- 1 Kings 17: 10-16
- Psalms 146: 7,8-9, 9-10
- Hebrews 9: 24-28
- Mark 12: 38-44
- Give that you may receive
- How has God supplied your needs during tough times?
- It's often difficult to tell our wants from our needs. How have you made that distinction?
- Where do you think that our dreams/aspirations come from?
- How can God honor, even celebrate those dreams if we are giving ourselves away?
- You new in town?
- Conflict has made refugees out of so many in our day and age. People displaced are at a natural disadvantage because they have no support network.
- Displacement can happen from any sort of loss: a loved one, a job, the gradual loss of our health as we age, even something as natural as a good friend moving away can leave us feeling cut off.
- Do you know anyone who is displaced?
- How can we be better at being God's presence to them?
- It's all in what it's not
- It's said that in eternity, all moments in time are equally accessible. If that's true, then each celebration of Eucharist is an invitation into eternity as we enter into that eternal unbloody sacrifice, not to offer it over, as though the first time were not enough, but to bring ourselves back to that central reality of our faith.
- How might we become more Eucharistic in our daily lives?
- How might we better live a life that is, itself, a manifestation of God's continuing Presence?
- Trust is so hard
- Jesus rejoiced in that widow's faith because she gave to God before she saw to her own needs. Do you ever wonder how things turned out for her?
- How do we authentically celebrate the fact that everything that we have is of God, and belongs to Him before it ever comes into our hands, while we have these blessings, and after we give them away?
- What can we do to make that detachment from this earth easier?
- Am I willing to be bold in prayer about the desires that God has planted in my heart?
- Am I sensitive to the displace around me?
- How am I a tabernacle of Jesus here on earth?
- How am I growing in trust to God?
Making sense of my cents
My husband Jacob was so good to me for so many years.
He worked so hard in his tailor shop to put bread on the table
Keep a roof over our heads, and yet so full of laughter.
The neighborhood children would come by the house,
And no one could tell whether it was for my cooking or his stories,
Either way, the house was always full of noise, and running feet.
We could never have children of our own, and yet,
Yet Jacob treasured me, treated me with loving kindness,
And opened his heart in other ways, along different paths.
I still miss you Jacob. When you died, a big part of me died too.
But Yahweh has been my comfort, now as always.
Only now, there is so little else in my life, Yahweh stands out more than ever.
This temple was built by that oppressor Herod,
But I know that something of Solomon, Moses and Aaron are in these courts.
Even Herod cannot break the continuity of thousands of years of history.
God has been faithful to all of us, and especially to me all these years.
Soon I will be gathered to my ancestors, to you Jacob.
The only thing standing between me and starvation is here in my hand.
Two copper coins, enough for a loaf of barley bread, and then it's over.
It's not much to live on, but it's enough to give away.
To let God know that I trust Him with my life, all of it, past present, future.
I'll not blow a horn at my generosity, nor herald my gift.
My humble trust doesn't compare to these lavish offerings of the rich.
But it is all that I have to offer, all that's left of me in this old world.
Now I'm officially destitute, and yet I feel free.
Nothing separates me from God, everything I have, I'm wearing.
Lord, you have always befriended the widow and the orphan, tend me now.
Let me persevere until you call me home,
Let me keep my eyes ever on you.
And tell my dear Jacob that I'm coming soon.
Shalom!
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