Emmaus Walk with Bishop Jos!

Jos Tharakan
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Invitation to a Loving, Living & Life-Giving Walk with Christ! bishopjos.substack.com

  1. The Power of the Lowly: Salt, Light, and the Rejection of the Fake

    FEB 9

    The Power of the Lowly: Salt, Light, and the Rejection of the Fake

    I realized something about Jesus. He looks at a crowd of ordinary people—fishermen, tax collectors, and weary souls—and tells them something radical: “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.” Notice He doesn’t say you might be, or you should be if you work hard enough. He says you are. You are! You are the ones who give this world its flavor. You are the ones who preserve it from rotting into total despair. The world is a better place because of your presence, your kindness, and your simple faithfulness. Yes. Think about how he empowered the simple and the powerless. But we live in a world obsessed with “projecting power.” We are surrounded by people who think that wealth, abundance, and authoritarian strength are the markers of success. They build monuments to their own egos and use fear to control those around them. But Jesus warns us: if the salt loses its flavor, it is good for nothing. And what is the “flavor” of a Christian? It is humility. Why did Jesus come to us as a helpless babe in a manger? Why was He born to a poor family in an overlooked village? If God had arrived with thunder, lightning, and overwhelming celestial glory, we would have been paralyzed by terror, not moved by love. We wouldn’t recognize Him as a Father; we would see Him only as a Dictator. God is not shy about being poor. God is not worried about being simple. Our God does not boast about being “wealthy” or “successful” by human standards. We follow a God who, in the eyes of the world, “failed.” He suffered. He struggled. He had no place to lay His head. This was not an accident; it was a choice. Jesus came down to our level because that is the only way we could ever truly understand the heart of the Father. Anytime you see someone pretending to be untouchable, powerful, or superior, know this: They are faking it. Throughout His life, people tried to get Jesus to “project” power. Herod wanted a magic show. Pilate tried to intimidate Him with the state’s authority. Even His own disciples tried to talk Him into a worldly kingship. Jesus resisted every single time. Even on the Cross, when they mocked Him saying, “If you are the Son of God, come down,” He stayed. That is what real power looks like. It is the power to stay humble when you have the right to be proud. It is the power to be simple when you have the means to be flashy. Fake powers—those built on narcissism and bullying—always fail. They are eventually caught, exposed, and brought to justice because they have no foundation. As Jesus told Pilate, “You would have no power over me at all unless it were given to you from above.” True authority doesn’t need to shout; fake authority never stops shouting. I cannot “relax” the commandments of Jesus to make them more comfortable for our modern egos. Jesus is clear. Anyone who tries to water down these truths or teaches others to ignore the “least of these” will be called least in the Kingdom. I cannot save someone from the consequences of their own prideful stupidity. I cannot condone a mistake as “truth” just to be polite. We are called to a higher standard—the standard of the salt. To be salt, we must be lowly. To be light, we must be transparent so that His glory shows, not ours. So, here are some practical suggestions. May be useful, may be not. But at least something for us to do and live into the call. To live a truly spiritual life, we must stop pretending. Here is how we practice the humility of Christ in a world of “fake” power: Practice “Downward Mobility”: Instead of asking how you can get ahead, ask who you can get beside. Seek out the person in your neighborhood or workplace who is being ignored and sit with them. Speak Truth without Posturing: You don’t need to be loud to be right. Like Jesus before Pilate, let your character be your defense. Avoid the “boasting” culture of social media. Audit Your “Strongholds”: Are you trusting in your bank account, your status, or your political “team” for security? If so, you are leaning on fake power. Repent and return to the Lord as your only stronghold. Value Simplicity over Success: Intentionally choose the simpler path once a week. Whether it’s where you eat, what you buy, or how you spend your time, prove to yourself that you don’t need “wealth and abundance” to be the light of the world. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bishopjos.substack.com

    9 min
  2. The Essential Humanity: Understanding the Politics of Jesus

    FEB 5

    The Essential Humanity: Understanding the Politics of Jesus

    Who was Jesus? This is the question that stands at the center of our faith and our history. We believe Jesus is the Son of God who came down to earth to become part of the human race. In a profound act of love, the Creator decided to become the creature. But we must be very clear about the nature of this arrival: Jesus came for the human being. Everything else—religion, country, language, and social status—came after. These are what we might call the “accidentals” of history. The “essential” is humankind. God attached supreme importance to humanity, while man has attached supreme importance to everything else. This is the great reversal of our spiritual lives. We tend to focus on the rules, the regulations, the boundaries, and the labels we have created. Our worldview is limited by what we know and what we have constructed to make ourselves feel secure. But God’s worldview is limited only by what God knows—which is all of us, without exception. If we do not grasp this, we will continue to mistake the accidentals for the essentials and the essentials for the accidentals. To recognize the dignity of a human being, we must understand what Jesus came here for. To understand human worth, we must see what God sees in each of us. This is the litmus test for the believer: If you find a human being—no matter their politics, their country, their language, their color, or their creed—you have found the person for whom Jesus came. The scriptures bear witness to this universal reach of divine love: * “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son...” (John 3:16). Note that it does not say God so loved the “religious” or the “citizens,” but the world. * “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). This is the dismantling of the accidentals in favor of the essential unity of the human family. * “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). His mission was defined not by boundary lines, but by the shared human condition of need. What Jesus preached was justice, kindness, mercy, honesty, and forgiveness. These are the virtues the world has misplaced as “unimportant” or “weak.” In their place, the world has elevated power, arrogance, and domination as the most important goals. Today, I invite you to see the “politics of Jesus.” His politics will always side with the human being. As the Suffering Servant, He attached Himself to the poor, being born as one and dying as one. We must never forget that real politics is the art of relationship—a sacred exchange in which the “other” is served so that the best in everyone can be achieved. As the mystic Meister Eckhart once said: “God is not found in the soul by adding anything, but by a process of subtraction.” We must subtract the labels to find the human. And as St. Catherine of Siena whispered: “Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire.” God meant for you to be a human being, reflecting the divine image, free from the accidentals that divide us. Reflect with me and share your thoughts in the comments! * What “accidental” labels (political, national, or religious) have I allowed to become more important to me than the “essential” humanity of my neighbor? * If I were to view every person I meet today through the “litmus test” of the Incarnation, how would my interactions change? * How can I practice the “politics of Jesus” by prioritizing a relationship of service over the pursuit of power or being “right”? This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bishopjos.substack.com

    10 min
  3. Why and How to Live Our Baptismal Covenant!

    FEB 2

    Why and How to Live Our Baptismal Covenant!

    My Dear Sisters and Brothers, I generally make it a point to stay away from the “drama” and the “spats” that often define our social media landscape. I know that people come to the digital square from vastly different emotional spaces and lived experiences and they are all valuable. However I often feel my time is better spent watching Tom and Jerry! However, I am writing to you today because something I read last day broke my heart. I have heard the same from many others including my scared and differently abled friends. I came across a note from a young woman who is in a state of profound spiritual grief. She is not only heartbroken by what’s happening on the streets of Minneapolis; she is deeply hurt by the attitude of the pastors in churches. She wrote of hearing sermons and reading posts from leaders who attempt to justify subhuman behavior —who remain silent while the innocent are struck down, or who prioritize the wealth and security of a nation over the sanctity of the human beings. She is confused, and rightfully so. So am I. She looks at us and asks: What happened to the Christ who told Peter to put his sword away? What happened to the instruction to turn the other cheek? She had many more questions! Why are the ones who promised to lead us in the way of Jesus now failing to find their nerve when the blood of the innocent is spilled on American streets or people arrested and deported without the rule of law? Her grief forced me to look in the mirror. It forced me to ask: Where am I? Where are we as Episcopalians? At every baptism, at every confirmation, we make a public promise. We vow to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.” These are not hollow scripts for us. Right? It is a sacred promise. May be it is time to remind ourselves what we promise so that we can live into it fully. In another words we are called to live into the prophetic words of Simeon to Mary, “a sword will piece your heart,” for living into the truth, meaning, our hearts will be broken when we stand up for the marginalized. As a church We can not afford to stay silent like in the times of slavery, displacement and murder of the indigenous people, and LGBTQ+ persecution. We are standing at a crossroads that is eerily familiar to the students of history. We are standing in the same intersection that led Dietrich Bonhoeffer to his martyrdom. In his day, many clergy in Europe failed to uphold the basic teaching of Christ—that every person is the beloved of God, regardless of their status. They chose the security of the state over the demands of the Gospel that led to the slaughter of over six million innocent people. State sponsored and justified murder, beginnings of which we see in America now! I know firsthand the terror of these times—when someone looking straight into my eyes and said, “You do not belong in this country.” I know the terror of it when my baby is threatened day after day within an Episcopal institution, and when my transgender child is forced to absorb slurs hurled at their very existence, written without shame and spoken with contempt. This is not merely personal pain; it is a moral crisis. I grieve and I fear for our clergy and their families, for people of color, and for all who are marked as expendable. I am anguished for those who carry no guilt, no crime, no cause for fear—yet are made to live in it simply because of their skin, their identity, their disability, or whom they love. This is not the way of Christ. To deny another’s belonging is to deny the image of God itself. And the Church must decide—now—whether it will bear witness to love, or remain silent while fear is preached from the streets. We, as a church, can no longer pretend that predatory behaviors are “acceptable” norms within a democracy or a church. If we believe that these things are compatible with the following of Jesus, then we have already lost our way. It is time for us to draw a line in the sand—not a line of hatred, but a line of truth, goodness and grace. When Bishop Rob Hirschfeld of New Hampshire told his clergy they might need to prepare their wills, many called him hyperbolic. But look at the reality: just a week ago, over one hundred clergy and leaders were arrested in Minneapolis for standing up for truth. This is not a nightmare or an alternate reality or a feeling. It is a fact. I do not wish for any of us to be martyrs not even in my worst dreams. But I do wish for us to be faithful. We have a responsibility to respond to that young woman and to all those like her. We must show them that none of us, in the Episcopal church at least, believe cruelty is the norm or lawlessness or absence of the rule of law is security. We better take heed when people who walked before us, gave up their lives for justice, call us to wake up. In the words of Dietrich Bonhoeffer: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Let us remind the world that we are the children of God everywhere! And finally, hear the words of Jesus, who stood before the powers of his day and said: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (Matthew 5:6, 9). It is easy to bring peace. “Peace begins with a smile,” (Mother Theresa). I know we can do that. I urge you to pray. I also invite you to stand up for me, a person of color and my children, clergy, my differently abled and LGBTQ+ friends and family, the immigrants, marginalized and scared. Let us be a church that stands with the marginalized, even when it costs us our comfort. Let us be the answer to that young woman’s heartbreak, proving that our lives themselves become evidence that Christ’s love outlasts oppression, corruption, and intimidation. Thanks for reading Emmaus Walk with Bishop Jos!! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bishopjos.substack.com

    14 min

  4. JAN 30

    The Courage of An Intentional Life

    Before you drew your first breath, before the world could label you, define you, or limit you, you were known. The prophet Isaiah tells us, “The Lord called me from the womb, from the body of my mother he named my name” (Isaiah 49:1). This is not just a poetic sentiment; it is a fundamental theological truth. You are not an accident. You are not a biological afterthought or a random occurrence in a chaotic universe. You were fashioned by the hand of the Almighty with a specific intent. God’s knowledge of you is intimate, exhaustive, and filled with a terrifyingly beautiful love. This personal call is a profound honor. To be known by the Creator is the highest dignity a human being can possess. But, as Isaiah learned, this honor is inseparable from responsibility. To be “named” by God is to be drafted into His service. We are called to be His servants, not in some distant, abstract future, but in the gritty, complicated reality of our unique lives and contexts. Today, that context is increasingly shadowed. We look around and see the rising tide of white supremacy, the rigid walls of fundamentalism, and a narrow-mindedness that seeks to shrink the Kingdom of God into a gated community. Let us be clear: these ideologies are not merely political differences. They are antithetically opposed to the heart of Christ. They are the antithesis of the Gospel. When we see the “other” as a threat rather than a brother or sister known by God, we deny the very image of God in which we were all created. When we remain silent while innocent people are murdered in our streets—whether by the hands of hatred or the machinery of neglect—we are not being “neutral.” We are being complicit. The great martyr and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who stood against the tide of the Nazi regime when many in the church remained silent, famously warned us: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” To be a follower of Christ today requires the same fire that burned in the hearts of the early Christians, the reformers of the Middle Ages, and the resistors of the Second World War. We cannot afford the luxury of complacency. We cannot sit comfortably in our pews while the world burns with injustice. The prophet Amos cries out across the centuries, piercing our comfort: “But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Amos 5:24). How do we respond to such a daunting call? We look to John the Baptist. John knew exactly who he was because he knew exactly who he wasn’t. He didn’t seek the spotlight for himself; he used his voice to boldly proclaim who Christ was in his life. He pointed the way. We see this same transformative invitation in the encounter between Jesus, Andrew, and Peter. When Jesus said, “Follow me,” it wasn’t a request for a Sunday morning commitment. It was a call to a new way of being. Andrew didn’t keep this encounter to himself; his first instinct was to find his brother and say, “We have found the Messiah.” Discipleship is not a solo journey. It is an intentional, community work. It is a journey of walking, listening, and bringing others into the light of Christ. But to bring others to the light, we must first be willing to stand in the light ourselves—even when that light exposes our own fears and our own silence. Modern prophets like Archbishop Desmond Tutu reminded us that “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” Being a disciple in 2026 means moving beyond “thoughts and prayers” into the prophetic action of “presence and protest.” It means shining God’s light in the specific corners of the world where you have been placed—in your workplace, your schools, and your neighborhoods—wherever fundamentalism and hate seek to take root. You were called from the womb for a time such as this. You were given your unique voice, your unique experience, and your unique context so that you might reflect a specific ray of God’s glory that no one else can. Do not let the world’s “insanity” of repeating the same mistakes of hatred convince you that change is impossible. We are a people of the Resurrection. We believe that life comes from death and light overcomes darkness. So, I challenge you today: consider your discipleship journey. Who are you being called to reach? Where are you being called to speak? Like the first disciples, let us drop our nets of complacency. Let us reject the false gospels of supremacy and exclusion. Let us follow the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world, and in following Him, let us bring the world along with us into the healing, justice, and peace of His Kingdom. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bishopjos.substack.com

    8 min

  5. JAN 28

    Why We Fail to Truly Hear Each Other

    In her profound work When God is Silent, Barbara Brown Taylor writes: “In order for communication to occur, you need someone watching who also knows the language.” We often move through our lives under the delusion that because we share a vocabulary, we share a reality. In the midst of the misunderstandings, anxieties, and fears that have defined recent years—particularly surrounding the complex conversations going on around illegal immigration—it has become clear that while we are all speaking English, we do not actually know what the other is saying. Most failures in marriages, relationships, and even our churches stem from this single point: we understand words, but we do not understand the language. We miss the nuance, the underlying emotions, the hidden fears, and the past experiences that give a speaker’s words their weight. Our own biases act as heavy filters, pre-deciding what we hear before the sentence is even finished. If we cannot reach that level of nuance, perhaps it is better for us to be silent. It is better to simply listen and wonder. The remedy for this disconnect is a radical, intentional silence. When someone speaks, the most powerful thing you can do is wait. Even if you feel certain you know their heart, you must pause. Listening with the heart means acknowledging that you are a guest in someone else’s internal world. This shift from certainty to curiosity is not an easy one. It requires us to step back from our own internal noise and examine the architecture of our listening. Before we can truly hear another, we must confront the habits that keep us deaf to their nuance by asking ourselves: Am I hearing the person standing before me, or merely the ghost of a past argument? Is my silence a genuine space for them to breathe, or just a waiting room for my own next point? Do I have the courage to admit that even after they finish, I may still only understand them partially? Reverend Taylor poignantly observes that many people speak of God as if the Divine were made of steel rather than air. We do the same with our daily discourse. We treat our opinions as rigid, cold, and unyielding structures—tools for building walls or weapons for defense. But words are breath. They are made of air—fluid, moving, and life-giving. When we treat language as steel, we crush the very connection we seek to build. When we treat it as air, we allow room for the other person to exist. In a world filled with noise, the most “God-like” thing we can do is offer one another a listening silence—a space where words are allowed to be as light, and as deep, as the air itself. Stop building walls of steel; start breathing the air of understanding. Thanks for reading Emmaus Walk with Bishop Jos!! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bishopjos.substack.com

    5 min

  6. JAN 26

    A Call to Wakefulness! We Remember You!

    Last Sunday, as I stood before our congregation in Nampa, Idaho, my heart was heavy. I found myself navigating a narrow, difficult space—simultaneously angry and afraid. The Gospel reading anchored us in a pivotal moment: “When Jesus heard that John the Baptist was arrested, he withdrew to Galilee.” Initially, the word “withdrew” can feel like a retreat of fear. We might ask: Why did He leave? Why didn’t He rush into the heart of the action to confront the powers that had snatched John away for the wrong reason? But as I listened to the Spirit, I realized the profound strategy of the soul. Jesus did not withdraw because He was afraid; He withdrew into the silence to prepare. He moved into a sacred space where He could gather the strength necessary to take on the unjust, to stand for truth, and to eventually emerge with a call that would shake the foundations of the world. “Repent.” Later, he turned the tables upside down! Remember that! Violence against violence is never an option for the believer. Yet, the presence of Christ-like peace does not mean a lack of conviction. When we see cruelty and murder committed against the innocent—in our country or around the world - as we have seen in the tragic cases of Ms. Good and Mr. Pretti—we are under a holy mandate to call the perpetrators to repentance. I promise you, there will be a day of reckoning. But before that, I invite you to hold your elected leaders accountable for their atrocities against people, children of God. We are being told by those in power that these actions are about “illegal immigration.” But you and I must have the discernment to see through the veil. This is not about immigration; it is about power. It is about the desperate holding on to power by creating an atmosphere of fear and mistrust of each other. During the election, some candidates were startlingly open about this goal. The hallmark of authoritarian ambition is the belief that real power is found in the ability to terrify one’s own people. These ambitions are now being played out in plain sight. I invite you to open your hearts and minds. Do not dupe yourself into thinking this is about the safety of the people, because the actions we are witnessing prove otherwise. PLEASE, believe your eyes! When fear is the primary tool of the state, it is not safety they are building—it is a dungeon. History proves it over and over! Like Jesus, we must check in with ourselves. We must withdraw into the discipline of the spirit so that we can emerge with clarity. I ask you to pray. I ask you to fast. I ask you to find your voice and take a stand for your own dignity, the dignity of your children, and the dignity of your neighbor. We do not seek conflict, but we cannot sleep through the dismantling of mercy. I pray for calm, but more than that, I pray for a justice that refuses to be silenced by fear. So, today, we remember these people killed or died in ICE custody in 2026! Alex Jeffrey Pretti — January 24, 2026 (Patrol/ICE personnel) Shot and killed by ICE agent in Minneapolis. Renée Nicole Good — January 7, 2026 A 37-year-old woman shot and killed by an ICE agent in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Geraldo Lunas Campos — January 3, 2026 A 55-year-old detainee died in ICE custody at Camp East Montana in El Paso, Texas; his death has been ruled a homicide by the county medical examiner. May the souls of these beloved ones Rest in Peace! May God do justice and show mercy to those who perpetrated them! I invite you to ask yourself in prayer these questions. * When I feel the urge to “withdraw” from the news or the suffering of others, am I retreating into a shell of apathy, or am I entering a silence that prepares me for action? * How can I distinguish between the “safety” promised by power and the “peace” promised by Christ? * What does “repentance” look like in a society that has begun to justify the mistreatment of the innocent, and am I brave enough to speak that word aloud? This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bishopjos.substack.com

    7 min

  7. JAN 17

    The Ledger of Good Intentions: A Warning.

    After my Christmas sermon, a few people reached out to me. They were kind, but they suggested that perhaps I was exaggerating. They felt I was being a bit too anxious. “Bishop,” they implied, “it isn’t going to happen. Nobody is going to create a list. We are a civilized nation.” On Christmas day, I shared how “It always starts with a list.” How King Herod began his work by making a list. That list ended in the mass murder of innocents. It is a sobering realization that Jesus began his life in the shadow of trauma caused by an evil thug, a leader who became so consumed by his own insecurity that he used administrative tools to facilitate slaughter. History tells us that when the Nazi leadership began their work, the lists were often framed with the best of intentions—for administrative order, for census, for “organization.” Then, this past Wednesday, the news broke. The administration has directed the University of Pennsylvania to submit a list of Jewish students and faculty. The stated reason? To “protect” them. I read those words and the hair on my arms stood up. This is exactly, word for word, the logic used to round up people in 1930s Germany. As the lawyers for the American Association of University Professors and the American Academy of Jewish Research wrote in their response: “Compiling and turning over to the government ‘lists of Jews’ conjures a terrifying history.” I am not here to interpret anyone’s private intentions. I do not know what is in the hearts of those making these demands. But I do know how evil works. Every great evil in history presents itself first as a great good. If it were ugly and obvious, we would run from it. But evil is clever; it dresses in noble clothing. It presents itself as desirable, as protective, as the only way to lead a “lawful” and “dignified” life. People often ask me, “Bishop, does the Devil exist?” I have no clearer answer than the words of Jesus. If I were to paraphrase the scriptures, I would say: The deceiver is a liar. The deceiver is the one who misleads us so that we no longer see humanity—the image of God—in the “other.” The deceiver makes us believe that a list is a shield, when history proves it is usually a target. I want to be clear: the notes I have been posting these days are not intended to add to our collective anxiety. My goal is not to stir up fear for fear’s sake. Rather, I share these thoughts to keep us awake to the reality unfolding around us. We cannot afford to be sleeping through these moments as many did in Germany, simply because the reality was couched in the language of law, order, and national security. When injustice is dressed in the suit of a gentleman, it is easy to nod off. But we must stay awake. I am reminded of the words of the German theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who watched his own church fall silent as the lists were being made: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” The scriptures warn us to be “wise as serpents and innocent as doves” (Matthew 10:16). Wisdom requires us to look past the “protection” and see the precedent. I leave you with these reflective questions: * How do I see evil when it wears the mask of safety? Am I able to look past the “noble” intention to see the destructive power hiding beneath the surface? * How do I see suffering in my neighbor? Do I recognize their pain as my own, or does a government label make it easier for me to look away from their individual face? * How do I see disrespect when it is coded as “policy”? Do I notice when a human being is reduced to a data point, and does that loss of dignity bother my soul? Martin Niemöller, a prominent German anti-Nazi theologian and Lutheran pastor who famously confessed his own initial complicity in the rise of the regime, famously wrote about the creeping silence of the “normal” class: “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a socialist... Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.” I pray that I am wrong. I pray that my anxiety is misplaced. But I see the ledger being opened, and I hear the scratching of the pen. I cannot be silent. We must see the image of God in every person, not as a name on a government list, but as a beloved child of God. The Ledger of Good Intentions: A Warning. How We Learn to Be Brave: Decisive Moments in Life and Faith Bishop of Washington, Mariann Edgar Budde This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bishopjos.substack.com

    8 min

  8. JAN 15

    The Sacred Walk: Letting God Shoulder Me!

    I am often asked, “Bishop, what is prayer?” It is a question that follows me, and no matter how I answer it for others, I always end the day asking it of myself. Did I pray today? What did I ask for? Did God listen to my woes, or was I simply talking to myself? When someone asks me to pray for them, I always say yes. And I do. But how I pray for them has changed deeply over the years. I have learned that prayer is not an attempt to change the heart of God, but to change mine. It is not a tool to alter my circumstances, but a grace to help me accept them. It is not a bargain I strike with the Divine, but a conversation I have with myself about my next action, realizing my God is with me through it all. In a strange way, prayer has become more about me than it is about God—because God is already there. The more I ask for something, the less interested I become in the specific outcome. It’s a paradox: the less I am attached to the “result” of my prayer, the better my attitude becomes. Prayer has become a daily walk, much like Enoch, who “walked faithfully with God” (Genesis 5:24). It has become the wonderment of Noah and Abraham, who questioned God, struggled with God, and eventually came to accept the reality of the path set before them. My Franciscan brother, Richard Rohr, often reminds me that prayer is not a way to get God to do what we want, but a way to become the person God wants us to be. It is that movement from my small, ego-centered world into a much larger, Christ-centered one. For me, prayer is now the intentional choice to sit in a place where I can simply relax and be at peace. It is the practice of becoming fully aware that God is walking with me through the good and the bad times—not just the crises, and not just the celebrations, but the messy middle of life. I find myself leaning on the wisdom of Cynthia Bourgeault, who teaches that this kind of centering is a discipline of intentionality; I am not trying to make my mind go blank, I am simply practicing the art of letting go. I am learning not to put pressure on what I ask for. Instead, I put the pressure on my own discipline. Am I faithful enough to give my time to the One I love? As I often say: Time is Love. Love is Prayer. Prayer is Commitment. That is the beginning and the end of it. Even Saint Francis of Assisi understood that the goal was never the words themselves, but the transformation of the heart. He knew that the greatest gift Christ gives us is the grace of overcoming the self. I am learning to stop worrying about whether I am “doing it right.” I am choosing to stop worrying if my list of requests is long enough or holy enough. I want to simply offer my presence to the Presence. I am making a commitment to myself to stay on the walk, even when I amn’t sure where the path is leading. I am searching for the peace that comes when I stop bargaining and start simply being. I hope I can walk with God and be enough. What else is there to pray for than being with God in all things in life? Yes, there are plenty of things to worry about and pray for. I realize. In the end, crying through what I can’t deal with, laughing through what I rejoice in, and finding the center through it all is prayer, and the whole process, when I am aware that I am not alone. He is walking with me, holding me on his shoulders, as the classic Jesus walk on the beach! I learned that prayer is simply letting God shoulder me! Realizing God is shouldering me along with the weight of my burdens is plenty of prayer. What a relief! This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit bishopjos.substack.com

    6 min
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Invitation to a Loving, Living & Life-Giving Walk with Christ! bishopjos.substack.com

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