Rev MaryGean Cope

Tag: forgiveness

  • The Gift of Forgiveness

    The Gift of Forgiveness

    You know that question, “Where is home?” It’s a good question, and there are a lot of ways to answer it. Home is where you’re from, where your people are, where you feel safe. But that doesn’t really capture it, does it? Home is more than a place. It’s a feeling. It’s knowing you belong somewhere.

    A lot of people don’t have that. They’re looking for home and can’t find it. So we have a job to do. We have to be the kind of place, the kind of people, where folks can find home. Where they feel like they matter, like they belong, like somebody cares whether they’re here or not. That’s the church. That’s what church is supposed to be.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • The Heart of Prayer

    The Heart of Prayer

    So Jesus says we’re like sheep, and he’s the shepherd. And if you know anything about sheep, you know they’re not exactly known for their brainpower. Aggressive sheep are dumb. They run off the cliff or into danger because they don’t have the sense to know better. That’s where the shepherd comes in.

    Here’s what I’ve learned about being human: we’re not that different from those sheep. We think we know what we’re doing. We think we can figure it out on our own, handle it ourselves, make all the right decisions. And then we run straight into something that breaks us. We wander off where we shouldn’t be. We follow the wrong crowd because we’re lonely or scared or tired.

    The good news is that Jesus isn’t mad at you for being a sheep. He’s not disappointed in you for needing help. That’s literally the whole point. He’s there to guide you back when you go astray, to protect you when you’re vulnerable, to feed you when you’re hungry. The only thing you actually have to do is follow. Listen. Stay close. Trust that he knows the way better than you do.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • Walking by Faith

    Walking by Faith

    I’ve been thinking about what it means to shine. We sang about Jesus shining on us, about letting his light come through us. But I wonder sometimes if we understand what that actually looks like in the real world, in our real lives.

    When I look around at the people I know and respect, the ones who shine, they’re not necessarily the smartest or the richest or the most talented. They’re the ones who show up and do the right thing, even when no one’s watching. They’re the ones who help when it costs them something. They trust. They show you who God is just by how they live.

    That’s what shining means. It doesn’t mean being perfect. It means being honest about who you are, asking for God’s help, and then actually living like you believe God’s got your back. When you do that, people notice. Kids notice. Your family notices. The people you work with notice. And somehow, when you’re not trying to shine—when you’re just trying to follow Jesus—you end up being a light to people who are in the dark. That’s the miracle of it.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • The Heart of Prayer (Matthew 1039)

    The Heart of Prayer (Matthew 1039)

    You know, I got kicked in the head playing kickball at our church’s fifth quarter event. Didn’t think much of it at the time—just a sore head. But by Tuesday it got to me, so I went to the doctor and found out I had a concussion. The medication worked, the headache went away, and life went on. What struck me about people’s response was how they just showed up. They prayed. They cared. That’s what the church is supposed to be doing.

    This week we also blessed some folks who have been training to do disaster response work. You know what that is? It’s showing up when things fall apart. When hurricanes hit or tornadoes touch down or people are hurting in ways that don’t make the news, you go. You help. That takes training, sure, but it starts with just deciding to be the kind of person who shows up.

    I think a lot about what it means to be God’s people in this world. We’ve got good intentions. We’ve got resources. We’ve got communities that care about each other. But good intentions don’t matter if they don’t turn into actual help. They don’t turn into showing up. God doesn’t call us to have the right thoughts—God calls us to do the right thing. Your hands matter. Your presence matters. Your willingness to help, even when it’s messy or hard or costs you something, that’s what transforms the world.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • The Heart of Prayer

    The Heart of Prayer

    Moses reminds the people: you were immigrants in Egypt. Joseph was there first, and it was complicated. But when famine came, his family came looking for help and found him. They were invited to live. They became prosperous and numerous. They got their own territory.

    And then a Pharaoh came who didn’t know Joseph and didn’t care what Joseph had done. He got worried. He made things hard. He enslaved them. And God heard their cries and sent Moses to say: let my people go.

    So now, generation later, the Lord is saying to these people: you know how to treat immigrants because you know what it’s like. You’ve been treated well. You’ve been treated badly. So treat other people well. Love the stranger. The foreigner. The one who isn’t you.

    It’s the same standard Jesus taught later: do to others what you’d have them do to you. But here’s the part that gets me—and it should get us—the emphasis is on us. Not on what immigrants owe us. Not on what rules they should follow. On what we owe them because we’ve been there.

    All of us need the grace of God. All of us need forgiveness. All of us need to repent and turn back. And when somebody is on the outside looking in—whether it’s because they’re a literal immigrant or because they’re just new and don’t know how things work—our job is to help them feel safe. Help them feel welcome. Help them know they matter.

    That’s not a political position. That’s a Jesus position. That’s what God asks of us. And it starts with remembering that we weren’t always where we are. We weren’t always comfortable. We weren’t always home.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • The Heart of Prayer

    The Heart of Prayer

    That young man came running up to Jesus and asked what he had to do to get eternal life. Jesus told him about the commandments—don’t murder, don’t commit adultery, don’t steal, don’t give false testimony. And the guy said, well, I’ve kept all of those since I was a boy.

    And then it says something that just stops you: Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him. He hadn’t even decided yet. Hadn’t committed to anything. But Jesus looked at him carefully and loved him.

    Then Jesus said: you’re missing one thing. Go sell what you own. Give the money to the poor. Then come follow me.

    And the man went away sad because he had a lot of stuff.

    Jesus looks at us the same way. With that same careful, loving look. And he points out the one thing that’s in the way. Not the same thing for everybody—something different for each one of us. For this guy it was his possessions. For you it might be laziness. Or selfishness. Or greed, whether you’ve got a lot or a little. Maybe it’s hatred. Maybe it’s prejudice. Maybe you’re so full of yourself there’s no room for God.

    What’s the one thing standing between you and the grace God freely gives?

    The disciples were terrified when they heard this because they’d left everything. They wanted to know, okay, so what’s our one thing? And Jesus said all things are possible with God. Not just possible to accomplish. Possible to transform. Possible to let go of. Possible to become whole despite.

    He doesn’t ask you to be perfect. He asks you to be all in. Not just close. Not just this close. All the way in.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • The Heart of Prayer

    The Heart of Prayer

    Prayer is not trying to change God’s mind. I think we get that confused sometimes. Like prayer is this negotiation where if we ask hard enough or long enough, God will do what we want.

    Prayer is showing up. It’s saying, I don’t know what to do with this. I’m scared. I’m angry. I’m grateful. I’m broken. I’m here anyway. And then listening. Not even necessarily waiting for words. Just being willing to sit with God in whatever this is.

    We pray for people who are sick. For people dealing with loss. For leaders who have to make impossible decisions. For people threatened by violence. For all the things that break our hearts. We pray and we don’t know if God will do what we’re asking. But we pray anyway because prayer is an act of faith. It’s saying, I believe God hears this. I believe God cares about this. I believe that matters, even when I can’t see how it matters. And showing up—being present to each other, to the world, to God—that’s what prayer is. That’s the hope right there.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • A Living Hope

    A Living Hope

    We call the Sunday before July 4th Freedom Sunday. And I know that can get tangled up—mixing God and country—but here’s what I mean: God is the source of our freedom. Not the nation. God.

    And that matters because when we forget that, we start thinking freedom is something the government gives us. Or takes away. And that’s not all of it. Real freedom? That comes from knowing you belong to God. That nothing can separate you from that. Not success, not failure. Not approval, not shame. You belong to God.

    I think about all the people who came before us who knew that in their bones. Who were locked up or beaten or killed and still knew they belonged to God. Still knew that was the thing that mattered. And they passed that down. They passed down a faith that was bigger than fear. That’s the freedom we’re celebrating. Not fireworks. Not flags. But the God who makes us free.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • Called to Serve

    Called to Serve

    There’s a difference between being invited to serve and actually serving. One is a nice feeling. The other is showing up on the day it’s inconvenient.

    We talk about being Christ’s hands and feet, but we Methodists—I mean, we had to work for weeks to change the color on the bulletin. Weeks. So actually going out and doing the work? That takes something. It takes deciding that your comfort matters less than somebody else’s need.

    What I see happening is people finding out that when they actually do the work, something shifts. You start seeing people differently. You can’t serve someone and hate them. You can’t feed someone and dismiss them. The work changes you. And that’s God working. That’s the gospel actually moving through your hands.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • The Heart of Prayer (Psalm 34)

    The Heart of Prayer (Psalm 34)

    Psalm 34 says, I sought the Lord and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. But here’s what I notice: it doesn’t say the fears went away. It doesn’t say suddenly everything was fine. It says I sought. I called out. God heard me.

    And then it says he delivered me from my fears. Not that the scary things stopped happening. But that I stopped being ruled by them. I stopped letting them decide who I am and how I live.

    We’ve got people in our congregation dealing with health scares. Dealing with family stuff that pulls you in a hundred directions. Dealing with uncertainty about jobs, about futures, about whether God’s actually listening. And I want you to know that seeking doesn’t mean you have all the answers. It just means you’re turning toward God instead of away. And God hears that. God meets you there. In the not-knowing. In the fear. In the place where you’re finally willing to admit you can’t do this alone.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope