Will you be mine?

by Demi Prentiss

Did you send a valentine to anyone this year?  Did you receive a valentine? I hope it warmed your heart, and that it came to you from someone special.

This year, Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday were only days apart. And in the midst of all that, as the Sunday Gospel, we read Matthew’s story of the Transfiguration of Jesus (Mt 17:1-9).  That intersection of holy days and holidays and God-at-work over the centuries struck me as special.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes’s poetic imagination set my wonderings in motion:

                Transfiguration valentine

Do you know how you shine with my radiance?
Can you hear my name for you?
“My beloved, my delight.”

I said it to you at your baptism;
I whisper it to you every day.
You were born of light.

Sometimes it’s only a mountaintop experience
that reveals it clearly,
but once you’ve seen, you know.

No one can build a monument to it,
no one can capture it,
but it’s there, as secret as the sun.

Do you realize the ancients
walk with you, murmur to you,
cheer you on?

It’s true, from the mountain
you see the cross,
but also the horizon beyond.

Will you go there?
Will you walk in love?
My dearest, I want you with me.

Will you be my Valentine?
Will you take my love
to an uncertain world?

Will you carry my love
like a little red candy heart,
to a world needing to know?

I’m with you.
I love you.
Will you be mine?

Then Gail L. Miller, in Luther Seminary’s “God Pause,” chimed in with words of her own, adding a grace note to Pastor Steve’s “Transfiguration Valentine”:

“…Interestingly, it was [God’s] voice and not the vision that knocked the disciples to the ground and filled them with fear. But just as they were overcome by fear upon hearing God’s voice, they were comforted and encouraged by Jesus’ words to “get up and not be afraid.” “Get up!” Interestingly, in Greek it is the same word as Resurrection! Jesus gently resurrects the disciples this side of the grave, so that they can travel with him down into the valley, into the way things really are….”  

So even when we come down from the mountain and wear the ashes of repentance and mortality – when we’re surrounded, in the valley, with “the way things really are” – we can claim our identity as children of God, beloved and called, equipped by Christ’s gentle call to “Get up!” and go down into the valley, perceiving all around us the presence of Christ.

May you walk your path during Lent with God’s Transfiguration valentine in your pocket. “I’m with you. I love you. Will you be mine?”

Keep the light ablaze

Photo by Peyton Clough on Unsplash

by Brandon Beck

Based on a sermon given at Reconciliation San Antonio, Sunday February 22, 2026

In Sunday’s reading from Genesis we heard this:

the Lord God commanded the man, “…of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.” the woman saw that the tree was good…it was a delight…the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband. Then the eyes of both were opened.

Canadian singer-songwriter Alanis Morrisette, in her song “Ablaze,” which she wrote to her children, gives us an important perspective to listen to about this passage:

First thing that you'll notice is some separation from each other
Yes, it's a lie we've been believing since time immemorial
There was an apple, there was a snake, there was division
There was a split, there was a conflict in the fabric of life
One became two, and then everyone was out for themselves
Everyone was pitted against each other, conflict ruled the realm
All our devotions and temperaments are pulled from different wells
We seem to easily forget we are made of the same cells
My mission is to keep the light in your eyes ablaze
My mission is to keep the light in your eyes ablaze

Now, some people who have a lot of power and privilege, and have had for millenia, don’t want us to know that this passage from Genesis might be about something other than sin and separation, other than men over women, other than people becoming afraid of God. Morisette reminds us of something that we have to hear: separation is a lie. We are all created from the same cells.

We might be tempted to hang on everyone being pitted against each other. But we can resist that lie through our love. That’s the way we keep the light in our eyes ablaze.

What does that blazing light in our eyes look and feel like? How do we keep it burning when times are difficult? When the news is bad? When we’re frustrated or hurt by others?

The Episcopal Church of Reconciliation in San Antonio, Texas has five Core Values that embody our dedication to this practice of keeping the light ablaze:

  • First, we are authentic. We embrace transparency and spontaneity in order to be true to ourselves, to God, and to one another.
  • Second, we are inclusive. We welcome all persons into our common life and celebrate the gifts and growth that come with diversity.
  • Third, we are creative. We experience the fusion of the Divine and the human when we express and celebrate all of God’s gifts.
  • Fourth, we are liturgical. We connect with God in worship through traditional and innovative symbols, rituals, and the arts.
  • And Fifth, we are community. We become more fully alive and one with God as we connect, care and collaborate.

Still, we can always become more authentic, more inclusive, more creative. We can learn and grow in the ways we connect with God and others in liturgy and community. We can remember our same cells more and let the light in our eyes shine brighter.

We do that work of growth in what is called the grace margin.

The grace margin is a concept I learned from the Rev. Dr. Eric Law, founder of the Kaleidoscope Institute. The Rev Dr. Law says that the grace margin is this place of action between our comfort and our fear. He says that when we are in active Christian community, striving for justice and peace among all people, we have to get into that grace margin, that space between our comfort and our fear, because that is where we can be present for God to do what God does even in the lives of people we just don’t want to be around.

Church of Reconciliation was founded and continues to work in this grace margin. We actively seek ways to learn and grow between comfort and fear. Our Core Values emphasize exactly what the Rev Dr. Law is describing when he talks about the grace margin between comfort and fear, that working space where we have to get out of our own way to let God be God, even when times are difficult, even when the news is bad, even in the lives of people with whom we disagree.

I can sense this grace margin in each and every one of our Core Values, but we also have to acknowledge the growth margin that goes along with the grace margin.

And even though we have that grace margin built into our very DNA at Reconciliation, we’re still sometimes uncomfortable admitting it when something is difficult or news is bad or, especially, when people trespass against us. Sometimes, that discomfort leads to fear. However, we can admit our discomfort and fear to God and each other here. Being able to admit our own trespasses is exactly what allows for growth. We have to ask, how do we get past our discomfort and fear and take action to get back to the blazing light that is in all our same cells?

I offer you this four-part strategy from feminist theologian the Rev. Dr. Kwok Pui Lan, who writes out of her experience growing up in the British Colony of Exploitation known as Hong Kong. She advocates four ways a community can take action to create change in the grace margin. She offers us the challenge of the 4 Ds of Decolonial Theology: Disperse, Disrupt, Develop, and Deepen.

The Rev. Dr. Kwok believes, and I agree, that if we fully intend to remember that we’re all made from the same cells, fully intend to keep the light in our eyes ablaze, then:

  • We actively disperse power when we remove hierarchical barriers that separate people from God and each other.
  • We actively disrupt old narratives and interpretations when we listen to stories of real people.
  • We actively develop theologies when we celebrate local needs and learning styles.
  • We actively deepen our spiritual life in both body and mind when we pay attention to the physical needs of all people, especially those who have been marginalized.

Here in the grace margin between comfort and fear at Church of Reconciliation our Core Values draw us near to the Rev. Dr. Kwok’s call to disperse power, disrupt old narratives, develop celebratory theologies, and deepen spiritual life for all people.

Even though we ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge and our eyes are open, open to the truth of our oneness with God and each other, we cannot grow complacent or think that our work is finished. We have to remember why we’re here and renew our commitment to our mission in order to keep growing. Our core values matter more than ever as we work to grow in the grace margin so that justice and peace are ever more present among all people. Our mission is to keep the light in our eyes ablaze. Our mission is to keep the light in our eyes ablaze.

Striving to be one with God

Reprinted from “Living God’s Mission,” Jan. 24, 2025

by Pam Tinsley

During this past two weeks, we have collectively remembered two individuals who dedicated their lives to seeking and serving Christ in each person they met. One was a pastor – Martin Luther King, Jr. – who dedicated his short life to civil rights and racial justice. The other was a statesman – President Jimmy Carter – who dedicated his long life to improving innumerable lives through his geopolitical and humanitarian work, in addition to his faithful support of Habitat for Humanity.

As I was reflecting on these two individuals and the many challenges facing our nation and the Church today, the following reflection from Forward Day by Day landed in my inbox:

Ephesians 4:6 One God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.

The Message adds another sentence to this verse that helps me see the implication of Paul’s words: “Everything you are and think and do is permeated with Oneness.” Imagine what our lives, and what the world, would be like if we truly believed this, knew this to be true, and lived this truth out every day.

If those of us who say we know and love God acted as though God was Father of all, above, through, and in all – all people, every living thing on earth, the very earth itself – and that we are permeated with Oneness, how would things change? I think we can begin living this out by offering everyone kindness and compassion. This, then, grows into dignity and respect, which eventually evolves into harmony and peace and ultimately becomes simply Love. This is a world I want to inhabit. It begins with me, now and in each moment. May I live into the Oneness I know exists with God, my neighbor, and all things, and may you, too.

MOVING FORWARD: What step can you take today to living into this Oneness?

I’m reminded that – even in the most challenging of times – each of us is an instrument of God, called to reveal God’s love for all despite the many obstacles. We have voice, and we have agency because we serve the God of love, justice, and peace – and love will cast out fear.

Absorbing God’s abiding light

Photo by Oskar Kadaksoo on Unsplash

by Demi Prentiss

Isaiah 60:1-6
Arise, shine; for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.

For darkness shall cover the earth,
and thick darkness the peoples;

but the Lord will arise upon you,
and his glory will appear over you

In a sermon “for dark times,” sub-titled “Why Bullies Fear the Dark,” Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber points out that this passage from the Book of Isaiah, a reading for the Feast of the Epiphany, speaks to her of the Magi, the kings who visited the infant Jesus in Bethlehem.  She contemplates whether Isaiah the prophet was reminding his Jewish hearers of “Let there be light” from the Biblical creation story, or perhaps of the pillar of fire that led them out of slavery in Egypt toward liberation. She wonders, “Maybe Isaiah’s audience needed reminding as we do, that those who walk in darkness can still see great light.”  She adds, “I think maybe The Magi carried the light of Christ within them because they had been close enough for it to soak in. And that is what lit their path [on their way home].” She’s thinking, “Phosphorescence.”

She continues:

“Phosphorescence in case like me, you forgot, works like this: the energy goes in quietly. The transformation happens unseen. And only later—often much later—does the light begin to show, but it’s only visible in the dark. Which is frustrating, frankly, for those of us who prefer immediate results or visible proof….

Phosphorescence.

Maybe this is how a life of faith actually works.

We tend to think of faith as something we work for. A virtue we strive to inhabit. A spiritual New Year’s resolution we keep.

We in the West are very determined people. We set a goal, determine the steps, take action, work hard, and achieve the thing. And look—that works great if you’re training for a 10K or trying to get your real estate license.

But the life of faith operates within a different order of reality. You do not, in fact have to create, muster, manufacture, or maintain your own light. I promise you have been absorbing enough of it for long enough to shine with it.

You have been absorbing God’s light all along—even when you don’t believe it, even when you aren’t paying attention, even when you are phoning it in, even when you are pious as all get out.

Because that is just what gently happens when we get to do things like baptize babies while renouncing evil in the process. This is what quietly happens when we light candles and say prayers, and read Scripture aloud and sing hymns… even when we don’t really “feel it”.

So if you too don’t feel particularly radiant right now—if it feels like Isaiah describes, that darkness covers the earth and thick darkness the peoples—and you are convinced you cannot possibly rub two sticks together to somehow create a spark, just know this:

Maybe you don’t have to. In fact, I wonder if manufacturing our own brightness can obscure a gentler light that God has provided for the path ahead.

And so when things get dark—and they will—the light of God’s word, shines enough to be a lamp unto our feet. Stumbling, maybe. Dancing, sometimes. But always the next step is lit. Not because you have made yourself dazzling.

But because the Light has already found you.

And no. I still do not know what the future holds.

All I know is that in Christ, in prayer, in word, in sacrament, we have quietly, unsuspectingly been absorbing everything we need to phosphorescently light the path before us wherever that leads.

Because the light of Christ does not vanish when the world goes dark.

It lingers.

It lingers in those of us who have sat in the presence of forgiveness—and thought nothing was happening.

It lingers in the children in these pews who seem distracted by coloring, but who are absorbing Scripture without realizing it.

It lingers in all who have heard that a light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

And then one day—
when the power fails,
when the star disappears,
when certainty collapses—

there you are.

Glowing just a bit.Not because you are shining with your own goodness or faith. But because you were once close enough to the Light of the world that it soaked into you. And that kind of light has a way of leading people by another road.

Love as resistance

Love in Action at Church of Reconciliation quarterly parking lot, drive-up Food Bank distribution and come-and-take clothing swap with donuts, tacos, and coffee. In December, a special visit from Mr. and Mrs. Claus with free photos for families accompanied the event. Blog author Brandon Beck is shown accompanying Mrs. Claus. Photo courtesy of Brandon Beck

by Brandon Beck

Dr. Natalya Cherry of Brite Divinity School, in a lecture to an Introduction to Christian Theology course, said, “We have to define theology so it doesn’t get co-opted by our oppressors” (Jan. 17, 2026). As a staunch post-modernist, I resist defining anything. I often quote Inigo Montoya from the 1987 Rob Reiner classic film The Princess Bride, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” While Inigo Montoya spoke these words to his companion Vizzini in response to his repeated misuse of the word, “Inconceivable!” with intention to point out Vizzini’s error, I use them in order to register my belief that all words defy definition and are merely “sound and fury, signifying nothing.” (Shakespeare’s Macbeth).

Yet, Dr. Cherry’s words have caused me to pause. If she is correct and defining theology prevents it from being co-opted by our oppressors, then it stands to reason that defining other foundational words would protect them from co-optation as well.

The art of definition and the very act of putting words into the world takes on an entirely new weight and significance when we are charged with preventing oppressors from co-opting them.

In a world overrun with words everywhere from classrooms to social media, the sides of buses to the skins of cars, sweatshirts to yard signs, how can we make our words mean what we want them to mean? How can we align our words to Jesus’ genuine Love? How can we prevent our words from being co-opted by our oppressors?

What if it has less to do with the words themselves and more to do with how our actions align with our words? I believe that our words are defined less by more words and more by the way we live them out.

In the First Letter from John, we learn a little more about aligning our words with Jesus’ genuine Love and our actions with those words:

For this is the message you have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another. (3:11)

Do not be astonished…that the world hates you…we have passed from death to life because we love… (3:13-14)

Little children, let us love not in word or speech but in deed and truth. And by this we will know that we are from the truth and will reassure our hearts before [God] whenever our hearts condemn us, for God is greater than our hearts, and [God] knows everything. (3:18-20) (NRSVUE)

John teaches us as he was taught by Jesus to love not in word or speech but in deed and truth. Our words matter, but the way we behave matters more. Most importantly, we have to act in love.

And herein we return to that powerful call to define. If we don’t define love, then it will be co-opted by our oppressors. Jesus’ genuine Love is the love we must define and then with which we must act in the world. We must define Jesus’ genuine Love and then act with that genuine love against the oppressors.

Fortunately, Paul defined Jesus’ genuine Love for us already:

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no record of wrongs;it does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor 13:4-7 NRSVUE) 

All that’s left for us is to live out that genuine Jesus Love.

By another way . . .

Photo by Lee Young on Unsplash – Three Kings (Magi)

by Demi Prentiss

On Jan. 6, The Feast of the Epiphany, we enter the green season of ordinary time, formerly known as the season of Epiphany.  I’ve always liked having a whole season of revelation, or recognition, right there between Christmastide and Lent.  It’s a time when the church focuses on how the life of Jesus cast new light on how God is active in the world.  It’s a time when I try to pay better attention to what God might be doing right in my neighborhood.  I’m drawn to seeking to discover where God is working and, as Jewish scholars have said, seeking to be “covered in the dust of my rabbi” – following Jesus so closely that I’m wearing the dust kicked up by his passing.

Br. Lucas Hall, SSJE, describes this as participating in divine life. He writes, “God is active, because life is active. Life moves. Life responds. God gave life, not as a static dispenser of some good gift, but rather by living, and inviting his whole Creation – including us – to participate in that divine life.”  Often, participation with God takes us down unexpected paths. I think of the magi, after their encounter with the Christ Child, being warned in a dream to avoid returning to Herod.  Matthew’s Gospel tells us they “left for their own country by another road.”

Inspired by the kings’ journey home, singer-songwriter Christopher Grundy offers a spine-stiffening song of resistance  in “Take us Home by Another Way”:

Spirit, take us home, take us home by another way, 
take us long way ’round the tyrants and their schemes,
Give us strength to walk Show us dreams of a better day
and we’ll pave the way with justice going home by another way.

Grundy’s song echoes the Black church’s conviction that God “makes a way out of no way,” bringing creativity, agency, and resilience to combat oppression and discrimination.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes offers inspiration for daily life, as we confront the need to go home by another way:

 By another road
         
         They left for their own country by another road.
                  —Matthew 2.12

Life is one different road
      after another. 

Even now, on the twelfth day of Christmas,
       it's not too late to be changed. 

God is seldom on the road we planned
      but one we were forced into.

Jesus' miracles and parables are other roads;
      grace is always a detour.

Holy One, give me faith to let go, to turn, 
      to see grace where there was none.

Give me faith to be nudged, and to trust.
      Give me the courage of new roads.

“Grace is always a detour.” May the words of the poem become our prayer as we walk through the weeks following Epiphany:

“Holy One, give me faith to let go, to turn, to see grace where there was none.
Give me faith to be nudged, and to trust. Give me the courage of new roads.”

With thanks to Diana Butler Bass for introducing me to the songs of Christopher Grundy.

Rise and shine

The Adoration of the Magi by Edward Burne-Jones (1904)

by Brandon Beck

Isaiah 68:1-6
Arise, shine; for your light has come,
	and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.
For darkness shall cover the earth,
	and thick darkness the people;
but the LORD will arise upon you,
	and his glory will appear over you.

Do you remember the camp song, “Rise and shine and give God your glory, glory”? The Feast of the Epiphany, January 6, is a day, certainly, to “rise and shine and give God your glory and glory.” It marks Jesus’ manifestation to the world, the remembrance of the magi receiving Jesus on behalf of the world. On the celebration of the Epiphany, we are called to think about what is revealed in our own lives as Jesus is revealed to the world; where have we seen the light?

The magi, understanding the darkness of the world into which Jesus was born, “returned to their country by another route” so as not to deal with Herod and his dark ways again. (Matthew 2 NIV) Even the ones on whom the Light rose directly still faced the darkness of the world and had to contend with it. Sometimes, the light is not easy to see; the darkness is all around. But, like the magi, we can find those other routes in order to see what is being revealed, to remember that revelation, and to share that revelation with others.

Sometimes, we just have to change the way we look at things in order to see the light. Take the classic “Rubin’s vase.” Can you focus on the light to see the vase? Changing the way we look at things takes practice; it is an exercise. I have to focus and re-focus to see the vase; the dark faces want to pull my attention away from the light in “Rubin’s vase.” Some people even call the image “Rubin’s faces” instead because of the powerful pull of the dark part of the image.

Sometimes, we have to be able to discern the truth in messaging to be able to see the light. Leaders, news media, other people give messaging and opinions about who is important and even who is worthy. Just as Herod gave messaging to the magi. And as they discerned through the revelation of Jesus to them that Herod’s messaging was false, we must be open to the revelation of the truth in messaging we hear. For those of you who have seen Wicked and Wicked: For Good, think about how Fiyero was able to discern the true character of Elphaba despite the propaganda against her. For those of you who haven’t seen the musical or the movies (or haven’t read the book), I encourage you to do so with your eyes open for the metaphors, allusions, and calls to social justice.

Sometimes, the epiphany is in seeing Christ in and being Christ to others as led and empowered by grace. Even if those others are people we’ve been taught to fear or even hate. Even if those others are people we just don’t like or just disagree with. The great darkness covering the world right now is full of injustice and division among people. But the light shining in the darkness reminds us that God’s love knows no boundaries and will rise and shine. We, the people of God, by striving for justice and peace, can make Jesus manifest every day. We are the light shining in the darkness.

That camp song is actually about Noah and the flood, a time of great darkness for the world. Yet the song is upbeat, joyous, and full of life. The chorus shouts a resounding, “Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory.”  It is another route to remembering that Jesus is manifest in the world. We don’t have to wait; the light is already shining in the darkness. How will you amplify the light today?

Honoring the heart of a stranger

Photo courtesy of Pam Tinsley

by Pam Tinsley

I was struck by an essay, The Greater Good, which the Irish Jesuits posted last month on their Sacred Space website:

In an individualist culture, perhaps more than ever, we need to learn from the lesson placed before us by Christ the King. We are our brothers’ and our sisters’ keepers. ‘We live in each other’s shadow,’ as one Irish saying puts it. While independence is all fine and well, inter-dependence is the greater good – a kind heart and open hand. The plight of war refugees has been well documented, but there were and are disquieting voices raising opposition.

The Irish Rune on hospitality says:
     We saw a stranger yesterday.
     We put food in the eating place,
     Drink in the drinking place,
     Music in the listening place.
     And with the sacred name of the triune God
     We were blessed, and our house,
     Our cattle and our dear ones.
     As the lark says in her song:
     Often, often, often goes the Christ
     In the stranger’s guise.

It is not uniquely Irish, of course, for many cultures instinctively know that we need to honour the heart of the stranger; we need to recognise how much like us the person is; we need to remember the humanity of each and every person. Welcoming the stranger blesses us as well as it aids the recipient of our hospitality.

In God’s family, there are no strangers, only kin or clan, as we might say. Kinship is God’s dream come true. It’s about imagining a circle of compassion and then imagining no one standing outside that circle. For whatever you do with love has eternal value.

Today Christ the King says to us, ‘What you do for others, you do for me.’ – Tom Cox, The Sacred Heart Messenger, November 2023

During this past month, I’ve found myself being the recipient of love and care rather than being the giver – to which I’m much more accustomed. As I’ve begun preparation for a bone marrow transplant, the importance of community speaks deeply to me. Although I’m certainly embraced by family, friends, and parish communities, I’m now being embraced by an ever-expanding network of caregivers, i.e., a new community. Outpatient clinic and hospital providers come together to form a team, of which I’m also an integral part. It’s clear that we are all walking this journey together, step by step. We were strangers yet now we are a community, dependent upon and honoring the particular gifts each one offers to complete the whole and pointing toward something greater than any one of us. And I am blessed not only by their professionalism, but also the warmth and hope that each person radiates.

Blessed are the ready

by Demi Prentiss

Jesus’s Beatitudes – known by some as the “be”-attitudes – help us recognize that, surprisingly, the marginalized, the despised, and the supposedly powerless hold a special relationship with God: the power of incarnating God’s relational power to transform a position of vulnerability to one of transcendence.  Authenticity, single-heartedness, and humility are the hallmarks of the blessedness that Jesus celebrates as signaling “the kingdom of God.”

Christians mark Advent as the season of hopeful expectation of the in-breaking of God’s reign, anticipating the counter-intuitive blessedness of those who suffer – the poor in spirit, mournful, meek, seeking, merciful, pure in heart, peacemakers, persecuted.  Advent reminds us that being equipped to proclaim the coming of the kingdom obliges us to cultivate another blessedness – being ready.  Ready to perceive God at work. Ready to stand with those who suffer. Ready to be brave. Ready to be open.

Poet Steve Garnaas-Holmes joins Matthew in reminding us to be ready:

                       Be ready

You must be ready, for the Human One is coming
at an hour you do not expect.
—Matthew 24.44

Grace flits in, a butterfly in winter.
Forgiveness dismantles gallows.
A child, frightened, stands anyway.

The minds of the dulled
are on other things.
Heaven passes unnoticed.

The naive keep waiting
for the white horse, the sword.
Foggy opera glasses.

Cynics, fearing the mystery,
can always prove otherwise.
The lock snaps shut.

The faithful are not sure
but open,
watching for the luminous.

A spirit, wholly given,
emerges
like a song among many.

Blessed are the ready, watching,
over and over,
for the world made new.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Running with Jesus

Photo by John Tinsley

by Pam Tinsley

Last fall we were thrilled to watch our six-year-old granddaughter Sienna run cross country. (Yes, we are that kind of grandparents, the ones who beam with pride at pretty much anything she does.) When you run cross country, you encounter many obstacles: the terrain, the weather – especially in the wet Pacific Northwest, and your body itself. And running cross country was a huge milestone for Sienna because she suffers from severe asthma.

Despite her asthma, Sienna ran faithfully throughout the season. Not only did she work out with her teammates, but she also ran with her dad. And, whenever she ran, she had one goal. It wasn’t winning. It wasn’t how she placed.

Her sole goal was to do her best, to persevere and to run her race. And her favorite part of one race venue was running up the hill – at the end!

I’ve thought a lot about how healthy Sienna’s approach is. It’s also counter-cultural in today’s world which seems to value only winners, where the goal seems to be to find some way to “win” without doing the hard work that our values and our dreams demand.

We can apply this to our own spiritual lives when we seek to live our faith to our best – with love. Following Jesus isn’t easy. Following Jesus means to keep going, to persevere. It means putting one foot in front of the other, as we encounter obstacle after obstacle in the challenges and disappointments of everyday life. Just like Sienna’s obstacles to running her best in cross country are unique to her, our obstacles in living our faith to our best are also unique. And Jesus is with us always: during the easier stretches, through the unexpected obstacles, when we trip or fall, and as we persevere up the hill at the end of that long run after we’re already tired. In the end, it doesn’t matter to God whether we come in first or if we come in last. Instead, it simply pleases God when we live our faith to the best of our ability, every day.