Wednesday of 4 Lent

 

March 18, 2026

 

Sheyenne Crossing

West Fargo, ND

 

 

Psalm 23

 

+ Isn’t it sometimes strange the things you take for granted.

 

For me, one of the things I have long taken for granted is the 23^rd Psalm.

 

If I had a dollar for every time I have heard the 23^rd Psalm in my life, I’d be on rich priest, let me tell you.  

 

But, let’s just think about it for one moment.

 

Think about all the times you have heard, throughout your life, the 23^rd Psalm.

 

Think of all those funerals.

 

Think of all those times when you have heard it and you could recite it by heart. 

 

Or think of all those films you may have watched in which the 23^rd Psalm was recited.

 

I remember well, in the original film of In Cold Blood, how the 23^rd Psalm is read in the powerful closing scene as the murderers are hanged.

 

Or in the film Titanic, how the psalm was recited as the ship went down.

 

Or, in the great Clint Eastwood Western, Pale Rider (a film full of Christian symbolism), how there was a great dialog version of the 23^rd Psalm in which a girl whose dog was killed by marauders recites the psalm, but then responds to the verses with comments like “But I DO want” and “But I AM afraid.”

 

In fact, that dialog version from Pale Rider is what the Psalms are all about.

 

I pray the Psalms every day—at least twice a day—when I pray Morning and Evening Prayer from the Daily Office from the Book of Common Prayer.

 

And there are times ways in which those psalms, or other scriptures speak to where I am in my life just at that moment.

 

When you pray the psalms in such a way, day in and day out, trust me, you often find yourself in a dialog form of prayer with them.

 

We find God speaking to us, sometimes in mysterious ways, in these psalms.

 

For me, that’s the correct way to pray the psalms.

 

If the psalms aren’t used as a kind of dialog—if they don’t become our prayers—then they’re being used incorrectly.

 

But, even for me, for someone who prays the Psalms on a daily basis and has for over twenty-five years, I also have taken the 23^rd Psalm for granted.

 

Oftentimes when something becomes so ingrained into our culture, we don’t even give it a second thought.

 

We find ourselves missing its nuances, it beauties, its depths. 

 

Because it is so popular, because we have heard it so much in our lives, we really do take the 23^rd Psalm for granted.

 

We don’t really think about it and what it means.

 

So, this morning, let’s take a close look at this psalm to which we have paid so little attention.

 

We’re going to do something this morning that we haven’t done in a while, but it’s fun to do on occasion.

 

We are going to take a line-by-line look at Psalm 23.

 

So, let us take a good, in-depth look at this psalm.

 

And there’s no better to begin, than the beginning.

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. 

There’s an interesting choice of words here.

Want.

I shall not be in want.

Why?

Essentially, this line is perfect, really.

Why would I need to want anything, with God as my shepherd, as the One who leads me and guides me and provides for me.

If we are being shepherded, if we are being watched over and cared for, there is no need to want to for anything.

We are provided for by our God.

We are taken care of.

And want is just not something we have.

   [The Lord]  makes me lie down in green pastures;
[you] lead me beside still waters; 
   [you] restore my soul.

So, here we have sort of this idyllic image.

Green pastures.

Still waters.

The sense here is calmness.

For all those funerals at which this psalm has been recited, this image no doubt calls to mind images of heaven.

But, for us, right now, this image is important too.

God’s presence in our lives essentially stills whatever anxieties we might have.

God, who is our shepherd, will only find the choicest places for us, the best places.

Just as we don’t want, just as we are taken care of and cared for, so we  are led to a place of safety and beauty, because God loves us just that much.

And we will be well.

[The Lord] leads me in right paths
   for [your] name’s sake. 

Again, God the Shepherd leads.

And where does God lead?

God leads us on the right path, through the right way.

But then we come across this strange wording,

For God’s name’s sake.

Again, notice at this point how often we have taken this psalm for granted.

How many times have we recited or prayed these words?

But without asking, what does that mean?

“For his name’s sake?”

Well, for us, it shows that God’s reputation is one of goodness and mercy and rightness.

For God’s Name’s sake, in this sense, means that it is God’s will, God’s purpose, God is known for doing good things for us, for leading us on those right paths.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
   I fear no evil;
for you are with me;

Those are iconic lines if there ever were any.

Now, this is not bragging mind, you, but I, for one, know what the valley of the shadow of death is.

I have been there.

I have ventured through it more than once.

I went through it when I was diagnosed with cancer.

I went through it during my various seasons of grief.

But the valley of the shadow of death is different of each us.

I remember well my mother saying that giving birth, for her, was like walking through the shadow of death.

The shadow of death for us is the darkest, most horrendous place we can think of in life.

And for us, we know that even there we are not alone.

God is with us even in that darkness, even that close to death.

And not only with us, vaguely hovering over us.

No.

God is there to support us, to hold us, to guide us forward

Hence,

   your rod and your staff—
   they comfort me. 

God’s strength holds us up and sustains us even then.

But then, we come to this strange verse,

You prepare a table before me
   in the presence of my enemies;

Didn’t I just talk about how God only leads us into places of beauty and light?

And now, here we have God preparing a table for us in the presence of our enemies.

At first glance, this seems like something horrible, like a cruel joke.

Why would God put us at a table with our enemies?

But, if you notice, there is a bit of defiance in this verse.

Go ahead and sit with your enemies, God seems to say to us.

You can’t be protected from all harm.

There are dangers out there.

There are bad things in this world.

There is a valley of the shadow of death!

There are people who don’t like us.

Yes, we may very well have real enemies.

But don’t fear, God says in this psalm.

I am with you.

And because I am, you can even sit down at the table with your enemies and you will be fine.

Even there, in the presence of our enemies,

Our heads are anointed with oil—we are blessed and consecrated by our God,

And there, at the table in the presence of our enemies, our cup overflows with God’s goodness.

Even there, we will be all right.

Because we are following the right path.

And on that path, there is goodness and mercy following us.

Not just today.

Not just tomorrow.

But all the days of our lives.

This how God rewards those of us who are faithful in our following of God.

And at the very, we know what awaits us.

We know what the ultimate goal is in following God our Shepherd.

We know where God will lead us.

God will lead us to that place in which we dwell in the house of God, our whole life long.

See, this psalm really is amazing!

No wonder this psalm has been so important to so many people over so many years.

This psalm is our psalm.

It is a wonderful microcosm of our faith journey.

And it is a beautiful reminder to us of God’s continued goodness in our lives.

So, when we are at a funeral and we hear the 23^rd Psalm or we hear it being recited in a film, or maybe when we recite it on our own when we need a bit of comfort or reassurance, let us truly hear it for what it is.

Let it speak to us anew.

And most importantly, let it be a reminder to us of God’s goodness and mercy, of God’s care for each of us.

God is our shepherd.

God leads us and guards us and guides us.

We have nothing to fear.

And, one day, we will dwell in the house of our God forever.

3 Lent

March 8, 2026

 

John 4.5-42 

 

+ In our very long Gospel reading, we find Jesus in conversation with this Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well.

 

More often than not, when we encounter a story like this in scripture, we don’t think about what happened to some of these people following their experience with Jesus.

 

Every so often, it might not hurt to ask ourselves: what happened to this woman at the well?

 

Did she heed the words of Jesus to her, or did she go on in her old lifestyle?

 

We know she shared the news with other Samaritans.

 

But did she reform her life?

 

Well, there are actually some interesting stories about what might have happened to this Samaritan woman.

 

What many Western Christians don’t know—and probably have never given a second thought to—is the fact that this Samaritan woman is revered now by the Eastern Church.

 

They have actually given her a name.

 

Traditionally, she is known now as St. Photini.

 

According to tradition, the belief is that St. Photini did, in fact, take Jesus’s words to heart.

 

The story goes that she, along with five of her sisters, were baptized and that, following Jesus’s death, she went out to proclaim the Gospel.

 

She was preaching the Gospel in Rome when the Emperor Nero began his persecution of Christians.

 

She confronted the Emperor with her faith in and love for Christ, which simply enraged him.

 

He had her imprisoned and tortured, but would not allow her to die.

 

One night, as she lay in prison, begging for God to allow her to die, Jesus appeared to her just as he had at Jacob’s well.

 

As he stood above her, he offered her the waters of everlasting life.

 

The vision filled her with such joy, that, a few days later, she died singing her praises to God.

 

In the Orthodox Church, she is referred to as “equal to the Apostles,” which is saying a lot.

 

St. Mary Magdalene is also considered “equal to the apostles.”

 

Of course, if you have ever had to endure my rant about that designation at our Wednesday night Eucharist when we commemorate St. Mary Magdalene you will hear me go off on why we don’t just name her an apostle, since she was more of an apostle than the actual apostles in my opinion. But. . .

 

There is a wonderful hymn that the Eastern Church sings to St. Photini

 

Illuminated by the Holy Spirit, All-Glorious One,

From Christ the Saviour you drank the water of salvation.

With open hand you give it to those who thirst.

Great-Martyr Photini, Equal-to-the-Apostles,

Pray to Christ for the salvation of our souls.

 

Her feast day is celebrated in the Orthodox Church on February 26.

 

And yes the Episcopal Church also commemorates her now, also on February 26 in our calendar of saints.

 

But, what is more important is the message that is here for all of us.

 

Jesus talks about a “living water.”

 

What is this living water Jesus speaks of?

 

Well, if we read this scripture closely we see that, despite popular pious tradition, Jesus at no point says that HE is the Living Water.

 

But rather that he comes to give this Living Water.

 

So, what is it that he offers this woman at the well?

 

Well, we actually get our answer in another later passage from the Gospel of John.

 

In John chapter 7, it is made clear that this Living Water is the Spirit of God within Jesus.

 

The Living Water that flows so abundantly, so profusely, is the very Spirit of God.

 

Of course because he is the Messiah, the Christ, as he tells this woman he is, he has this Spirit within him.

 

Christ or Messiah means “anoi8nted one.”

 

And that means anointed by God’s Spirit.  

 

And, this is important, when as Jesus sits with the woman at the well, he offers not only her that water of life, this Spirit of the living God—he offers it to us as well.

 

And we, in turn, like her, must “with open hand” give it “to those who thirst.”

 

To truly understand the meaning of water here, though we have to gently remind ourselves of the land in which this story is taking place.

 

Palestine was and is a dry and arid land.

 

And in Jesus’ day, water was not as accessible as we take for granted these days.

 

It came from wells that sometimes weren’t in close proximity to one’s home.

 

There was certainly no in-door plumbing.

 

The water that came from those wells was not the clean and filtered water we enjoy now, that we drink from fancy bottles.

 

They didn’t have refrigeration; they wouldn’t have understood what an ice cube was—so often the water they drank was lukewarm at best.

 

And sometimes it was polluted.

 

People got sick and died from drinking it.

 

Which is why people drank alcohol.

 

But despite all of that, water was essential.

 

One died without water in that arid land.

 

Water meant life.

 

In that world, people truly understood thirst.

 

They thirsted truly for water.

 

And so we have this issue of water in a story in which Jesus confronts this woman—who is obviously and truly thirsty.

 

Thirsty for water, yes, but—as we learn—she is obviously thirsty also for more.

 

She is thirsty as well for love, for security, for stability, all of which she does not have.

 

Now, we have to be fair to her.

 

For a woman to be without a man in her day would have meant that she would be without security, without a home, without anything.

 

A woman at that time was defined by the men in her life—her husband or father or son.

 

And so, widowed as many times as she was, she was desperate to find some reason and purpose in her life through the men in her life.

 

This woman is truly a broken person.

 

She is thirsty.

 

Thirsty for the water she is drawing from the well and thirsty for more than life and her society has given her.

 

In a sense, we can find much to relate to in this woman.

 

We too are broken people, as you have heard me preach again and again during this season of Lent so far.

 

We too are thirsty.

 

As broken people, we are thirsty for relationships, for money, for food, for alcohol, for anything to fill that empty parched feeling within our broken selves.

 

And as broken people, we find that as much as we try to quench that thirst, it all seems to run right out of us.

 

We find that we will never be quenched until we drink of that cool, clean water which will fill us where we need to be filled.

 

That cool, clean Water is of course the Spirit of Life.

 

God’s Spirit is the Water of which we drink to be truly filled.

 

It is the Water that will become in us “a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”

 

What better image to take with us in these long, spiritually thirsty days of Lent?

 

As we journey through the desert of Lent toward Holy Week, toward the darkness and violence of Good Friday, what better image can we cling to?

 

Because that is what we are doing during Lent.

 

We are traveling through the desert.

 

We are walking through the arid wasteland of our own lives.

 

We are journeying toward the Cross and toward the destruction, thirst, pain and death it brings.

 

We are wandering toward that tomb, that dark, dank place.

 

We are that woman at the well—parched and alone, thirsting for something more.

 

In Lent, we bring ourselves—our fractured, shattered, uncertain, frightened, insecure selves—to the well, expecting only for a temporary quenching.

 

But we know what awaits us.

 

We know that if we, like the Samaritan woman, is patient, we too will be given what we long for.

 

So, let us drink fully of the Living Water of God’s Spirit that is offered to us there.

 

Let us drink deeply of God’s Spirit, who is offered to us fully and completely.

 

And in that Water, we will find all that we desire.

 

Our insecurities will be washed away.

 

Our wounds will be cleaned and healed.

 

Everything we have done or failed to do will be made right.

 

Our brokenness will be made whole.

 

We will be remade into saints.

 

That thirst that drives us and nags at us and gnaws at us, that drives us to drink from places where we should not be drinking, will finally—once and for all—be quenched.

 

And in that Living Water we will find Life—that Life that Jesus the Messiah, the Christ brings us.

 

That life we find in those Living Waters is a Life without death or suffering or want.

 

All we have to do is say, “Give me some of that water.”

 

All we have to say is “give me the Spirit of the living God.”

 

And it will be given to us.

 

And those of us who drink of that water will never again be thirsty.

2 Lent

 

March 1, 2026

 

Genesis 12:1-4a; John 3.1-7

 

+ As you can all feel and sense right now, it is an exciting time in the Episcopal Diocese of North Dakota.

 

In just a few weeks time, we will be consecrating a new Bishop.

 

And as that happens, we are all full of hope and anticipation for the future of our diocese.

 

For those of us who have been on this journey in the past---for those of us who have experiences multiple bishops over the years, our hope and anticipation is always a bit tempered.

 

We know better than to place too much hope in one person.

 

We know better than to think that one person will be able to come in and change everything that will please all of us.

 

And that is very important for all of us to remember and be mindful of, especially as we welcome Bishop Shay.

 

But, it is so vitally important to remind ourselves:

 

The ministry of the Church is not just about a bishop.

 

Or priests.

 

Or deacons.

 

Ministry is also lay people, and lay leaders.

 

The Church is made up of all of us as ministers.

 

We are all ministers of the Church.

 

Not just Bishop-elect Shay.

 

Not just Deacon John or Deacon Suzanne.

 

Not just me.

 

Each of you are doing ministry in your own ways as well.

 

But don’t take my word for it.

 

Let’s take a look at our trusty Catechism.

 

Let’s take out our Books of Common Prayer and let’s take a look way in the back.

 

We’re going to page 855

 

And there, under the section called “The Ministry,” we find this:

 

 

The Ministry

Q.	Who are the ministers of the Church?
A.	The ministers of the Church are lay persons [notice that lay persons are listed first[ , bishops, priests, and deacons.
Q.	What is the ministry of the laity?
A.	The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; and, according to the gifts given them, to carry on Christ's work of reconciliation in the world; and to take their place in the life, worship, and governance of the Church.
	Then we get questions on the ministries of Bishops, Priests and Deacon.   Finally, we get this question:
Q.	What is the duty of all Christians?
A.	The duty of all Christians is to follow Christ; to come together week by week for corporate worship; and to work, pray, and give for the spread of the kingdom of God.

 

So, when we look long and hard at what ministry is, we need to remember something.

 

Our ministry together is not just in what we do.

 

It is in who we are.

 

Our ministry is often a ministry of who we are.

 

Of our personalities.

 

Of bearing witness

 

Of representing Christ---by not only our words, but also by our actions as well.

 

Of the person that God has created, even in our very brokenness.

 

It’s all bound up very tightly together.

 

And if each of us listens, if each of strains our spiritual ears and hearts toward God, we can hear that calling, deep in our hearts.

 

We can find that God is calling us to the ministry of our day-to-day lives, the ministry of the person God has formed us to be, the ministry to serve others in the way God sees fit.

 

In our reading from the Hebrew Bible this morning, we find a clear call from God to Abram.

 

“Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to a land that I will show you.”

 

Essentially this is the call to all of us who are in ministry.

 

God calls to us wherever we may be and when that happens, we must heed that call.

 

We must step out from our comfortable places, and we must step out into our service to others even if that means going to those people in strange and alien places.

 

And sometimes when we step into those uncomfortable places, we are made all the more aware of our own brokenness—we become even more vulnerable.

 

But that’s just a simple fact in ministry: when God calls, God calls heedless of our brokenness.

 

In fact, God calls us knowing full well our brokenness.

 

And—I hope this isn’t news to anyone here this morning—God uses our brokenness.

 

God can truly work through our brokenness and use our fractured selves in reaching out to other fractured people.

 

For too many people our brokenness divides us.

 

It separates us.

 

It isolates us.

 

It prevents us from moving forward in our lives and in ministries.

 

I see this all the time in the world and in the Church.

 

Our brokenness can truly become a kind of self-condemnation.

 

It becomes the open wound we must carry with us—allowed by us to stink and fester.

 

But when we can use our brokenness to reach out in love, when we allow God to use our brokenness, it is no longer a curse and a condemnation.

 

Our brokenness becomes a fruitful means for ministry.

 

It becomes a means for renewal and rebirth.

 

It becomes the basis for ministry—for reaching out and helping those who are also broken and in need around us.

 

In our Gospel reading for today we get that all-too-familiar bit of scripture.

 

“For God so loved the world that [God] gave [God’s] only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”

 

How many times have heard this scripture bantered about?

 

We have heard that scripture so often in our lives, we almost don’t realize what it’s really saying.

 

I actually love preaching on this scripture.

 

I love to for one simple reason:

 

The message is so basic, so straightforward.

 

And that simple messsage has gotten lost over time.

 

God so loved the world---

 

The world here is you.

 

The world here is me.

 

The world here is us.

 

God so loved us.

 

God loves us.

 

Plain and simple. 

 

How do we respond to that love?

 

We respond to it by following the One whom God has given to us—Jesus. 

 

And if we do, Jesus will lead us to eternal life, to the same eternal life he himself received from God.

 

Each of us is called.

 

Each of us has been issued a call from God to serve.

 

It might not have been a dramatic calling—an overwhelming sense of the Presence of God in our lives that motivates us to go and follow Jesus.

 

But each Sunday we receive the invitation.

 

Each time we gather at this altar to celebrate the Eucharist, we are, essentially, called to then go out, refreshed and renewed in our broken selves by this broken Body of Jesus, to serve the broken people of God.

 

We are called to go out and minister, not only by preaching and proclaiming with words, but by who we are, by our very lives and examples.

 

So, let us heed the call of God.

 

Let us do as Abram did in our reading from Genesis did today.

 

“Abram went, as the Lord told him…”

 

Let us, as well, go as God has told us.

 

Let us go knowing full well that heeding God’s call and doing what God calls us to do may mean leaving our country and our kindred and our house—in essence, everything we find comfortable and safe—and going to a foreign place—a place that may be frightening.

 

And going will be doubly frightening when we know we go as imperfect human beings—as people broken and vulnerable.

 

But let us also go sure in our calling from God.

 

Let us go sure that God has blessed each of us, even in our brokenness.

 

Let us go knowing that God loves us, because we too love.

 

Let us go knowing that God will use the cracks and fractures within us, as always, for good.

 

And let us go knowing God will make us whole again in our eternal life.

 

God will make us a blessing to others and God will “bless those who bless us.”

 

What more can we possibly ask of the ministry God has called us