Do not let your hearts be troubled.

These are some of the last words spoken by Jesus to his disciples before he is crucified. The one who is about to die, comforting those left behind.

And this is not unique to Jesus. I have been privileged to be at the side of more than a few death beds. So often, the one who is about to take their last breath, uses it to comfort those who will continue that routine intake of breath.

Don’t worry. It will be ok. I will be fine; you will be fine. Do not let your heart be troubled.

All of these words of comfort speak the same thing: I love you.

“And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you out myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.”

John 14: 3

I remember when each of my children were born. I was so lucky in that they were mostly uncomplicated births. Immediately after being born, they were placed upon my chest, and I, to borrow from Jesus, took them to myself. I held, and loved, and cried, and felt my already expanded heart explode into a million pieces.

I can easily imagine God in this way, taking us to Godself. Holding, loving, tears of joy and wonder being shed, as each of us are born and as each of us return back to God.

“Held in Love” by Elaine Almond

This is my comfort, as I pray for those who, in these days, are dying without family to surround them. That they are not alone, but that they are held firmly upon the chest of Jesus, who waits to take them to himself. And that Jesus, whispers over and over to them, “Do not let your heart be troubled.”

Bacon and Beans: Sacred Waiting

I’ve had dry beans soaking for 23.5 hours now. Some pinto beans.

Dry beans, dry beans

A beer and some water cover the beans just to the top and I’ve been adding more in over the course of almost 24 hours to slack the thirst of those parched beans. I’ve had to add over 4 cups.

I pour the beans into a colander and let them drip while I add bacon pieces to a big stock pot on the stove. Heat that bad boy up and hear it sizzle and pop. My salivary glands wake-up as the smell of bacon fills the kitchen. I add some minced garlic and let it brown in the fat.

A few cups at a time I add the beans into the pot. And next some water- back up to the top of the beans. Season with herbs.

I drop the heat to a low simmer, give one last stir, and put on the lid.

And wait.

The beans will simmer for about 12 hours- all day, and will come off the heat tonight after dinner. An occasional stir here and there. Nothing else to do but wait.

And in the waiting, the aroma of the beans will fill the air and heighten the anticipation of a feast for later.

As we prepare for the sacred pause of Holy Week in the midst of coronavirus, we will encounter a layered waiting for resurrection. May the waiting bring new life and may the hope of the feast to come sustain us in the waiting.


Let’s do the Time Warp again….

To be honest- I don’t know my days. Not that this is a surprise to anyone who watches Pop-up Prayer, where I prove daily that I can’t seem to hold the day of the week in my mind.

But these coronavirus days have me all over the place. Not only can I not quite tell if I am in a Monday or a Thursday, but my sense of time is completely messed up as well. When each day is both a blink and an eternity, can the clock or calendar quite be trusted?

So I will say, I think this all started in early to mid march- when the migration home started. I know that March 15th was our last public worship, and that the 8th was our last Sunday Eucharist. And my children’s last day of school at school was the 13th, making March 2020 the longest month of my life (though rumor has it April showed up, though this won’t be confirmed until I hit publish).

And so, in both an exercise to both fill time and capture it, here comes the blog. Come for the time stamp, stay for the stories.

From The Rocky Horror Picture Show opening sequence

A prayer for the tired

Sleep is the best meditation- Dali Lama

Oh God of Rest, pillow my dreams as I rest my eyes from reality. Drape upon me the weight of slumber, heavy in my bones and deep in my muscle; relax my mind and shutter my lids.

Dog ear this day, to be picked up again tomorrow. For now, creator of stars and midnight shades of black, now is time for sleep.


“be swift to love and make haste to be kind.”

I recently posted on Facebook a simple sentence.

“I’ll marry you AND bake your cake.”

This was in response to, of course, the big question about whether or not Jesus loves cake.

And while I’m happy to talk about just how much Jesus loves cake, I was struck by one of the comments made.

“Ok so how do we make more of your kind and get rid of all those other evil religious types? Lol.”

What followed was a brief but great exchange (I blacked out the poster’s name only to respect that these comments were posted on Facebook and should remain there. Also, please note my typo in our exchange and bask in my humanity! Lastly, I really respect folks who are willing to have dialog and go deeper in vulnerable spaces life Facebook, where everyone can see what you write- I have gratitude for this person and the conversation we shared in a public space.)


The world would be a much better place if we talked more to people face to face. And I know I am better priest, mother, wife, friend, and human when I spend time with people with whom I have significant differences. And, because I have spent time with “these people” they cease to be “these people” and they become God’s people. And #Godspeoplearemypeople is always true in my heart, even if it can be difficult in my head. God’s people are my people.

“Relationship building is important now more than ever” to quote myself (and I’m sure many other people who have figured this out). “Meet face to face, break bread together, share more than what it is that you believe in.” And I’ll add here, “share who you are and love who they are: beloved children of God.”

To quote Henri-Frederic Amiel

“Life is short. We don’t have much time to gladden the hearts of those who walk this way with us. So, be swift to love and make haste to be kind.”

The Why and How of God’s love

If you were lucky, you caught the interview of Yo-Yo Ma by Krista Tippett.  You’re still lucky because here is a link.

I listened to this on my way to supply for a neighboring church while their priest was on vacation.

I had to scrap my original sermon and go with this [note, I don’t preach from manuscripts, so this has been paired down for blogging purposes].

“Yo-Yo Ma was born to Chinese parents in Paris.  He moved to the US as a young child.  His mother was Protestant and his dad Buddhist-ish .  Yo-yo says this made him, “basically Episcopalian.”  Given the cultural, language and religious mix of his younger years, he said that when he grew up he wanted to be “One who Understands.”

This struck a chord with me, as aren’t we all desiring to be “one who understands”?

Why are we here. Why do people do what they do, why do we do what we do and why does God do what God does.  Why, why, why to grasp further understanding.

Sadly for Yo-yo Ma and for us, the why is ever elusive. And personally, the moment it stops being fun to ponder, it becomes a waste of time.  Honestly.  I’m not all that interested in the why.


I am, however, deeply interested in the how. How are we to be? How are we to live?



It was wonderful to ponder this on a foggy early Sunday morning drive. Especially in light of the Gospel for that Sunday: the parable of the prodigal son.

Both sons, older and younger, were firmly entrenched in the why. Why are we here if not for our own pleasure? lives the younger son. Why forgive those who have done wrong? Believes the older.

But the father lives in the how. How to live? In compassion and love. How to love? With abandon, knowing that compassion and love are never depleted when they are employed; it is through exercising compassion and love that they abound and grow.

And I think this is true of God’s love.  God’s love is infinite.  There isn’t just so much of it, so you better be on your best behavior so you get some.

Rather, God’s love knows no ceasing.  And I think that one (one!) way IMG_4011 [196089]that we experience the love of God is by exercising the compassion and love we contain within ourselves. Which is hard.

Yes. Loving is hard. It’s hard in marriage, in friendship, in domestic and international political relationships, and even in the church.

And because loving is so difficult between us humans, it can be difficult to trust that God can love so easily. That God is like the father in the parable, who waits day after day to catch a glimpse of us at the horizon. Who runs to meet us. Who gathers us in God’s embrace before we can even open out mouth to ask for God’s love.

Perhaps it is time to let go of the why and time to start experiencing the how.

Because in our efforts to share with others compassion and love, I believe we will more easily experience and trust the love of that God of ours.


Vegas, baby!

I just got back from a weekend in Las Vegas.

I have 2 older sisters, and the middle one, Sara, was having a milestone birthday (no numbers Sara!) and wanted to do something fun. So a sisters+spouses Vegas trip was planned practically a year in advance: tickets were purchased, hotels were booked, and sitters for 5 kids in three states were arranged (thanks sitters!)

As the trip got closer I realized that we planned our trip during Lent.  And it was remarked to me: “Vegas during Lent should be interesting.”

And that really got me thinking.  What would it be like to go to “Sin City” during the season of Lent?


Look how crazy we were! The wildest we got on the Strip was with Bob and Stuart the Minions.

This was my first time going to Vegas, but if I had to guess, I would say that going during Lent is like going any other time of the liturgical year.

See, Vegas is an illusion. It is no more of a sin city than New York or Chicago or Houston. Certainly no more of a sin city than Cypress and only slightly more expensive.

Vegas is certainly flamboyant. And flashy. But “Sin City”?

There isn’t anything happening in Vegas that doesn’t happen everywhere else. Addiction. Prostitution. Excess upon excess. Despite the slogan, “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”, it’s all so out in the open there. Honestly, the secrecy and shame that exists beyond the Vegas zip code is more scary. We snub our noses at Vegas when we buy more food than we can eat and live in houses that are bigger than we need. I’m not saying that Vegas- and what happens there- is better than where we call home. I’m just saying it isn’t worse.

So Vegas in Lent? Not all that different than where I live to tell the truth.

Click Here to read about human trafficking in Houston.

Need help with addiction? Click Here


Making Lent Count

Lent is upon us and you good and faithful ones are posting your Lenten observances all over Facebook.

And I love this.

I love that my friends and families are being so public with their relationship with God and the church! And I love that you allow people to walk that journey with you- and that perhaps you may be inspired by the devotion of someone you know.

But I have to wonder, how much does your Lenten devotion nourish your spiritual life? Are you really wishing for God to work something new in you, or is it the same ol’ same ol’ Lenten practice?

Or to pose it this way: Is what you are giving up or taking on actually doing anything in your life?

sign up

click this picture to check out and to sign up

At St. Mary’s we are using a program out of England called 40Acts of Generosity to guide us in Lent.  It gives you prompts each day to dive into generosity- in sharing with others at the expense of yourself- as a way of growing closer to God and your community.  And each morning you are given three options to choose from: easy, medium and hard.


Exploring Lent through a lens of generosity and inconvenience, I am beginning to wonder if our Lenten disciplines have been set on easy for too long. Maybe it’s time for us to explore a medium or even hard route.

So for those of you giving up chocolate…maybe a way to dig in deeper would be to give chocolate to someone each day? Not just abstain yourself, but give with joy that which causes you to be tempted.

For those of you adding on giving up plastic water bottles for Lent…maybe also spend time each week picking up the littered bottles and trash that is all around us?

Ask yourself this: am I really challenging myself? Does this really stretch me? Does this practice really allow for God to change me?

Maybe giving up chocolate alone does.  But if it doesn’t, I can’t encourage you enough to be open to pushing yourself into a true place of temptation and challenge.

Performing for Jesus


Addison crying as she walked to her spot on the stage

It’s that time of the year again! School Christmas programs and pageants are all over the place, and the littlest among us are called (or pulled) up on stage to share with us the Joy of the season! And having just sat through my first Christmas program for my daughter Addison, I have been thinking about these displays of pageantry and song quite a bit.  And so I offer these few points of reflection as we as a church get ready for Christmas and Epiphany Pageants:

  1. Why are we doing this?  If it’s just to show mom and dad that their kids have learned some songs or if it is to display, “oh how cute!” these little ones are, then we should stop doing it- there is no liturgical point and the pageants don’t need to take place during church. However, if it is to open the eyes of the little ones and us bigger ones (yep, we are the bigger ones) to a new way of telling a familiar story or if it is used as an opportunity to allow the little ones to step into the role of teacher and leader- then yes please!
  2. What is our end goal?  I ask this question as both a parent and a priest.  What is our end goal of inviting the kids to partake in a few moments of “otherness” during a worship service?  Because kids don’t get that it is a rare moment and a “one time a year” thing in which they get to dress up like a sheep and bleet their little lungs out.  But if one of the end goals is to teach children who are made in God’s Image that they too belong in the church just as they are (or as a sheep) then I think we have to prepare ourselves for the less cute times….like in Lent during the prayer for Humble Access when that little one is still a sheep.  If it’s ok for a kid to be a kid during the pageant then it has to be ok for a kid to be a kid the rest of the liturgical year too. It sends unclear messages to children (and honestly, to their parents too) to only be “a little bit welcome” in church.  So go big and allow kids to be welcome in worship all of the time, not just when it’s cute.
  3. What can we learn? If we think that the only ones who can learn from a pageant is the kids, then we should probably stop doing them.  But if we can open ourselves to see beyond the cuteness and charm to what is being given to us by these young disciples, then we just might be transformed by the powerful message they give.  Not just the Christmas Story.  But the gift that comes from the joy and wonder from the young as they experience in new ways a story that isn’t old and familiar yet.  The gift that comes from wanting to share this new story and to share it abundantly.  The gift that comes from knowing without a doubt that they are loved by God. What a gift they offer us if we are willing to take it.


Addison Churchwell, age 3 Who said after her school Christmas Program, “That was fun!”


Lastly, I offer this.  Let them cry if they want.  Let them leave and come sit on your lap.  Let them be themselves- some will want to sing and perform and others wont.  Let them be them. Mine happens to like to stand on the stage and cry. What a great way to learn that perfection is unobtainable!


One thing we can always learn, is that when it comes to being a kid in church, there is no right or wrong way to be a person made and loved by God.

Three Years


Taken by Rev. Beth Fain prior to the ordination service (and prior to Addison making a mess all over her special ordination dress)

December 15th will mark the three year anniversary of my ordination to the Priesthood.

Addison was a mere three months old. I was home in Phoenix for the first time since getting married. My whole family was present and we were celebrating everything we could- my ordination, Christmas, births and soon to be births. It was joy filled and fun and marvelous.

I was so wrapped up in what lay ahead- a new call at St. Mary’s awaited my return to Texas. My new Rector Beth was present at my ordination, showing then what I have now learned to be unwavering support and camaraderie. It seemed as if it were the culmination of all that I hoped God’s call would be for me to the priesthood- joy and hope and love all around.


But how it all changed.  The day before, December 14th, I sat in my sister’s living room glued to the TV, shocked and horrified at what I was seeing.  Weeping as I held my tiny baby in my arms, imagining the fear and devastation of the parents, family and friends of the 20 children and 6 adults who were murdered in their school, Sandy Hook Elementary. Of the guilty relief of those who survived. Of the misinformation and fear-baiting. Of my fear of what it means to birth a child (now 2) into a world where such things happen.

Today I still cry, am still overwhelmed.



The Rt. Rev. Kirk Smith at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church in Litchfield Park, AZ with the newly ordained ME!

And the next day, completely undone, a stole was draped over my shoulders and a chasuble over my head, and I took vows to be a priest in a world where such evil is present and real.

I remember praying with Reverend Beth before the service.  She asked me what I would like prayers for, and I cried as I asked for prayers not for myself or my (hopefully) lifetime of ministry, but for the families of those who lost loved ones to gun violence and for a world in which that happens.

As I reflect on my ministry and ordination, the shootings at Sandy Hook are so deeply woven into my start as a priest. Evil and sin are so closely linked to my understanding of the world in which I minister.

I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised then, that in the three years of my priestly ministry, gun violence has loomed large in my eyes and in the narrative in our country. As a Quaker disguised as an Episcopalian, violence and murder in any circumstance is abhorrent to me. Yet it is inescapable, common, and an every day occurrence. And the weight of the daily news- of the reality that there have been more mass shootings in the United States this year than there have been days, is among many things, a testament to the need for God in a world that has distorted what it means to be brother and sister, a world that has distorted exactly what the love, mercy and redemption of Jesus looks like.

I offer to you prayers that I have been praying as I reflect on my priestly ministry. I am a firm believer that prayer comes in many forms.  I encourage you to attempt with me to have your prayers not just be something said silently or aloud, but that your prayers also take action in the world.

I believe that gun violence doesn’t have to be something that is a common occurrence. I know that it isn’t within God’s will. And I know that me simply not murdering people isn’t enough- real change will take courage and perseverance.  But most of all, it will take prayers turned into action. Won’t you pray with me?

Prayers for the Cessation of Gun Violence