Matthew 21:23-32

so, today at 4 i preached this sermon at CHURCH. i figured i would post it. as a disclaimer, i'd like to mention that throughout the week i had a few ideas that i wanted to express in my sermon today (though thankfully i had not written it out) and many of those thoughts were in father jeff's sermon at st. mark's episcopal church. due to this, i shifted gears and wrote something rather different in regards to the text. i don't know if many would interpret it from this perspective, so be forewarned that it may seem a little strange.

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After looking at today's gospel text, I think plenty of people have the tendency to use this to attack the chief priests and elders. While I think this exchange between them and Jesus does leave a sting, or maybe warrants someone saying "BURN" at the end of it, we have to remember that in reading it, we should humble ourselves so as not to believe we are above the chief priests and elders in our understanding of God. (Note: "Burn" in the "you just got told" way, not as a way of saying "burn in hell." The inflection of my voice made this obvious, but to a reader, it may not be.)

Jesus asks the chief priests and elders a stumper, a question that leaves them arguing for an answer. The question Jesus asks is, "Did the baptism of John come from heaven, or was it of human origin?" They argue, noting, "If we say 'from heaven' he will say to us, 'why then did you not believe him?' but if we say 'of human origin' we are afraid of the crowd; for they all regard John as a prophet." So, they answered Jesus, "We do not know."

This exchange is important. When put in a tricky situation, the chief priests and elders don't want to be wrong, so they argue. They try their best to come up with an answer that proves everyone wrong and themselves right, but see flaws in all of their arguments. Finally, in what had to be incredibly humbling to the chief priests and elders, they answer: "We do not know."

I think we can learn a lot from the chief priests and elders, a lesson in reminding us of how we often handle problems ourselves. We disagree with other people in the Body of Christ and so we argue. We try to come up with a way to be right, and prove others wrong. Sometimes we find flaws in our arguments, so maybe we proof-text to make our opinions more "right." Or, maybe we want to say something, but are afraid of the crowd. Maybe the crowd regards one view correctly, so in fear, we hold our tongue. We may even hold our tongue when it comes to something serious. Maybe when we have the opportunity to fight against social injustice, we look to the crowd and see that they have a different agenda. So we stay silent.

But then, we have to come to one realization. After all of our banter, our arguing, our searching, and our fighting for our huge desire to be right, one thing hits us -- "We do not know." We have to say it. We do not know. There are plenty of times we are asked spiritual questions that are a mystery. We even proclaim and celebrate the mystery of faith. Why then to we often push mystery away in search of answers? We seek to be above others in our understanding of things, creating our own sort of intellectual hierarchy. I believe we are all guilty of that.

Though it probably isn't the most preached message on this text, I would encourage you to think of how often you are a chief priest or elder. I've certainly relaized how often I play that role and arrogantly put myself into theological exchanges that I pray result in me being right and my adversary being wrong. It is a sad state that humanity is in, with it's dislike for humility. It was present in the attitudes of the chief priests and elders, and still exists today in myself and others.

And how does Jesus respond to this attitude? He reminds us that the tax collectors and prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of those with that attitude. Maybe we are not rewarded for the theological debates we win, but the times in which we humble ourselves before God and finally, and plainly say, "We do not know."

Matthew 20.1-16

The Rev. Ashley Davis
Pentecost 19+, A
21 September 2008
Matthew 20.1-16

Ok kids, its story time with Jesus again. Not those nice little stories your parents told you before bed. Nope these are parables, they all have some deeply disturbing element to them. I mean they aren’t like camp fire stories that scare the crap out of you. But…they all make you think really hard about yourself and about God with the hopes of turning the world upside-down, but they don’t always illustrate some “logical” point. Maybe that’s why Jesus is my homeboy, screw logic.

So…our parable starts out with a nice simile…the kingdom of heaven is like a land owner. The kingdom of heaven here does not mean “going to heaven.” The kingdom of heaven is the kingdom of God. We see, as in many other place in Matthew, a head on collision of collider proportion with God’s world and our world, and a time to chose which world you live in here and now. So again, the kingdom of heaven is compared to a landowner. How the heck do you compare a sort of place or kind of living with a person?

Moving on, this landowner goes out early in the morning in the traditional way to find workers for the vineyard. He selects a few of the best looking workers. We would assume the strongest looking people with the most experience and skills. They make an oral agreement to work for him for a days wage or a denarius. This denarius a day would barely sustain a family. The landowner goes out again at 9 o’clock and gets more workers. He says simply that he will pay them, “whatever is right.” The question what is right is raised, but no answer is given. Amazingly, they trust his sense of justice and work for him without really knowing what they will get paid. This all happened again at 12 and 3 and 5. In the closing scenes, all the middle groups mysteriously vanish, and we are left to deal with only the first and the last. The foremen is told to pay the last ones first and then pay the rest. Apparently, it was intended that those chosen first would see what the others were paid? Of course, those who were hired first assume that fairness demands that they will receive more.

To Jesus’s original audience, as this scene began they could definitely identify with what was going on. Jesus didn’t say the kingdom of heaven is like a meeting of the Sanhedrin, he said the kingdom of heaven is like something that takes place every day as people try to get paid for working in a grape field. Everywhere people looked, there were freaking grape fields, not that I was there. He had them hooked, but as the story went on I am assuming his original audience became disconcerted. Why did the rich landowner go out again and again to the market place? Some translations call this guy a farmer. I don’t care what the Greek says, he is not a farmer, no farmer spends that much time not at the farm. He’s more add than sams with a paint brush. He isn’t picking anything but people. Why didn’t he send his manager to the market place? Why didn’t he get enough workers in the first couple of trips? The people who slept in still got a full days pay. I thought the early bird got the worm. The original audience had to have been outraged alongside those picked first, they too would have seen that equal pay for equal work was only fair.

What do we do with all this? How can we relate to this story? For some of us who stood by day workers in Gaithersburg, Maryland, as they tried to find jobs to feed their families, there is a definitely way in which we can relate to this story. Maybe you think back to playing kickball in school (ok I know I’m really old) and being chosen for teams. For any job or graduate school, we all stand in metaphorical lines waiting to be chosen. While some of us have had the experience of being around most of the day without being chosen, many more people in this room have been chosen first most of their lives. Whether it is because we have good genes, come from the right family, look the part, whatever. We can relate to wanting things to be fair too. We are taught from a very young age to play fair.

Will Willimon, bishop of the North Alabama conference, retold this parable in a way similar to this that maybe you all will be able to relate to even more. Let’s say each of you is in a difficult math class, but the teacher says she wants all of you to receive an a and your are like ha. You are given a particularly hard problem that you are supposed to work on all semester for you final grade. Half way through the semester, a few students, have been working this whole time pretty diligently on the problem. In saga one day, another student in the class walks up to you and says hey do you have that question I need to start on it. You are like, omg, I’ve been working on that for like two months now he will never make it. You give him the question anyway and are like good luck. You continue to work through the rest of the semester. The night before the test, another classmate calls you and asks for the questions, you just laugh at this poor girl and give her the question anyway. The next day you turn in your problem, and the teacher says great job, you get an a. You wait around to see what happens, the person who started in the middle of the semester gets an a too and then thanks the teacher for all the times she stayed after class to help him. The person who called you the night before the test comes up, and to your surprise gets an a as well and apologizes to the teacher for her roommate cursing her out in the middle of the night when she showed up at the dorm because they had never had a teacher come to their dorm room before to help with homework. Of course you are enraged, and tell the teacher that isn’t fair, I didn’t get any help. She says I told you I wanted everyone to get a’s, you didn’t need the help.

So now that you can relate, what are you supposed to get out of the enigma?

The Kingdom of heaven is like a landowner…If it can possible be and it must be Jesus says so, then the kingdom of heaven must be about bringing everyone into the vineyard. I know you are shocked but this parable is about inclusivity. Everyone gets to come in. Those who get up early and work hard, those who party hard and sleep through the alarm clock, those who seem to have no skills, who others would call lazy when maybe it is just that no one has hired them, who are still hanging around at 5 o’clock smoking cigarettes they can’t afford only because they don’t want to go home to explain to their significant other that they didn’t get work again today. The kingdom of heaven is a place where everyone is given what they need, not what they want, not what they think is fair in comparison to the person beside them, but what they need.

We talk a lot about helping to bring in the kingdom of heaven. We talk a lot about inclusivity. We still have a ways to go. We ought to be out of this building so much seeking other people to bring into the kingdom that people don’t think we are members of the Wesley at all. In bringing in the kingdom, we have to work to alleviate the needs of those in our community. Sure we attempt to build wheelchair ramps, but there are people right here among us who have needs that we have not ministered to. Some need a kind word, a hug, or just someone to listen to them.

So that we don’t get too down on ourselves, we are not God, we are merely participants in helping to bring about God’s kingdom. In the end, it really makes the most sense to see this landowner as God. This picture of God is one of a very hands on God, not sending someone else out, but God going out to find us. Each and everyone one of us (I mean there is still free will, some could have not come to the market place, some could have gone home). God is merciful and full of grace, making sure that each of us have not what we deserve but what we need.

Often times we are the first chosen, we work long and hard, and are resentful of the grace given to those who have not worked as hard as us. Was our being chosen first fair in the first place? Wasn’t there grace in that? More times than not we need to realize that we are all really more like the last chosen stragglers. We don’t really have the skills or the body type that people are looking for, maybe we have a ridiculous amount of hope. Or maybe we are just hanging out for all the wrong reasons. God still chooses us to be workers and sees to our daily needs.

The story of the good employer gives us a good picture of the resentment of grace given to others by those who have worked long and hard themselves. We need to begin to realize that our whole lives are a gracious gift from God. Our work is our thankful response to our creator’s wonderful love. It is our sideways competitive glance that is killing us. We reject grace as we try to justify ourselves. Let us remember God’s gracious acts in this time of communion and beyond. With thankful hearts let us work for God’s kingdom, making sure that all are without need. Amen.

Matthew 18.21-35

Anna Tew
Pentecost 18+, A
14 September 2008
Matthew 18.21-35

Apparently, we are supposed to forgive each other.

It often seems to me that we are vindictive from childhood. Now, I want to say that it is a learned behavior to always want retribution. When I was a child, for example, I’d often complain to my dad that my brother hit me, and the response would come quickly: “Well, don’t be a wuss, hit him back.” Still, these behaviors are not always learned in children either. I doubt that most of us were taught to hit the other children on the playground back, or to go and tattle immediately when someone stole our cookie. It seems almost inherent in us: we want justice when we are wronged.

As some of you know, I did my senior thesis last year on the subject of hell. Now, whatever your theological opinions on the reality (or nonreality) of hell, I found that most peoples throughout history started with a view of the afterlife that did not include punishments for the wicked or rewards for the good. Remember the Disney cartoon, Hercules? In that cartoon there is a depiction of Hades’ underworld realm. Everyone goes there – good and bad alike – to spin in a little pool of souls. The Hebrew sheol, or grave, is much the same way. Everyone goes there when they die. After awhile, however, views of the afterlife begin to change. People can’t seem to take the notion that everyone will end up in the same place, especially when bad people on earth are not always punished. So, slowly, our philosophies about what happens after death evolve to form punishments and rewards.

In short, we want justice. People need to learn a lesson or two.

I’m kind of the same way. I mean, I don’t really want people to go to hell in any sense. But I can be pretty vindictive. I spend most mornings in Atlanta on a shuttle that runs from North Dekalb mall, near my apartment, to Emory University, where I attend seminary. There are mornings when it’s far far too early and I have a headache for whatever reason and my hair is doing all kinds of fun things and I’m being bounced mercilessly around this bus, trying to keep my coffee from spilling because if it spills I will surely die. Inevitably, there is some person standing close to me who is either, A) being really loud, B) has a huge bag and is hitting me with it, C) is stepping on my toes, or D) all of the above. And I’m usually sitting there trying to find a way to shove them out at the next stop without anyone noticing that they did not want to get off there.

Yes. There are times when we will get highly irritated with people, both those we know and those we don’t know. Sometimes, your roommate will have loud people over really late at night when you have a test the next day. Sometimes people will step on my toes on the bus. Sometimes the campus police will deem it necessary to block off a pretty important road on game day and create a huge… mess … that you have to help clean up. You want to go off on somebody. We want to yell at the next cop we see. I want to shove people off buses. You want to put ex-lax in your roommate’s soup when she leaves it on the stove.

And you know, it’s not all that hard to control most of those urges. You might speak your mind, but you’re not actually going to alter the chemical makeup of anyone’s soup so that it will have adverse effects on his or her digestive tract.

Sometimes offenses are more serious. Sometimes you are hurt, betrayed, or manipulated emotionally. Sometimes it’s a combination of all of those things. There are times when someone you trusted – a friend, a romantic partner, a parent – causes you immense pain that it takes years to erase. And it is perfectly natural to react in a number of ways. It’s natural to go through a cycle of reactions. Sometimes you’re just broken. Other times you deny that it happened. And sometimes you’re incredibly angry and you want justice.

But Jesus is smarter than that. Jesus has a better way.

Jesus knows that revenge only causes more pain. Jesus knows that to carry a grudge is to always be hurt. Jesus knows that you can give more to your immediate community and to the world if you can just let go.

And you know, Jesus also knows about your debt. It seems that Jesus knows that forgiveness is a difficult issue for us. So he breaks it down. He tells a story. In the story, there is a servant who owes a lot of money. Okay, a lot is an understatement. Basically, dude has borrowed money from his master for something like a few fleets of BMWs. Or twenty or so large condos in Los Angeles. Or both. I mean, Jesus uses an outrageous amount of money. Anyway, his master is ready to do away with the guy and sell him and his family into slavery because there is no way any of them is going to live long enough to see this debt paid off. But the servant begs and pleads with his master. Give me time! I’ll pay everything. Now, the master knows that that is impossible. But Jesus says that the master took pity on him. He lets him go. Jesus simply says that he canceled the debt.

Now, I’m going to use my supreme sense of allegory to say that this first servant is, you know, us. None of us can even begin to pay back God for all that God has done for us. Nor can we make it up to God for all the stupid things we’ve done in God’s sight. Nor can we do enough to make up for everything left undone because of opportunities we’ve lost. Jesus knows that. But he canceled the debt.

In the same way, we’ve all been forgiven by people for doing dumb things. We’ve hurt and betrayed and manipulated people, too. But many of those debts have also been canceled. So the good news about this forgiveness thing is that it’s a two way street. Jesus didn’t simply say “forgive” without reminding us that we too have been forgiven. Jesus says to forgive because we’ve been forgiven.

On Tuesday, I attended chapel at Candler, and the man who preached on this text there brought up an important point besides these obvious ones that I have mentioned. What are we supposed to tell those people in our churches and communities who are repeatedly hurt by someone? What re you supposed to tell the child that is repeatedly sexually abused by a family member? What are you to tell the guy or girl in your class who keeps going back to an emotionally manipulative romantic partner? What are you supposed to tell the battered spouse to do about his or her abusive partner? What do you tell those who are constantly asked to give more and more pain? Simply to forgive as you have been forgiven?

This is where the “extras” in Jesus’ story come in. After the servant had been forgiven his great debt, he later sees another servant and violently demands that he be repaid a few dollars. He has him thrown in prison. This is where, Jesus says, the community responds. He says, “When the other servants saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and told their master everything…” This is where, when someone or some institution creates such an injustice to another person or group, it is the responsibility of the community to stand up and say NO. Whether it is a battered spouse, an abused child, those who are pushed off the city streets with nowhere else to go, or an entire group of people who has been labeled in a certain way and pronounced unordainable, it is the church’s responsibility to see injustices and to do something about them. We must act in a way that makes it possible to live in a community where everyone is loved, accepted, and forgiven.

We, apparently, are to love and forgive each other. We are also to act in such a way that facilitates a community of forgiveness and love and acceptance. We are to forgive petty offenses. We are to forgive huge hurts. We are to accept forgiveness. And we are also to know when it is time to stand up and say NO to injustices done to our brothers and sisters. And we are always to remember, first – that our debt has been canceled

Amen.

Hear what the Spirit is saying to God's people.

Borrowed from Susan Russell

Check out the lesson from Romans appointed (in the RCL) for this coming Sunday ... here from The Message.

Romans 14:1-12

Welcome with open arms fellow believers who don't see things the way you do. And don't jump all over them every time they do or say something you don't agree with—even when it seems that they are strong on opinions but weak in the faith department. Remember, they have their own history to deal with. Treat them gently.

For instance, a person who has been around for a while might well be convinced that he can eat anything on the table, while another, with a different background, might assume he should only be a vegetarian and eat accordingly. But since both are guests at Christ's table, wouldn't it be terribly rude if they fell to criticizing what the other ate or didn't eat? God, after all, invited them both to the table. Do you have any business crossing people off the guest list or interfering with God's welcome? If there are corrections to be made or manners to be learned, God can handle that without your help.

Or, say, one person thinks that some days should be set aside as holy and another thinks that each day is pretty much like any other. There are good reasons either way. So, each person is free to follow the convictions of conscience.

What's important in all this is that if you keep a holy day, keep it for God's sake; if you eat meat, eat it to the glory of God and thank God for prime rib; if you're a vegetarian, eat vegetables to the glory of God and thank God for broccoli. None of us are permitted to insist on our own way in these matters. It's God we are answerable to—all the way from life to death and everything in between—not each other. That's why Jesus lived and died and then lived again: so that he could be our Master across the entire range of life and death, and free us from the petty tyrannies of each other.

So where does that leave you when you criticize a brother? And where does that leave you when you condescend to a sister? I'd say it leaves you looking pretty silly—or worse. Eventually, we're all going to end up kneeling side by side in the place of judgment, facing God. Your critical and condescending ways aren't going to improve your position there one bit. Read it for yourself in Scripture:

"As I live and breathe," God says,
"every knee will bow before me;
Every tongue will tell the honest truth
that I and only I am God."

So tend to your knitting. You've got your hands full just taking care of your own life before God.

This is the Word of God for the People of God.Thanks be to God

7 September 2008

Joseph P. Mathews, OSL
Pentecost 17+, A
7 September 2008
Mt. 18.15-20 (Rom. 13.8-14)

In the name of the God in whom we live, and move, and have our being. Amen.

Many of you are familiar with the button that I usually wear on my shirts and jackets on the right side. It says, “Peace is the church’s business” with a peace cross under it. While I’m not wearing it today – it seems to have been misplaced in the shuffle of wedding clothing and location changes with my wallet – I did have it on Friday afternoon at my brother’s wedding rehearsal. My cousin Seth, after I explained my reasons for wearing it said jokingly that he was offended. My simple response was that the Gospel is offensive.

And, beloved, within our context of this gathered community I think that there are some things in this Gospel text that are offensive to some hears, or might be if applied directly as Jesus speaks to those around him then and now. I considered talking about this passage as a series of three points the way my mother expects all good sermons to be constructed, but upon furthered and continued reflection I know that those are not words that are to be spoken today, although I really wrestled with exactly what those words were.

In our Gospel text today, Jesus gives us a three-point plan for handling disagreements in the community known as church. Hear my phrasing there again while think about the horrid song “We Are the Church”: Jesus gives us a three-point plan for handling disagreements in the community known as church. This emphasis on community – and not individuality – is hammered home by the conclusion of the Gospel text today, “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.”

The post-resurrection writer of this Gospel ascribed to St. Matthew would have known about the various and sundry issues causing strife in the Matthian church – the church over which Matthew would’ve been leader. This manual for maintaining community standards was a way to keep the people of the community in harmony, and in addition to the levels of trying to reprove a sibling, these three steps dealt with the seriousness of issues – major schism making offenses would’ve almost certainly wound up before the whole of the community.

This is instructions for, in plainest terms, church discipline – the maintenance of community standards for the good of the Church, and it doesn’t end very nicely, “If the offender refuses to listen even to the church, let such a one be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector.” Matthew – the most Jewish of the Gospels – uses this language to say that when someone is in clear violation of the will, standards, and principles of the community the church community is to wash their hands and kick the dust of their feet. It’s harsh words that are meant to be harsh: the Church hearing this originally was young and schism was breaking various churches apart from the moment of the resurrection. The only way to preserve this new group of Jews and Gentiles following Jesus as Messiah was to keep the community together without personal petty conflicts – or heretical, schismatic ideas – was to have a form of discipline and way to expel people from the body.

It is important to note, however, that it’s not a single member that calls for the expulsion of a member or two members or three members from the body. Before that step was taken, an individual, two additional individuals, and finally the whole church community must have first spoken to them. Before moving to the end of this text, I implore you not to hear that God is a vending machine whose buttons can be pressed if two people (or more) are pushing them. This requirement of more people is part and parcel of what is really the crux of this text: community. Jesus again underscores that in the conclusion of this selection from the Gospel, “For where two or tree are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” Christ – and the early church mothers and fathers – didn’t intend for Christianity to be practiced in solitude. Full stop. Whether someone “believes in organized religion” or not, being together with others for the work and worship of Christ is part of this religion, and in the first century, it took the will of the community – bound together in tension of being human beings trying to do their best in the world – to expel members.

The New Revised Standard Version is what talks about treating those who will not bend to the will of the Church as “gentiles and tax collectors,” two groups that the thoroughly Jewish Matthian church would’ve despised in the first century. Despite it’s taking great liberties with the original text – by great I mean ignoring in favor of something more Easter friendly – I really prefer how The Message puts that verse: “If [that person] won’t listen, you’ll have to start over from scratch, confront [him or her] with the need for repentance, and offer God’s forgiving love.” Those two versions offer drastically different statements, but I think that while doing violence to the Greek The Message does not do violence to the meta-narrative of God’s relating God’s love to God’s creation.

Perhaps the gurus of the lectionary knew the abuses or failures of this three-tiered program of church disciplined applied out of its original historical context when they chose our Romans text for this selection from the Gospel. Hear again the words from Romans, “Owe no one anything, except to love one another for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The commandments…are summed up in this word, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.

We aren’t to be in community looking for reasons to expel people. Although this three-tiered system of church discipline was intended for use in the 1st C, it might well have some relevance as a system of governance now. If there is an issue with someone, maybe the person offended should take it up with that person. If there is no gain, maybe it should be taken to two others – here is the catch though: If two other stout brothers or sisters in the communal faith of Christianity won’t approach the person who has done “wrong,” the person who feels offended should let it go. Same for if two neutral people go with and the community as a whole doesn’t address it. Rather than continuing on with complaining or being passive aggressive or threatening to not boycott, the person who feels offended should take a deep breath and think…

Following the rabbi from Nazareth requires a tension in loving community. The nature of the religion requires community, despite whatever individualism Protestantism and Americanism have instilled into our beings. At the ultimate head of that community, though is that rabbi we’re all following. Crediumus in unum Dominum Jesum Christum – we believe in one Lord Jesus Christ, who is present with us when we – a group – gather in community. When we learn to acknowledge this belief in the Lordship of Christ for what it is we may more easily “start over from scratch, confront [him or her] with the need for repentance, and offer God’s forgiving love.”

Being in community requires putting ourselves aside – and our passions and factions aside. Hear the words we’ll be singing in just a few minutes but think about them in their relationship to being in community the Gospel requires and living in love as Saint Paul directs, “I come with Chistians far and near to find, as all are fed, the new community of love in Christ’s communion bread. As Christ breaks bread and bids us share, each proud division ends. The love that made us makes us one, and strangers now are friends…Together met, together bound, we’ll go our different ways, and as his people in the world, we’ll live and speak his praise.”

As we gather around this table – we practice an act of community in sharing a meal together. As we gather around this Altar we affirm our belief in Christ as Lord, who breaks bread with us and causes proud divisions to end. As we gather around this table we meet with one another to share in this feast. When we leave from this table, though, we remain bound, tied inexplicably with the entire body of the baptized. Whether we like them or not, we have to live in a community of love with them…or at least try. And as we go our separate ways – with those we like and don’t – we must do the work and the worship of the Holy and Triune God.

One who has ears – especially this preacher – let him or her hear. Amen.

this i believe.

i believe in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
i believe God loves those who are created by God unconditionally.
i believe that all are given the opportunity to be adopted into righteousness.
i believe in an all inclusive Church.

i am a heterosexual gay rights activist.
i am not ashamed of that.

i will love unconditionally, in the Christ-like agape way.
i will fight for justice on behalf of those who are oppressed.
i will embrace the notion that ALL means ALL.
i will extend my love past those that are like me.
i will love all races, genders, and sexualities.
i will not oppress those that are the "other."
i will not use the Bible to do violence to others.
i will love the unloved.
i will do everything in my power to do the work of the First and Second commandments.

... with God's help.

i have the tendency to fail.
i have the ability to pick myself up and fight again.

if i am silent when someone needs to speak,
if i sit down when i need to stand up,
if i am fearful when i need to be courageous --

forgive me, Lord.

this i believe.

--erin jean warde.