Author: Mari Walker

Wednesday, March 16

Love Extended

There is surely a future hope for you and your hope will not be cut off. —Proverbs 23:18

Larrion was just six when my family “adopted” him in the turbulent aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. His mother was serving time in prison, his father was a well-known drug dealer in town, and Larrion was living with Miss Ruth, an eighty-something-year-old relative of very limited means. Even after my husband’s death and son’s departure for college, I continued the weekend ritual of sharing trips to the park, museums and movies with Larrion. I took him to his basketball games and watched him experience his first taste of Chinese food. We played imaginative word games in the car as we were driving to the zoo or miniature golf. My heart soared as we talked about the future for Larrion, his hopes of a stable home and his fervent dream of playing basketball for LSU or some other college. And then one day my heart shattered to hear him say, after contemplating that potential future joy, “it probably won’t happen because I will be shot by then.”

In recognizing the hopelessness that Larrion’s life experience was presenting to him, I doubled down on my prayers for him and worked more diligently to show him the good and beauty that life offers. Ultimately, I lost Larrion, not to a bullet but to a sudden and unannounced move to another city with no forwarding information.

Larrion still resides in my heart. I pray that he is a strong, healthy young man with the love of God in his heart and that he is still playing basketball.

God of love and hope and futures, help us lavish our love on those who need it. Give us the strength to hold hope in our hearts in spite of all obstacles and to live in the conviction that love is never ever wasted. Amen.

Betty Schroeder

Tuesday, March 15

Patience

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. —Lamentations 3:25-26

In this world today, now more than ever, so many are short of patience. Technological advances have helped to exacerbate a strong desire for instant gratification. I have been guilty of this impatience as well as a witness to it. The unwillingness to wait in our society can so easily breed doubt, anger, animosity, and tragedy. Our faith in the Lord not only requires strength, it also requires patience.

In Exodus chapter 32, the Israelites’ faith began to wane when Moses was up on the mountain with the Lord. They asked Aaron to create a false god. They had endured hard labors under the Pharaoh’s rule and had been enslaved and overworked. However, the Lord had freed them of their shackles, and they set out with Moses. The sea had been parted for them to cross through it, and it washed over the Pharaoh’s men, sweeping them asunder. Even after all of that glory from our God on high, they lost their way because of their impatience.

Life is a long and winding road, one that can, and ultimately will, take good and bad turns. Remember to never let your faith in the Lord waver.

In my personal experience, setting timers for applications on my phone have assisted me tremendously in having more time to build in my foundation with the Lord. In doing such a simple task, it has helped me be more present in my fellowship and allotted me the patience the Lord seeks from his children.

Dear Lord, please grant me the strength of patience and endurance in my faith. Guide me through the darkness of uncertainty and doubt. You are my Lord, my God, and I am forever grateful. Lead me along the path of life. I give my faith and all the glory to you, God. I pray for those around me who may feel the pain of doubt creeping in. I pray that they may open their hearts to you, Lord, and allow your love to fill their cups. May all the Lord’s children rejoice in exultation as they praise your name. Amen.

Chris Golmon

Monday, March 14

Where Do I Put My Rose-Colored Glasses?

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. —Hebrews 11:1

Having always been the eternal optimist, it has been extremely difficult for me to watch and experience some of the negative events of the past two years. COVID-19, with its offspring mutations, killed and sickened large numbers of our country. Numerous hurricanes have physically devastated our state, leaving thousands homeless and hopeless, while flooding, tornadoes and other disasters took aim at other parts of the U.S.

These medical and natural disasters sometimes paled in comparison to the psychological devastation that was taking aim at our cultural values. Truth was distorted, families and communities were divided over political issues such as elections and vaccinations, and vile and crude language was spewed regularly by our media. Social media outlets were having unparalleled effects on the population. Watching television during that time was like watching a horror movie.

My rose-colored glasses were often stained with tears, and my usual optimism turned to depression.

So how does one get past this constant negativity? Each morning I read a meditation in Sarah Young’s book, “Jesus Calling.” My ‘God moment’ today included these words: “I am with you and for you. You face nothing alone – nothing! When you feel anxious, know that you are focusing on the visual world and leaving me out of the picture.”

Beautiful and encouraging words! Words that will carry us through.

Father, I put my heavy heart into your hands knowing you will lead us out of these perilous times. Our faith in you reminds us of your ultimate power, and it assures us it is your time we follow, not our own. Amen.

Bobbi Marino

Sunday, March 13

Lent 2 Reflection Guide – When Our Shelter is Torn Away

Opening

Who do you know that you would identify as having a comforting presence? How does that person demonstrate comfort?

Scripture

Luke 13:31-35

Scripture Reflection

For many of us, God is our safety and security, so when our safety is ripped away, it can feel like it rips God away from us in the process. Whether our homes, our churches, our communities, or our relationships have been made unsafe by violence or betrayal, feeling God’s presence can be a challenge. But we are assured that God also knows intimately that same struggle. When Jesus returned to Jerusalem, which should have been the safest and most welcoming place to the son of God, he faced suspicion, aggression, and eventually, crucifixion. Yet even in the least safe place, Jesus longs to create safety for us, gathering us in like a mother hen under her wings.

Moment of Silent Reflection

Spend one full minute in silence as you consider the scripture and reflection.

Turn to Wonder

When the Pharisees suggest that Jesus should leave, how does Jesus’ response indicate that he does not feel threatened? What does this reveal about Jesus’ mission?

Re-read Luke 13:34; Read: Isaiah 31:5, Psalm 91:4. What do we learn about Jesus’ mission and desire from these verses? What does this reveal about God’s nature?¹

Read Jeremiah 22:1-5 and Psalm 118. How does Luke 13:35 seem to contain both a threat and a promise?²

How does it make you feel that no matter how much you believe you have failed or messed up, God still desires to gather you up for your protection and care?

Closing

Close your time together in a manner that is typical for you. Consider sharing joys and prayer concerns, then close in prayer.

God of Hope,

We give you thanks that you promise to never leave us or forsake us.

Help us run to you in our weakness.

Empower us to repent as people of hope

that you will redeem all situations for good.

Amen.

¹Even to the wrong and unwilling, God desires to extend to them relief, protection, and care.

²The Jeremiah passage indicates a threat of desolation if there is no repentance. Psalm 118 is a psalm of victory, trusting in God’s steadfast love.

Saturday, March 12

The Life and Challenges of a Long-Ago Christian, Part 2

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. —Matthew 5:10

Zeno speaks
A Port Town, 62 AD

Hi! My name is Zeno. Let me tell you about my friend Markos. One time, after picking up a load of wood for my boss, Fabro the carpenter, I was about to unload it in our shed when I saw this guy curled up asleep in one corner. When I woke him, he jumped up to apologize. His name was Markos, he said. He had come to town to meet friends, but they had missed each other, and he was out of money with no place to go. Then he offered to help unload the wood. He was about my age and seemed like an OK guy, so I agreed. When Fabro saw how well we did, he offered Markos a job. So, Markos and I worked together and got to be friends. Markos was a Christian, and I was his first convert.

One day Fabro told us he wanted us to do a job for the priest of Apollo, rebuilding his personal shrine. “Wait,” said Markos. “Does that mean we have to work with idols?” “What are idols? He has statues,” said Fabro. “I can’t work with idols; they are false gods!” said Markos. “I’m a Christian!” “You can’t work for me if you’re one of those atheist Christians!” Fabro shouted, “Get out of my shop!”

That night Markos and I packed up and left. Markos told me to stay and keep my job, but I told him I was a Christian, too. It was a dark rainy night. To get to the highway we had to go through the rough part of town by the waterfront which wasn’t safe when the sun was up. “Don’t worry,” said Markos as we started out. “Our faith is our shield.”

Help us, Lord, to be true to our hearts and consciences when others pressure us to change our course toward you. Amen.

Guy Johnson

Friday, March 11

#TheLentiestLentThatEverLented

Then Daniel answered the king: “Long live the king! My God sent his messenger, who shut the lions’ mouths. They haven’t touched me because I was judged innocent before my God. I haven’t done anything wrong to you either, Your Majesty.” —Daniel 6:21-22

Lent is a journey of struggle, suffering, and reflection. Some people choose to either give up something or adopt a new practice during Lent as a way of connecting our modern, physical selves to Christ’s suffering journey some 2000 years ago.

However, sometimes we find ways to shortcut the process (“Sundays don’t count”) or even minimize the symbolic suffering (“I can’t possibly give up that, so I’ll do this easy one instead”).

But this Lent, I’m not sure that I get to choose the method of my “suffering.” These days already feel like I’m living in a dark place. Some spiritual practices and counselors call it “a dark night of the soul.” Many of you might be there with me; not necessarily “with” as in communion and support, but “with” as in also experiencing similar darkness.

I look to my coffee pot for many metaphors. Imagine adding water to the back of your coffee pot in preparation for it to siphon water up from the holding tank to drip through the grinds and make a delicious cup of coffee. Now, consider filling the tank as quickly as you can while the dripping siphon is also running, just as quickly, or quicker, than you can fill the back tank. (If you are a swimming pool rather than coffee person, imagine having a crack in the bottom of your pool.)

In this instance, the tank never reaches its full-point, as it is constantly being drained even as it is being filled. Thus, it is much more likely to hit the empty bone-dry mark than to ever be fully filled.

With a pandemic stretching on, sociopolitical divides rifting relationships, stressful working conditions, growing to-do lists which gather more dust than scratch-out marks, and so much more, I am exhausted. Pandemic fatigue. Decision fatigue. Empathy fatigue. Fatigue fatigue.  

A short while back, I came across a bit of research that helped put some of my fatigue in perspective: the average person makes approximately 60,000 decisions each day. These decisions range from the smallest, subconscious ones (“Should I pick up my fork to take this bite?”) to even largest, life-changing ones (“How do I tell my partner I’m quitting my job and going back to school?”).

Researchers in another study quantified a job-stress index. In this study, “stress” was determined by the number of quick, substantial decisions that a person needed to make in a brief amount of time. Some of the most stressful jobs listed were: ER physicians & nurses, air traffic controllers, schoolteachers, CEOs, child/family social workers.

I have one of the most stressful careers out there. Maybe you do, too. By the way, that “work-life-balance” people speak of is just a bunch of hooey. There is no such thing. No wonder I feel like a constantly dripping, never-filled coffee maker.

Tandem this insight with how we attempt to refill ourselves. What satisfies the need for you? What life-giving moments refill and satisfy your soul? Imagine if we struggle to define what those fulfilling/refueling moments would be. What if our go-to strategies don’t really “do the trick”?

That’s where we teeter today, standing on the precipice between life-giving or life-draining experiences. And this teetering is exhausting!  Despite the various life-giving/refilling moments we try to steal away, the continuous drip…drip…drip…. saps away the energy of the attempted results. It seems we can’t ever get back to a moment of being able to claim “Fullness.” Instead, no matter how much we try to refill and recharge, the constant draining of energy, emotion, and low-grade anxiety permeates the daily experiences of life. No matter how many naps I take on the weekend, it is not enough. I still find myself short tempered with coworkers, lacking patience with my family, and frustrated at myself, all in spite of my best attempts at “balancing” life and work. You see, no matter how I attempt to refill, it never fully suffices. I still feel drained, passionless, lost, and frustrated.

Around town, there are many “job opening” and “help-wanted” signs…everywhere seems to be hiring. What would it be like to wander around with a “help wanted” sign dangling around our necks? We need the help, although asking for it can be really hard. Additionally, when someone offers to be of assistance, often we are at a loss for the words to articulate the problem or even identify tangible ways that another could help.

This is the darkness… Feeling the hard of life, and struggling to articulate the hard, ask for help, or accept it. We are called to sit in the darkness of Lent, so that the light of Easter’s Resurrection is all the brighter. May we have the courage and strength to endure this darkness, so that we may bask in the light of Christ.  For we commune with the God of the darkness and of the light.

Adapted from “Small Enough” lyrics by Nichole Nordeman:
Oh, great God, Be small enough to hear me now. There are times when I am crying from the dark of Daniel’s den. I had asked you once or twice if you would part the sea again. Tonight I do not need a fiery pillar in the sky. Just want to know you’re gonna hold me if I start to cry. Oh great God, Be small enough to hear me now. Be close enough to feel you now. Amen.

Ben Hartman

Thursday, March 10

Hope

Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?” The King will reply, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” —Matthew 25:37-40

Thank you, God, for the community you lead us to, where we can know your presence. Amen.

Jean Clark

Wednesday, March 9

God Prepares Us

“For I know the plans I have for you” – this is the LORD’S declaration – “plans for your welfare, not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. You will call to Me and come and pray to Me, and I will answer you. You will seek Me and find me when you search for Me with all of your heart. —Jeremiah 29: 11-13 (CSB)

There is a song by Daryl Coley called “He’s Preparing Me.” The words simply say: “He’s preparing me for something I cannot handle right now. He’s making me ready just because He cares. He’s providing me with what I need to carry out the next matter in my life.” When I look at my son Devin, I see how God had prepared me to be the mother of a child with autism. How, you might ask?

I worked as a substitute teacher for years in the East Baton Rouge Parish School System. The majority of the time I worked in Special Education Classes. One particular class had children on the autism spectrum. Administration had a hard time getting a substitute teacher for them mainly because the kids didn’t adjust well to change. Plus, substitutes refused to come back because of the behavior problems. However, for some reason the kids and I got along great together.

I learned how to deal with meltdowns as well as how to prevent them. I took the time to learn their daily routine and I did my best not to waver from it. I even learned each child’s quirks, likes and dislikes. If their teacher was out and I was there, the principal would pull me from whatever class I was assigned to and put me with my little friends.

My son Devin was born in November 2004. I knew from the day we brought him home from the hospital this child would be a challenge. He screamed from the time we put him in the car seat until we took him out of it. As a matter of fact, this happened every single time we put him in it. I dreaded having to go anywhere with that child.

As time went on I started noticing little things about Devin that scared me. They were things that reminded me of my little friends: (1) He loved the ceiling fan and anything that spun. (2) He didn’t play with toys; he’d just line them up in neat rows according to shape, size and color. (3) He had meltdowns if you took him out of the bathtub, turned the ceiling fan off, or for any number of strange reasons. Once he was playing with a yellow balloon, but the balloon fell into the neighbor’s yard. They weren’t home, so I told Devin I had a whole bag of yellow balloons. He wasn’t having it. My baby boy had a meltdown that lasted over three hours because he wanted the balloon that fell in the yard next door.

I would look up autism on the internet. Signs of autism: Do not look at you. (Look at me Devin!) Does not smile, (Not my kid, he smiles.) Lines toys up in neat rows. (Aww, what do they know!) I was living in the land of Egypt sitting by the Nile River! I could see the signs clear as day, but I refused to accept them. Devin’s doctor referred us to have his hearing screened, and I was told his hearing was excellent but he had “red flags.”

“Excuse me Mrs. Dickson, but does Devin always flap his hands?” she asked.

“Why yes he does. We call it “the Devin” – it’s his little dance.” I smile.

“I see,” checking off a box on her clipboard.

Red flags are signs of autism, but of course I wasn’t hearing that. Besides, what did she know? She wasn’t a doctor. The words “signs of autism” kept swirling around my head. I decided to shut them all up, so I asked our doctor for a neurology referral. I was determined to prove them all wrong.

The day we went to the neurologist was a Thursday, and on Thursdays Devin saw his speech therapist, Miss Courtney, at Charlie Thomas Head Start Center. That was a big mistake. He screamed the whole ride to the doctor’s office, as I got him out of the van and carried him into the building, while we waited in the waiting area, and when it was time to see the doctor. I looked at her and apologized while explaining. She smiled and reassured me. She asked many questions, and I did my best to answer. To make a long story short, my beautiful boy has autism. It was a hard pill to swallow as I drove home in tears.

God is so awesome because even though it was hard to accept, He prepared me for Devin. Devin has exceeded all my expectations. As a seventeen-year-old young man with autism he has dreams and aspirations of his own. Yes, he still loves ceiling fans, but he’s turning that love into a career. He wants to be an electrician. God had a plan for me, and he has a plan for Devin. My dear friends, God has a plan for each of you, too. The road may be rough but God is preparing the way.

Dear God, you have a plan for each and every one of us. Help us to trust you even when times are hard. Thank you for giving us hope and a future. In Jesus name, amen.

L. Darlene Dickson

Tuesday, March 8

Looking for Easy

Jesus returned from the Jordan River full of the Holy Spirit, and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness. There he was tempted for forty days by the devil. He ate nothing during those days and afterward Jesus was starving. —Luke 4:1-2

I don’t like to go 40 minutes without a little nosh, but 40 days without nutrition?! When I listened to the K-2 Sunday school class ponder this story of Jesus’ temptation during a recent Zoom meeting, they too were drawn to the physical improbability.

Can you really go that long without eating? What about water?! They know, like we do, that Jesus lived in a human body just like ours, and he would have literally been starving without food for so long. (The kids decided he did get to drink water!)

I’m never at my best when I’m hungry and tired, but even if not at his physical best, Jesus stood firm against temptation as the devil offered solutions: food, power, glory.

Hungry, tired or even at my best, I often look for solutions of my own, shortcuts, or better yet efficiencies, ways to do my work or my life faster. Crock pot meals, Target Drive-up, Shipt, Amazon Prime, talk-to-text, email folders and filters, calendar reminders—I use them all. I’m always on the hunt for easy, or at least easier.

We’re not promised easy, no matter how much we want or feel like we deserve it. Sometimes doing hard things is exactly the right thing. I’ve done a lot of hard things over the last couple of years, from the minor, like ziplining and overnight camping with Jane’s Girl Scout troop, to the life-changing, like going back to professional, full-time work. Just living these last two years through the pandemic has been HARD, with capital letters, on us all.

Through it all, God is faithful, God’s love never changes. My awareness and understanding of that love is stronger because of the hard.

I’ll still look for and accept shortcuts in some areas of my life, but with my faith and my family, I will never settle for less than a fully embodied, rich and engaging love leading to deep, lasting joy. Joy isn’t always easy, but it’s here, even on the hard road.

Loving God, gather us in when things are hard. Embrace us, holding us close. Give us strength, give us mercy, give us love. Amen.

Mari Walker

Monday, March 7

Daphne

Those who go to God most high for safety will be protected by the Almighty! I will say to the Lord, “You are my place of safety and protection. You are my God and I trust you.” —Psalm 91:1-2

My mother was born to a nineteen-year-old mother and a father not much older than that. She weighed three and a half pounds when she was born, and she fit into a cigar box, so I have been told.

When she was in the fourth or fifth grade she went from going to 4-month school to 9-month school, so she had to repeat a grade. In high school she played basketball and stayed an extra year to play and to finish up her business classes.

While she was in high school taking Latin classes, she learned how to spell her name correctly. She was named Daphne from a book my grandmother read. Having grown up in Mississippi, her name was always pronounced Daphna, so that is how she spelled her name. She was upset that the teacher told her she was spelling her name incorrectly. When she approached her mother, she was told that Daphne was the correct spelling of her name.

After high school, my mother used her business classes to find a job. She met Harold Dutch and wanted to get married. Her parents thought she was too young, but they were reminded that Mother was older than they were when they married. Mother and Harold lived in Shreveport quite happily until Harold was killed in an automobile accident. He only had a swollen lip, and the other man in the car walked away. Because she was away from her Mississippi home, she had to do everything for the funeral by herself.

She went back to Mississippi and was staying at my grandparents’ home. They were away for the evening and came home to find the house destroyed by a fire. They were all left with the clothes on their backs.

Mother met Harvey Grady and married him. They got married in September before Pearl Harbor in December 1941. Daddy enlisted in the Army Air Corps. He was stationed overseas in Alaska. It was not a state then. Daddy was injured in a fall and re-injured in an airplane bump. He suffered the rest of their 54-year marriage. Their plan was to have three children, with the first being born after three years of marriage. At the point they were about to consider adoption, Mother became pregnant. They had three children eventually, but we are not three years apart as they wanted. We are ten years apart.

My parents were not money rich but were rich in other ways. I can remember my mother being so embarrassed because she had to ask for credit for groceries so we could eat. My dad made only $400 a month, and every other month $125 had to go pay for my paternal grandfather’s nursing home care.

When my mother got into her seventies, she was diagnosed with non-smoker’s lung cancer. She was put into hospice care, and we all took turns being her caregiver. One day she said she wanted to cry. My sister got all ready to have a really good cry. My mother cried about three tears, and she was done. Then my sister had to quickly change her frame of mind. Another time I heard Mother say, “Lord have Mercy!” I asked her, “Lord have Mercy about what?” She said, “Just Lord Have Mercy!”

My mother was resilient, and she knew that the Lord would have mercy on her as he always had in all of the rough paths of her life. She never gave up her belief in a true and loving God even when she knew she was dying.

Loving and Faithful God: Thank you for mothers who are resilient and always believe in your safety and protection no matter how many challenges they face. Help us all to remember that when challenges occur, you are right there crying with us and watching over us. We are so grateful for your love and grace. Amen.

Daphne G. Grady