Jesus teaches that God’s kingdom grows in ways we cannot always see, cannot always control, and cannot always explain — yet it always moves toward God’s good and promised harvest. In Matthew 13:24–43, Jesus offers three parables — the Wheat and the Weeds, the Mustard Seed, and the Yeast. Each one reveals something essential about how God works in the world and in us. These parables remind us that God’s kingdom is both patient and powerful, both hidden and unstoppable. The Wheat and the Weeds — God’s Patience A farmer discovers weeds growing among his wheat. His servants want to pull them up immediately, but the farmer says, “Let both grow together until the harvest.” Jesus is teaching us something profound: God is patient with the world, and God is patient with us. We often want God to fix everything now — remove every evil, solve every problem, straighten every crooked place. But God sees the whole field. God knows that pulling too quickly can harm what is still growing. This parable invites us to trust God’s timing. The harvest will come. Justice will come. Healing will come. But God’s work is never rushed. The Mustard Seed — God’s Surprising Strength The mustard seed is tiny, almost insignificant. Yet it becomes a tree large enough for birds to nest in its branches. Jesus is reminding us that God’s kingdom often begins in small, unnoticed ways: a quiet prayer, a simple act of kindness, a moment of forgiveness, a seed of faith planted in a child’s heart. What looks small today may become shelter for many tomorrow. God delights in using what seems insignificant to accomplish what is extraordinary. The Yeast — God’s Hidden Work Yeast disappears into the dough, yet its presence transforms everything. This is how God works in us — quietly, steadily, often invisibly. We may not always feel spiritual growth happening. We may not always see the change in ourselves or others. But God’s Spirit is at work beneath the surface, expanding our compassion, deepening our trust, shaping our character. The kingdom grows not because we push harder, but because God is faithful. Living with Kingdom Eyes These parables call us to a posture of trust: Trust God’s timing when life feels tangled. Trust God’s strength when your efforts feel small. Trust God’s presence when you cannot see progress. The kingdom is growing — in your congregation, in your community, in your own heart. Not loudly, not forcefully, but steadily and surely. Prayer Lord, plant Your kingdom deep within us. Give us patience when life feels tangled, hope when our efforts seem small, and faith when Your work is hidden from our eyes. Grow in us what only You can grow, until our lives bear witness to Your grace. Amen.

Jesus’ Parable of the Sower invites us to examine the condition of our hearts—because the fruitfulness of God’s Word in our lives depends not on the seed, but on the soil that receives it. In Matthew 13:1–23, Jesus tells a story about a sower scattering seed. The seed is good—always good—because it is the Word of God. But the results vary dramatically depending on the soil. Some seed never takes root. Some springs up quickly but dies. Some grows but is choked. And some bears an abundant harvest. Jesus isn’t giving an agricultural lesson. He’s giving a spiritual one. The question isn’t What kind of seed is this? The question is What kind of soil am I? Four Soils, Four Heart Conditions The Path — The Hardened Heart This is the heart packed down by disappointment, cynicism, or fear. God’s Word lands, but it cannot penetrate. It sits on the surface until something snatches it away. Many of us know seasons when our hearts feel like this—tired, guarded, unwilling to trust again. The Rocky Ground — The Shallow Heart Here the Word is received with joy, but there is no depth. Faith feels exciting until it becomes costly. When hardship comes, enthusiasm evaporates. Jesus reminds us that faith must grow roots before it can grow fruit. The Thorny Soil — The Distracted Heart The seed grows, but so do the thorns: worry, busyness, the pursuit of success, the pressure to keep up. Eventually the thorns choke the life out of the Word. This is the soil of our age—crowded, noisy, overgrown. The Good Soil — The Open Heart This heart receives the Word, holds onto it, and lets it shape life from the inside out. The result is abundance—thirty, sixty, even a hundredfold. Good soil isn’t perfect soil. It’s simply willing soil. Where Is God Speaking Today? The beauty of this parable is that Jesus doesn’t shame any soil. He simply names it. And naming it is the beginning of transformation. God is always sowing—always speaking, always inviting, always planting truth, hope, and grace. The question is whether we will let that Word sink in deeply enough to change us. Good soil is created over time: through prayer, through worship, through repentance, through quiet, through obedience, through letting God turn over the hardened places and pull out the thorns. The Sower never gives up on the soil. He keeps sowing because He knows what the soil can become. A Prayer Lord, make our hearts good soil. Break what is hardened, deepen what is shallow, clear what is crowded. Plant Your Word in us again and let it bear fruit— fruit that blesses our families, our communities, and our world. Amen.

“So Abraham called that place ‘The Lord will provide.’” Reflection Genesis 22 is one of the most difficult and profound stories in Scripture. It confronts us with the tension between God’s promises and God’s commands, between what we understand and what we cannot yet see. Abraham is asked to do the unthinkable—to offer up Isaac, the very child through whom God promised blessing, descendants, and a future. What stands out is not Abraham’s perfection, but his posture. He rises early. He walks forward. He listens. He trusts. Abraham does not know how God will act, but he believes God will act. His faith is not blind; it is anchored in the character of the One who has never failed him. When Isaac asks, “Where is the lamb?”, Abraham answers with the quiet confidence of someone who has walked with God long enough to trust Him in the dark: “God himself will provide.” And God does. At the moment of greatest fear, God interrupts the sacrifice and reveals the ram caught in the thicket. Abraham names the place The Lord Will Provide—not because he finally understands everything, but because he has experienced God’s faithfulness in the very place where he felt most vulnerable. This story reminds us that faith often requires walking forward without all the answers. It asks us to trust God when the path feels steep, when the future feels fragile, and when obedience feels costly. But it also assures us that God sees, God knows, and God provides—often in ways we could not have imagined. The mountain of testing becomes the mountain of provision. For Today Where is God inviting you to trust Him beyond what you can see? What “Isaac”—what precious thing—are you afraid to place in God’s hands? How might God be preparing a provision you cannot yet see? Faith grows not by having all the answers, but by walking with the One who does. Prayer Lord, give us Abraham’s courage to trust You even when the path is unclear. Teach us to walk forward with faith, believing that You will provide in Your time and in Your way. When fear rises, steady our hearts. When obedience feels costly, strengthen our steps. And help us see Your provision in the places where we feel most vulnerable. Amen.

“A disciple is not above the teacher… Whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me… Those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” Reflection This is one of Jesus’ most challenging teachings. It’s not gentle or easy—it’s honest. Jesus prepares His disciples for the reality that following Him will not always bring comfort, applause, or agreement. Instead, it may bring misunderstanding, division, and sacrifice. Jesus begins with identity: “A disciple is not above the teacher.” In other words, if Christ Himself faced rejection, hardship, and opposition, His followers should not be surprised when they encounter the same. Faithfulness is not measured by how easy life becomes, but by how closely we walk with Jesus through every season. Then Jesus speaks of fear: “Do not fear those who kill the body… even the hairs of your head are counted.” He reminds us that God’s care is intimate and constant. The world may threaten, but God holds us. The call to courage is not rooted in our strength—it is rooted in God’s unwavering attention to us. The most difficult part comes next: Following Jesus may create tension even within families. Not because Jesus desires division, but because allegiance to Him reshapes priorities, values, and loyalties. When Christ becomes the center, everything else finds a new place around Him. Finally, Jesus gives the heart of the passage: “Take up your cross.” This is not about seeking suffering; it is about choosing faithfulness even when faithfulness costs something. It is about letting go of the life we cling to so we can receive the life God longs to give. The paradox is beautiful: Losing life for Christ becomes the way we find it. The more we surrender, the more we discover who we truly are. For Today Where is Jesus inviting you to be courageous rather than fearful? What “cross” might you be resisting—what act of faithfulness feels costly? How might surrender lead you to deeper freedom? Following Jesus is not always easy, but it is always life-giving. Prayer Lord Jesus, give us courage to follow You with whole hearts. When discipleship feels costly, strengthen us. When fear rises, remind us of Your constant care. Teach us to take up our cross with trust, and help us find the life You promise to all who walk in Your way. Amen.

“The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few… As you go, proclaim the good news: ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’” Reflection Matthew paints a powerful picture of Jesus’ ministry: He goes everywhere—villages, towns, synagogues—teaching, healing, and seeing people with a heart full of compassion. The text says He looked at the crowds and saw them as sheep without a shepherd. Not lost because they were bad, but lost because they were weary, burdened, and longing for guidance. That same compassion becomes the reason Jesus sends out the disciples. Mission doesn’t begin with strategy; it begins with seeing people the way Jesus sees them. When Jesus says, “The harvest is plentiful,” He is reminding us that there is no shortage of people who need hope, healing, encouragement, and good news. What is scarce is not opportunity—it’s willingness. Then comes the call: “Go.” Go to the hurting. Go to the overlooked. Go to the ones who feel forgotten. Go to the ones who think God has nothing to say to them. Jesus gives the disciples authority—not to dominate, but to heal. Not to impress, but to lift burdens. Not to build themselves up, but to bring the kingdom near. Their mission is rooted in grace: “You received without payment; give without payment.” In other words, share freely what God has freely given. This passage reminds us that ministry is not reserved for the spiritually elite. It is entrusted to ordinary people who have encountered the compassion of Christ and are willing to carry it into the world. For Today Where do you see people who are “harassed and helpless” in your community? How might Jesus be inviting you to respond with compassion rather than judgment? What gift of grace have you freely received—and how might you freely share it? The harvest is still plentiful. And Christ still sends His people. Prayer Lord Jesus, give us Your eyes to see the needs around us and Your heart to respond with compassion. Send us where You need us, empower us to serve with humility, and help us proclaim Your kingdom through acts of healing, mercy, and love. Make us faithful laborers in Your harvest. Amen.

“Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” … “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind… And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Reflection In Matthew 22, Jesus is confronted with a question meant to trap Him: Which commandment is the greatest? Out of hundreds of laws, traditions, and expectations, Jesus does not hesitate. He goes straight to the heart of faith. Love God. Love neighbor. Everything else hangs on these two. Jesus doesn’t dismiss the law—He distills it. He reveals that the entire life of faith is rooted not in rule-keeping but in relationship. Loving God with our whole being is not merely an emotion; it is a posture of surrender, trust, and devotion. It shapes our priorities, our decisions, and our identity. And then Jesus adds something unexpected: “A second is like it.” Loving our neighbor is not optional, secondary, or lesser. It is like loving God—woven into the same fabric. We cannot claim to love God while withholding love from those around us. The love we offer to others becomes the visible expression of the love we profess for God. This is where the passage becomes beautifully challenging. Loving our neighbor means loving the neighbor who is easy and the neighbor who is difficult. The neighbor who agrees with us and the one who doesn’t. The neighbor who looks like us and the one who doesn’t. The neighbor who blesses us and the one who wounds us. Jesus invites us into a life where love is not selective—it is expansive. For Today Ask yourself: Where is God inviting me to love Him more fully—with heart, soul, and mind? Who is the neighbor I have avoided, overlooked, or struggled to love? How might my love for God become more visible through my love for others? Love is not merely the greatest commandment—it is the greatest witness. Prayer Lord, teach us to love You with our whole selves. Remove whatever divides our hearts or distracts our devotion. And help us to love our neighbors with the same grace, patience, and compassion You show to us. Let our lives reflect Your love in all we do. Amen.

John 17 is often called The High Priestly Prayer—the longest recorded prayer of Jesus, spoken on the night before the cross. In these verses, we are invited into a sacred moment: Jesus lifting his eyes to heaven and praying not only for himself, but for the disciples who have walked with him. Jesus Prays with Full Awareness of the Moment “Father, the hour has come…” Jesus knows what lies ahead. The cross is not an accident; it is the culmination of his mission. And yet, instead of fear or panic, Jesus turns to the Father in trust. There is a quiet courage here—a reminder that when we face our own “hours,” the difficult seasons we would rather avoid, prayer is not our last resort but our first response. Jesus Prays for God’s Glory, Not His Escape “Glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you.” Jesus does not pray for the suffering to be removed. He prays that God would be glorified through it. This is not resignation; it is purpose. It is the deep conviction that God can bring meaning out of anything, even the hardest moments of our lives. When we pray, “Lord, be glorified,” we are asking God to shine through our words, our actions, and even our struggles. Jesus Prays for His Disciples—By Name, By Heart, By Love “I have made your name known to those whom you gave me…” Before Jesus sends the disciples into the world, he lifts them into the Father’s care. He prays for their protection, their unity, their faithfulness. Think about that: Jesus prays for his followers before he commissions them. He knows their weaknesses. He knows their doubts. He knows their fears. And he still entrusts them with his mission. This is grace. This is love. This is Jesus believing in his disciples even more than they believe in themselves. Jesus Prays for Us Too Though verses 1–11 focus on the first disciples, the prayer expands later to include “those who will believe through their word.” That’s us. You and me. Our congregations. Our families. Before we ever prayed our first prayer, Jesus prayed for us. Before we ever chose him, he chose us. Before we ever stepped into a church, he was already speaking our names to the Father. A Prayer of Belonging “All mine are yours, and yours are mine…” Jesus roots the disciples’ identity not in their performance, but in their belonging. They belong to God. They are held by God. They are loved by God. And so are we. In a world that constantly asks us to prove ourselves, Jesus reminds us that our truest identity is found in being God’s own. Reflection Questions Where in your life do you need to pray, “Father, the hour has come—be glorified”? How does it change your heart to know that Jesus prays for you? Who in your life needs to be lifted into God’s care today, just as Jesus prayed for his disciples? Closing Prayer Lord Jesus, thank You for praying for us long before we ever knew You. Draw us into the love You share with the Father. Strengthen us, protect us, and send us into the world with courage and compassion. May our lives bring glory to Your name. Amen.

There are moments in life when we feel unsteady—when the future is unclear, when change comes faster than we can manage, when we long for reassurance that we are not facing the world alone. The disciples knew that feeling well. In John 14, Jesus is preparing them for His departure, and their hearts are heavy with fear and confusion. Into that moment, Jesus speaks some of the most tender words in Scripture: “I will not leave you orphaned.” He knows their worry. He knows their questions. He knows the ache of their hearts. And He responds not with a plan, but with a promise. Love Leads to Obedience Jesus begins with a simple but profound truth: “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” And in John’s Gospel, that commandment is clear—to love one another as Christ has loved us. This isn’t obedience rooted in fear or duty. It’s obedience born from relationship. Love becomes the shape of our lives because love is the shape of His. The Gift of the Holy Spirit Jesus promises “another Advocate”—the Holy Spirit—who will be with us forever. This Spirit is not distant or abstract but dwells with us and in us, guiding us into truth and reminding us of Christ’s presence. The world may not understand this Spirit, but we do—because we have experienced the quiet strength, the gentle nudge, the comforting presence that only God can give. A Relationship That Cannot Be Broken Jesus assures His disciples that even though they will not see Him in the same way, they will still know Him. “Because I live, you also will live.” This is resurrection hope. This is abiding relationship. This is the promise that Christ’s life flows into ours. And then Jesus says something astonishing: “You in me, and I in you.” We are bound to Christ, and Christ is bound to us. Nothing—not fear, not change, not uncertainty—can undo that bond. A Love That Reveals Christ Jesus ends by saying that those who love Him will be loved by the Father, and He will “reveal” Himself to them. This is not a one‑time revelation but a continual unfolding—Christ showing up in our lives, in our relationships, in our moments of need. Reflection Where do you need to hear Jesus’ promise today? Where do you feel alone, uncertain, or overwhelmed? Hear Him whisper again: “I will not leave you orphaned.” The Spirit is with you. Christ is in you. The Father loves you. And love—real, holy, self‑giving love—is the way we live in response. Prayer Holy God, Thank You for the promise that we are never alone. Fill us with Your Spirit, teach us to love as Jesus loved, and help us trust that Christ is with us and in us— today and always. Amen.

Jesus speaks these words on the night of His betrayal—when fear, uncertainty, and grief are already pressing in on the disciples. Into that heaviness, He offers not explanations, not strategies, but Himself. John 14:1–14 is Jesus’ pastoral word to anxious hearts: I am with you. I am preparing a place for you. I am the Way for you. I am enough for you. A Word for Troubled Hearts (v.1–4) Jesus doesn’t deny that the disciples’ hearts are troubled. He simply refuses to let trouble be the final authority. His invitation is simple and profound: Trust in God. Trust in Me. Faith here isn’t intellectual agreement—it’s relational leaning. Jesus is saying, “Lean the full weight of your life on Me.” He promises a future—“many rooms”—not as a distant hope but as a personal assurance: “I go to prepare a place for you.” This is not about real estate in heaven; it’s about relationship. Where He is, we will be. Jesus Is the Way, the Truth, and the Life (v.5–7) Thomas voices the question we all feel: “Lord, we don’t know where you are going.” Jesus responds not with a map but with Himself: The Way — not a path to follow but a Person to trust The Truth — the full revelation of God’s heart The Life — the source of eternal and abundant life In Jesus, God is no longer distant or abstract. To know Jesus is to know the Father. Show Us the Father (v.8–11) Philip’s request is honest: “Just give us something unmistakable.” Jesus’ answer is tender but firm: “If you’ve seen Me, you’ve seen the Father.” This is the heart of the gospel: God looks like Jesus. God loves like Jesus. God acts like Jesus. When we wonder what God is like, we look to Christ—His compassion, His courage, His mercy, His truth. Greater Works (v.12–14) Jesus makes a staggering promise: “The one who believes in me will do the works that I do—and greater works than these.” Not greater in power, but greater in scope. Because Jesus goes to the Father, the Spirit will empower the Church to carry His mission into every corner of the world. And then He adds: “Ask in my name.” Not a magic formula, but a relationship—praying in alignment with His heart, His character, His mission. Reflection Where is your heart troubled? Where are you longing for clarity, direction, or reassurance? Jesus meets you in that very place—not with condemnation, but with presence. He offers Himself as the Way forward, the Truth you can trust, and the Life that sustains you. Prayer Lord Jesus, You know the places where my heart is troubled. Speak Your peace into my fear. Help me trust You—not just with my beliefs, but with my life. Be my Way when I feel lost, my Truth when I am confused, and my Life when I feel weary. Draw me closer to the Father through You, and empower me to live in Your name, doing Your work with Your love. Amen.

The Shepherd Who Knows Your Name Jesus begins with a simple but intimate truth: He calls His sheep by name and leads them out. Not generically. Not as part of a crowd. By name. In a world where people feel interchangeable, overlooked, or reduced to roles and responsibilities, Jesus’ voice cuts through with personal recognition. He sees the whole of who you are—your wounds, your gifts, your fears, your hopes—and He calls you forward. This is not a Shepherd who drives from behind. This is a Shepherd who goes ahead, inviting trust rather than demanding obedience. The Thieves and Bandits: Voices That Steal Life Jesus contrasts His voice with the voices that climb in “by another way.” These are the voices that: Drain rather than restore Shame rather than guide Scatter rather than gather Promise freedom but deliver fear Every congregation knows these voices. Every pastor knows them too. They show up as anxiety, comparison, exhaustion, cynicism, or the subtle lie that your worth is tied to your productivity. Jesus names them for what they are: thieves. They steal joy, peace, and identity. But the sheep learn to recognize the difference. They flee from the false voices because they know the Shepherd’s tone. The Gate: Safety, Belonging, and Provision When Jesus says, “I am the gate,” He is not limiting access—He is providing it. He is the safe passage. The way into rest. The way out into mission. The One who stands between the flock and danger. Through Him, the sheep “come in and go out and find pasture.” That rhythm—rest and movement, sanctuary and service—is the rhythm of a healthy spiritual life. It’s also the rhythm of a healthy church. Abundant Life: Not More, but Deeper Jesus’ promise of abundant life is not about accumulation. It is about fullness: Fullness of peace Fullness of purpose Fullness of belonging Fullness of grace Fullness of joy that isn’t dependent on circumstances Abundance is not measured in what we possess but in who possesses us. The Shepherd’s presence is the abundance. Prayer Lord Jesus, our Shepherd and our Gate, quiet the voices that steal our peace and attune our hearts to Your call. Lead us into places of rest, guide us into paths of purpose, and surround us with the abundance of Your presence. May we follow You with trust, and may our lives reflect the goodness of the One who knows us by name. Amen.

Luke’s Emmaus story reveals a God who walks with us long before we recognize Him, speaks into our confusion, and is made known in the breaking of the bread. It is a story of slow dawning hope—resurrection arriving gently, personally, and persistently. Walking the Road of Disappointment Cleopas and his companion begin this passage with shoulders slumped and hearts heavy. They are walking away from Jerusalem—away from hope, away from what they thought God was doing, away from the place where everything fell apart. Their words say it all: “We had hoped…” Few phrases in Scripture feel as familiar. We had hoped the diagnosis would be different. We had hoped the relationship would heal. We had hoped the church would grow. We had hoped life would look different by now. Emmaus is the road of honest disappointment, and Jesus chooses that road to draw near. The Unrecognized Companion Jesus walks with them, listens to them, and asks questions He already knows the answers to. He does not rush them. He does not shame them for their confusion. He simply joins them. This is resurrection at its most pastoral: Christ comes alongside us before we have the capacity to see Him. Often, we only recognize His presence in hindsight—after the conversation, after the prayer, after the moment of unexpected peace. Emmaus teaches us that unrecognized grace is still grace. Hearts Burning, Minds Opening As Jesus opens the Scriptures, something awakens in them. They cannot name it yet, but they feel it: a warmth, a stirring, a sense that despair is not the final word. “Were not our hearts burning within us…” That burning is not emotional hype—it is the Spirit rekindling hope, reorienting their story, and preparing them to see Christ clearly. Sometimes God works this way in us: quietly, steadily, through Scripture, worship, conversation, or prayer—warming the heart before opening the eyes. Known in the Breaking of the Bread The moment of recognition comes not in a miracle, not in a sermon, but in a simple, familiar gesture: He took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. The pattern of the Last Supper. The pattern of the feeding of the 5,000. The pattern of the Eucharist. The pattern of Christ’s own life—taken, blessed, broken, given. In that moment, they see Him. And just as quickly, He vanishes—not to abandon them, but to send them. Running Back to Hope The same disciples who trudged toward Emmaus now run back to Jerusalem. Despair becomes proclamation. Isolation becomes community. Confusion becomes witness. Resurrection always sends us back into the world with renewed courage. Closing Prayer Lord Jesus, Walk with us on our Emmaus roads. Open our hearts to Your Word, open our eyes to Your presence, and open our lives to Your mission. In the breaking of the bread, make Yourself known to us again, that we may rise with renewed hope and bear witness to Your resurrection life. Amen.

John 20:19–31 shows Jesus stepping into fear-filled, locked spaces and transforming them with peace , purpose , and presence . It is a story for every disciple who has ever felt afraid, uncertain, or ashamed—and a reminder that resurrection is not just an event, but a relationship renewed. 1. The Locked Room: Where Fear Meets Grace The disciples are hiding behind locked doors—fearful, uncertain, ashamed of their failures. They are not seeking Jesus; they are surviving. And yet Jesus comes anyway. He does not knock. He does not scold. He simply appears  and speaks the one thing their hearts cannot manufacture on their own: "Peace be with you.” This is resurrection grace: Jesus enters the places we try to seal off—our anxieties, our disappointments, our private griefs—and brings peace that does not depend on our courage. 2. The Wounds: Proof of Love, Not Defeat Jesus shows them His hands and His side. Not to shame them. Not to prove a point. But to reveal that love has gone all the way through death and come out the other side. His wounds are now signs of healing. His scars are now invitations to trust. 3. The Breath: A New Creation Commission Jesus breathes on them and says, "As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” This is Genesis language. This is Pentecost language. This is the church being born in a quiet room long before tongues of fire. The disciples are not sent out as experts—they are sent as forgiven people carrying peace into a fearful world. 4. Thomas: The Disciple Who Needed to Touch Grace Thomas is not a villain. He is every believer who has ever said, "I want to believe, but I need help.” Jesus does not shame him. He invites him closer. He meets Thomas at the level of his honest need. Faith is not pretending. Faith is reaching toward the One who reaches toward us first. And Thomas’ confession— “My Lord and my God!” —becomes the clearest declaration of Jesus’ identity in the entire Gospel. 5. For Us Today: Blessed Are Those Who Have Not Seen Jesus ends with a blessing that stretches across centuries to this congregation today: "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Resurrection faith is not built on certainty—it is built on an encounter. And Jesus still steps into locked rooms. Prayer Risen Christ, enter the locked places of our hearts—our fears, our doubts, our weariness—and speak again your word of peace. Breathe your Spirit upon us, that we may be people of forgiveness, bearers of hope, and witnesses to your living presence. Make us bold like Thomas, honest in our questions, and joyful in our confession: You are our Lord and our God. Amen.