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Listen:
I am the good shepherd. I know my own, and my own know me.”
—JOHN 10:14 (NRSVUE)
Reflect:
It’s been said that the most difficult words to utter are “I’m sorry”, or its first cousin – “I was wrong”. And yet, if we’re honest, we all have plenty of opportunities to practice those phrases. But admitting wrongs is no fun, it hurts, and frankly, sometimes not done in a genuine way. I think there is great comfort in knowing that in spite of all that I am, and all that I’m not, I am ‘known’. I am known by Christ, and I am loved. Maybe knowing that we’re ‘known’ (and still loved!) can give us more confidence in admitting the wrongs we commit.
Is there someone you’ve been thinking about reaching out to? Or someone you might want to offer an apology to? Maybe you could find a small gesture, it doesn’t have to be perfect—just a little nudge or a quick “sorry,” and go from there.
Blessing:
Blessed are you, who remember what contentment felt like—
if only for a minute or two.
When every lovely feeling is smoke, and peace seems impossible to be caught.
Blessed are you who long for a version where
every good memory stacks up like bricks,
built to wall out every pain, every remorse, every stinging fear.
But that’s not how it works.
No matter what you do to build up your reserves
you find yourself at the mercy of every new negative feeling.
Contentedness feels elusive.
Fulfillment feels inaccessible.
But here’s the truth:
You are not feelings alone.
Sometimes you’ll feel the weight of your purpose,
the glow of love, the deep certainty that you belong.
And other times?
You’ll just have to shrug and wait for contentment to return.
Blessed are you,
who trust that when your emotions waver, there is a love that doesn’t.
A hope that stays.
A peace that rests in your hands.
May you find calm in your unsteadiness.
May you be reminded that this ache will pass.
And the in the meantime
you are not alone, you are known.
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