What's Happening?

There’s a moment in Luke 13 where Jesus pauses to lament over Jerusalem. He speaks with deep sorrow:

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!” (Luke 13:34)

It’s a heart-wrenching image—Jesus longing to gather his people, shelter them, love them, and yet, they resist. They turn away, unwilling or unable to embrace what he offers.

And I wonder—how often do we do the same?

We may not be standing at the gates of Jerusalem, but we resist in other ways. Maybe we resist grace because we feel unworthy. Or because we’re too caught up in self-reliance to accept help. Sometimes, we resist because transformation is uncomfortable—it asks something of us.

Earlier in this passage, Jesus tells the parable of the barren fig tree. The landowner is ready to cut it down—it hasn’t borne fruit, so why let it take up space? But the gardener speaks up: “Let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it.” (Luke 13:8) The gardener pleads for patience, for another chance, promising to tend and nourish the tree so that it might yet bear fruit.

What if we are like that fig tree—struggling to grow, slow to bear fruit? And what if, rather than giving up on us, Christ tends to us like that gardener, patiently working the soil of our hearts, feeding us with grace, urging us toward life?

What holds us back from fully embracing that amazing grace?

Is it fear of change? The weight of our past? The reluctance to trust that God’s love really is as deep as Jesus says it is?

Yet, even in our resistance, Jesus still longs to gather us in. His love remains. His grace is not taken away. The invitation stands. And like the gardener in the parable, Christ does not give up on us.

So this week, I invite you to sit with that question: Where am I resisting grace? And what might it look like to take one step closer to trust?

Join us tonight at 6:30 PM in the parlour or on Zoom as we dive into Luke 13:1-9, 31-35—a passage about repentance, patience, and God’s deep longing to gather us in love. ❤️

🔍 What does it mean to truly grow in faith?
🌱 Where do we see God’s patience at work in our lives?

Let’s wrestle with these questions and more together in a space of reflection and conversation. Whether in person or online, there’s a seat for you!

📅 Tuesday at 6:30 PM
📍 Parlour & Zoom
🔗 Zoom link:: https://zoom.us/j/99361959655?pwd=uf985qJv3AtErI2cjMaZGUdObCRQBm.1

Jesus makes it simple. When asked about the greatest commandment, he responds: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.” (Luke 10:27). Simple? Yes. Easy? Not always.

This week’s reading (Luke 10:25-42) gives us two snapshots of what this love looks like. First, we meet the Good Samaritan—someone who puts love into action, crossing boundaries to care for a stranger in need. Then we see Mary and Martha—one caught up in the busyness of service, the other sitting at Jesus’ feet, listening. Both stories challenge us to ask: What does it really mean to love?

Love in Action

The Samaritan doesn’t just feel compassion—he acts on it. He sees, stops, and serves. Loving our neighbor isn’t about grand gestures; it’s about noticing the needs right in front of us. It’s about choosing kindness over convenience, mercy over apathy. Who around me needs a little more love today? A friend who is struggling? A neighbor who feels alone? A stranger I’d rather ignore?

Love in Presence

Then we have Mary, who simply sits with Jesus. No rushing, no distractions—just presence. Loving God isn’t just about doing things for God; it’s about being with God. It’s about carving out moments of quiet in our busy days, allowing God’s love to shape us so that we can love others well. When was the last time I truly sat in God’s presence? Am I too distracted by my to-do list to hear God’s voice?

Holding Both Together

Loving God and loving our neighbor aren’t separate tasks; they are deeply connected. The more time we spend with God, the more we reflect God’s love in the world. And when we serve others, we encounter God’s presence in unexpected ways. The challenge is balance: not being so busy that we forget to listen, and not being so still that we never act.

So, what does it mean to love God and love my neighbor in my daily life? It means paying attention—to God’s presence and to the people around me. It means acting with compassion and making space for stillness. It means letting love be more than just a word.

What’s one way you can live out love today?

After we’ve filled up on pancakes, let’s nourish our spirits! This Tuesday, March 4th at 6:30 PM, gather in the parlour (or on Zoom) for a conversation on Luke 10:25-42—two powerful stories that challenge us to reflect on love, action, and priorities.

• What does it really mean to “love your neighbour”?
• Are we more like the busy Martha or the attentive Mary?
• Let’s wrestle with these questions together!

Come as you are—whether you’re a seasoned Bible reader or just curious. See you Tuesday night!

Nashwaaksis United Church, Parlour & Zoom
Tuesday, 6:30 PM
🔗 https://zoom.us/j/99361959655?pwd=uf985qJv3AtErI2cjMaZGUdObCRQBm.1

Some moments in life leave us breathless. A sunrise that paints the sky in colours too beautiful to describe. A conversation that feels like holy ground. A time of worship that stirs something deep in our soul.

In Luke 9:28-36, Peter, James, and John experience one of these mountaintop moments. They see Jesus in dazzling glory, standing with Moses and Elijah. It’s a moment of clarity, awe, and divine presence. Peter’s instinct is to stay there—to build shelters, to hold onto this holy experience. But the moment doesn’t last. The cloud fades, the voice is silent, and soon, Jesus is leading them back down the mountain into the messiness of everyday life.

We all have mountaintop moments—times when God feels undeniably close. Maybe it was at a retreat, a powerful worship service, or an unexpected moment of peace in the middle of chaos. But like the disciples, we don’t get to stay there. Faith isn’t just about the mountaintop; it’s also about the valleys, the unanswered questions, and the everyday journey of following Jesus.

So here’s the question:
💭 When have you had a mountaintop moment in your faith, and how did it shape you afterward?

Did it change the way you see God? Did it give you strength for the road ahead? Did you struggle to hold onto it?

The disciples didn’t fully understand what they had witnessed on the mountain until much later. But the experience shaped them. It prepared them for what was to come. Maybe our own mountaintop moments do the same.

This week, take time to remember—when has God felt especially close? And how is that moment still shaping your journey today?

Imagine walking into a room where you feel completely out of place. Maybe you don’t look the part. Maybe you don’t know the right people. Maybe you carry a past that others won’t let you forget.

Now, imagine Jesus sitting at the center of that room. He sees you – not just as you are, but as you could be. He doesn’t look away. He doesn’t whisper behind your back. Instead, he makes room at the table and welcomes you in.

In this week’s reading from Luke’s Gospel, a woman with a reputation – one that everyone seems to know – enters a Pharisee’s house and kneels at Jesus’ feet. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t defend herself. She simply weeps, washes his feet with her tears, and anoints them with costly perfume. And while the others at the table see her as a sinner, Jesus sees her as someone worthy of love, grace, and belonging.

This passage invites us to wrestle with a hard question: Who do we struggle to welcome at our tables?

Do we make room for the ones whose pasts make us uncomfortable?
Do we hesitate to extend grace to those we think should have “known better”?
Do we see ourselves as more deserving than others?

Jesus flips the script. He reminds us that God’s table isn’t about worthiness – it’s about grace. It’s not about social status, reputation, or rules – it’s about love that sees beyond all of that.

So this week, reflect on this:
Who in your life might need a seat at your table?
Where might Jesus be calling you to extend grace instead of judgment?
And how can we, as a community, reflect Christ’s radical welcome?

Because in the kingdom of God, the table is bigger than we imagine – and there’s always room for one more.

The snow may be coming later today, but for now, the roads are clear, and in-person worship is ON this morning! ⛪✨

Join us as we gather in faith, warmth, and community. Let’s lift our hearts in worship before the snowflakes start to fall. See you at 10:30 AM at Nashwaaksis United Church! ❄️🙏

Jesus turns to the crowd and asks them a pointed question:

“What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? What then did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes?” (Luke 7:24-25).

The people had gone to see John the Baptist. But what were they expecting? A leader who would bend to public opinion like a reed in the wind? A prophet dressed in luxury and power? Someone who fit their vision of what a messenger of God should be?

Jesus’ words challenge them—and us—to examine our expectations.

It’s human nature to look for God in ways that make sense to us. We hope for a sign that affirms what we already believe. We look for a Savior who fits our idea of strength, a faith that offers certainty, a God who acts on our terms. But time and again, Jesus defies expectations.

John prepared the way for the Messiah, but even he, sitting in prison, wondered: Was this really it? The kingdom Jesus proclaimed didn’t look like a military victory or a political revolution. Instead, it was blind eyes opened, the poor receiving good news, the unclean restored, the forgotten brought close. It was mercy over judgment, humility over power, love over control.

And still, Jesus asks us: What did you come to see?

Did we come expecting faith to be simple? Did we come hoping God would confirm our assumptions? Did we come looking for a kingdom that looks like the world’s power and success? Or are we ready to be surprised, challenged, and changed by the Christ who meets us in ways we do not expect?

This week, take some time to reflect:
🔹 What are you searching for in your faith right now?
🔹 Have you ever missed God’s presence because it didn’t look like you expected?
🔹 Where might Jesus be showing up in your life in an unexpected way?

May we have the courage to let go of our assumptions, the humility to receive God’s kingdom as it truly is, and the faith to follow where Christ leads—wherever and however he appears.

Jesus had a way of seeing the people no one else noticed.

In Luke 7:1-17, two stories unfold—one about a Roman centurion, an outsider to Israel, and the other about a grieving widow with no one to care for her. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different. The centurion was powerful, respected, and well-connected. The widow was vulnerable, unseen, and without security. But in both moments, Jesus stops. He sees them. He responds.

The centurion needed healing, not for himself, but for a servant—someone society might have deemed expendable. The widow, on the other hand, doesn’t even have the chance to ask for help. She is walking in a funeral procession for her only son, carrying not only her grief but the weight of a future with no protection, no status, no support. And yet, Jesus sees her suffering and is moved with compassion. Without being asked, he steps in and restores life.

Both stories reveal something about the heart of Christ: he notices those we so often forget.

Which brings us to a question we may not always want to ask: Who are we forgetting?

It’s easy to name the people society pushes aside—the unhoused, the lonely, the sick, the ones who fall through the cracks. But if we’re honest, there are others we forget too. The ones we struggle to love. The ones we avoid because their pain makes us uncomfortable. The ones we dismiss because they challenge our way of thinking.

Jesus calls us to see them all, to love and pray for them all; to remember that each person carries a story; to step beyond what’s easy or familiar and choose compassion.

So this week, let’s sit with this question: Who are we forgetting? And once we have our answer, let’s ask another: How might Christ be calling us to see them?