Don’t Plan the Funeral Yet
Dear Sutton and Savannah,
The divine voice continually moves toward the parts of ourselves that have been dismissed, shamed, or declared unworthy. I hope you might consider allowing those parts to pulsate with new life.
-Dad
Inside Out Lectionary Letters
Year A - Proper 5 (Texts, Art, Hymns)
Readings for Sunday, June 7, 2026
Genesis 12:1-9 / Psalm 50:7-15 / Romans 4:13-25 / Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
Summary of Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26
This passage has numerous characters and scenes. The passage begins with Matthew, a tax collector, being invited to become a disciple, which results in a confrontation with the Pharisees. The setting is interrupted when Jesus is informed of the death of a ruler’s daughter. Jesus immediately makes his way to where the girl is, but on the way he heals a women who has been ill for 12 years.
Scripture as a Mirror of the Soul
The reading is filled with people who do not belong. Matthew is a tax collector. The woman is considered unclean. The little girl is believed to be dead. The disciples seem unable to grasp what Jesus is doing, and the Pharisees are offended by nearly every step he takes. Again and again, Jesus crosses boundaries established by the religious system. The rules give way to the way of love.
The inner world has a similar form. From childhood we learn what is acceptable and what is not. We discover which emotions and behaviors are welcomed, and which are not. Over time, we construct an identity around what seems most successful. Other parts are pushed aside, hidden, or forgotten. The rulekeeper within works tirelessly to maintain order, while the excluded parts drift into the shadows.
Yet the divine voice consistently moves toward those forgotten places. It notices the inner tax collector who has bartered away pieces of the self in order to survive. It sees the wounded child who has been declared beyond hope. It recognizes the feminine voice that has been dismissed or silenced. Even the rigid rulekeeper is not rejected. Love approaches each part with kindness rather than condemnation, creating space where healing can begin.
When we pause long enough to examine the landscape of the soul, we may discover that the funeral procession is premature. The mourners have already gathered. The dirge has already begun. And then love arrives and says, “Not so fast.”
When we perform an inner autopsy, we may discover that some of the parts we thought had died are just waiting for someone to notice the heartbeat. The judgments of others need not have the final word. The stories we have believed about our lack of worth may not be true. And when love reaches across the boundaries we have constructed, takes us by the hand, and calls us forward, we begin to discover that faith is not merely believing in God—it is trusting that every part of us is capable of being touched by grace.