Raman tells of a visit to a beautiful church in Poland built under USSR's oppressive atheism, one brick at a time over a period of 20 years. Townspeople would each lay a single brick at the end of their day's work. Raman compares this approach to that of a mentor who made a habit of writing a thank-you note every day. Think of a "brick" to offer God each day - "a cup of coffee, a held door, the opportunity to make a left turn at a stop light." He asks, how are you building your life as a disciple, brick by brick?
A different small church embarrassed Raman by "a generous act of giving" (James1.17) making him and his friend the guests of honor. Awkward, yes, and awe-inspiring. "We drove back in silence."
Were it not for Raman, I might have continued to overlook the significance when Jesus says to his disciples, "Let us go to the other side" of the Sea of Galilee. People on the other side were not Jews. This was an invitation to reach out to communities likely hostile to Jesus and his disciples.
At funerals, we take comfort in a line from Romans 14:7-8, "Whether we live or die, we are the Lord's." In context, Raman points out, the emphasis isn't on someone who has died but on the way we LIVE with each other, fearless even of death.
When Jesus says, "Let not your heart be troubled," he still bears the wounds of his Crucifixion ordeal. Faith does not insulate us from pain.
And I'm always grateful for anyone who highlights Luke 12.25, "Can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?" Raman even worries that he's worrying. Humor counteracts the toxin of worry.
For July 4th, he chose a line from Hebrews 11, "they were strangers and foreigners on the earth...seeking a homeland" (v.13-14). Recalling his transient childhood (11 "homes" in 17 years), he asked what "home" really means. I took that idea to mentor training with Education for Ministry, and the theological reflection took off! He ends with the idea that we must be "home to ourselves."
Reading that "something like scales fell from [Paul's] eyes," Hutchinson is reminded of a lesson learned during a mental health crisis, that passive "looking" is not the same as active "seeing," which is an art to cultivate. The lesson comes up again after Psalm 50.11, "I know every bird in the sky." Hutchinson took walks to get out of the house during COVID, and noticed more birds each day. When he got a better camera, he took photos and learned to appreciate these fascinating creatures. "I took comfort in the psalmist's promise that God knows all the birds of the air... and God knows me."
He admits that he often yawns during a recitation of the Lord's Prayer (Luke 11.1), but "not because it's boring." Rather, these familiar words give him peace. He asks what we remember about learning the Lord's Prayer.
On Johann Sebastian Bach's birthday, the Psalm includes this wonderful line: "Wake up my spirit, awake lute and harp; I myself will waken the dawn." Hutchinson's appreciation of Bach is crowned by the fact that the composer inscribed his work with the phrase, "To God be all the glory." Hutchinson asks how we can praise and honor God through creative work - writing, knitting, designing, woodworking. I'd add, writing poetry and blogs.