shrink, to be quieter, to be less visible, less flamboyant, less butch, or less honest about who you love. It can take the form of policies that erase dignity, and even put pressure to be more acceptable. And I'm not going to lie, I have been in wilderness moments when I choose the easier road. I made myself small, and I stayed quiet. And I noticed that those moments have suffocated me and diminished me into something less than who God intended for me to be. But there were also moments in my personal wilderness when I stood up for myself and for other queer folk I have never met and probably will never meet. I'm thinking about a very specific and real moment in which I disagreed with a person in a position of religious authority, a pastor. And I said, gently, calmly, and assertively, "I disagree. I believe my sexuality is not a sin. I believe the gospel tells us that everyone belongs." I set boundaries, and I walked away on my own terms. That was wilderness, and it was holy. We all need bread to live, but the way we attain that bread is also important. We are meant to live in love, even when love is costly. But that second temptation is really important as well. When the devil asks Jesus to throw himself off the highest point of the temple, and Jesus responds, do not put the Lord your God to the test. And what that means to me in this context is it's okay to choose our own personal safety and not to test God. As I prepare doodles of devotion for families and groups with children, I think about what the wilderness means to a child, and my mind immediately goes to children in detention centers living in fear. They are in wilderness. What are they being tempted to do? Lose hope? Dim their light? Forget they are beloved? And what about us? Are we tempted by distraction, comfort, privilege? We are in this wilderness alongside them. Lent is not about purposefully suffering to prove our strength. It is about honestly acknowledging what tempts us and trying our hardest to choose love. And I know that that can be scary. But remember that God loves us and is with us, and we are all beloved. Amen.

6. 

   3 Feb 2026

   Starting with Scripture: Salt, Light, and Why Context Matters

   Gospel Reading: Matthew 5:13-20 (NIV) 13 “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot. 14 “You are the light of the world. A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. 15 Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. 16 In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. 17 “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. 18 For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. 19 Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20 For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven. Reflection: Our gospel reading is a continuation of the Sermon on the Mount, following the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:13–20). Here, Jesus turns to the multitude who came to listen to him and says something surprising: you are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. He also tells them that their righteousness must exceed that of the Pharisees. What does it all mean? I just started four Bible classes. Please pray for me, because I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into. It’s a lot of reading. But I bring that up because I’m learning the difference between eisegesis and exegesis, and this text is a great place to explore the difference between the two. In eisegesis, we assign meaning to the text based on our own assumptions, experiences, or expectations. In exegesis, we slow down and look at the historical context, the original language, and the world behind the text to piece together what Jesus may have been saying to the people who first heard these words. Then—and only then—do we begin to ask how that message speaks into our lives today. How we read Scripture matters because it shapes how we live it. In this Gospel passage, Jesus tells the multitude that they are the salt of the earth and the light of the world. What would that have meant to them? And what might it mean for us? Let’s start with salt. Humans need salt to live. In moderation, our bodies need sodium and chloride to carry out basic life functions. Today, we can walk into a grocery store and choose from a wide variety of salts without much thought. In antiquity, however, salt was essential and difficult to obtain. It was used not only to season food but also to preserve it—there was no refrigeration. Salt was highly valuable. Roman soldiers were sometimes paid in salt. Now let’s look at light. In the ancient world, without electricity, people relied on the sun or the light of a flame to work, to travel, and to stay safe. Darkness wasn’t cozy—it was dangerous. Today, we flip a switch. We install blackout curtains because we have too much light. So while we often take salt and light for granted, in Jesus’ time they were matters of life and death. Another interesting insight is this: salt and light don’t depend on us—we depend on them. And yet, Jesus uses these images to describe people. When Jesus says that the crowd is the salt of the earth and the light of the world, he is affirming their worth. Each person matters. Each person has value. And more than that, they matter to one another. Life depends on shared presence, care, and responsibility. The final part of this passage turns to the Pharisees. The Pharisees were deeply devoted to the law and to living faithfully before God. Jesus’ critique is not about a lack of religious commitment, but about how righteousness is understood and practiced. Is righteousness measured only by rule-following? Or is it revealed through justice, mercy, and love of neighbor? So when Jesus says that our righteousness must exceed that of the Pharisees, does he mean that we are called to a deeper commitment to justice than the systems and leaders around us? I hope so. So what does all of this mean for Doodles of Devotion? I want to find ways to share this with families visually and creatively. I’m imagining an illustration that highlights the importance of salt and light, how our access to these everyday necessities has changed over the centuries, and how those changes shape the way we hear Jesus’ words. Maybe this issue includes exegesis and eisegesis as vocabulary words—introduced gently and playfully. I’d love to hear your thoughts. What kinds of visuals, questions, or activities do you think families would enjoy engaging with as they explore this text together? Source: https://mypastoralponderings.com/2023/02/03/salt-light-my-sermon-on-matthew-513-20/ (https://mypastoralponderings.com/2023/02/03/salt-light-my-sermon-on-matthew-513-20/)

7. 

   27 Jan 2026

   Starting with Scripture: Reading the Beatitudes Together

   Gospel 5 Now when Jesus saw the crowds, he went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to him, 2 and he began to teach them. He said: 3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. 5 Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth. 6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. 7 Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy. 8 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. 9 Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God. 10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. 11 “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 12 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you. Reflection As I read today’s Gospel, my heart is heavy. What’s happening in Minneapolis has stirred memories I didn’t expect to feel again — memories from when I was living in Cairo during the Egyptian revolution. I was studying at the American University in Cairo when protests erupted. Just a few blocks from my apartment, massive crowds gathered. People wanted bread. They wanted justice. They wanted democracy. I remember young people filling the streets. I remember Muslims and Christians standing shoulder to shoulder. When it was time for Muslim prayer, Christians formed human chains around them to protect them. I remember tear gas. I remember rubber bullets. I remember fear. And I remember courage. When I hear Jesus say: Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake. I see faces. I see protesters. I see people putting their bodies on the line for dignity, safety, and justice. Jesus is not describing abstract virtues. He is showing us what holiness looks like in real life. He is showing us what a saint looks like in the streets — in grief, in courage, in mercy, in longing for what is right. When I was in Egypt, I felt like an outsider watching history unfold. Now, as a United States citizen, I no longer feel like an outsider. Watching people harmed, detained, and killed without due process — watching communities cry out for justice — I feel a holy urgency. I can’t just observe. I am called to turn. To speak. To act. Even if I turn just a little — toward mercy. Toward peacemaking. Toward righteousness. Toward mourning with those who mourn. Toward humility and courage. That small turning is already part of God’s kingdom drawing near. The Beatitudes are not a distant ideal. They are a map for how to live when the world feels like it is breaking open. This is all very heavy. When we sit down with our families — especially families with young children — we can meet them where they are. If children are aware of what’s happening in the news, we can make space to talk about it together, gently and honestly. If they’re too young to know the details, we can still help them reflect on peace, justice, and courage in ways they understand. We might ask them to think about someone in history who worked for peace and justice — people like Martin Luther King Jr., Dorothy Day, César Chávez, Rosa Parks, and others. What did they do that reflects one of the Beatitudes? Which Beatitude do you think they lived out the most? We can also ask children where they see people being merciful, kind, brave, or peaceful in their own lives — in their school, their neighborhood, or their church. What do you think a peacemaker looks like? What might a peacemaker do? And we can always ask: Who can we pray for today — someone who is hurting, scared, or asking for justice? I would like to end today with a prayer. God of mercy, God of love, forgive us for the times we did not choose the peaceful path. Forgive us for not standing up sooner. We are here now. Show us how to use our gifts to lift up our siblings who are mourning and hurting. Help us love our enemies and seek their healing, too. Help us all heal. Amen.

8. 

   21 Jan 2026

   Starting with Scripture: Light Doesn’t Ask Permission to Dawn

   Gospel Reading Matthew 4:12-23 (NIV) 12 When Jesus heard that John had been put in prison, he withdrew to Galilee. 13 Leaving Nazareth, he went and lived in Capernaum, which was by the lake in the area of Zebulun and Naphtali— 14 to fulfill what was said through the prophet Isaiah: 15 “Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali, the Way of the Sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles— 16 the people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.” 17 From that time on Jesus began to preach, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” 18 As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. 19 “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.” 20 At once they left their nets and followed him. 21 Going on from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John. They were in a boat with their father Zebedee, preparing their nets. Jesus called them, 22 and immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him. 23 Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people. Reflection This week’s Gospel felt right on target, as though the Holy Spirit were speaking directly to us and our current situation, bringing us hope and a plan of action. In this week’s Gospel, the state exerts its power and takes John. Jesus is also in danger, so he moves to protect himself, but he still shows up publicly, gathers folks, and preaches. Jesus chooses action without exposing himself to unnecessary risk. He does not retreat into silence. And that’s important for us to hear. It’s important for those of us hiding in fear. It’s important for those of us protesting and helping our neighbors. It’s important for those of us who think, “It could never happen to me.” Jesus does not begin his ministry at the seat of power. He goes to Galilee, a place seen as politically vulnerable and culturally mixed. Matthew calls it “Galilee of the Gentiles.” This reminds us that God’s light shows up where people are most exposed. Light arrives in the shadow, not after the shadow has passed. For people standing in the streets, chanting, praying, or simply bearing witness: this text says you are not outside God’s story. For those watching from other states, afraid of losing freedoms or unsure how far things might go: this text says fear does not get the final word. In this Gospel, Jesus proclaims, “The kingdom of heaven has come near.” Near means already hear and already pressing against the systems that rely on fear and control. Jesus begins to call on ordinary people, workers, siblings, and caregivers into community. Not all of them protest. Not all of them preach. Some heal. Some teach. Some simply follow and refuse to disappear. This is important: the kingdom advances through many kinds of courage. ·         The courage to march. ·         The courage to stay. ·         The courage to tell the truth. ·         The courage to keep loving when fear wants to shrink our lives. Matthew doesn’t promise that repression ends immediately. But he does promise this: darkness is not absolute, and light doesn’t ask permission to dawn. So what does faithfulness look like right now? Not everyone is called to the same risk. But all of us are called to resist silence. For some of us, it looks like showing up in the streets. For others, it looks like calling representatives, donating to legal defense funds, supporting immigrant-led organizations, or learning whose stories are being erased. For some, it looks like checking on neighbors, offering rides, childcare, meals, or quiet companionship. For many, it looks like refusing to repeat harmful narratives, speaking carefully and truthfully, and choosing compassion when fear tries to harden our hearts. Jesus shows us a way of acting with wisdom and courage—moving toward the vulnerable, telling the truth about power, gathering community, and refusing to let fear decide what kind of people we will be. May we have the courage to act in the ways we can, the wisdom to protect one another, and the faith to believe that even now, God is still at work— closer than fear suggests. Amen.

9. 

   3 Jan 2026

   Starting with Scripture: The Baptism of Jesus

   Gospel Reading Matthew 3:13–17 (NIV) Then Jesus came from Galilee to the Jordan to be baptized by John. But John tried to deter him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” Jesus replied, “Let it be so now; it is proper for us to do this to fulfill all righteousness.” Then John consented. As soon as Jesus was baptized, he went up out of the water. At that moment heaven was opened, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased.” Reflection In our Gospel reading today, we find ourselves at the Jordan River, at the baptism of Jesus. Jesus comes to John asking to be baptized—and John is understandably surprised. John knows who Jesus is. He says, “I need to be baptized by you, and yet you come to me?” John recognizes that Jesus is not in need of repentance. And yet Jesus responds, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” That phrase—“to fulfill all righteousness”—raises an important question. What does Jesus mean by that? Jesus is not baptized because he is sinful. Christian faith confesses that Jesus is fully human and fully divine, yet without sin. And yet, in his baptism, Jesus chooses to stand fully with humanity. He steps into the waters meant for sinners. He identifies himself with us—with our vulnerability, our need, and our lives. In being baptized, Jesus reveals God’s righteousness—not as separation from sinners, but as deep solidarity with them. This identification reaches its fullest expression later, at the cross, where Jesus takes on the fullness of human suffering and death. After Jesus is baptized, he comes up from the water, and the heavens open. The Spirit of God descends like a dove, and a voice from heaven declares, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” This moment marks the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry. Before he teaches, before he heals, before he suffers—he is named and claimed as God’s beloved. So what does this mean for us? Baptism is not first about our action or our commitment—it is about God’s action. In Jesus’ baptism, we see God coming close, entering human life fully, and claiming it as beloved. In our baptism, we are drawn into that same promise. The Greek word often translated as “repentance,” metanoia, means to turn, to be reoriented, to have one’s mind and life reshaped. In Lutheran theology, repentance is not only a command—it is also a gift. It is something God continually works in us. Baptism happens once—but it shapes a lifetime. It does not depend on our understanding, our certainty, or the strength of our faith. If baptism depended on perfect faith or total certainty, none of us would ever be ready. Faith itself is God’s gift. Instead, baptism becomes something we return to again and again. As we grow, stumble, question, and begin again, we are always returning to what God has already promised. Baptism does not mean we will never sin again. It does not erase our humanity. Rather, it tells the truth: that we belong to God even as we are still being formed. We are saved by grace through faith. Baptism is not our achievement—it is God’s promise, spoken over us: You are my beloved. You belong to me. Illustration Intention — Doodles of Devotion As an illustrator and theologian-in-training, I often think about how images can hold theology gently—without needing to explain everything all at once. This week, I want the illustration itself to do some of the preaching. For this issue of Doodles of Devotion, I’m imagining a paired image. On one side, Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan—earthy, human, and holy. On the other, a modern infant baptism: a child held by family and community, water gently poured, hands steadying and supporting. By placing these two scenes side by side, I want to visually connect past and present—Scripture and lived experience. Jesus steps into the water to stand fully with humanity. In infant baptism, a child is carried into that same promise by a community that commits to love, nurture, and remind them who they are. For those of us baptized as babies, this raises honest questions: What does this mean if I don’t remember it? Lutheran theology reminds us that baptism isn’t about memory or decision—it’s about grace. It’s a promise we return to again and again, especially when we forget. This illustration is meant to be an invitation—to remember, to wonder, and to live as people who have already been named beloved.

10. 

    29 Dec 2025

    Starting with Scripture: The Light That Lives in Us

    The Gospel according to John 1:1-18 Glory to you or Lord. 1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. 6 There was a man sent from God whose name was John. 7 He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all might believe. 8 He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. 9 The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world. 10 He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. 11 He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. 12 Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— 13 children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God. 14 The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. 15 (John testified concerning him. He cried out, saying, “This is the one I spoke about when I said, ‘He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.’”) 16 Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given. 17 For the law was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God, but the one and only Son, who is himself God and[b (https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=John%201%3A1-18&version=NIV#fen-NIV-26063b)] is in closest relationship with the Father, has made him known. The Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, O Christ. When I looked at the lectionary for this week’s Gospel reading, I noticed that verses 1–9 were in brackets, meaning that you could exclude them. Exclude them?! I think they are gorgeous. They help us understand the meaning of the rest of the text. How can I exclude them? Let me explain, these verses, in a beautiful and poetic way, explain the nature of Christ. These lines take us to a moment, before the manger, before Joseph and Mary were born, before the great pyramids of Egypt even conceptualized, before the earth was formed, before the stars, before time itself. Here, we find ourselves in the beginning (in our beginning, anyway). But we don’t just find God, we find Jesus with God. And we notice that Jesus is God too. These verses tell us about Jesus’s divine nature. Jesus was not only present at creation; he created. He spoke life into being. He was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. What I love about these lines is that they remind us that the same creator who made the vast, awesome universe also made us. Jesus is life, and that life is the light of all mankind; there were no exceptions listed. And in a moment in history, Jesus was born fully human, his second nature. “He was in the world, and though the world was made through him,” the Gospel says, “the world did not recognize him.” Why did we not recognize him? The better question is when did we stop recognizing his light in ourselves and in each other? These lines remind me of the song “This little light of mine, I’m going to let it shine.” When did we start to believe that our light was small? The good news that I hope we can gather from this Gospel is that Jesus has been with us since the beginning. And his light is never consumed in the darkness, even in the moments when we don’t recognize him, he is there. I'll leave you with these reflection questions: When have you felt God's love shining through the kindness, love, and care? When is it hard to see God's goodness and love around us? What is one way your family can share God's love this week?

11. 

    15 Dec 2025

    Starting with Scripture: A Fraction of Your Love

    The Holy Gospel according to Matthew 1:18-25. Glory to you, O Lord. 18 This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. 19 Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. 20 But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” 22 All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: 23 “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). 24 When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife. 25 But he did not consummate their marriage until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus. This is the Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, O Christ. In this week’s Gospel, we get to focus on Joseph. He is engaged to Mary. And while he is planning their future together, he discovers that Mary is pregnant, and not by Joseph. The Gospel doesn’t tell us how Joseph feels, but it’s not hard to imagine the pain, confusion, and anger he might have carried. Before Joseph breaks off their engagement, an angel appears and reassures Joseph that the Holy Spirit conceived the child that Mary carries. So, Joseph stays and marries Mary. But most importantly, he adopts Jesus as his own. Marriage, having children, adoption, or choosing a family, these are all extraordinary acts of love. But I want to be careful here. This story is not saying that love means staying in relationships that are unsafe, toxic, or harmful. It is not asking people to sacrifice themselves beyond their capacity or to endure abuse in the name of faithfulness. Joseph’s choice happens within a very specific, holy context, and even then, it is God who bears the weight of what follows. We catch echoes of this unconditional love in parents who make sacrifices every day, in caregivers, in people who show up again and again. But even then, our love has limits. And that’s okay. We are human. God does not ask us to be God. That’s why Emmanuel matters so much. God with us. God who can love unconditionally. God who takes on what we cannot—our fear, our brokenness, our sin. As we light the Advent candle symbolizing Love, I am drawn back to this prayer: "Mothering God, Help us love as you do." What I would like to add to this prayer is, "Mothering God, we cannot love perfectly or infinitely as you do. Help us love even a fraction of your love." Amen. Loving is challenging; it involves forgiveness, mercy, patience, and wisdom. Sometimes, it also calls for setting boundaries, taking space, and seeking help. Throughout all of this, God stays with us. Emmanuel. Reflection Questions What did Joseph do in this story that showed love? When have you had to choose love or set boundaries? What does “God with us” mean to you this week?

12. 

    9 Dec 2025

    Starting with Scripture: A Reed, A Prophet and Quiet Joy

    The holy Gospel according to Matthew 11:2-11. Glory to you, O Lord. 2 When John, who was in prison, heard about the deeds of the Messiah, he sent his disciples 3 to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” 4 Jesus replied, “Go back and report to John what you hear and see: 5 The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is proclaimed to the poor. 6 Blessed is anyone who does not stumble on account of me.” 7 As John’s disciples were leaving, Jesus began to speak to the crowd about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed swayed by the wind? 8 If not, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in kings’ palaces. 9 Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10 This is the one about whom it is written: “‘I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’ 11 Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist; yet whoever is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he. This is the Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, O Christ. I’m glad we’ve recently focused on John the Baptist and had the chance to reflect on his life. Starting with Scripture has helped me learn more about him, and I hope it has for you, too. In this week’s Gospel, John the Baptist sends his followers to ask Jesus a direct question: “Are you the one who is to come?” And, of course, Jesus doesn’t give a simple yes or no. Instead, he says, “Look around you. Can you see what God is doing?” The works speak for themselves. Then Jesus turns the spotlight back on John. He reminds the crowd that John isn’t wealthy, polished, or powerful. He didn’t live in a palace or wear fancy clothes. I love how Jesus says, What did you expect to find, a reed easily swayed by the wind? John lives bravely against the oppression of the Roman Empire and for and with his neighbors, whom he loves. It is precisely because he lived with such courage and clarity—John is the messenger chosen to prepare the way for the Messiah. Jesus even calls him one of the greatest people ever born…and still “least in the kingdom of heaven.” That flips every idea we have about greatness upside down. I love focusing on John the Baptist during Advent. It shifts the attention from Jesus’s birth story to the life of someone who lived the Gospel long before Jesus preached it. John lived with courage, honesty, and conviction. Jesus honors him as someone who revealed God’s heart through his everyday choices. But where is the JOY? Joy isn’t always loud or sparkly. Sometimes joy comes from living faithfully, even when the world pushes back. Joy is the confidence of knowing you are walking in God’s story. Joy is doing the right thing—even when it costs something. John lived out a kind of quiet, stubborn joy: the joy of truth, the joy of purpose, the joy of preparing the world for something better. His life shows us that joy isn’t just a feeling; it’s a way of living rooted in love, courage, and hope. Joy feels complicated right now. Living out the Gospel is not easy. Many of us—myself included—are walking through difficult transitions this season. Joy can feel distant or unsteady. And yet, I am learning that joy often meets us in the simple act of showing up. How can you be a reed that is not easily bent by the wind? I recently changed my membership from Grace Lutheran Church on Long Island to Advent Lutheran Church in Manhattan. This has been a transition with many mixed feelings. I made difficult choices rooted in love. This week, I rode the train from Long Island to Manhattan to my new congregation and spent the afternoon helping them build a life-size jukebox for their children’s Christmas pageant. Helping the children cut shapes, figure out how to make it stand on its own, and imagining laughter and music filling the sanctuary may have seemed like small acts, but offering my time and art to the Church brought me genuine joy. A real, quiet, steady joy. Not everything has to be about making a profit or achieving something big. Sometimes joy is just choosing to show up humbly, offering God the gifts you already carry. Sometimes joy is saying, “Here I am. Use me.” Joy is also about making decisions rooted in love, showing up with humility, and trusting that God is at work—even when we can’t see the whole picture. This week's reflection questions are: What moments help you notice a quiet kind of joy during your day? What is one way you could share your gifts this week—your kindness, creativity, or time—to help someone? John the Baptist didn’t care about being fancy—he cared about doing what was right. What does “success” look like for our family this Advent?

13. 

    1 Dec 2025

    Starting with Scripture: Questioning is Holy

    The Holy Gospel according to Matthew 3:1-12. Glory to you, Oh Lord. 3 In those days John the Baptist came, preaching in the wilderness of Judea 2 and saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near." 3 This is he who was spoken of through the prophet Isaiah: "A voice of one calling in the wilderness, 'Prepare the way for the Lord, make straight paths for him.'" 4 John's clothes were made of camel's hair, and he had a leather belt around his waist. His food was locusts and wild honey. 5 People went out to him from Jerusalem and all Judea and the whole region of the Jordan. 6 Confessing their sins, they were baptized by him in the Jordan River. 7 But when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming to where he was baptizing, he said to them: "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath? 8 Produce fruit in keeping with repentance. 9 And do not think you can say to yourselves, 'We have Abraham as our father.' I tell you that out of these stones God can raise up children for Abraham. 10 The ax is already at the root of the trees, and every tree that does not produce good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. 11 “I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me comes one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. 12 His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor, gathering his wheat into the barn and burning up the chaff with unquenchable fire." This is the Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, O Christ. When I first read this Gospel, the theme that leapt out at me wasn't the wilderness, or the fire, or even repentance. It was questioning authority. I know—that doesn't always sound like "Advent material." But maybe it is. I don't mean rebellion for rebellion's sake. I mean the courage to read, learn, and think critically. The courage to ask, Why is this rule here? Who decided this? What were they trying to protect? Who benefits? Who gets hurt? The courage to actually live the Gospel, not just recite it. John the Baptist embodies that kind of bravery. He walks away from the comforts of society and into the wilderness. He eats what the land provides. He dresses differently. He speaks differently. His very life becomes a question mark aimed at the Roman Empire and at religious leaders who have lost sight of compassion. John doesn't just question to be difficult; he questions to point people back to God. Back to justice. Back to humility. Back to life. I had a conversation recently where we said, "Questioning is holy." And I believe that more and more. It's brave to wonder about God. It's brave to wrestle with what's right and wrong. It's brave to ask the questions you were taught not to ask. Because repentance—the heart of this Gospel—isn't about shame. It's about turning around. Changing direction. Seeing differently. And in this passage, John is speaking directly to the Pharisees and Sadducees—religious leaders who had gone so far in their pursuit of righteousness that they ended up missing the point. They protected the law more fiercely than they protected life. Into that world, John stands in the Jordan and announces that someone greater is coming—One who will baptize not only with water, but with the Holy Spirit. With a power that transforms, heals, and clears away whatever keeps us from love. Maybe that's the Advent message after all: Prepare your heart by asking the brave questions. Turn toward the one who brings fire and Spirit, truth and mercy. And trust that wondering—even questioning—is part of the holy path that leads us to Christ. This week's reflection questions are What are small ways we can live differently during Advent to make space for Jesus? What is one question about God, the Bible, or life that you've been afraid to ask? What helps your heart feel peaceful or open to God?

14. 

    25 Nov 2025

    Starting with Scripture: Stay Awake

    The Holy Gospel according to Matthew 24:36-44. Glory to you, O Lord. 36 "But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. 37 As it was in the days of Noah, so it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. 38 For in the days before the flood, people were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, up to the day Noah entered the ark; 39 and they knew nothing about what would happen until the flood came and took them all away. That is how it will be at the coming of the Son of Man. 40 Two men will be in the field; one will be taken and the other left. 41 Two women will be grinding with a hand mill; one will be taken and the other left. 42 "Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. 43 But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. 44 So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him. This is the Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, O Christ. Jesus says, "But about that day and hour no one knows… so keep watch." I read this passage a few times, wondering: What does it mean to talk about the second coming on the first Sunday of Advent? Why begin the church year here, with such urgency, with the promise that Christ will return "at an hour we do not expect"? Advent always begins with prophecy—God's big, sweeping promises about the future. This Gospel is part of that rhythm. It's the moment where Jesus speaks honestly about the last day, the day of judgment, the day when He will come again to heal, renew, and make all things right. It sounds frightening at first. I find myself asking: What if I'm not ready? What if I'm too imperfect, too messy, too meek, too human? But the more I sit with this text, the more I realize something important: Jesus is not calling us to fear. He's calling us to live awake—to live connected to God, grounded in love, attuned to the world around us. Being "prepared" isn't about perfection. It isn't about tallying up our flaws or anxiously watching the sky. It's definitely not about judging each other. In Scripture, readiness always looks like: living a life of faith, love, and service loving God and loving our neighbor caring for the sick and the lonely feeding the hungry choosing peace when violence feels easier making room for grace every single day And yes, Jesus talks about repentance. That word "repentance" has carried a lot of anxiety for me. Maybe for you, too. But repentance isn't about shame. It's about turning toward God, again and again, even when we feel sloppy or small. It's about noticing where we are hurting ourselves or others—and then gently choosing another way. So I find myself asking this week: What do I need to turn away from? Where is God inviting me to turn toward love? And after God forgives me—how can I practice forgiving myself? This is how we begin Advent: Not with fear, but with awake hearts, ready to receive Christ—in the final coming, and in all the small, surprising ways he arrives every day.

15. 

    18 Nov 2025

    Starting with Scripture: Father, Forgive Them

    The Holy Gospel according to Luke 23:33–43. Glory to you, O Lord. 33 When they came to the place called the Skull, they crucified him there, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. 34 Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” And they divided up his clothes by casting lots. 35 The people stood watching, and the rulers even sneered at him. They said, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is God’s Messiah, the Chosen One.” 36 The soldiers also came up and mocked him. They offered him wine vinegar 37 and said, “If you are the king of the Jews, save yourself.” 38 There was a written notice above him, which read: THIS IS THE KING OF THE JEWS. 39 One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: “Aren’t you the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” 40 But the other criminal rebuked him. “Don’t you fear God,” he said, “since you are under the same sentence? 41 We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong.” 42 Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” 43 Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” This is the Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, O Christ. This week’s gospel takes us to one of the most challenging and sacred moments in Scripture: the cross. Usually, I illustrate Jesus in modern settings with contemporary clothing, but I’ve been struggling with that this time. Jesus, being tortured on the cross, was essentially naked. If we tried to modernize that scene, it would be like depicting Jesus with minimal clothing on an electric chair. Just saying that brings the reality of what he endured into sharper focus for me. It’s hard enough for adults to grasp—so how do we show that to children? For this piece, I decided to keep the illustration in its ancient setting. We’re familiar with the crucifixion in that context, and here on Patreon, I want to honor how horrific it truly was and how desensitized we’ve become to its gravity. It’s a heavy passage. I didn’t expect to sit with this right before Advent—and yet, here we are. Standing at the foot of the cross, everything looks like loss. People are mocking, soldiers are gambling, and two others are suffering beside him. Nothing here looks powerful or kingly. And still, in the middle of all this pain, Jesus does the most unexpected thing: he forgives. “Father, forgive them…” Even now. Even here. I struggle with forgiving others every single day. And here is Jesus saying, “Father, forgive them…” In my Intro to Biblical Greek class last night, we discovered that the grammar suggests he didn’t say it just once, but over and over. He kept saying, again and again, “Father, forgive them…” Even one of the criminals hanging on the cross beside Jesus jeered. I was moved when the other criminal said, “Don’t you fear God?” he said, “Since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong. Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus answered him, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” This passage is so powerful. It reminds me of the prayer of confession from church, where we ask for forgiveness for our sins both known and unknown. Jesus’ love is limitless—so wide that it stretches even over the people hurting him, even over the ones who don’t understand what they are doing, even over us on our hardest days. At the cross, Jesus shows a kind of courage that doesn’t look like strength as the world defines it. It’s not forceful or loud. It’s mercy. It’s tenderness. It’s a refusal to let violence have the final word. His forgiveness doesn’t erase the harm, but it transforms the moment with love instead of retaliation. As we enter this week, I wonder with you: • Where in my life am I being invited to forgive, even if the forgiveness feels slow, imperfect, or repeated like Jesus’ prayer? • When faced with hurt or conflict, what would it look like to respond with love instead of reacting with harm? • How can I practice non-violence in my daily choices—in my words, my tone, my posture, my presence? May this gospel remind us that choosing love is not weakness, and forgiving is not forgetting, but both are ways of staying close to the heart of Jesus, whose mercy reshapes the world one act at a time.

16. 

    9 Nov 2025

    Starting with Scripture: Love Outlasts Stones

    The Holy Gospel according to Luke 21:5-19. Glory to you, oh Lord. 5 Some of his disciples were remarking about how the temple was adorned with beautiful stones and with gifts dedicated to God. But Jesus said, 6 “As for what you see here, the time will come when not one stone will be left on another; every one of them will be thrown down.” 7 “Teacher,” they asked, “when will these things happen? And what will be the sign that they are about to take place?” 8 He replied: “Watch out that you are not deceived. For many will come in my name, claiming, ‘I am he,’ and, ‘The time is near.’ Do not follow them. 9 When you hear of wars and uprisings, do not be frightened. These things must happen first, but the end will not come right away.” 10 Then he said to them: “Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. 11 There will be great earthquakes, famines and pestilences in various places, and fearful events and great signs from heaven. 12 “But before all this, they will seize you and persecute you. They will hand you over to synagogues and put you in prison, and you will be brought before kings and governors, and all on account of my name. 13 And so you will bear testimony to me. 14 But make up your mind not to worry beforehand how you will defend yourselves. 15 For I will give you words and wisdom that none of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict. 16 You will be betrayed even by parents, brothers and sisters, relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death. 17 Everyone will hate you because of me. 18 But not a hair of your head will perish. 19 Stand firm, and you will win life. This is the Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, oh Christ. At first glance, this week’s gospel feels like a tough one to talk about with kids. Jesus sounds like he’s warning us about the end of everything—the temple falling down, wars breaking out, even friends turning against one another. It’s a lot. But if we listen closely, I think Jesus is inviting us to notice something deeper: what really lasts. The disciples are admiring the beauty of the temple—its strong stones, its glittering gifts—and Jesus reminds them that even the most beautiful buildings won’t last forever. What will last is the love and courage we carry inside us. There will be hard times, Jesus says. People will fight, get scared, and sometimes forget how to be kind. But in all of that, he tells us not to be afraid. “Make up your mind not to worry beforehand,” he says, because he will give us the wisdom and words we need. That’s a promise worth holding onto. Maybe this isn’t a story about the world falling apart, but about how to stay grounded when everything feels uncertain. About remembering that God’s love can’t be torn down like stones. So I wonder with you this week: What do we hold onto when everything else feels shaky? How can we help one another stand firm in love? Where do we see Jesus giving us courage and wisdom today? May this gospel remind us that even in chaos or change, God’s love holds steady. Though stones may fall, not one bit of love is ever lost.

17. 

    3 Nov 2025

    Starting with Scripture: The Question About the Resurrection

    The Holy Gospel according to Luke 20:27-38. Glory to you, oh Lord. 27 Some Sadducees, those who say there is no resurrection, came to him 28 and asked him a question: “Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. 29 Now there were seven brothers; the first married a woman and died childless; 30 then the second 31 and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. 32 Finally the woman also died. 33 In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her.” 34 Jesus said to them, “Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage, 35 but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. 36 Indeed, they cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection. 37 And the fact that the dead are raised Moses himself showed, in the story about the bush, where he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. 38 Now he is God not of the dead but of the living, for to him all of them are alive." This is the Gospel of the Lord. Praise to you, oh Christ. So last night I read the Gospel passage while I was super tired—and let’s be honest, I don’t do my best thinking at night. But I woke up still thinking about it. At first, I was like: Wait, what? This widow marrying one brother after another, after another... and still remaining childless? It just felt so strange. I thought, how do we even begin to explain this to children? Or how do we talk about it as a family? I decided to just sleep on it. And I’m glad I did—because I do my best thinking in the morning. ☀️ When I revisited the passage, I remembered that in antiquity, widows couldn’t survive on their own. They didn’t own land. They didn’t have animals. They didn’t have a way to provide for themselves. Marriage wasn’t just a personal choice—it was a way of securing safety and survival. So what this family was doing—each brother marrying the widow in turn—was protecting her. That’s what the system was for. But then Jesus comes along and says: That kind of system won’t exist in the resurrection. In God’s future, no one will be forced into marriage just to survive. No one will need to rely on a structure like that to be safe. And I thought—wow. That’s good news. That’s something we can talk about with kids and families. We can ask: What are other systems today that are meant to protect us, but sometimes become oppressive? What things exist now that won’t be needed in the world God is creating? Some things I thought of this morning: borders, passports, and documentation. These things are often framed as protection. But they can also become tools of exclusion and harm. Just like the marriage structure back then. So I think this Gospel invites us to wonder together: What kind of world is God calling us toward? What systems will fall away in the resurrection? And how can we start imagining and embodying that freedom now? Tomorrow, I’ll post more reflection questions to go along with this. But in the meantime—if anything comes to mind for you, let me know in the comments: What’s something that’s used for both protection and oppression today?

18. 

    27 Oct 2025

    Starting with Scripture: Jesus and Zacchaeus

    Luke 19:1-10 Jesus and Zacchaeus 19 He entered Jericho and was passing through it. 2 A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. 3 He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. 4 So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. 5 When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.” 6 So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. 7 All who saw it began to grumble and said, “He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner.” 8 Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” 9 Then Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he, too, is a son of Abraham. 10 For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.” Luke 19:1–10 — Jesus and Zacchaeus This week’s Gospel tells the story of Zacchaeus, a man who wanted to see Jesus but couldn’t because of the crowd. So he did something bold—he ran ahead and climbed a tree just to catch a glimpse. When Jesus saw him, He called Zacchaeus by name and said, “Hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today.” Everyone around began to grumble—“He has gone to be the guest of a sinner!” But Jesus saw something deeper. He looked past Zacchaeus’s reputation and into his heart. And Zacchaeus responded with honesty and change: “Half of my possessions I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone, I will pay back four times as much.” What strikes me most is how Jesus meets Zacchaeus where he is—up in that tree, curious and imperfect—and calls him by name. He doesn’t shame him. He simply invites him into relationship. It reminds me of my time working in Human Resources. Part of my job was to review people’s backgrounds, and sometimes their histories included convictions of major crimes. I always tried to see the person behind the record. I’d call them, listen to their story, and consider whether they were ready for a second chance. I remember one man who was living in a shelter because so many employers had turned him away. I gave him an opportunity in a role where he could thrive—in a place that would not put him at risk to himself or others — and a year later, he came back to thank me. I’ll never forget that moment. Like Zacchaeus, we are all more than our past. Jesus looks at us and sees possibility, not perfection. How can we be more like Jesus in our everyday lives? How can we offer others grace instead of judgment? And how has someone offered us that same kindness when we needed it most?

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