“Jehosophat!” my friend Sam Mann shouted at me as I stumbled, bleary-eyed, at 8:59 a.m, into the conference dining hall to grab a pastry and diet coke before the first meeting of the day.  Having neither the slightest nimbleness of mind before noon on any given day, nor a storehouse of Biblical knowledge from childhood bible drills, I just stared at him.

“Jehosophat!” he shouted at me again.  I stared at him.  I may have summoned the energy to blink.  Sam’s energy never wanes.  I bet even his dreams are high octane.  He had probably gotten up at 3:30 a.m., done his morning prayers, walked the conference grounds, written a sermon, dashed off a few letters, called his family, staff and parishioners, and organized a protest march – all before I could drag my head off the pillow.  He was so excited he didn’t notice I had no idea what he was talking about.

“I’ve been thinking and praying about you all night and all morning.”  What??

I was in a bad place — I knew I couldn’t stay married but couldn’t face divorce.  I was lost and confused — I felt strongly pulled toward ordination — not called, not led, but pulled, heels dug in, like a donkey.  Yet I knew I would never be a local church minister, so I felt strongly pushed out.  I had shed buckets of tears the night before, to this man I barely knew.   And then he prayed for me night and day.   That woke me up.

Words kept flying out of his mouth; I tried to keep up.  “I prayed for you, and this is the answer that came to me:  Jehosophat!”

Jehosophat?  Whozzat?

Then he screeched to a halt.   Wouldn’t tell me anymore.   Wouldn’t say another word.

So I had to do some research.  It took me awhile just to figure out how to spell it.  It turns out that Jehosophat was a King of Judah against whom all the neighboring countries took up arms.  He gathered his people and prayed to God, saying “we don’t know what to do; our eyes are on you.”  The Spirit of the Lord spoke through a messenger, saying, “The battle is not yours, but God’s.  You don’t have to fight, but you do have to show up.

The next day they gave thanks to the Lord for victory before the battle ever began – a lesson in itself.

They then went into the midst of battle without raising a sword, and sang.  Their enemies turned against each other and did each other in.  After that, “Jehosophat’s kingdom was at peace, for God had given him rest at every side.”   (2 Chronicles 17)

I like to read this metaphorically, because I don’t like all the blood-and-guts, scorched-earth side of the Old Testament God.  But it’s a good story.  It tells us how to fight our own demons.  It tells us how to fight principalities and powers.  It tells us not to fight evil with evil.

So when your back is up against the wall, remember this:  the battle is not yours, but God’s.  Your job is to give thanks for a battle already won, show up, and sing.

-Rev. Angie Wright

John 5:2-9: Now in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate there is a pool, called in Hebrew Beth-zatha, which has five porticoes. In these lay many invalids – blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.

Do you want to be made well?

What kind of question is that?

After lying paralyzed for 38 years among the incurably blind and lame, who wouldn’t want to be made well?

Why would Jesus ask a question like that?

Could it be that Jesus knew how our infirmities can become our identities;  after awhile, without them, who would we be?

Could it be that Jesus knew that we might fear the absence of our pain?  Without our pain, what would we feel?  Without all the time spent focused on our own issues, what would we do with ourselves?

Could it be that Jesus knew that we, like the man in the story, are likely to make excuses and blame others rather than take responsibility for our own healing?

Could it be that Jesus knew that, while we might fiercely deny it, we sometimes desperately hold onto that which cripples us?   How else can we excuse ourselves from living life fully with joy and gladness of heart?

Do you want to be made well?

It’s deceptively difficult question.  Strange how a broken leg can become a crutch.

In Deuteronomy 30:19, God says, “I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live.”

The choice is set before us every day.   Choose life.   Choose to be made well.  Choose to be made whole.

-Rev. Angie Wright

Lent is a time to reflect, so for the second year, Beloved Community Church offers daily Lenten Reflections.  One source of inspiration is the daily lectionary – scripture readings assigned for each day of the year (gamc.pcusa.org/devotion).

Take today’s lectionary readings.  First of all, I noticed the sheer diversity of the readings.   They begin with morning Psalm 22, which jerked me from ” I am a worm, and not human; scorned by others, and despised by the people” to “Yet it was you who took me from the womb;  you kept me safe on my mother’s breast.”  Hmmm.

Then I moved on to the absolute promises of Deuteronomy 7 that if you diligently observe the commandments, the LORD your God “will love you, bless you, and multiply you; he will bless the fruit of your womb and the fruit of your ground, your grain and your wine and your oil, the increase of your cattle and the issue of your flock; you shall be the most blessed of peoples, with neither sterility nor barrenness among you or your livestock. The LORD will turn away from you every illness.”  Wow.

The next reading in Titus 2 had a long list of instructions of how older men, younger men, older women, younger women, and slaves should behave, in response to the grace of God given to all.  Okay.

Next, we have John’s version of Jesus calling his disciples.  They immediately recognize him as the Lamb of God, Rabbi, and Messiah– in the first chapter!  They are much quicker than the guys you meet in Matthew, Mark and Luke.  Interesting.

Finally, the evening Psalm – 105, a thanksgiving, or 130, a lament.  Depending on your day.

I was struck that there are five readings every day.  Five.  What if we read one of the daily readings at a different time every day?  We would be like the monks who pray the daily offices – how could we help but be closer to God if we took the time to do that?  It made me think of the Muslims who stop wherever they are to kneel and bow toward the east and pray five times every day.  Can you imagine how your spirit might change if you stopped each day, five times a day, for five minutes to pray? What if you interrupted whatever you were doing, no matter what it was or who was with you, to pray?  What if your boss was just telling  you that you really need to focus more on your work and you said, ‘excuse me, but I need to take 5 minutes to pray, I’ll be right back with you?’  What if you turned the TV off in the middle of your favorite show (and you didn’t have TIVO)?  Five readings, five times a day.  Five minutes of prayer, five times a day.  A Lenten practice that might change everything.

Rev. Angie Wright

As I was preparing for Lent, I read about one of the first bills to be introduced in this year’s session of the Alabama Legislature.  The bill proposes that any illegal immigrant can be found guilty of trespassing and sentenced to a year in prison simply for being in Alabama.  You and I can be found guilty and sentenced to a year in prison for knowingly taking an illegal immigrant to the doctor or the grocery store – or their immigration hearing.

The language used to justify this kind of action is so hateful.  “We have been invaded, and the invasion continues to this day,” said a retired teacher from Montgomery.  The campaign is so dehumanizing.  The people pushing the cause are so judgmental.  If only they could hear themselves.

If only I could hear myself.

I sound like the Pharisee in Luke 18, who stood by himself and prayed: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other people-robbers, evildoers, adulterers [fill in the blank]-or even like this tax collector.  I fast twice a week and give a tenth of all I get.’  In other words, I can be so judgmental of the judgmental.   I can be so inhospitable toward the inhospitable.  I can be so self-righteous toward the self-righteous!

Lent is often looked at as a ball and chain to be dragged about for 40 days, but it’s really a gift.  We’re invited to remove the veils that we’ve draped between ourselves and our God.   We’re invited, in the words of Joel 2, to “rend your heart and not your garments.  Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.”

So I’m going to give up something for Lent.  I’m going to give up my hostility towards those who are hostile to undocumented residents in our state.  That doesn’t mean I’m going to give up.  I’m still going to stand up for justice & mercy.  But I’m going to try to do it how Jesus did.  I’m going to try to do it how Martin Luther King did – I’m going to try to win them over with love.

-Rev. Angie Wright