Watching for Whales

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

Each of you has confessed that you are more likely to describe yourself as a lake-person rather than an ocean-person. And I’m guessing that it is mostly because what is beneath the surface of a lake seems less foreboding than what might be beneath the surface of the ocean. If given the option, I’m also guessing you both would prefer a clean, clear pool over swimming in either a lake or an ocean. The unknown can be so unsettling!

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - Pentecost (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, May 24, 2026

Acts 2:1-21 / Psalm 104:24-34, 35b / 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13 / John 20:19-23

Summary of Psalm 104 24-34, 35b

Psalm 104 celebrates the vastness, beauty, and interconnectedness of creation, portraying all life as sustained by an ongoing divine presence that continually breathes renewal into the world.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

What if we had the same awe for the inner parts of ourselves as the psalmist expresses for the visible creation?

The first half of the psalm lists the many components of nature, its beauty and interconnectedness. The same could be said of the components of the human soul. It is both a completed whole, and a compilation of many parts. The parts are interconnected and their depth and breadth stretches all comprehension. This includes the shadow parts, as identified in the psalm as the leviathan.

In ancient times the leviathan was a giant sea creature often associated with chaos. The psalmist tells us that it was designed to "frolic" or play, not designed for chaos. Similar to the leviathan, the shadow’s presence in the deep waters of the unconscious contributes to its mystery and to our apprehension. But when we see the shadow as part of the whole, we might begin to see how its energy and capacity can lead to new understanding of the expanse and majesty of creation. We are invited into the frolicking nature of the shadow. Wholeness is not achieved through elimination of the shadow, but through learning to hold all the energies of the soul within a larger, Spirit-filled harmony.

Importantly, wounds, pain and trauma are not to be ignored or minimized. However, neither are they to become the center of our identity. Rather, wounds belong within the whole ecology of the self or soul. The psalmist relishes in the way the Spirit of God enlivens all of creation. Likewise the inner journey is enlivened, and flourishes, when we allow the spirit within to breathe on all that comprises our soul; to bring about nourishment, health and vitality. And this soul includes the divine spirit within. Then, as described in verse 30, there is an expansion of creation by the renewal that the spirit brings.

Many people approach the soul or psyche as a problem to fix, a battle to be fought or a moral project to clean up. The psalmist speaks of all creation with wonder, and therefore invites us not to “fix” the soul, but to behold the soul with humility, wonder and awe.

An Open Door

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

Do you remember all of us sitting in the entryway closet during one of the many tornado warnings we had while living in Oklahoma City? We tried to make it fun but probably failed. It was a crowded space; barely enough room for all of us and our anxieties. I now worry that we did a better job of teaching you how to control your emotions rather than how to listen to your emotions. As a result the inner tornados can pose a bigger threat than the outer ones. If possible, open the door and give the wounded emotions space to breathe in grace.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - Pentecost (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, May 24, 2026

Acts 2:1-21 / Psalm 104:24-34, 35b / 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13 / John 20:19-23

Summary of John 20:19-23

The disciples are gathered behind locked doors. The crucifixion of Jesus has left them afraid, confused and uncertain. We can only imagine the atmosphere in that room. Did the fear make them quiet? Did the uncertainty lead to nervous conversation? Jesus’s appearance was likely the last thing they expected.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

The inner journey is filled with mixed emotions. And sometimes our inner reaction to feelings and emotions is to “lock them down.” When we feel out of control, we try to control. When we feel shame, we typically hide emotionally. Guilt can make us retreat. Perceived failure can make us timid. Many of us learned at a young age to control our emotions and to pay attention to what is acceptable and what is not.

Jesus enters the room where fear is hiding. He already knows the disciples wounds, and so he shows them his wounds. He does so in a matter-of-fact way, without a sense of resentment or vengeance toward anyone. He blesses their hiding place, both outwardly and inwardly, with peace.

In this fantastic inner journey, let’s bring together the last verse of the passage with the first verse. If you keep the doors locked on those unwieldy parts of your heart, the doors will stay locked, and you stay separated from the peace that transforms. If you unlock the doors, forgive yourself and others, the doors swing open and inner peace takes over. And when peace and love are in charge, the Kingdom of God has already come.

The Inner Conqueror

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

I know you have witnessed the initiating energy expressed by your kids. It is a trait in all of us and is linked to survival. Infants have no resources, so they have to get your attention to obtain the things they need to survive, like food, physical contact, sleep and protection. Parents try to corral that energy. Ideally, part of parenting is to help direct the energy in positive and meaningful ways. However, the words “ideally” and “parenting” are not often in the same sentence, or in the same moment!

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 7th Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, May 17, 2026

Acts 1:6-14 / Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35 / 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11 / John 17:1-11

Summary of Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35

In contrast to the high-priestly voice of this week’s Gospel reading, this psalm seems to talk about God in the role of conquering king who destroys enemies and rewards allies.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

If we consider the psalm as a reflection of the inner life, it means there is a voice in us that wishes to conquer and destroy; to reward those who are like us and crush those who are not like us. Inwardly it is a battle with the shadow and anything else that is a threat to the ego. What do we do with the inward warrior/conqueror energy; the part that genuinely wants victory, dominance, and triumph over enemies?

To be certain, there is a healthy form of conquering energy. Without this energy nothing changes; evil is never confronted, boundaries disappear and life becomes stagnant. A healthy dynamic masculine energy protects, initiates, creates order and confronts danger. This is powerfully expressed in verses 5, 6, 9 and 10.

The distorted and immature inner king or conqueror needs enemies, thrives on division and cannot tolerate ambiguity. The person driven by this distortion believes that wholeness comes by destroying what is threatening, inwardly and outwardly. So, shame must be silenced, fear must be crushed, doubt must be eliminated, and the shadow must die. But psychologically, this creates fragmentation. Because what is attacked internally does not disappear—it splits off or fragments. And then the “enemy” is likely to return in disguised forms, such as projection, addiction, anxiety, rigidity, self-righteousness or depression.

The immature king defends ego. The integrated king defends life.

There is a conquering energy within all of us. And its role in the inner journey is integrated when it shifts from a need for domination to a posture of protection and love.

The Inner Priest

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

Finding your own voice seems to be a very important life task. I have spent a lot of energy and time in borrowing a voice from others. I did that through adopting the voice of authors, speakers, teachers, cultural icons, religious leaders, my parents and definitely my friends. I would add in smatterings of my own poorly developed values, insecurities, fears and self righteousness. I am sorry for the many times my parenting was driven by a confusing mixture of that outer and inner mess. I have become familiar with a more cohesive voice within that is connected to grace, peace and love. As a result I think I am better able to see the unique, eternal and incredible voice within each of you. I hope you trust your voice.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 7th Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, May 17, 2026

Acts 1:6-14 / Psalm 68:1-10, 32-35 / 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11 / John 17:1-11

Summary of John 14:15-21

In John 17:1-11 Jesus begins what is commonly referred to as the high priestly prayer. Here Jesus moves from instruction to intercession. Though the words “high priest” are not found in this passage, generations of Christian’s have found that this chapter exemplifies Jesus in a high priestly role. And the term is used with respect and honor, not in a demeaning or disrespectful way. Have you ever considered the high priestly part of you?

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

Everyone has this moral voice within. It can offer insight and wisdom. It can cast a vision for the future, and it can interpret the past.  Conversely, it can create fear of change and guilt for the past. The question is, does this voice function from a place of health, or is it out of balance?   

When it is overbearing (out of balance) it can be judgmental, critical or self righteous. When it is ignored or underdeveloped, the inner world loses coherence, and can lead to stagnation, indecisiveness or poor decisions. 

When that voice speaks from a place of health and balance, it is a mediating presence that holds the inner world together.  It becomes an anchoring presence within, and offers a set of values that guides decisions, and nurtures growth. This high priestly voice cares for the community as a result of cultivating an inner intimacy.  

Jesus’s prayer expresses the essence of this inner high priest. Those who listen to its voice get in touch with that which is eternal (verse 3). The voice functions as a revelation of the divine (verse 6). And, maybe most importantly, when the spiritual voice within has found its footing, and is working for the good of the inner life, it brings all the other parts into unity (verse 11).  

When life feels fragmented, stuck, or confusing, consider listening to the inner spiritual voice that often serves as a mediator or bridge to the divine wisdom. It is compassionate, not just outwardly, but inwardly, filled with grace toward the wounded and hurting parts within.   The priestly voice exists to create connection—between the human and the divine, and therefore between all the fractured parts within us.

Admittedly the inner priestly voice can become distorted. Instead of mediation there is inner accusation. Instead of integration there is fragmentation. And the guilt of imperfection can be debilitating.   But Jesus models something different. He speaks the words of this prayer knowing the disciples are about to fail him. And still the prayer is filled not with shame, but with gratitude, hope, protection, and belonging. That’s the voice that leads to inner unity and peace.

What a Journey

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

There is only one 14,000 foot peak that I have summited twice. It has a very unintimidating name: Mount Sneffels. It sounds like a Sesame Street destination, but it is actually a strenuous climb. The summit itself is rather small, with only enough room for four or five people. Though the view is beautiful from the top, I have far more pictures taken on the trail; the four-wheel drive to the trailhead, the meadows, the slide, the saddle, boulder alley, and the key-hole. The summit is the destination that creates the journey, but the journey is what holds the adventure, the challenges, stretches the imagination, and taxes the resources. I have taken hikes where I have not reached the summit. But I still treasured the journey.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 6th Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, May 10, 2026

Acts 17:22-31 / Psalm 66:8-20 / 1 Peter 3:13-22 / John 14:15-21

Summary of Psalm 66:8-20

This is a psalm of thanksgiving that moves from communal praise to personal experience. The journey described in this hymn is filled with pressure, exhaustion and feelings of being overwhelmed. But it also describes times of spaciousness, prosperity and gratitude.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

The outward journey can often include pressure and exhaustion. So can the inward journey. Fear, anxiety, confusion and anger can feel like immoveable obstacles to any type of happiness or peace. Pain and grief can keep us from moving in any direction, and the inner landscape can feel like it has turned into a desert. The landscape may seem frighteningly spacious, while the soul seems to shrink and struggle for breath.

There are parts of us that want integration without work, transformation without confrontation or healing without vulnerability. However, what constricts us can also uncover us. The things that pressure us reveal the crutches to which we cling. The storms reveal our propped up identity. The obstacles reveal our lack of resilience. And the harsh conditions often reveal our resentments, wounds and protective strategies. There are lessons that can only be learned in the desert.

Maybe the psalmist is inviting us to recognize that the obstacles are not hindrances to the journey, but are actually the journey itself.

Magical Thinking

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

I don’t know what John 14:14 means, but I think I know what it doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean that putting the tag line, “in Jesus’s name,” on any request will make it so. That’s just magical thinking.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 6th Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, May 10, 2026

Acts 17:22-31 / Psalm 66:8-20 / 1 Peter 3:13-22 / John 14:15-21

Summary of John 14:15-21

This passage, like last week’s gospel reading, is part of a larger discourse of Jesus, given to the disciples in the hours leading up to his betrayal and death. This portion of scripture speaks about that part of God that is described as the Holy Spirit.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

I feel like the setup for this week’s passage is found in the last line of last week’s reading. There, in John 14:14, we find the statement, “If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.” It seems like this proclamation, attributed to Jesus, has led to generations of christians ending every prayer with, “…in Jesus’s name we pray, amen,” and, producing a crop of disciples who believe in magical thinking. God becomes the genie in a bottle who grants wishes, as long as you ask in Jesus’s name.

I feel like the gaming industry has something to teach us here. The random reward of winning, based on probabilities, is key to the addictive nature of gambling. Similarly in prayer, when our desired outcome comes to pass, we think we have cracked the code, beaten the odds, and won the spiritual battle. In many cases, it was likely just the laws of probability that happened to work in our favor. Does this mean I don’t believe in prayer? Quite the contrary. I believe prayer is a vital spiritual lifeline and an important part of the spiritual journey. However, since the spiritual journey is built upon inward change, what are the implications for prayer?

Jesus tells us that he lives within (verse 19) and the spirit of God, the Advocate, abides within (verse 17). We are invited to do the inward work of coming into alignment with all that God commands, which is to love (15:12). Prayer checks our unloving spirit, whets our appetite for love, and brings all the parts of ourself under the umbrella of love. Prayer enhances our belief in the power of love, awakes us to unloving behavior, and leads us to the kind of healing that only love can produce. Prayer breaks down our own prejudice, exposes our sense of entitlement, and ignites a fire of compassion. Prayer simultaneously holds us accountable while also bringing about abundant freedom.

Here is a simple prayer that might reflect the spirit of John 14, but I could be wrong.: “In the name of Jesus, help me find that inner place of love that changes anything and everything.”

Where does prayer take you?

Let Me Think About It

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

I am a lot better at thinking about my feelings than feeling my feelings. There may be an underlying belief that I can think them away!

One of the many traits that I admire in both of you is that you never seem to vilify your feelings. Rather you appear to hold them with acceptance and grace. Thank you for being my teacher and modeling a better way.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 5th Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, May 3, 2026

Acts 7:55-60 / Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16 / 1 Peter 2:2-10 / John 14:1-14

Summary of Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16

The language of this Psalm indicates an apparent threat that is imminent, though we don’t know the specific historical setting. The psalmist seems to express a movement from urgent vulnerability to surrendered trust.

Scripture as Mirror of the Soul

The words of this psalm are used by Jesus at the time of his death. He actually quotes two different psalms. The first is from Psalm 22. Jesus uses the opening line, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Then, moments before his death he quotes from Psalm 31, “Into your hands I commit my spirit.”

Maybe there is not always a movement from anguish to trust, or from discouragement to hope. Maybe instead we are invited to hold seemingly contradictory emotions—grief and hope, fear and courage, anguish and trust—without forcing one to disappear in preference for the other.

In Psalm 31 the poet speaks of vulnerability and confidence in the same breath. Some feelings we have are very unsettling. Some emotions we push away, hoping that others won’t see our “weakness.” Some feelings pose a threat to our ego, and the way we want to be seen by others. And if those traits are ever exposed, we often want to quickly replace them with traits that will be more admirable and acceptable.

The inner journey is not about destroying or overcoming uncomfortable parts of ourselves, but to integrate them. They become less frightening when recognized, named, and given room to exist.

Unexpressed parts often hold valuable qualities. The anger you fear may be the energy you need to set boundaries. The sadness you push away may open the door to empathy. The creativity you repress may be the path to joy and meaning. When we hold opposing emotions in balance, we experience the power and insight of the integrated pair. This inner reconciliation is a path to wholeness.

Sailing, Takes Me Away

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

You know I like sailing. I’ve read books about sailing. I’ve taken classes on sailing. And I’ve worked on assembling sailboats. The knowledge and information is incredibly helpful. But I believe that the essence of sailing rests on these two questions: 1. Can you feel the wind? 2. Can you feel how the wind affects the boat and its sail? This is the core of sailing: a relationship between you, the wind and the boat. Pay attention to this, and everything else follows.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 5th Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, May 3, 2026

Acts 7:55-60 / Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16 / 1 Peter 2:2-10 / John 14:1-14

Summary of John 14:1-14

This passage is part of a larger discourse of Jesus, given to the disciples in the hours leading up to his betrayal and death. Jesus is preparing them for a new era in their relationship to him. The disciples seem unsettled and confused.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

One approach to the “inside-out” perspective is to ask what part of ourselves is represented by the disciple Thomas and what part is represented by Philip.

Thomas wants more information. This might be the part of us that believes if we know more we will have more control. Jesus’s response challenges that posture. Knowing and recognizing the divine voice is the path to life, not more information.

The Philip part of us wants verifiable proof; “show us the Father.” Jesus once again responds by inviting them into deeper relationship with himself. It seems to challenge the old adage, “Seeing is believing,” with the argument that “Believing is seeing.”

This week’s gospel reading, along with next week’s reading, contains an invigorating foundation for these Lectionary Letters. In many ways this passage forms the basis for the inward journey. In verses 2 and 3 Jesus states that he is preparing a dwelling place (some translations say mansions or rooms). The only other place in scripture this word is used is in verse 23. There we read that those who obey Jesus’s commands become the dwelling place or home of the divine! And Jesus’s command is simply this, love one another.

The inner journey is built upon the idea that the Advocate (verse 16), the Spirit of Truth (Verse 17), Jesus and the Father (verse 23) abide within. Therefore, the inner journey is the exploration of the relationships within. Everything else follows.

It Takes a Thief

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

Being honest with yourself, about yourself, is hard work. At least it has been for me. But I believe it is the beginning of wisdom and peace.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 4th Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, April 26, 2026

Acts 2:42-47 / Psalm 23 / 1 Peter 2:19-25 / John 10:1-10

Summary of John 10:1-10

Jesus uses the imagery of a shepherd and a flock of sheep to teach his disciples and to confront the Pharisees.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

I didn’t grow up in a herding culture. I’ve never lived on a farm. Other than household pets, I’ve had very little exposure to animals. However, the story provides the central point; there is a difference between how the shepherd interacts with a sheep and how a thief acts with the sheep. We quickly conclude that the relationship of the shepherd to the sheep is good and the relationship of the thief to the sheep is not good.

When this story is taken as a teaching on the inner life, this passage provides powerful instruction with disturbing implications.

Who is the thief? Our natural tendancy is to externalize the story. The thief represents the Pharisees of course! We vilify the Pharisees and remain blissfully unconscious of the inner work that waits for our attention. But what if the thief is part of us, part of me. This, then, becomes a story about the soul.

The thief operates out of greed. Or fear. Or anger. It represents that inner space in all of us that compares ourselves to others and believes we have been wronged or treated unjustly. It wants to make things right by retribution. We hatch plans in darkness, knowing that they won’t stand up to the light of day. We are afraid there are not enough resources to go around and use that to justify our shortcuts, schemes and selfish plans.

However, all the other parts of the self know that the voice of the thief is not the one that leads to green pastures or still waters. There is an inner tug of war.

The inner thief needs to be faced, and heard. It’s pain, or frustration, or anxiety is real. When ignored it can become as ferocious as a wolf, or as frightened as a hired hand. But when heard, it speaks of our insecurity, desperation and pain. The divine voice within can then create space for healing and restoration. And the other parts of ourselves can rest.

Psalm 23

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

I love this psalm. It has the uncanny ability to make me feel like everything is going to be okay. I hope you find passages, stories, music, sayings or art that help you feel centered, grounded and steady. Every time you feel anxious, afraid, sad or uncertain, let these gifts wrap around you like a favorite sweatshirt or a comfy blanket.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 4th Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, April 26, 2026

Acts 2:42-47 / Psalm 23 / 1 Peter 2:19-25 / John 10:1-10

Summary of Psalm

This is one of the most loved passages of scripture. And rightfully so. It is inviting, expansive, comforting and hopeful. It is used at dedications, weddings and funerals. Each phrase is beautifully constructed and infinitely reflective. However, until recently I don’t think I ever considered that its premise might be inherently wrong.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

The psalmist begins with, “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”

I live a very privileged life. I don’t face housing insecurity or food insecurity. I’ve had easy access to education, health care, transportation and employment. But I am in a very small minority. Most people face “want” every day!

If the opening line is a commandment to the faithful, then it seems like an insensitive statement and an unattainable state. However, everything changes when this line and this psalm are viewed as a reflection of the inward journey.

Verse 1. If we follow the divine voice within, we have everything we need for the inner journey.

Verse 2. Through grace we will find rest and renewal in green pastures.

The divine will guide us to the still waters of the unconscious.

Verse 3. And this is what brings restoration to the soul.

Verse 4. We are invited to face the shadow, recognize our fears and consider our death.

We have within us discipline and guidance for the journey.

Verse 5. Our inner enemies become companions at the table of love.

Verse 6. And our soul becomes the dwelling place of the divine spirit forever.

Earning Grace

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

I am a firm believer in the old adage that no one should be defined by their worst moment. I have quite a few worst moments, and it is far too easy to ruminate on them and allow them to pummel my sense of self worth. If worth or identity is based on what I do, then I will always feel like I am climbing an endless hill, never reaching the top. But if my identity is based on who I am and the unearned, endless love of the Creator, then I can experience the peaks and valleys without my worth being identified by either. One of my best reminders of a welcomed, but unearned, moniker is being identified as your dad. That’s the best.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 3rd Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, April 19, 2026

Acts 2:14a, 36-41 / Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19 / 1 Peter 1:17-23 / Luke 24:13-35

Summary of Psalm 116

Psalm 116 is a personal song of gratitude that reflects a journey from distress to deliverance. The psalmist recalls a time of deep anguish. A cry for help produces a divine response marked by mercy, compassion, and preservation. The psalm then shifts to gratitude. It is a movement from desperation to devotion, from being held by fear to being held by mercy.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

How do we respond to grace? To kindness? To forgiveness? To deliverance? Most of us would respond with gratitude. That is the response of the psalmist. And that spirit of gratitude leads the psalmist to specific acts of devotion.

In the words of the psalmist, because God listened, I will call on Him… (verse 2). How can I repay the Lord…(verse 12)? I will lift the cup…(verse 13). I will fulfill my vows…(verses 14 & 18). And, I will offer a sacrifice…(verse 17). These are beautiful responses, but they also appear to be very transactional. Our instinct is often to repay, to earn, to balance the scales.

In Psalm 116, the movement is: God helped me, so now I will respond appropriately by paying God back. This is reciprocal language. There is a part in all of us that understands life through this type of exchange: If I am helped, I should respond. If I receive, I should give back. If I am saved, I should prove that I deserved it.

This part of us is not bad, and certainly not evil. Rather, it is moral, sincere and responsible. It is an effort to create order and fairness in a world that feels unstable.

This part of us cannot quite believe that love might be freely given. When we don’t yet trust love, we try to repay it. We want to prove our devotion. That is Psalm 116.

Perhaps we could consider allowing ourselves to be held by something we do not have to earn. Transactional love keeps me forever defined by the situation that held me captive. The transaction becomes an essential component of my identity: I am what I earn. Unconditional love frees me, because sometimes the deepest change is not that I have been rescued from the struggle, but that I am no longer defined by it.

Walking in the Dark

Dear Sutton and Savannah, 

I wish I had been a better example of how to pay attention to the emotions and feelings of life. I am far more adept at the language of logic, but that language is woefully inadequate when it comes to expressing the breadth and depth of the human experience. Your (and my) emotions provide the color and texture to life. Both the highs and the lows are fertile ground for growth and insight. My journey to listen to my emotions has been a lot longer than the 7-mile trip from Jerusalem to Emmaus. I hope you can take a more efficient route.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 3rd Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, April 19, 2026

Acts 2:14a, 36-41 / Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19 / 1 Peter 1:17-23 / Luke 24:13-35

Summary of Luke 24:13-35

Cleopas and his companion are on a 7-mile walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus, probably about 2 hours. There is a lot to talk about given the events in Jerusalem of the last three days. Along the way they are joined by a stranger, whom they do not recognize.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

There are many emotions found in this passage. The text says specifically that Cleopas and his friend are sad. It also indicates there is confusion around how to understand the recent events. Their conversation with the stranger they meet (Jesus) implies that they were curious about all he was explaining. They exhibited great kindness and generosity when they invited him to stay with them for the night. Finally, they were so energized by what happened that they walked (or ran) back 7 miles to Jerusalem, likely in the dark, to tell the others what they had experienced.

Our thoughts and decisions can certainly influence our emotions, but often emotions seem to arise out of the unconscious without invitation and without warning. Sadness or grief can envelope us before we realize what is happening. Fear or anger can erupt as fast as the endocrine system can pump adrenaline into our blood vessels. Whether it is a fast reaction to a startling event, or a slow burn that drains our energy, emotions can hold us hostage, or keep us buoyant.

The inner journey invites us to pay attention to our emotions; not to deny them, discipline them, ignore them, or give them free rein, but to listen to them. Emotional mindfulness is essential to inner work.

Many of us are clueless when asked the question, “How are you feeling?” Or, “What are you feeling?” It seems like a foreign language; inaccessible and undefined. Or we might be the opposite, and feel overwhelmed by our emotions. Both are okay. We have a divine companion, on the journey with us, who patiently travels in whatever direction we are going, and teaches us.

The disciples on the road to Emmaus were figuratively traveling from what they once believed to be true, to the unknown of what the future holds. They are trying to reconcile a story that no longer makes sense. The mental structure they had created, had collapsed. Sometimes we walk in confusion, we speak from disappointment, and only later do we see that something was unfolding within us all along.

The invitation is not to force understanding, but to remain present, with our emotions, on the journey—to stay open to the possibility that even in disorientation, something is being re-formed.

A Resurrection of a Different Kind

Dear Jeremy, Tate, and Katelyn-

You were young bystanders to your dad’s recovery efforts from a head-on collision that left him with a traumatic brain injury and in a coma for months. Emerging from his coma was painstakingly slow. He gradually became aware of his multiple physical losses including paralysis in all his limbs and his mental state - short-term memory loss, diminished processing skills, and inability to control his emotions. This realization left him in deep despair for months. Later, anger and frustration reared their ugly heads. Why would they not?  But, after two years of rehab an amazing thing happened. His signature sense of humor and gratitude reappeared, along with a peace and acceptance of his condition. It was a remarkable resurrection. 

-Mom

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 2nd Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Sunday, April 12, 2026

Acts 2:14a, 22-32 / Psalm 16 / 1 Peter 1:3-9 / John 20:19-31

Summary of Psalm 16

Psalms 16 is traditionally attributed to King David and is called a Miktam or a “golden” prayer. Perhaps it’s special because it speaks to all of us and our human condition. David is a victorious and popular king but also a man who had his share of suffering. He’s proclaiming to us that despite the hardships in the world that we all encounter there is a place of refuge and safety to be found. Not on the outside, but on the inside as we turn to the Divine that is welcoming all of us. David is foreshadowing a coming Messiah who will overcome the worst the world has to throw at us. 

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

We live in a time when we have 24 hour access to the horrors taking place in our world - whether in the Middle East or Minneapolis. It may seem naive or even foolish to think we can find a refuge from all that surrounds us. It’s obvious we need protection from things outside ourselves, but what about things within? Our fears, our worries, our depth of sadness, our sense of unworthiness, our resentments, our anger. These enemies of our souls have been our companions since childhood. Some we battle on a daily, hourly basis. Others only occasionally when something or someone launches an assault. 

Where do we turn when these inner attacks occur? Do we look outward for our help? Do we get busy with accomplishment? Or distract ourselves with entertainment? These impulses offer temporary relief but in the end may only “multiply our sorrows.” Or, do we seek shelter in the loving Presence that invites us in to take refuge? That invites us to sit, be still, and experience our own new life.

Julian of Norwich was an English mystic in the 1300’s. She is known for her famous line, 

          “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” 

To us, that may sound like a fairy tale and we’d be fools to believe. But like David, Julian wasn’t saying this through rose-colored glasses - she lived through serious illnesses, years of the plague, and economic hardships. That’s why her ideas still resonate: she’s not denying suffering—she’s saying it doesn’t have the final word. Even when life feels chaotic or painful, everything is ultimately held within a greater goodness.

An illuminated object lesson unfolded right in front of me as I watched my late husband Steve with his injured brain and body find peace and live out “all is well” from the inside out. Very little changed for him on the outside. What physical and mental progress he made was slow, painful, and incomplete. Yet everything changed on the inside. Like David, I saw in Steve a person whose heart became glad, a soul at peace, and a body that rested secure in the love of God. If it could be true for him, I have to believe it can be true for us.

Name Your Doubt

Dear Jeremy, Tate, and Katelyn, 

I remember driving home from church one evening. Jeremy, you were five and  buckled in the back seat of our Honda Accord with your little brother beside you. Out of nowhere - or so it seemed - you asked, “Mom, how do we know all this God stuff is true?” I was shocked. I might have expected this question coming from a teenager but not from a kindergartner. I don’t exactly recall how I answered you, but I’ve never forgotten the question. I hope all three of you continue asking the big questions.

-Mom

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 2nd Sunday of Easter (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Easter Sunday, April 12, 2026

Acts 2:14a, 22-32 / Psalm 16 / 1 Peter 1:3-9 / John 20:19-31

Summary of John 20:19-31

This week’s gospel reading paints a picture of the disciples in crisis. Their beloved Rabbi (teacher) has been tortured, crucified and buried. They’ve heard rumors that he has been seen alive. But how are they to believe that? What they do believe is that the authorities are now coming after them. So they huddle together, behind bolted doors, uncertain of their safety or their future when Jesus shows up.  Thomas is the only one of them not present for the big reveal. A week later, he gets his turn.

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

Jesus understands how mind-boggling it has to be for his friends to see him alive! Almost immediately after making this unexpected appearance, he offers them his scarred hands and side. He does this without waiting for them to ask or chiding them for needing proof. Perhaps one of history’s greatest “show and tell” moments.

Afterwards, can you imagine their eagerness to let Thomas know that they have seen Jesus alive? Thomas requests the same opportunity that they had, the same chance to see the hands and side of Jesus. So why all this contempt down through time for Thomas? Why is “Doubting Thomas” a moniker for lack of faith or faithlessness? Could our disdain for Thomas say more about us than about him? Do we have doubts that we dare not look at, let alone speak? Questions we pretend don’t exist so we cover them up with masks of certainty and bluster?

Thomas is no different than all the other followers of Jesus who also had their doubts. As do we. But Thomas seems to have the ability - and the courage - to look inside. To notice his doubt and expose it. Have we been formed in the belief that our questions and doubts are unacceptable? Even shameful? Some would say sinful?

What if we were able to look inward and acknowledge that we have doubts…about our faith? Yes, surely.  But also about ourselves, our worthiness, our loveability. Could our doubts, instead of being a barrier to our wholeness, be a path to our healing? What if instead of hiding our doubts behind closed doors, we exposed them to the light and love of God? 

There’s another place in scripture where Jesus gives us a show-and-tell moment. It’s when he places a child among these same disciples and stresses how important it is for us to become like one of them. That has many potential applications, but I have to wonder if one of them might be in the willingness to admit doubts. To question. I was fortunate enough to experience such a sacred moment as I sped down a darkened road with two young boys in tow. Forty years later, the memory of a 5-year-olds freedom to express his doubt reminds me that I am perfectly safe to bring my questions and even my doubts to a loving God.

Easter Trash

Dear Sutton and Savannah,

When I was a kid, I don’t remember anyone talking about recycling, or taking care of the environment. The mantra, “reuse, repurpose, recycle” was years away from nearly anyone’s consciousness. “Dispose, discard and buy more” was what kept the economy growing. I remember a time when people would throw trash out the car window as you were going down the highway. And I also remember a powerful commercial that showed some trash being thrown out a car window and coming to a stop by the feet of a Native American, who had a tear coming down his cheek at the disrespect shown to creation. Fortunately things have changed, but maybe not enough. (And maybe not enough in the inward journey.)

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - Easter Sunday (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Easter Sunday, April 5, 2026

Acts 10:34-43/ Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24 / Colossians 3:1-4 / John 20:1-18

Summary of Psalm 118

Psalm 118 depicts a journey from distress and threat to deliverance and renewed life. It might have been a communal song used in a processional while traveling toward the temple. So, maybe a song about an inward journey while on a literal journey to the sacred space of the temple.

Scripture as Mirror of the Soul

The shadow side of the psyche develops alongside the ego. As children, we learn which behaviors and expressions are rewarded and which are punished or dismissed. The traits that earn approval become part of the “acceptable self.” This is the ego identity we show to the world. In contrast, the traits that bring disapproval get pushed into the background, discarded, trashed. They do not vanish—they are simply hidden. These hidden aspects form the shadow side of our life.

Shadow traits are not “bad” or wrong, nor do they always carry negative connotations. Some may be positive qualities like creativity, tenderness, or assertiveness that, for whatever reason, didn’t feel safe to express in childhood. Others may be painful emotions like anger or grief.

The re-emergence of an unexpressed part of yourself, a part you previously discarded or trashed, can feel threatening for several reasons. First, and maybe foremost, it challenges identity. If you have spent years presenting yourself as strong, independent, or cheerful, facing a vulnerable or angry part may feel like betrayal. The ego has a tough time letting go of the curated way it has come to present itself to others. But when we engage and listen to these rejected parts, they often transform into sources of energy, strength and growth.

• The anger you fear may be the energy you need to set boundaries.

• The sadness you push away may open the door to empathy.

• The creativity you repress may be the path to joy and meaning.

The psalmist writes in verse 22, that “the stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.” This is the movement of the entire psalm; the resurrection of that which has been discarded into that which becomes a cornerstone of life and strength. Thanks be to God.

Prayer: May we pay attention to this principle in our inmost being as we journey to the sacred space within.

Amen

What’s In A Name?

Dear Sutton and Savannah,

Sometimes the phone is a terrible task master. I once heard a wonderful reminder of the role it was intended to play: The phone was created for my convenience, I was not created for the phone’s convenience. However, when the phone vibrates, indicating an incoming call or text, and I look down to see your name as the source, I melt. I can hear your voice before I even answer the call. And then something in me shifts as I hear, “Hi Dad.” So, thank you for all you’ve done to make that two-word greeting so powerful.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - Easter Sunday (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for Easter Sunday, April 5, 2026

Acts 10:34-43/ Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24 / Colossians 3:1-4 / John 20:1-18

Summary of John 20:1-18

In this Easter Sunday reading, Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb where Jesus was buried and finds the stone removed. She runs to tell Peter and John, who come, see the empty tomb, and leave. Mary remains, weeping. She looks into the tomb, encounters two angels, and then turns and sees Jesus, though she does not recognize him. It is only when he speaks her name—“Mary”—that she recognizes him and becomes the first to tell the others that he is alive.

Scripture as Mirror of the Soul

The gospel writer includes six characters in the telling of the resurrection story; Peter, John (the author of this gospel, self described as the disciple Jesus loved) the two angels, Mary Magdalene and Jesus. One path for exploration is to imagine what Peter, John and Mary were experiencing. But that could allow us to keep our analysis and reflection impersonal. Let’s take another pathway and consider what parts within us these three characters might represent.

Peter and John might represent the part of me that thought I had it all figured out. Life was just beginning to make sense and I thought I had things under control. Then catastrophe strikes. I’m not just bewildered, or confused, but I feel crushed under the weight of uncertainty and loss. I have tried to be faithful, and believed I knew what faithful looked like. What I didn’t realize was that I was putting more faith into my expected outcomes than into my inner restoration. I thought I was getting it, but now, I don’t know.

What part of me might Mary represent? Maybe that is the part that has been wounded and healed, and then wounded again. Shame on me for trusting again; for believing there was something better. I feel destined for disappointment. I go to the tomb out of respect for what I believed was good, but truth be told, I’m also going there to bury my hope. I tried the inner journey and now I feel lost. I’m not sure I would recognize love if it stood right in front of me.

All I want to do is run; to be anywhere but where I am, because I don’t feel like I know who I am anymore. But when the parts of me work up the courage to peek into the shadows of the tomb, I don’t see what I expected to see. That which I thought was buried in the shadows is not there at all. Just the divine voice within that patiently engages, and points me toward love, pure love. As I said before, I wouldn’t recognize it if it stood right in front of me, and I didn’t. Not until love said my name. And it wasn’t just my name, it was the way that love named my identity. You see, love knows me far better than I know myself. And in that moment, I feel like I can do nothing other than collapse at love’s feet, for the me I have longed to know has just been resurrected.

When the Shadow Will Not Let Go

Dear Savannah and Sutton,

There is a quiet courage in turning toward what hurts rather than away from it. Not to analyze it, not to fix it, but simply to acknowledge it without pretending it is something else. Because what we refuse to face tends to harden. But what we are willing to face can soften and become fertile soil for something new.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 6th Sunday in Lent (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Passion Readings for March 29, 2026

Isaiah 50:4-9a / Psalm 31:9-16 / Philippians 2:5-11 / Matthew 26:14-27:66

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

Psalm 31 is a psalm of trust, but not the kind that avoids pain. Verses 9–16 sit in the middle of the psalm and give voice to an extended season of distress. The language is relentless: sorrow, grief, anguish, groaning, weakness, failure, rejection, slander, and fear. The psalmist is not describing a bad day or even a difficult season—it feels cumulative, like years of wear on the soul. Relationships have fractured. Reputation has eroded. The future feels uncertain. The inner and outer worlds both feel hostile.

There are times in the inner life when the shadow does not feel like a part of us—it feels like all of us.

The language of this psalm captures something that many of us recognize but rarely say out loud; the sense of being worn down over time. The quiet erosion of hope. The feeling of being forgotten, misunderstood, or trapped in patterns that don’t seem to loosen their grip. It is the texture of depression, of long-term anxiety, of grief that doesn’t resolve neatly.

And in those seasons, the instinct is almost always the same: to run, to hide, to numb, or manage the pain just enough to get through the day.

However, Psalm 31 does something different. It does not rush to resolution. Nor does it deny the pain. Instead it turns and faces it. And in doing so, something subtle begins to shift. The shadow side begins to change from antagonist to companion: From something I want to destroy, to something I need to hear. From something that embarrasses me to something that holds me in balance.

And then the hope that is birthed by trust is proclaimed in the prayerful declaration:

“My times are in your hands.”

This is not certainty. There is no guaranteed outcome. It is trust that even in the midst of unresolved pain, something larger is holding what we cannot yet hold ourselves. Turning toward the agony is not surrender to it, but the beginning of transformation. So, what if the willingness to face the shadow, the hurt, the fear—honestly, without panic—is what makes the ground within us tender enough for the seeds of grace?

Craving Certainty

Dear Sutton and Savannah,

I don’t know. I don’t know the answer to most of life’s really good questions. And an answer that I believe is right for me, may not be right for someone else. And it’s not because I think nothing is knowable. I don’t think that at all. I just believe that there are many questions (maybe most) that could have multiple good answers. I wish I had been better at saying “I don’t know” in your younger years. You probably knew that I didn’t know what I was talking about and were just kind enough not to say anything. One thing of which I am certain, I love you. I know that for sure, and everything else follows.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 6th Sunday in Lent (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Passion Readings for March 29, 2026

Isaiah 50:4-9a / Psalm 31:9-16 / Philippians 2:5-11 / Matthew 26:14-27:66

Summary of Matthew 26:14-27:66

The storyline of the gospel reading accelerates toward its breaking point. Betrayal, denial, prayer, political pressure, religious judgment, and execution all unfold in rapid succession. Nearly every character fails in some way—Judas betrays, Peter denies, the religious leaders condemn, Pilate deflects, and the crowd shifts. The movement is relentless, and it crescendos at the cross.

However, Judas is not pure villain—he is conflicted, regretful, and undone by what he has set in motion. Peter is not weak—he is devoted and afraid at the same time. Pilate is not purely corrupt—he hesitates, questions, and then gives in. The religious leaders are not irrational—they are trying to protect a system that has given their world order and meaning.

No one here is purely anything.

And that may be the most unsettling truth of all.

Scripture as Mirror of the Soul

When we hear this story, we are likely caught in the same treacherous loop that is the plight of humanity. It is a thread that runs beneath every scene in this passage, and it is not betrayal or fear—but the relentless craving for certainty.

The religious system was built on it.
The political system depended on it.
The crowd demanded it.

People want to know who is right and who is wrong. And Jesus would not cooperate. He healed when he wasn’t supposed to. He forgave without permission. He spoke with authority but refused to weaponize it. He moved in spaces that did not fit the appropriate categories.

He lived in the gray. And that made him dangerous, because “gray” is not easily controlled. Gray cannot be legislated or systematized. It cannot be used to reinforce power or protect identity. It requires humility, flexibility, and trust.

So the system did what systems built on certainty always do when threatened—it removed the threat.

This is not just a story about them. It is a story about us. It is a story about me. There are parts within me that crave certainty because uncertainty feels unsafe. These parts try to regulate my inner world with rules, discipline, denial, and shame. Uncertainty creates tension and tension is uncomfortable; at times, intolerable.

However, the divine voice within does not organize life around certainty, but around grace. It creates space where the unknown is not feared but engaged. Where we can say, with honesty, “I believe this… but I could be wrong.”

That is not weakness. It is freedom.

It loosens the grip of rigid thinking and opens the door to curiosity, humility, and growth. It allows the whole self—not just the acceptable parts—to be held together.

The story is two thousand years old, but as relevant today as it has ever been. There is a fork in the pathway of the inner journey. The familiar path leads to more black and white thinking and requires the gray areas of life to be regulated, controlled or expunged. It is the path that craves certainty but is constantly triggered by that which doesn’t fit. The other path is paved with grace. It leaves certainty behind and surrenders the need to be right. It allows love to be the center that holds everything together.

Regrets, I’ve Had A Few

Dear Sutton and Savannah,

I am always taken back when I hear someone say, “ I have no regrets.” I can’t relate. For some reason my mind replays uncomfortable conversations, missed opportunities, avoidable blunders, and reactive interactions that hurt people I love. The weight of those memories can be debilitating. I want to be quick to say, “I’m sorry,” and to take responsibility for any consequences of my choices. However, I also want to treat my past with grace and operate from the posture that my choices were the best I knew to do given the resources, knowledge and level of maturity I had at the time. History is wasted if I don’t learn from it, but today is wasted if I simply ruminate on history.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 5th Sunday in Lent (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for March 22, 2026

Ezekiel 37:1-14 / Psalm 130 / Romans 8:6-11 / John 11:1-45

Scripture as Mirror of the Soul - Psalm 130

This psalm shares a common thread with Psalm 121, which we explored a few weeks ago. Both are part of the Songs of Ascent—psalms likely sung on the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. But they face in different directions. Psalm 121 gives voice to anxiety about the future and moves toward trust. Psalm 130 turns its gaze backward, into regret, and begins the slow movement toward mercy.

When fear of the future and guilt from the past take hold, they compress the present. The soul becomes trapped between what might happen and what has already happened. The psalmist names this condition honestly: “Out of the depths I cry…” This is not mild discomfort. It is a cry from beneath the weight of something that cannot be easily lifted.

We know this weight. Regret can settle into the soul like a chain we continue to carry long after the moment has passed. Dickens captured this vividly in A Christmas Carol, where Marley is bound by the burdens he forged in life. Psalm 130 speaks from that same place—the recognition that something within us is heavy, tangled, and unresolved.

And yet, the psalm does not end in despair. It turns, slowly, toward what it calls the “unfailing love” of the Divine.

Love is the only force capable of meeting this depth.

But here is where the inner struggle becomes clear. We tend to look for love outwardly—to earn it, secure it, or prove ourselves worthy of it through relationships, achievement, or approval. And even when we receive it, something in us remains unsettled. The deeper issue is not the absence of love around us, but the difficulty of allowing love to take root within us—especially in the parts we have judged, hidden, or rejected.

Psalm 130 invites a shift from striving for love to becoming receptive to grace.

Forgiveness, in this light, is not a transaction. It is an integration. It requires that the self-righteous parts loosen their grip on judgment, and that the shame-bearing parts release their defenses. Neither part disappears. Instead, they are invited into relationship—held together by a deeper current of mercy.

This is the inner pilgrimage.

The journey to the sacred is not about leaving parts of ourselves behind, but about allowing all parts to be gathered into a wider field of grace. When love begins to move in both directions—toward the parts that judge and the parts that hide—the weight begins to shift. Not instantly, but noticeably.

And perhaps that is what redemption looks like:
not the erasure of the past, but the transformation of our relationship to it.

First There is Grief

Dear Sutton,

I am writing this entry on your birthday. Doing so reminds me of how grateful I am to be your dad. There is no one like you. You are gifted, talented, beautiful inside and out. I have no doubt you could do anything you set out to do. I also know there are typically huge setbacks along any path you might choose. My hope and prayer is that you find those things that resonate with who you are at your core; the things that bring you both joy and fulfillment. When that happens, the rest of us get to drink from the overflow of your life.

-Dad

Inside Out Lectionary Letters

Year A - 5th Sunday in Lent (Texts, Art, Hymns)

Readings for March 22, 2026

Ezekiel 37:1-14 / Psalm 130 / Romans 8:6-11 / John 11:1-45

Summary of John 11:1-45

Jesus hears of the illness of his good friend, Lazarus. He delays going to see him for a few days. When he finally arrives in Bethany, which is where Lazarus and his two sisters have their home, he finds out that Lazarus has died and is already buried in the tomb. The passage tells of Jesus’s emotions, those of Mary and Martha, and even of the disciples.

The disciples were anxious about their safety (v.8). The sisters seemed concerned about their brothers health (v.3). Martha was grieving (v.21). Mary was grieving (v.31). She wept. The friends wept (v.33). And Jesus wept (v.35).

Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul

This passage is filled with grief, and grief is a powerful emotion. There are grief counselors, books on grief, videos on grief, cycles of grief and widely accepted treatments for grief. All of them have their place. Anyone experiencing overwhelming grief should avail themselves of any of these resources. There are no spiritual bonus points for trying to address grief alone.

I wonder if Lazarus experienced any grief? Did he experience the afterlife before returning to his earthly life? If so, was it difficult for him to wake up back in his earthly body? Was he forever changed? I guess we don’t know.

What if we think of Lazarus as a part of us? What happens when a dream dies? When an idea gets squashed? When a career path gets canceled? When a relationship falls apart? When a hero disappoints? The loss can be profound, and the grief can be debilitating.

Death of any sort feels so final. And denying the feeling doesn’t make it go away. The message of resurrection doesn’t deny the pain of death, nor does it deny death itself. Rather it says there is more, even when it feels like there is no more. But the body, the mind and the soul can’t rush to the “more.” Grief demands its space. It forces reflection. It creates a pause in everything we deem important. Time seems to fold in on itself. Grief painfully turns the soil of the heart and then, slowly, creates room at the very core of your being for something different; a new path, the seed of a new idea, a different perspective on life itself. But first there is grief.