Rev MaryGean Cope

Tag: prayer

  • 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

  • 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

  • The Heart of Prayer (Matthew 6)

    The Heart of Prayer (Matthew 6)

    I’ve been thinking about the young people we’ve known through Project Transformation, and what it means to see someone really come alive when they realize they can do something. When they realize they have a gift. Not that they were born with it perfect, but that it can be developed. That they can grow.

    That’s what mentorship is. It’s not telling somebody you’re special. It’s showing them the door and saying, go. Try. Fail. Try again. And I’ll be here.

    What these young people learned wasn’t just about ministry or church. It was about themselves. That they have something to offer. That their voice matters. That God can actually use them. And you know what? Once you know that about yourself, you can’t unknow it. It changes everything. The question becomes, what will I do with this? Where will I go? Who will I become? That’s when following Jesus stops being something your church wants and becomes something you want.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • The Heart of Prayer

    The Heart of Prayer

    My granddaddy always said, keep your own counsel. Don’t tell your business all over the place. And I lived by that for years without even realizing I had. See, that’s how it works. Nobody has to say it out loud. We just absorb it from the air around us. We pick it up from what people do. From what gets punished. From what gets praised.

    I didn’t know until I was older that I had written this script for myself: don’t ever be wrong. Don’t ever say something incorrect. Because when you say something wrong, people shame you. They correct you. They look at you like you’re stupid. So I decided to just not talk.

    We all have these scripts. Your mama always told you something. Your granddaddy said something. And maybe it was good advice. Maybe it was broken advice. But it’s running in your head now, telling you who you are and how you should be. The thing is, Jesus looks at all of that and says, who is my mother? Who are my brothers? He’s saying that living God’s way matters more than living by the rules we inherited. More than staying silent. More than being perfect. Your story starts here. In God. In what God wants for you. Not in what your family decided.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • The Power of Love

    The Power of Love

    Mother’s Day. I’ve never been great at these kinds of days. You’re supposed to say the right thing, honor the right people, and I always feel like I’m missing somebody. Somebody’s mother showed up on a Friday when her own mother couldn’t. Somebody’s mother is gone. Somebody’s mother did her best and it still wasn’t enough because nobody’s perfect. Somebody’s mother left, and somebody else became the one who showed up.

    What strikes me is that real love—the kind Jesus was talking about—doesn’t require blood. It doesn’t require perfection. It just requires showing up. It requires saying, I see you. I’m here. You matter.

    That’s what we’re really celebrating today. Not the card. Not the flowers. The people who looked at another person and decided to love them anyway.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope

  • The Power of Love

    The Power of Love

    This morning we had children’s time. We sang “Jesus Loves Me,” “This Little Light of Mine,” “Do Lord.” Songs I sang when I was little and still love.

    One of those songs asks God: “Do Lord, oh do Lord, remember me.” And I asked the children: Do you think God could ever forget you? The answer is no. But we ask anyway.

    We ask God to remember us. We ask God to see us. Even though we know he does.

    When we sing—whether it’s with children down front or in the pews—our whole body gets involved in praising and worshiping God. Something shifts inside us when we sing together. It’s not just about the words. It’s about the unity. It’s about being part of something bigger.

    We bring the light of Christ into the church. And at the end of the service, we carry it out. Because that means we’re taking the light of Christ out into the world. We’re letting it shine for other people.

    So carry your light. Let it shine. Remember that God remembers you. And take that light with you when you leave this place. Take it into your homes, your workplaces, your communities. That’s what the light is for.

    A reflection by Rev. MaryGean Cope