Luke 13:1-9   Second Chances and Fresh Starts 

I’d like to begin with a question: Have you ever found yourself asking, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” It is one of the oldest and most difficult questions we face as human beings. When we see tragedy strike, we often look for reasons—was it their fault? Was it random? Could it have been prevented? Was it some kind of Divine retribution – a punishment from God?

This impulse to interpret tragedy as divine punishment is not new. When disasters strike, people of faith have often looked for moral or spiritual explanations. Take, for example, the sinking of the Titanic in 1912. Many saw it as a judgment on human arrogance and pride— the so-called “unsinkable” ship, ‘unsinkable even by God’ according to one White Star employee, was lost on its maiden voyage. In fact some preachers at the time claimed it was divine retribution for society’s increasing materialism. More recently, disasters like Hurricane Katrina or the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami have been interpreted by some as acts of divine punishment for societal failings.  

This way of thinking mirrors the mindset of those who came to Jesus in Luke 13. In this passage, Jesus is confronted with news of two tragic events. First, Pilate has ordered the slaughter of some Galileans, mingling their blood with their sacrifices. Second, a tower in Siloam has collapsed, killing eighteen people. The people questioning Jesus seem to assume that these victims must have done something wrong to deserve such fates. Jesus challenges this assumption, saying, “Do you think they were worse sinners than all the others?” He answers his own question: “No.” But then he adds something striking: “Unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” He follows this with a parable of a fig tree that has not borne fruit for three years. The owner wants to cut it down, but the gardener pleads for one more year of care and nourishment to help it flourish.

Luke’s Gospel often emphasizes the themes of repentance, grace, and the urgency of transformation. This passage falls in a section of Luke where Jesus is journeying toward Jerusalem, teaching the crowds about the nature of God’s kingdom. Just before this, Jesus has spoken about the need for discernment in reading the signs of the times (Luke 12:54-56) and the call to be prepared (Luke 12:35-40). This passage continues that theme, urging people not to be complacent about their spiritual growth.

Historically, the references in this passage would have resonated deeply with Jesus’ audience. Pilate was a brutal governor known for his violent suppression of uprisings. His slaughter of the Galileans was likely part of Rome’s wider effort to crush dissent. The collapse of the tower of Siloam, on the other hand, appears to have been an accident—one of those random tragedies that strike without warning. But Jesus rejects the idea that these events were divine punishment. Instead, he shifts the focus: Rather than speculating about the sins of others, look at your own life. Are you living fully? Are you bearing the fruit of love, justice, and compassion? Are your current attitudes and actions leading you on a trajectory towards greater wholeness and harmony of life or are they leading one towards suffering for oneself and others?  What Jesus is pointing to I believe is more about the law of consequence than Divine retribution.

Turning to the parable of the fig tree, in the Old Testament, the fig tree is often used as a symbol for Israel and its spiritual condition. The prophets frequently depicted Israel as a vineyard or a fig tree that was meant to bear fruit but had instead become barren due to unfaithfulness (Jeremiah 8:13, Hosea 9:10, Micah 7:1). In this context, Jesus’ parable of the fig tree takes on a deeper meaning. It is not just about an individual’s need for transformation, but also a warning to Israel as a whole. Just as the fig tree is given one last chance to bear fruit before being cut down, so too is Israel being given an opportunity to turn back to God and live in alignment with divine justice and mercy. The parable reflects both divine patience and the urgency of repentance: T
But there comes a time when the consequences of our actions, individual and collective, inevitably catch up with us and the opportunity to avert these consequences is lost. 

N.T. Wright, a prominent New Testament scholar, suggests that Jesus’ warning here is deeply apocalyptic. He was not merely speaking of personal repentance but issuing a stark warning to the Jewish people of his time. Many in first-century Judea were on a trajectory toward violent confrontation with Rome—whether through radical nationalism, armed resistance, or a refusal to seek peace. Jesus saw where this path was leading. If the people did not turn away from this course, disaster would inevitably come. And, as history bore out, it did. In 70 AD, the Roman army besieged and destroyed Jerusalem, razing the Temple to the ground. Jesus’ call to repentance was not just about individual transformation but about the collective fate of a nation. The urgency of repentance – a collective change of heart and mind -  was not theoretical—it was a matter of life and death

What might the passage mean for us today…?

This passage challenges us to rethink how we interpret suffering. The human impulse to seek blame—either in ourselves or in others—is strong. When disaster strikes, we might wonder if we could have done something differently or if those affected somehow “deserved” it. But Jesus moves the conversation away from blame and toward transformation. Instead of asking, “Why did this happen to them?” he asks, “What will you do with the time you have?”

The parable of the fig tree reminds us that transformation takes time, but it also has a sense of urgency. The tree has been unfruitful, yet it is not condemned outright. The gardener offers care, nourishment, and another year of grace. This is an image of God’s patience, but also a call to action. We are given time to grow, to change, to live in ways that reflect the love and justice at the heart of the divine. But we cannot assume that time is endless or that the law of consequence will never catch up.

Jesus’ warning remains relevant today. Actions bring consequences. Are we ready to face the consequences of the decisions we are making in our lives? Are we choosing paths that lead to life, wholeness, and peace, or are we heading toward destructive outcomes—personally, socially, or environmentally? Whether it’s in our relationships, our communities, or the way we care for the world around us, the choices we make today shape the future. The urgency of transformation is not just about avoiding disaster—it’s about embracing the opportunity to create something better before it’s too late.

If the gardener in the parable were speaking to us today, perhaps he would say, “Give yourself and others time to grow, but don’t wait forever to start.” We live in a world that is fragile, uncertain, and filled with suffering. But we also live in a world where change is possible, where love can take root, and where each of us is invited to bear fruit that nourishes others. 
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May we take this passage as an invitation—not to fear divine punishment, but to embrace divine possibility.

Luke 9:28-38 – Made to Shine - Temples of God’s Spirit

There are moments in life that pull back the veil, moments when something deeper, truer, and more luminous is revealed. The story of the Transfiguration, as told in Luke 9:28-36, is one such moment, an event that unveils the true nature of Jesus and, in doing so, hints at our own deepest identity. We were created to shine, to reflect the light of God, but we often live in the shadows, unaware of our divine calling. Today, we will explore how Luke’s account of the Transfiguration, with its unique details, reveals not only who Jesus is but who we are meant to be.

In all three Synoptic Gospels, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, the Transfiguration of Jesus follows a crucial turning point: Peter’s confession that Jesus is the Messiah and Jesus’ first prediction of his suffering and death. This sequence is significant. It suggests that the disciples, having begun to grasp Jesus’ identity, must now learn what kind of Messiah he is. The path ahead is not one of political triumph but of suffering love. And just as they are struggling with this reality, they are given a vision of glory, a foretaste of the resurrection beyond the suffering of the cross.

Did the story happen exactly like this? Are we to take the story literally or symbolically? Each of us will need to make up our own minds about this, but even for those who may wish to interpret the story purely symbolically, it contains rich meaning that can inspire and motivate us as people who have been made to shine.  

Luke’s telling of the story has some unique elements that set it apart from Matthew and Mark. Luke alone tells us that Jesus took Peter, James, and John up the mountain “to pray.” Luke tells us that it is in prayer that Jesus is transfigured before them.  Prayer, in Luke’s Gospel, is always the context for profound encounters with God. For Luke prayer changes things, opening the door for God to be at work in people’s lives and in the world.  

In describing Jesus’ appearance, Mark’s version, the earliest to be written simply says “He became transfigured before them.  His clothes became dazzling white, whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them.”

Matthew’s version by contrast says that “His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light.” (Matthew 17:2) Luke’s account however says that “the appearance of his face changed and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightening”. 

The change in Jesus’ face and light shining from him connects us with the story of Moses where Moses having ascended the mountain to meet with God to receive the law comes down again, but now with his face shining. 

Luke also tells us that Moses and Elijah “appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish in Jerusalem.” The word for “departure” in the Greek is exodus, evoking Israel’s great journey from slavery to freedom. Here, Jesus’ coming passion/suffering and resurrection are framed not as a tragedy, but as a divine act of liberation – the liberating triumph of sacrificial love.

Another distinctive feature in Luke is the state of the disciples. In Matthew and Mark, they are simply awestruck, but in Luke, they are weighed down with sleep, only fully awakening to the  glory just as Moses and Elijah are leaving. There is something profoundly human about this detail, how often do we, too, slumber and sleep through God’s presence, half-asleep to the divine radiance in our midst?

Apart from the connections with the Moses stories, one of the most striking connections to the Old Testament is with the story of the Dedication of the Temple in 1 Kings and 2 Chronicles. When Solomon dedicates the Temple, the glory of YahWeh fills the sanctuary in the form of a cloud, so powerfully that the priests are unable stand to minister.

In the Old Testament story the cloud is seen as a visible sign of God taking up residence among God’s people in the Jerusalem Temple. The cloud symbolizes God's presence, just as it had during Israel’s wilderness journey (Exodus 40:34-38).

Now, in the story of the Transfiguration, we find the same symbolism as this same cloud of glory descends upon Jesus and his disciples on the mountain. But the difference is crucial: in the Old Testament, God’s glory filled a physical structure, a temple made of stone. But here, the divine presence is revealed in a person—Jesus himself. The Transfiguration is, in a sense, the true dedication of the true living Temple: not a building made by human hands, but Christ’s own body, which is filled with divine radiance.

This story is meant to reveal that the ultimate dwelling place of God’s Presence, is meant to be in the human heart.  In the very beginning, in Genesis, human beings had a vocation of being Temples of God’s Spirit, bearers of God’s image – made to reflect the Divine Glory – a vocation according to the Genesis sacred myth is lost in the Garden of Eden.  But the story of the Transfiguration is meant to tell us that this destiny of humanity to become true and living temples of God’s Spirit is now fulfilled - in Jesus. 

But the radiance that shines from Jesus is meant to awaken each of us to our own destiny and vocation – We have all been made to shine.  The revelation in the story of the Transfiguration is not just about Jesus—it is also about us. As Paul writes:

“We all, with unveiled faces, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.” (2 Corinthians 3:18)

Yet, we often forget this truth. Like the disciples, we become drowsy to our own divine calling. We settle for a diminished sense of self, content to live in the half-light rather than the fullness of God’s radiance. The Transfiguration calls us to wake up, to see beyond the ordinary, and to recognize that we are created to shine.

But an important point in the story comes through the Divine Voice which speaks out of the cloud: "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" This is crucial. It reminds us that our transformation begins with attentiveness to the Way of Christ. The disciples initially misunderstand, wanting to preserve the moment by building shelters, but the experience is not about staying on the mountain; it is about carrying the light into the world, for as soon as they descend the mountain, the disciples descend directly into a scene of human suffering: a father pleading for his tormented son to be healed. The contrast is striking, glory on the mountain, struggle in the valley. And yet, this is precisely the movement of the spiritual life. We are called not to escape the world but to transform it. To shine is not to retreat from suffering but to bring divine light into it.

The point of the story is not that we are to remain up on the mountain. Times of prayer and encountering the Divine on the mountain tops of life is meant to be followed with an engagement with the world – bringing healing love where there is brokenness and freedom where there is bondage. 

As we reflect on this passage, we might ask ourselves:

How do we allow God’s light to shine through us?
In what ways are we being transformed into Christ’s image?
Are we truly listening to the Way and the teachings of Jesus, allowing his voice of Grace to shape our lives in the ways of his goodness and love?

The Transfiguration is both a promise and a calling, a promise that divine radiance is our true nature and a calling to let that light shine in a world longing for hope, love, and divine presence.   Amen. 

SUNDAY SERVICE - AUDIO RECORDING

Luke 4:1-13 – Temptations in the WIlderness

This past week my brother sent me a meme over Whats app…. It was an old medieval painting with an image of a devil or demon sitting on a man’s shoulders whispering into his ear: And the caption that accompanied the image were the words: 

“Good! Good! … Now use your wife’s fabric scissors to open that card-bard box. She’ll never know.” 

Today is the first Sunday of Lent.  Lent is a season of reflection, of turning inward to examine our own lives and our spiritual journey. The Gospel reading for the first Sunday of Lent is traditionally the account of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness, a story filled with rich symbolism I believe that speaks not only to temptations in Jesus’ life but also to the deeper spiritual struggles that each of us faces. In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus enters the wilderness for forty days, fasting and wrestling with the forces that seek to divert him from his path. It is a passage rich in symbolic meaning and my own sense is that it would be a mistake to treat the story at a purely literal level.

As we consider the context of the passage within the narrative of Luke’s Gospel, we find that the passage comes immediately after Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan, where the Spirit descends upon him, and a voice proclaims, "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you, I am well pleased." In Luke’s telling, Jesus, described by Luke as "full of the Holy Spirit," is then led into the wilderness. This transition is important. Baptism represents an affirmation of identity, an identity that is then tested in the wilderness. Like Jesus, we are all God’s beloved… but that is something we all need to discover, and in discovering it, it also needs to be tested. 

In Matthew, Mark and Luke’s Gospels, this story deliberately echoes the journey of Israel through the desert after their liberation from Egypt. Just as Israel was tested for forty years, Jesus is tested for forty days. Yet unlike Israel, which often faltered in its trust in God, Jesus remains steadfast.

Comparing Luke’s and Matthew’s versions of the temptations of Jesus we find that both Luke and Matthew present three temptations (which Mark’s Gospel doesn’t do), but Luke and Matthew  arrange them differently. In Matthew’s account, Jesus is firstly tempted to turn stones into bread, then to throw himself from the temple, and finally to worship the devil in exchange for worldly power. Matthew ends with Jesus standing atop a high mountain, rejecting dominion over all the kingdoms of the world.

Luke, however, reverses the last two temptations, concluding instead with the temptation at the temple in Jerusalem. This is significant because Luke’s Gospel gives special importance to Jerusalem as the place where Jesus’ mission will culminate. The shift also suggests that Luke sees the spiritual temptation of the ego as the heart of the matter – the seeking after the self-glorification of the ego. Temptation to political power is just another symptom of this for Luke. 

This passage I believe needs to be read not a literal history, but rather as a symbolic journey of the soul, a universal story of testing and transformation. Indeed there are many who would suggest that the temptations as we read them in Luke and Matthew were always meant to be read symbolically (not as literal history), in which the writers of Luke and Matthew were seeking to express in story form the deeper values of Jesus and the kinds of temptations that all people will ultimately face in the journey of life in this world.  And perhaps at this point a note on the devil in this passage is important. Here again we don’t need to treat the devil as a literal figure.  The devil in the story can be read as representing the temptations of our lower nature that resists and often undermines the call of our higher spiritual nature.  Bryant Magill writes that “The worst bullies you will encounter are your own thoughts”.  We have enough bad thoughts coming from our own lower nature without having to interpret the devil in this passage literally – although some might debate this.  

Getting back to the three temptations in the passage, we find that they correspond to fundamental, archetypal struggles we all face:

Firstly, the Temptation of Bread corresponds to the struggle with material needs -  Jesus is hungry, and the devil tempts him to turn stones into bread.  

This speaks to the basic human longing for security, comfort, and survival. But Jesus replies, "One does not live by bread alone." This suggests that while material needs are real, they are not the whole of life. A deeper hunger, the hunger for meaning, purpose, and connection must also be fed. In the western world, where we are obsessed above all things with profit margins and financial security and where people are financially wealthier than at any other time in history we are also seeing a plague or a pandemic of meaninglessness, depression and other mental ill-health. Jesus words speak deeply into this crisis in western societies – “One does not live in bread alone”.  A deeper hunger, the hunger for meaning, purpose, and connection must also be fed.

Wends and I have been catching up in recent weeks on Ben Fogle’s New adventures into the wild – showcasing people who have given up the comforts of modern living and finding a much deeper sense of meaning and joy living a life of greater simplicity – not always living easy lives, but living deeper, more joyful lives. Living examples that one does not live on bread alone. 

Secondly, the Temptation of Power speaks of the struggle with control and influence - The devil character in the story offers Jesus dominion over the kingdoms of the world in exchange for worship. This is the temptation of power, of bending the world to our will. Thinking that if only the world did things our way, we would all be happy. It is a temptation that nations, institutions, and individuals face constantly. Jesus’ refusal reminds us that true authority is not found in domination, and the desperate effort to control life and others, forcing others to do what we want, but in integrity and service.

Thirdly, the Temptation of Spectacle, the struggle for recognition and ego -  The final temptation in Luke’s account takes place in Jerusalem, where the devil urges Jesus to throw himself from the temple and prove his divine status. This speaks to the temptation of self-importance, the desire to be seen, validated, and admired. Jesus resists this temptation, refusing to manipulate or demand recognition. His path will not be about spectacle and the assertion of his own self-importance and desire for glory but about humility and faithfulness.

What is fascinating about these archetypal temptations as described by Luke and Matthew is that they don’t focus on the sins that Christians have traditionally focused on:  Sex and riotous living. That is not to say that those can’t be potential problems in people’s lives. What Luke and Matthew are suggesting however is that there are deeper sins of the spirit that even respectable people in society can engage in that are more insidious. In fact in Luke’s Gospel, the traditional sinners of society found great solace in the presence of Jesus. They found in Jesus a new beginning and a love that drew them out of their dysfunctional lives and dysfunctional behaviour.  By contrast, those who had a real struggle with Jesus were those clinging onto economic, political and religious power and authority , respectable people for whom religion had strengthened their egos rather than diminished their ego’s, and high ranking political figures like Herod and Pilate for whom the love of power had undermined the deeper values of the heart and the spirit. And thirdly, those for whom the fear of insecurity had led them to hoard money.  Luke’s Gospel highlights the dangers of religious, political and economic sin far more than the dangers for example of sexual sin and substance abuse, as destructive as these can sometimes be when abused and misused.  

For Christians today, I believe that this passage invites us to deep reflection not on supernatural battles between good and evil but on the inner conflicts we all face. Lent can be seen as a time to explore our own wilderness, the places of struggle within us where we are most especially tempted by security, power, and ego, but also any other lesser temptation that has the potential to undermine the wholeness of life for ourselves and others.  What hungers drive us? What powers do we seek to control? Where does our ego demand recognition? And how might we, like Jesus, respond with humility, wisdom and integrity?  
Amen.

AUDIO RECORDING of the Sunday Service

Luke 6:39-49  Building Foundations of Integrity and Compassion

“Why do you call me ‘Lord, Lord,’ and do not do what I say? I will show you what someone is like who comes to me, hears my words, and acts on them. That one is like a person building a house, who dug deeply and laid the foundation on rock…” — Luke 6:46-48

Digging deep… and laying a foundation on rock… 

In this passage from Luke’s Gospel, we find Jesus offering a series of profound, almost poetic images: the blind leading the blind, the speck and the log, and the house built on rock versus sand. These images speak to universal human experiences that go across cultures and different religions, offering us a wisdom which resonates with all people who seek to live with integrity, compassion, and purpose in life. 

In the first image, of the Blind Leading the Blind, Jesus asks, “Can a blind person guide a blind person? Will not both fall into a pit?”

This image invites us to reflect on the nature of leadership and guidance in our lives. It’s not about physical blindness but about spiritual and moral sight—about insight and the lack of insight. Who do we follow? What values and truths guide us? Are those we follow trust-worthy… 

In our fragile and often chaotic world, it’s easy to follow voices that echo our fears or flatter our egos. But real wisdom, true insight, comes not from superficial understanding but from deep reflection and self-awareness. This is why in many traditions, from Christianity to Buddhism, the call is first to wake up, to become conscious of our inner life so we can see the outer world more clearly.

There is something about this image that I believe also speaks deeply into our Non-Subscribing tradition. In the Constitution of our Church as framed in 1910, we are reminded of the sacred right of private judgement that God has given each of us, and that free enquiry is essential to the extension of religious knowledge.  Ours is a constitution that therefore does not require blind faith. Echoing the warning of Jesus of the dangers of the blind leading the blind, ours is a tradition that invite every person to weigh and test everything for ourselves so that each of us follow the dictates of our own conscience.   When we are asked or pressured to over-ride the dictates of our own conscience and that sacred right of private judgement, then we are in danger of falling into the trap. Now that doesn’t not necessarily mean that the dictates of our conscience are always correct. Our non-subscribing forbears were right to emphasize the fact that God can and does speak through our own consciences, but even this requires discernment… because sometimes our conscience can be informed more by the dictates of the culture we grew up in than the voice of God.  But equally it needs to be said that when we fail to listen to the voice of conscience within, we are in danger of falling into the trap of an empty and a blind faith that leads not to inner integrity of heart but to falling into a pit of meaninglessness out of touch with our own inner sense of what is right and true – out of touch with our own inner sense of meaning and purpose in life. 

Ours is not meant to be a blind faith… where we blindly follow what we are told, even if it is from a minister or someone else we see as an authority.  The faith of a Non-Subscriber should require of us that we be willing to put everything to the test in order to discover for ourselves what we believe with all our hearts to be true. 

The second image that Jesus refers to in this passage is the metaphor of The Speck and the Log when Jesus says to his disciples:  “Why do you see the speck in your neighbour’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye?”

This teaching follows on naturally from the point that has just been made, as a counter-balance inviting us to question not just others but also ourselves. It points to the very human tendency to judge others while being blind to our own faults. It’s a universal experience, we spot the flaws in others more easily than in ourselves. And one of the ways we do this is by comparing own own strengths to another persons weaknesses, while being blind to our own weaknesses and failing to acknowledge fully the other persons strengths. But Jesus calls us to a deeper honesty, to look inward before we look outward.

This isn’t about harsh self-criticism but about humility and honesty. It echoes the Buddhist idea of Right View, seeing ourselves and others clearly, without distortion. In the Buddha’s 8-fold path, which is essentially the path to living a noble life, in which we minimise suffering for ourselves and others, the first step on this 8-fold path is what the Buddha called: Right View.  If you have a distorted view of life, filled with misinformation, then it is going to cause all sorts of problems for ourselves and others, causing all sorts of suffering. But if we have a clear view of life, seeing life as it is and not as we think it should be, seeing ourselves as we are, not as we imagine ourselves to be through rose tinted glasses, then we are able to navigate through life much better.  The rest of the Buddha’s 8-fold path in a sense flows from Right View… if we have a right view then from it quite naturally flows Right Thought, Right Speech, Right Conduct, Right Livelihood, Right Effort, Right Attention, and Right Balance of Mind.   

For Jesus in Luke’s Gospel, having a clear view of life requires being deeply aware of our own foibles, our own weaknesses and even the very human tendency towards self-deception. This is about having a deep honesty and self-awareness of both our strengths and weaknesses which enables us to have a clearer sense of the strengths and weaknesses of others.  And to this end, Jesus tells a parable later on in Luke’s Gospel, where he tells of a respectable and self-righteous Pharisee who pats himself on the back for being such a good person, and then contrasts the Pharisee with a despised and morally compromised Tax collector who has become aware of his own failings and simply prays: God be merciful to me a sinner.  It is a parable that suggests that as soon as we start thinking of ourselves as morally superior to another we are on dangerous spiritual territory. As soon as we start wondering why other people are not like me, it might be a warning to look inward once again and see what failing or weakness I may have missed or forgotten about in myself.  

When we acknowledge our own imperfections, we become more compassionate toward the struggles of others. We recognize that we’re all walking this difficult path of being human together.

The words of Rumi speak deeply into this truth: “Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I am changing myself.”

And Bryant Magill writes: “You will be a beautiful person, as long as you see the beauty in others.” 

Finally, Jesus speaks of building a house with strong foundations. It’s a simple but powerful metaphor. Life will bring storms, this is certain. Pain, loss, confusion—these are inevitable. But the strength of our inner life, the depth of our values, determines whether we stand firm or collapse.

To build on rock means to live with integrity, to not just hear the call to compassion, justice, and love, but to live it. It’s about aligning our outer actions with our inner truths.

Building a house with strong foundations is also about building our lives not on things of a temporary and fleeting nature.. what the New Testament calls ‘this world’, in other words, the outward world of form.  If our trust is ultimately in the outward world of form which is constantly shifting and changing then we will ultimately have not real rest for our souls.  To build on a solid foundation, we have to move beyond the world of form, to that which is formless and unchanging, the deeper inner realm of the Spirit. 

Our Non-Subscribing forbears tended to emphasize on deeds over creeds…. 

So, what does it mean to live these teachings today?

It might mean pausing before rushing to judgment, asking: What’s the log in my own eye?

It might mean questioning the voices we follow, whether political, religious, or personal, and asking: Do they lead with wisdom and compassion, or are we blindly following?

And it definitely means returning to our foundations. What are the core values you build your life on? Are they sturdy enough to hold you when life gets hard? What might it mean to trust in the Higher and Deeper Wisdom of God that is not rooted in the world of outward form, but the inner realm of the Spirit? 

May we each take that step today, toward greater awareness, compassion, and a life built on the solid ground of truth and love.