This Sunday, the Christian Church celebrates and remembers one of its most significant events: Pentecost. The day of Pentecost, recounted in Acts 2, is an odd event in the life of the Church. It is our birth story. And it is a story filled with a variety of emotions, a diversity of people, and a multitude of implications.

A rushing wind, like the very breath (pneuma) of God fills the first followers of Jesus in a stunning act of new creation just as the Spirit first breathed life into Adam. Tongues of fire rest on their heads harkening back to Mt. Sinai when God descended as fire establishing a covenant with God's people to bring them out of slavery into the Edenic Promised Land. Their spiritual eyes are illumined, their hearts are converted, and their souls are filled with power. They finally know exactly Who Jesus Christ truly is, and their words reveal this new knowledge when they boldly begin to preach the gospel.

But this isn't just an ordinary sermon. For the crowds gathered that day celebrating the Jewish Festival of Shavu'ot from all different cultures and ethnicities, heard it in their own language! The Spirit of God now unfurled in the world in humankind. Christ burning in their hearts. An outpouring of gifts of the Spirit. And the stunning movement toward all people and all cultures in the beautiful diversity of creation.
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Pentecost means we have been given this breath of God, this Spirit of new creation. We have been inspired—a word that literally means “breathed into.” The mighty rushing wind has blown the Spirit into us. And if we are filled with the Spirit, if we are inspired, that means the mission of the redemption of Jesus Christ is at work in us. Every part of us is being bought back from exile, set free from slavery.
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This is the stunning news of the gospel and the culmination of the Easter season. Now, new creation is unfolding in and through us, awakening us to Life, freeing us from the malformed addictions of our false selves, liberating us from fear and cultural captivity, and empowering us to step into our God-given vocations to be a part of the Spirit's work of renewal and reconciliation on the earth.


by Jessica Ketola

We are invited into the sacred ordinary. This Ignatian idea that God is in all things. Every moment pregnant with the grace of God. God has moved into the neighborhood [John 1], the presence of Christ fills the whole earth, and the Spirit of God lives within. Love. Light. Life. This is God revealed to us and to all of Creation groaning for redemption.

We are often drawn to the extra-ordinary and to the spectacular — but most of our lived experience consists of the very mundane, everyday realities. So how do we receive this Love, Light and Life in our own lives in a way that heals us and liberates us? How do we participate in this Love, Light and Life here on the ground? Here in our schools, workplaces and neighborhoods?

The temptation is to think we must do more or be more. We are waiting for the stars to align until we can be who we are meant to be and can participate in God's work of renewal. We are waiting for that elusive moment when we will have time.

What if we realized that Christ was already here -- in every moment, just waiting to be invited into our everyday?

This is the wisdom of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, among so many others, who said:

“It takes three things 
to attain a sense of significant being: 
God, 
A Soul, 
and a Moment.
And the three 
are always here.”

God. Soul. A Moment. God is always here. God's love is near. Present to us. Beckoning us from the busy. Inviting us from the many demands of life to experience the depths of God's presence.

So let us love the ordinary. Let us love the closeness of God and the sacred, here and now. Let us cherish the everyday, the every breath, the place where we are. For surely Christ is in all of it.

Christ be beside me, 
Christ be before me, 
Christ be behind me, 
King of my heart.
Christ be within me, 
Christ be below me, 
Christ be above me, 
never to part.
Christ on my right hand, 
Christ on my left hand, 
Christ all around me, 
shield in the strife.
Christ in my sleeping, 
Christ in my sitting, 
Christ in my rising, 
light of my life.
Christ be in all hearts thinking about me; 
Christ be on all tongues telling of me; 
Christ be the vision in eyes that see me; 
in ears that hear me, Christ ever be. 
-St. Patricks's Breastplate Prayer

by Jessica Ketola
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Last Sunday, we talked about our story as The Practicing Church to live into the extraordinary ordinary. To recognize the resurrected Jesus in the gritty mundane of our lives. To join in the work of Easter that is breaking out all around us. To practice this way of love that disrupts and reorders power structures, that is good news to the poor, and that brings freedom to those who are bowed down.

And our text from the lectionary was John 21 where the resurrected Jesus appears again to the disciples. Here we find them going back to their day jobs, many of them who were commercial fisherman. They have one of those terrible nights of frustration and futility as they fish all night without catching a thing. And then this man whom they do not recognize calls to them from the shore, telling them to throw their net on the other side. And for reasons that seem hard to understand, they do it. Even though I imagine some consternation and head-shaking over the nerve of this guy, for hadn't they already tried a hundred times? And so they cast their nets again and this time pull up a catch of fish so large they can’t even haul it in. And in that moment they recognize the Risen Lord. They recognize their friend, their rabbi, their Lord, their God in the flesh, now in a wounded and glorified body. And the story unfolds into these intimate moments where Jesus makes breakfast for them. Can you imagine? God making you breakfast?

I love this story with its rich metaphor amidst the intimacy and humility of Christ. But I am especially struck with how their encounter with the Risen Lord transforms their everyday lives. They are at work, returning to the grind of making a living wage. They are experiencing disequilibrium as they thought they lost everything when Jesus was crucified and then were utterly shocked and in disbelief when they saw him resurrected. He is appearing and disappearing, and walking through walls. And they still have no idea what this means.

But it is here in the sweat and the frustration and the bewilderment that Jesus shows up. It is here on this lake where they’ve spent so much of their life that Jesus transforms the ordinary into extraordinary. And he calls them once again, just as he did three years ago in a very similar scene, to the work of the kingdom. And of course, Jesus does it in this striking scene of incarnation -- over a meal, face to face as they share communion once more with fish and bread, tears and laughter. And he reminds them what this is all about. Love. If you love me, you will feed my sheep. You will continue what I started. You will reimagine your ordinary, everyday lives as the context for resurrection miracles.

And I can't help but think about my own neighborhood and the ordinary context of my own life and all the people and places that I love. And I can't help but feel my own disorientation and bewilderment at times about what God is up to here. For the spiritual journey is full of twists and turns, with many disappointments and deaths. But I hear the voice of Jesus calling me to cast my nets to the other side. To allow the Spirit of God to do the work when I grow tired. To turn what seems like the futility of the ordinary [lost jobs, friendships, loved ones, energy, health, hope or vision] into something extraordinary.

And I hear the invitation of Jesus to come eat the meal he has prepared for me -- feeding my soul, nourishing my body, and kindling hope once again. And then I hear his voice. If you love me, you will feed my sheep. And I am struck by this poignant image that as Jesus feeds me, he asks me to do the same, to feed others the Eucharistic meal. As we gather with our neighbors around the table and at community meals and at the Methadone clinic. We are invited to intimately and humbly serve others and to partake of this bread of life that reveals the Christ - that reveals God among us, that transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary.

​by Jessica Ketola

We as The Practicing Church want to be a transformational community. These are not light words. These are not easy words. These are words of death and resurrection. As we celebrate Eastertide, the 50 days of the Easter season, we celebrate the miracle of life, of rebirth and of resurrection. And we remember that difficulty and loss are the seedbeds for new growth and spring. Death is not the final word. Rather, it is the precursor of resurrection. Winter never lasts forever, eventually giving way to Spring. A starkly pruned stump transforms into vibrant blossoms and new growth. This is the way of death and birth and transformation.

Which is all good and fine while it remains theoretical. But when we are faced with death and loss, when we get the wind knocked out of us, when we receive the bad news, when we are sitting in what seems like insufferably long seasons of wilderness, it is hard to remember this.

It is hard to remember that this is the stuff of transformation. This is the inception of the miracle. This is the precursor to resurrection.

I love this poem, Mother Wisdom Speaks by Christine Lore Weber [included below]. For it speaks of this sacred process in which we, like Jesus, experience Easter in our wounds and thus become a part of the Spirit's work of healing in the world.

For the Spirit of Easter, the Spirit of Resurrection, the Spirit of New Creation is very much alive and present in the world. Jesus first proclaimed, “The spirit of the Lord is upon me.” The Ruach Yahweh, the breath of God, the spirit that hovered over the surface of the waters at the beginning of time, the life energy of God—this is what had seized and animated Jesus. This spirit that was to bring “good news to the poor” and “liberty to captives.” This spirit that brings God’s love to those who are marginalized by injustice, freedom to those who are imprisoned in false ways of being, and healing to those whose very self has been broken. And after Jesus experiences the Paschal Mystery of dying and rising, he breathes on his disciples as he still does today saying, "Receive the Holy Spirit."

This same Spirit of Easter that brings liberty, healing and transformation is now "upon us".

We are Easter people living in a Good Friday world. We are Easter people and hallelujah is our song. We are Easter people living in communion with the Breath of God, even in the face of suffering, death, and despair.

And so as we reflect on the places of grief, loss, hardship and longing in our own lives, let us remember that these are the deep waters in which the very breath of God is hovering over to bring forth life. And as we traverse through this world full of sorrow and suffering, let us remember that the Spirit of Easter is upon us.

by Jessica Ketola

​Mother Wisdom Speaks
by Christine Lore Weber

Some of you I will hollow out. 
I will make you a cave. 
I will carve you so deep the stars will shine in your darkness. 
You will be a bowl. 
You will be the cup in the rock collecting rain. 
I will hollow you with knives. 
I will not do this to make you clean. 
I will not do this to make you pure 
You are clean already. 
You are pure already. 
I will do this because the world needs the hollowness of you. 
I will do this for the space that you will be. 
I will do this because you must be large. 
A passage. 
People will find their way through you. 
A bowl. 
People will eat from you. 
And their hunger will not weaken them to death. 
A cup to catch the sacred rain. 
My daughter, do not cry. 
Do not be afraid. 
Nothing you need will be lost. 
I am shaping you. 
I am making you ready. 
Light will flow in your hollowing. 
You will be filled with light. 
Your bones will shine. 
The round open center of you will be radiant. 
I will call you brilliant one. 
I will call you daughter who is wide. 
I will call you transformed.

Art by Jyoti Sahi

Today is Maundy Thursday in Holy Week. A day full of story and meaning. The last supper. The first communion. The profanatory foot washing. The flagrant betrayal. And I am struck by the invitation of Jesus that begins with a kind of humility, debasement and intimacy that is hard to receive. Here he seems to be signaling his followers that the way of Jesus is an inglorious one as he takes on the posture of a slave and embraces our most filthy, base parts and makes them clean.

I loved this reflection by Urban Faith Staff:

Holy Thursday, Maundy Thursday, and I am thinking of that night so long ago. I am putting myself in the scene, this soul-weary, overweight, middle-aged black woman who needs Jesus with everything in me. In my mind I am there with the disciples. I am present with my Jesus. You are there, too. Can you see it? The upper room in the drafty edifice, us stumbling in exhausted. We are starving. It’s just before the Passover Feast. So much has happened. So much will happen.

We gather together for a simple supper. Even Jesus has a kind of weight-of-the-world weariness about him. He’s talked a lot about going away lately, but he is fully present now, and his love has arms that hold us close. Still, a sadness lingers in his eyes. It reminds me of how the poet prophet Isaiah describes him, as a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.

The table is set, and we recline where we’re seated, grateful to be with him. Our cups are lined like guards before us, full of wine. A basket of bread lies in the center of the table. Later he will tell us the wine is his blood poured out, and the bread his body broken. Later. Now we sit. Night, as thick and palpable as fog, surrounds us. The flames on the candles bow and rise in the breezy room, as if they too, worship our Lord.

Then Jesus sets aside his outer garments and dons an apron like a slave would wear. He pours water in a basin. We exchange puzzled looks.

“Give me your feet,” he says.

We are stunned silent, each of us carefully removing our sandals, unsure of what to say–what to do–faced with such shocking humility. Foot washing is the worst of tasks, despised by a servants gesture. Yet Jesus kneels before us, one by one, and washes our feet. I watch Him move from person to person. Dear God, Jesus is on His knees, pouring water on our rough soles. The Son of God, the Son of Man, washes us as if the pitcher contains, then releases, his own tears. The water slips between our toes, and the filth of the world falls to the ground, ground now hallowed by His presence. We couldn’t help but feel emotional. Some of us wailed as he worked.

He sure knows how to make a mess of things.

READ FULL ARTICLE

I too feel the sting, "This is all too much, Jesus! Turn your gaze away!" And yet Jesus tells us that we cannot be a part of what he is doing unless we surrender to the vulnerability of this act.

And I can't help but think about what this means for us today as we traverse through the world. For so often, we find ourselves attempting to hide our filthy, undesirable parts to present a shiny image that is presentable. And yet Jesus seems to be saying that unless we allow him (and it seems others) into our vulnerability, we cannot have any part of the kindom.

And then the kicker. Jesus says, “as I have done… so also must you do." We are invited to take the posture of a slave, giving up power and privilege and entering the mess of others. I think about it as I prayerfully walk my neighborhood, as I encounter my neighbors who are struggling to survive on minimum wage, as I share a table with my neighbors who are grieving loved ones, as I greet my neighbors without a home to call their own, and as I befriend the refugee and the immigrant. What does this act of vulnerability invite of me?

This is the path of descent. This is the path of the cross. This is the path of recovering our humanity, embracing the inglorious and calling it holy. This is the glorious mess of Maundy Thursday.

​by Jessica Ketola

Art: Triumphal Entry by He Qui

Last week, we gathered for the first time in our new space at One Cup. And it was more glorious and more disruptive than I had anticipated. The glorious part was that one of the primary reasons that we moved to this space was so that we could be welcoming to the community -- and right off the bat, we had many new faces among us.

​And you, the community showed up in a huge way! Thank you to everyone for all of your help from setting up, to running slides, to leading worship and loading cars. You rock! There seemed to be a tangible sense of excitement for this next leg of the journey and what the Spirit is up to in us and in the neighborhood.

But along with the glory, there were the inevitable bumps. The disruptive parts were what we might expect in any transition -- sound issues, logistical challenges, distractions and the discomfort of the new, reflected in the deer-in-the-headlights looks as I scanned across the room. I'm sure you saw mine as I struggled with the microphone! All of us trying to make sense of the new environment. The donuts helped. And of course, all your lovely faces.

WE are the church. WE are the community. WE as the gathered people are a dwelling place for God's presence. And it will just take time to create a culture of home here. And that is exactly what we will do! For we are creators of culture, not passive consumers, and we have the opportunity to come together to create something beautiful.

And this is the nature of change and transition, both the invitation to glory and to death. And as we talked about last Sunday, this is the way of transformation. Discomfort and challenge is always a part of the growth process, and yet it leads to life - a full and expansive life.

As we approach Holy Week, we are invited to experience transformation in the journey towards the cross. And we can ask the question, "What in my life is being invited to die? Where do I need to surrender? What of my own suffering does Jesus want to enter?"

I encourage you all to take some time next week for reflection as we move through Holy Week.
▪ What Is Holy Week?
▪ Ignatian Spirituality: How To Do Holy Week
▪ The Holy and The Human: A Reflection For Holy Week
▪ Unlock The Stations Of The Cross: Examen Style
▪ The Stations Of The Cross

For we must place the hope of the Resurrection, the promise of newness and life, against the background of death and endings. It is only in walking through the shadows and darkness of Holy Week and Good Friday, only in realizing the horror and magnitude of sin and its consequences in the world incarnated in the dying Jesus on the cross, only in contemplating the ending and despair that the disciples felt on Holy Saturday, that we can truly understand the light and hope of Easter morning! - Dennis Bratcher

This Sunday is Palm or Passion Sunday and we will begin the journey with Jesus to the cross and we will reflect on what it means to die with Christ. And then on Easter morning, we will remember resurrection and we will celebrate the NEW - newness of life, new gathering spaces, new mercies, and new hopes and dreams.

​by Jessica Ketola

​The Practicing Church is ON THE MOVE!!!

We are moving through Lent with prayer, fasting and generosity to the poor. And we are moving our Sunday gathering to One Cup Coffee. And much more than a move from one space to another, we are literally moving as a community on this transformational journey into the heart of our neighborhood. We are opening up wider and we are rooting down deeper.

Last Fall, I had a "holy discontent" that propelled our leadership team into a season of active listening and prayer for our next step as a community. For I was longing to create a place of hospitality in the neighborhood beyond our home that would be welcoming to the wider community. This is the Isaiah 61 call of the church: to be a transformational community that proclaims the good news of Jesus to the poor, brings freedom to those who are oppressed, and participates in the work of renewal in the earth.

So one morning in November I had what I believe was a divine appointment. As we were serving coffee, homemade quiche and cinnamon rolls at the THS Methadone Clinic on Aurora, I began to talk with Scott Sund from Bethany Community Church North. I shared how we wanted to be in a community space in the neighborhood and that we would love to worship in a space like One Cup Coffee. What I didn't know was that Scott had been in a discernment process of his own, praying about how the One Cup space could be used for more of God's kingdom purposes.

Surely the Spirit of God was on the move, out ahead of us!
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And so after months of conversation, prayers and community discernment, we have seen the doors open wide. Bethany Community Church North is offering the space to us for free for the next 16 months (in Seattle, this is unheard of!). And the cafe reflects many of the attributes we are looking for in a third place. It is welcoming. It is communal. It is aesthetically pleasing. It is accessible. And so we are amazed at God's provision to us through the generosity of Bethany to be able to have a welcoming and visible presence in the neighborhood!

We will begin meeting on Sundays at One Cup Coffee on April 7th at 10:30am!

​We are being invited into a compelling story.

As I met again with Scott today, we were both reminded of our conversation in November and how the Spirit has been at work. As I listened to more of the story behind One Cup, I was in awe. It seemed like such a bold move for a growing community church who was looking for a meeting place to instead invest in the redemption of a dark place in the neighborhood. This kingdom vision is one that can only be born in prayer, and Scott is a praying man. And so they chose to be a part of the work of transformation and renewal in the neighborhood and to invest more in Monday through Saturday than Sunday. [Does this sound familiar? No wonder we have found ourselves aligned.]

For more of the story, check out these articles: 
* Church Moves into Former Colacurcio Strip Club 
* Bethany Community Church Gives Former Strip Club a Holy Purpose
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We are being invited into a kingdom story.

A story of transformation. A story of community. A story of redemption. A story where we will have every opportunity to practice this radically inclusive gospel — to be a community that is welcoming to the poor, to our neighbors, to the spiritually hungry and to diverse communities. We will continue to root in the neighborhood, to care about this particular patch of earth and the flourishing of this community, joining in God's work of renewal here.   

And like all good kingdom stories, it will not be without difficulty or risk. We are leaving behind the comfort of our home to the foreign unknown of Aurora. We are leaving behind a private space to create a public space. We don't know what obstacles we will encounter, what strengths will be called forth, what darkness we will face or what gifts we will receive. For certain, our love will be tested. We aren't entirely sure it will work or if we will be back to where we started. We will have to experiment, learn and iterate. We know it is temporary and so we will be forced to keep journeying. But one thing we can be sure of...

​It will be a journey of transformation.

​That's because all Kingdom stories are transformative in nature. And while there is much we do not know, here's a few things we do:

We will journey together. 
We are the church, and it is obvious as we gather that God has brought us together with God's purposes in mind. And as I look around the room, I feel grateful beyond words.

We will continue to follow Jesus past our comfort zones into the radical way of love.
So much of the Jesus way challenges everything we know and hold dear. And yet we trust that as we surrender our fears, our preferences, our egos, and our need for control, we will receive gifts beyond our wildest imaginations. We will taste heaven here on earth as we become part of the beloved community where all are welcome, regardless of race, culture, gender, sexual-orientation or class.

The Spirit will be faithful to lead us on!
God has given us a compelling story, and it is still being written. God's faithfulness to us is stunning and we have every confidence that God will continue to lead us and guide us every step of the way.

​So, Spirit, move! Let heaven come to earth we pray!

We are inviting every one of you in this community to join us in prayer. Next week, we will gather in One Cup on Tuesday at 7pm to pray as a community in that space. We will participate in a community fast Tuesday through Thursday, and then of course, we are continuing to pray with Bethany and with the Northwest Vineyard Churches throughout the 40 days of Lent. We believe that this is a timely and important invitation to the practice of prayer and fasting as we make this transition as a community. So join in!


​by Jessica Ketola

Last Sunday marked the first Sunday of Lent as we began our series, On Earth As It Is In Heaven around the teachings of Jesus' famous Sermon on the Mount. [If you missed it, you can listen here]. And as we read his manifesto, we are invited into a whole new way of being in the world.

We are invited to repent [to turn around, to change our hearts and our minds, to come home] for the kingdom of heaven is near. These are the postures of repentance and Lent. These are the postures of death and of birthing. These are the postures of transformation. These are the postures of surrender.

Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the humble and meek. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are those who are persecuted for doing good. For they will receive a taste of heaven here on earth.

This is counter to everything we crave as humans. Success. Wealth. Status. Gratification. Independence. Control. We do not like to be poor, to be weak, or to be lowly. We often disdain our hunger and our need. We do not enjoy suffering, mistreatment or betrayal. In fact, so much of our human experience is trying to prove ourselves. Trying to prove that we're strong, invincible, knowledgeable, or in control or at the very least NOT WEAK...

And yet Jesus invites us to weakness.

The season of Lent invites us to surrender.

But it is a different kind of surrender -- not to a foe but to LOVE.

"Perhaps the word "surrender" should be enough for my prayer... Not the surrender of submission to an enemy, but the opposite, the laying down of resistance to the One who loves me infinitely more than I can guess, the One who is more on my side that I am myself. Dwelling on this thought of letting go, and handing myself over to the Spirit will bring me much closer to the experience of Jesus than the word 'discipline' which so many of us have been trained to invoke at the beginning of Lent. It should help us smile at our anxious attempts to bring our life under control, the belt tightening resolutions about giving up this or taking on that. What we are called to give up in Lent is control itself!" -Martin L. Smith, A Season for the Spirit

What we are called to give up in Lent is control itself.

Powerful words and a powerful invitation as we begin the Lenten season. An invitation to die, to let go, to surrender.

And so I will leave you with two reflections this week. One of my own and the powerful litany this week from Fran Pratt.

My prayer is that you can begin to experience heaven here on earth as you find new postures of surrender and weakness.


by Jessica Ketola

REFLECTION: What Is It That Needs To Die?

All transformation requires a death, a loss of what has been, a letting go. This is not easy work. This is not comfortable work. This is neither for the faint of heart or the indifferent. Rather, it requires a daring tenacity and a robust faith. A willingness to risk and to fail and to iterate.

And yet death comes before life. The seed dies before the new tender shoot emerges from the earth. This is the way of Lent. This is the way of the cross. This is the way of birthing. This is the way of dying.

This is where the mystery of the tomb coalesces with the miracle of the womb.

And so, what is it that we need to surrender? What is it that needs to die? What is it that we need to let go of? And as we journey together with community fasting and prayer, what collectively is it that we need to give up?

Is it our comfort? Our need for success? The ways in which we want what we want when we want it? Our individualism and our independence?

Is it our reluctance to commit or to be inconvenienced? Our prejudices? Our resentments? Our fear? Our jealousies? Our insecurities? Our wounds? Our self-hate?

Or is it our need to please others? Our need to be validated? Our need to be important? Our security? Our need for control? Our power? Our privilege? Our possessions?

What is it that needs to die?

Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to die. So the saying goes. But Jesus promises us that as we lose the striving and scarcity of our own small lives, we will enter the expansiveness of His full and abundant life. [Matthew 16:25] That as we enter the paradox of the tomb, of death, surrender, and letting go, that in time from the womb of our deepest desires, new life will emerge.

Spend time this week reflecting on the invitation to surrender. Listen for the Spirit to speak to you afresh.

A LITANY FOR WEAKNESS
Fran Pratt franpratt.com. Used with permission.

Oh God, we come to Lent to face ourselves:
Our desperate need to prove our worth;
Our hunger for reputation, wealth, and influence; 
Our ego's power over us...

Read More on franpratt.com.

Last Sunday, we took some time to envision the kind of community that we dream about being a part of as The Practicing Church. If anything is possible, who do we want to be? What does it look like? What are we up to in the world? And it was a generative and hopeful exercise. I heard themes around inclusivity, welcome, authenticity, diversity, justice, community engagement and grassroots, catalytic movement. And I am so excited to see how God's dream emerges in us, around us and through us!

As we have been actively listening, praying and leaning into our next step as a community to create a place of hospitality in the neighborhood, we have seen the doors fling wide open. And so I am thrilled to announce that we will begin meeting on Sundays at One Cup Coffee, as soon as March 31st! This has been a decision that we as a community have been prayerfully discerning for several months now. And we are amazed at God's provision to us through the generosity of Bethany Community Church North to be able to have a welcoming and visible presence in the neighborhood! Surely the Spirit of God is at work!

This week also marks the beginning of the season of Lent, which is the 40 days before Easter that the church sets aside for repentance, generosity to the poor, and prayer. And I can't think of a more perfect time to begin to pray the prayer that Jesus taught us to pray, "Let your kingdom come, here and now, on earth as it is in heaven," as we move into our new gathering space.

For much more than a move from one space to another, we are literally moving as a community on this transformational journey into the heart of our neighborhood. We are opening up wider and we are rooting down deeper.

And as we do this, we will journey through Lent around Jesus' teachings of the Sermon on the Mount. And as I was ruminating on this with Carrie Cates, she sent me the following thoughts:

[I see the Sermon on the Mount] fundamentally about the weaving together of heaven and earth. Lent is this quiet season of repentance, prayer, fasting - rooting down into the essence of what it means to be a follower of Christ. The Sermon on the Mount calls us to such practices, practices of bodies and of systems, which change our posture in this world. At the same time, it calls us to change the posture of our hearts and minds, to invoke the blessings and hopes of heaven. I don't necessarily see that Jesus says that you must focus more on heaven or more on earth. The implication seems more to be that there is a ceaseless flow between earth and heaven; that our hearts, bodies, and actions can be a part of bringing heaven to earth; and heaven (the shalom, the wholeness, justice and perfection of God) is at least in part manifested in us. I think of Rilke's poem that talks about returning to first things, about learning to fall so that you can fly:

"If we surrendered 
to earth's intelligence 
we could rise up rooted, like trees."

The more deeply you root into earth, the higher you reach into heaven.

And so we will begin the transformational journey of Lent by praying, practicing, and manifesting heaven on earth. We will join together to participate in God's dream for us and for our neighborhoods, as we wrestle with the challenging teachings of Jesus to orient the whole of our lives around this revolutionary way of love. We will repent from scarcity, white supremacy, individualism and consumerism and we will stand in solidarity with those who suffer. And we will make space in our hearts for God to come and to dwell in us, meeting the deepest longings of our soul and awakening us to the abundant life we were created for.


by Jessica Ketola

God has given us a compelling story. It is a story unfolding. A story in process. A story unfinished. And much of the work before us is to celebrate this story, clarify this story, articulate this story, and live into the richness of this story. It is a story that God has given us and it is one that is still being written by our faith community along with the Spirit.

For we are The Practicing Church. We are a people on a journey. A people who desire to take the teachings of Jesus seriously. Not as something to add to our already busy, stressed out lives, but as a way of life. And we believe that this takes practice. That transformation doesn't happen by good intentions or osmosis but by practices that form us in the way of Jesus. And so we participate in communal practices, formational practices and missional practices that align our lives with the values of God's good, wise and loving kindom.

And in doing so, we experience transformation. In our own lives, we find we are on the inward journey to come home to God and to our true selves and the fullness of who we are created to be. In an age of anxiety and fragmentation, we cultivate spiritual practices that ground us in the love of God and become a sanctuary for our souls. And we find ourselves growing in faith, hope and love.

At the same time, we are invited to journey together. From the small and isolating individualism of our culture into the rich expansiveness of community. We are invited from scarcity to the abundance of the kindom, to be a part of something much bigger than ourselves. To invest our time, our energy and our resources on what matters most. Our small offering, just like the parable of the loaves and fishes, can then be blessed, broken and multiplied many times over as it is shared with the community.

This compels us on the journey outward from the captivity of consumerism into creating culture. We are called to join in the Spirit's work of reconciliation and healing in the world around us, in our neighborhoods, our schools and work places. We are called to participate in the work of justice, peacemaking and renewal. We are called to repent from our indifference, bias and pride to learn how to love our neighbor and our enemy, our brother and the stranger. To see the face of Jesus in the face of the poor.

As we continue to pray about our next move as a community, we keep this story in mind. For we believe it is a compelling story. One that is needed today in an age of anxiety, fragmentation and division. For we need practices that offer us a path home. Like the Hero's Journey, we will need to leave the known world for the adventure of the unknown, to engage a wider world, to encounter trials, to face the enemies of our soul, to discover new strengths, and to ultimately die to our false selves only to to be reborn. To find wholeness and shalom with ourselves, God and others.

Join us this week as we collectively dream, envision and reimagine what it means to be the church! Add your voice, your creativity and your passion to our unfolding story!


by Jessica Ketola