“Hear O Israel, The Lord our God, the Lord is one... ” (Mark 12:29) 

I’m not surprised that Jesus quotes this passage from Deuteronomy 6:4 when asked what the greatest commandment is. He is telling the crowd that the commandment Moses gave to the Israelites when they were getting ready to enter the promised land is the same commandment that should be honored firstly in His time. It is the same commandment that we also should honor first today, 2000 years later, there is One Lord of all.
       
I’m not surprised because I’ve seen what happens when I put God first and I’ve seen what happens when I don’t. I recently took on a new role in my work. It is more time consuming and involves learning how to do many new things. I also have taken the lead on two other ministries at my parish. At first I was reluctant because I’m at a point in my life that I’d like to slow down some. But God had other plans for me and I knew in my heart that He was asking me to do these things. He was asking me to put Him ahead of my own personal plans. I said “yes” to these new responsibilities because I know that when I put God first and follow His plan for my life, not only do I receive blessing but so do many others. I may be tired at the end of the day but I have joy and peace in my heart. 
       
Jesus then goes on to say that we should love God and tells us exactly how we should do it: “... with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.” 

I love this quote from Saint Augustine: “Love God and do what you will.” When we put God first and love Him as we should, then our lives are rightly ordered. What if we lived in a world where everyone did this? Let it begin with us. 



​
​Maxine Brown
​

“All good things must come to an end.” I hear this expression and think two things: first, man, what a downer; and, second, I don’t believe it. 


Certainly, our relationships with many things in this world are punctuated with a full stop. Birthday cakes are eaten. Clothes wear out. Buildings crumble into rubble. People we love pass away from us into death.


But, here’s the truth: none of those things come to an end; they simply change and take on a new form. When a log burns up, the materials that made up the log do not vanish. They turn into ashes and gases we cannot see. The 18th century chemist (and Christian) Antoine Lavoisier called this the Law of the Conservation of Matter. 


So cakes become energy for our bodies, and rubble becomes clay (perhaps to become bricks again someday). The people we love, when they die, cast off their bodies. We miss the physicality of their presence in our lives, but what they were isn’t wiped out. Their bodies change form, and their spirits enter eternity because they were never of this world and therefore never subject to the Law of the Conservation of Matter. That is what we believe as Christians, or would believe if we were like Antoine Lavoisier.


So, here’s the expression I would use: All things of this world must change in form.


Okay, that was getting a bit heavy, so I’m going to move on.


This Sunday’s second reading from the Letter to the Hebrews compares the “former priests” of this world to Jesus, who is the high priest “exalted above the heavens.” The Levitical priests changed, one after another (because, as humans, they inevitably died), and the people they served started over with another priest. But Jesus, having conquered death, “always lives to make intercession” for us. Moreover, unlike human priests, Jesus has “no need to offer sacrifices day after day“ to atone for His sins and the sins of others because He is “perfect” and His sacrifice on the cross was a complete atonement for all sin forever.


Jesus is with us always. He walks with us on the road to salvation to its very end. We do not perceive Him with our eyes but His Spirit is with us because it is not of this world. And that will never change.




Donna Davis

This is a dance. There’s a pulse in the words. One, two, three. One, two, three. A love song in 3/4 time. A waltz. Some psalms are a declaration, a march in 2/4. One, two. One, two. A rallying cry stomped out in time, letting all hear who He is — even (especially?) telling ourselves who He is.


On my first brush with this psalm I feel it like one whispered close in His ear, as He leads me through this dance. In the swaying rhythm I can fall into this expression of devotion to Him. I simply desire to let Him know there is no other. I long to take this moment of movement and list for His ears alone all that I find Him to be: my strength, my rock, my fortress, my deliverer, my shield, my salvation, my stronghold, worthy to be praised.




We get to the end of the song, and I start back from the top. This time I find I can recast the timing. Thanking Him for the dance and letting go of the intimacy, my feet start to fall into a 2/4 march. Each tread a testimony of who He is. I pace out each assertion to the parts of myself that I war with, to the enemy within and without: I shall be saved; He heard my voice; the Lord lives!


But there is this time signature that borrows from both the 2/4 pulse of the march and the 3/4 pulse of the waltz. 6/8 time. One, two, three, four, five, six. One, two, three, four, five, six. The intimacy of the waltz carried into the forward motion of the march. Leaving behind my solitary stomp, I head back to the beginning and start over, this time linking arms with all of you as we move forward down the yellow brick road together. There is joy in the lilt, and determination in our steps forward with each realization of where He is leading us: blessed be; exalted be; great triumphs; steadfast love.


Thank you Father, for all the chances to be in motion with You. In Jesus name, amen.


Here are some songs of worship written recently in 6/8 time:

• There Is A Cloud
• Follow You Anywhere
• Who You Say I Am

Noreen Smith

I usually loathe digging into the Old Testament. To me, the Old Testament can be dark and full of doom. If I’m honest, I often read it like a story of days gone by when people didn’t obey the Lord and so He struck them down. They were so disobedient and slow to understand that He had to send the New Covenant in Jesus for people to really get it.


However, a song was released in 2020 that feels like a companion piece to this reading and sheds light on the simplicity of the messages in the Old Testament for me. That song, The Blessing (by Chris Brown, Cody Carnes, Kari Jobe, and Steven Furtick © 2020 Capitol CMG Paragon) reminds me of how blessed and simple my life and the lives of my children can be if we but just listen to Him. In the midst of the chaos that was 2020, this song became a rally cry around the world. Choirs united over social media to sing it together from the solitude of their homes as we all quarantined from each other — trying to stay safe and battle this virus that was permeating the world. Voices joined together over digital platforms to remind us that He was with us; that He was all around us, and that for generations to come, He would continue to be with us.


As I prayed with this reading, listening to the song in the background as I did, I pictured the faces of my children and my granddaughter. I saw them and their lives long after I am gone, rooted firmly in the solid knowledge that God is with them and within them. I pictured long roots of faith, sprouting from my feet, going through them, anchoring them solidly in His love. I know that the lived examples my husband and I provide to them of obedience and faith in God every day are giving them those roots. We may not be seeing it today, and I know there will be bumps in their roads. I also know with certainty that if I continue to love the Lord God with all my heart and keep my eyes fixed on Him and His commandments, these seeds that are being sown today will indeed take root in their hearts. I know this because He promises it to be true. All I have to do is love and obey.




Sandy Graves
​