Epiphany Stars and Haiku

It is lovely to have a morning where I'm not racing around doing storm prep.  Yesterday I decided that I should leave even earlier than my usual MWF time of 7:15-7:30, so I was out the door just after 6.  I was able to get more gas for the car and stop by the grocery store one last time.  It turned out to be a wise decision.  I was able to get some ice melt granules, the ingredients for the seafood stew (recipe here) I want to cook today, and treats.

I wasn't sure what to expect in terms of student attendance yesterday.  Thursday night, the e-mail announcing distance learning on Monday went out.  I decided that I would hold class as normal, to respect the students who did come to class.  My 9 a.m. class was only missing 2 students, the normal absence rate.  By my afternoon class, the e-mail from the school president had gone out, telling students that we're looking at a significant ice storm and that they should go home if possible.  Still, I decided to have class.

Let me record the poetry writing experiment that I did with my English 102 students.  

On Wednesday, we looked at versions of the arrival of the Magi, which I described in this blog post.  Yesterday, I brought in poems inspired by the text, along with epiphany stars with words on the back.  

I began by having them choose three stars and writing the words on a piece of colored paper that I gave them.  I then talked about the ways I've used the stars as a pastor, the ways I describe in this post.  I had them think about the words while I passed out the first poem, Jan Richardson's "Wise Women Also Came."  As I read the poem, I had the students underline words and phrases that struck them for any reason, at least three.  We did the same thing with T.S. Eliot's "The Journey of the Magi."  We also had a bit of conversation.

I gave each student three more stars, and then we returned to the yellow sheets of paper.  I had them write one of the lines that they had underlined on the yellow paper.  Then they wrote one of the new star words.  Then they wrote words that rhymed with the star word or words that started with the same letter.  They wrote another line from the poem that they had underlined and another star word.  Then they wrote a New Year's resolution, theirs or someone else's.  Then another line from the poems and another star word.  I put this sentence on the board (You will ___________) and asked them to imagine that they met a wise sage that could foretell the future from the stars; what would they want the sage to fill in the blank or to say to them?  Then I had them write another line from the poem.

Now they had a lot of stuff on the yellow paper, and we moved to the condensing part of the creation process.  I showed them my collage with the haiku-like creation I created a few weeks ago with my neighborhood friend and creativity partner:

Here's the haiku-like creation that I wrote:

Wise ones return home
but by a different way
empire's long shadow.

We took the last 10 minutes of class for students to try their hand.  They came up with some interesting short/haiku-like creations.  If I had more time, it would be interesting to add collaging to this process, to see if images prompt anything different.

This experience has been so fruitful that I'm adding it to my list of possibilities for my creative writing class.  

And now, since the day is not going to improve in terms of weather, let me go out on a walk.  I am not likely to have a chance to walk outside again for the next few days, in the storm and its aftermath.

How Are You Different? Have You Changed? Questions to Assess Spiritual Progress

Many of us approach spiritual practices with an eye to doing them better and better.  We think we will master the technique.  There are all sorts of dangers to this approach of course--chief among them, that when we think we aren't mastering them, we may give up.

Take meditation, for example.  I used to try to empty my mind, and I would declare, "I'm no good at this."  But even the process of trying gave me a window into the way my brain spends its time.

I am now good at seeing various thoughts spiral and saying, "Hmm, my mood just took a dip because of what that person said to me.  Let me process this."

Once I thought that if I got really good at this process, there would come a day when my mood wouldn't dip at all.  My spiritual director at the time said that the goal of the process is to become more aware, that I wouldn't ever reach a time when others had no power to affect me.

At first, I was disappointed, but I've come to see the comfort in her words.

So, as we assess spiritual practices, perhaps we shouldn't ask ourselves questions about our mastery of the practice.  Maybe better questions are "Have you changed since starting this practice?  How are you different?"

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

  The readings for Sunday, January 25, 2026:

First Reading: Isaiah 9:1-4

Psalm: Psalm 27:1, 5-13 (Psalm 27:1, 4-9 NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1:10-18

Gospel: Matthew 4:12-23

Here we are this week, still in the early days of Jesus' ministry. We see him call the disciples with that famous offer to make them fishers of people. He goes out to preach and teach.

But notice that early on, he's also ministering to the physical needs of people. He's not here to talk to them about their spiritual ailments. He tells them that the kingdom of heaven has come near, but he doesn't go around haranguing people about their selfish natures and the need to pray more.

Notice that his fame spreads, and it's probably not because of his brilliant teaching or a glimpse of heaven on earth. People will come from far and near if one of their physical ailments can be lessened.

Jesus also addresses, at least indirectly, their emotional ailments. As he heals and teaches, he's creating a community. It's exhausting work. But again, he knows that people aren't going to overthrow their established way of doing things unless they get something substantial in return.

Notice that Jesus doesn't talk in terms of eternal salvation, at least not in this part of the Gospel. He doesn't promise a place in Heaven if people will just endure their ailments during this life. He doesn't tell people that they'll be popular in Heaven to make up for being outcast on earth.

No. He creates a community and includes all of these people.

His ministry addressed the very real, the very physical, the very present needs of the people around him. It's an example we should keep in mind, as we order our own lives, and as we think about the future of our individual church and the larger Church.

As we think about outreach, we should keep the example of Jesus in our mind. We should ask ourselves what our lives show others about Christian life. As we think about our individual lives and about what God has called us to do, we should keep God's example in mind. What is our larger purpose? How can we effectively minister to a broken and hurting world?

Many of us aren't comfortable talking about our faith, and perhaps that's for the best.  Let people evaluate us by our actions, actions that show our Christian faith in action.  

What would this look like? We can help out our coworkers who need it. We can invite lonely people over for dinner. We can be the person who always has a smile ready. We can be the person who's willing to listen. We can donate money/time/attention to worthy causes and projects.  

We can be the light of the world that God needs us to be--and that the world needs us to be.

Recording of Sunday's Sermon (January 18 sermon)

My sermon on Sunday went well.  I've posted the recording of it here on my YouTube channel.  You can read along in this post on my theology blog.

Sermon for Sunday, January 18, 2026

January 18, 2026
By Kristin Berkey-Abbott



John 1:29-42


In the Gospel of John, we don’t see the baptism of Jesus the way we do in the other Gospels. In the other three Gospels, we observe the baptism itself. In the Gospel of John, but we don’t see it as it happens, but we do hear about it—here, in today’s reading, through the testimony of John the Baptist. Today’s Gospel reading gives us the testimony of John the Baptist, and it also offers essential questions that can point us to a more faithful life.


We might think of testimony, not questions, as the way that souls are saved, and we get testimony in today’s reading. In the Gospel of John, we find out about the baptism of Jesus because of John the Baptist’s testimony; in short, readers and hearers of the Gospel find out about it secondhand, unlike the other 3 gospels.


Then, John the Baptist has a chance to do what he has urged others to do. He has spent his ministry preparing himself and others for the one to come—and now, here he is, the Messiah, Jesus. When Jesus walks by, John points him out to his own disciples. In essence, John the Baptist is handing over his ministry to Jesus. He’s giving up his power, something we almost never see in human life. John could have claimed the title for himself, and if you go back to earlier passages that aren’t included in today’s reading, earlier in the first chapter of the book of John, we see religious leaders asking John the Baptist the same questions they will later ask Jesus: “Who are you anyway? Are you the messiah, the one we’ve been waiting for?” It’s a question that we still ask: are you the one who is able to deliver us from this oppressive regime?


John is very clear: he says, “I am not the Messiah. I am not even worthy to untie his sandals.” Think about how easy it would have been for him to say, “Yep. I’m the Messiah. Give me all your money. I am the one you’ve been waiting for—worship me regardless of what I do or say.”


Fortunately, John knows his role in the story—he is not the Messiah, as he reminds people again and again. His role is to prepare people for someone greater than himself and to point to the Messiah, which he does faithfully. One Bible commentary that I read this week pointed out that while many of us like to ask the question “What would Jesus do?”—an equally compelling question would be “What Would John the Baptist do?” While it’s not as easy to put on those rubbery bracelets that were once so popular, it’s the central question that leads to faithful lives. What are we doing to align ourselves to the work of John the Baptist? What are we doing to point others to the Messiah?


Jesus asks another central question that can lead to faithful lives: “What are you looking for?” We have a sense of what John the Baptist and his disciples wanted: deliverance, change, the long-awaited Messiah. What’s less clear is what kind of Messiah they had in mind.


Christians know that they’ve found a savior in Jesus, so we might think the question is no longer relevant. But considering the question from all directions is a fruitful spiritual practice.


What are we looking for? We might long for a time not so long ago when everyone went to church; we might say we need deliverance from the misguided society, in whatever ways we think our current society isn’t living right, acting right, in our right minds. Or maybe we are the ones not living the righteous lives that we yearn to experience. Maybe we have habits that we’d like saving from or relationships where we need a savior to come and offer redemption. Maybe we once had a sense of where we were going, but we feel like we’ve lost our way.


Notice the response of Jesus. I’ve read this passage numerous times through the years, and I always focused on Jesus saying, “Come and see”: come and see where Jesus is living, come and see what Jesus is doing. As I returned to the passage earlier this week, I was struck by this sentence: “They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day.” An earlier translation says they abided with him. Think of that, an afternoon to simply be with Jesus. Not going and doing, but being.


Wouldn’t you love to have been a fly on the wall to observe that afternoon of abiding with Jesus? And we might ask, why don’t we get a record of what happened? It seems important, especially when we hear that Andrew goes out to find his brother. It must have been compelling: Andrew says, “We have found the Messiah.” What did Jesus say? What did Jesus do? In just a few short hours, Andrew is ready to commit to Jesus and to testify to others. How can he be so sure?


Well, for one thing, he’s had a good teacher in John the Baptist. In the Gospel of John, much of the first chapter is devoted to John the Baptist, who has drawn people out into the wilderness for baptism. Some of them don’t go back to their old lives. Perhaps living this discipleship with John the Baptist has prepared Andrew for a new level of discipleship with Jesus.


Or maybe something else happens that afternoon, when two of John the Baptist’s disciples follow Jesus home and never leave him again. They experience the peace of abiding in the true savior. Jesus knows what he’s offering when he says, “Come and see.” The writer of the Gospel of John can assume that we, too, will know what Jesus is offering—perhaps that’s why we don’t get an accounting of what happened that afternoon, because the Gospel itself is a testimony to the Messiah, who has come to be with us.


What will others see when they look at our lives as a testimony and a witness? That’s the third question that emerges from today’s reading. What do people see when they look at our lives? People pay attention to our actions. If our actions don't match our words, people don't accept our words. But it's worse: people see us as hypocrites, one of those Christian types they hate so much. But wait, it's even worse: if our actions habitually don't match our words, people begin to assume that ALL Christians are hypocrites. And the worst might happen if we say we are committing evil in God’s name and we actually do it—what do people learn about God from those actions?


Happily, those of us hearing this sermon are not likely to go out to commit atrocities in the name of Christ. Happily, those of us hearing this sermon are much more likely to live lives that make others want to know what we’ve discovered.


We are surrounded by examples of people who have lived faithful lives that have borne witness to Jesus. There’s this church, of course, the people here in the pews, and the ones who have come before us. Tomorrow we have a federal holiday to celebrate a 20th century faithful disciple, the Reverand Martin Luther King, Jr., who began his adult life following in the footsteps of his father, the Reverand Martin Luther King, Sr.—both men were Baptist ministers.


In any time when I feel despair about the violence in the world, I remember the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and his approach of nonviolent resistance rooted in love. It’s a social justice movement that transformed the world, encouraging other oppressed groups to work to ensure that their rights were protected. It’s a movement that led to more of us having more opportunities with more doors opening. It’s a movement that led me to be here, as your minister. Most of us are old enough to remember a time when women could be Sunday School teachers, but not church council presidents or ministers, jobs that went to men. And now, we acknowledge that God calls a much wider variety of humans to ministries of various sorts.


That change happened in our lifetimes. And now, if one of our youth members of the church decided to go down the path of ordination, it won’t be as hard. We will have prepared the ground, in the way that John the Baptist did, by pointing the way to Jesus. We will have planted the seeds, by living lives of faithful witness, lives which inspire people to go and bring others back with them.


Our lives of faithful witness may lead us to big and bold actions, like the ones that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. inspired. Our actions may be on a smaller scale: visiting the sick or teaching a group of students or saying kind words to those who are having a rough time. Undergirding our actions, an active prayer life can keep us connected to our Creator who yearns for each part of creation to experience a life that is oriented towards flourishing, not towards withering.

We’re surrounded by lives of faithful witness that show us what can happen when we decide to be like John the Baptist, pointing people to the Messiah, when we commit to following Jesus, saying “Come and see” to those who yearn for a different world, a world where power is used responsibly, where we are pointed to the one who is better qualified to lead and redeem us.


These are the essential questions: what would Jesus do? What would John the Baptist do? What can we do? Begin that work, continue that work, today and every day.

Crystalline Shards and Fragments

 I am feeling fragmented today, so let me capture some fragments:

--Part of why I'm feeling fragmented is the shifting forecast.  Will we be able to go to Bristol on Sunday?  It's very unclear.  There's a system that will likely snow on part of the Carolinas--but will it be closer to the coast?

--So, should I write a sermon?  Yes, I probably should.  And if church is cancelled this Sunday, I can probably tweak it so that it works for next week.  This Sunday is the call story of Peter and Andrew in the Gospel of John, and next week is the same story in Matthew.

--Why do we have these two call stories?  I'm assuming it's because of where the moving holidays fall, specifically Easter and the Baptism of Jesus.  

--If I have to write a sermon about each, what on earth will I say?  The Gospel of John has the words "Come and see."  The Gospel of Matthew has the fishing for humans language.

--My brain zings back to class planning.  It's not unpleasant, but it does remind me of why/how the times when I'm teaching in-person classes is SO different from the times when Spartanburg Methodist College is on a break.

--All of my classes have met for their first day.  They all feel good, with at least a few students who seem bright-eyed and ready to get going.

--So now the easy part is over.  Now I need to focus on what we're going to do each day.  I have broad ideas.  I understand why some people start the semester with day by day course plans, but I never have done that.

--If I did that, would I feel like I have more time to focus on other things?  I would feel that way, but I would probably not do the other things, like poetry writing.  

--I think about sermon writing, which I do every week.  If I had a weekly poetry assignment, like a paid column, would I be more focused week after week?  Yes, if I had a paid gig, I would.

--I think I will walk this morning.  It's going to be cold and windy all day, so I might as well walk early.  And maybe there will be snow flurries!

--I was hoping for a bit of snow yesterday afternoon, but alas.  We prepared as if there might be snow:  charging the phones, bringing the portable heater inside, making a pot of chili, that kind of thing.  Despite the lack of snow, it was cozy and nice.

--We're getting a bit more light outside, a very filtered light just before sunrise.  I think that it might be snowing now.  Or perhaps it snowed more last night than I thought.  But as I look across the trees, it does look snowy.

--When I took the last of the recycling to the curb a half hour ago, the air itself seemed crystalline. There weren't many snow flurries, but I could feel tiny shards of ice on my face--not altogether unpleasant, but not the joy of snow either.   

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

  The readings for Sunday, January 18, 2026:

First Reading: Isaiah 49:1-7

Psalm: Psalm 40:1-12 (Psalm 40:1-11 NRSV)

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1:1-9

Gospel: John 1:29-42

Today's Gospel continues the story of Jesus' baptism, and it has lessons for each of us. Notice that Jesus doesn't get baptized and go home to sit on the sofa. He doesn't say, "Well, I'm glad I got that spiritual landmark over with. Now I don't have to do anything else until I die and get to go to Heaven."

No. Jesus goes out and tackles his mission. What is his mission? The same as ours: to proclaim that the Kingdom of God is revealing itself right here, right now, that God is breaking through our mundane daily life to transform us into better people in a better world.

But notice that Jesus doesn't go around yakking about this all the time. He's not the type of guy that drives most of us crazy, all talk and no follow through. When people ask about his mission, he says, "Come and see."

And what will people see? They will see a man healing the sick, comforting the poor in spirit, feeding everyone regardless of their finances, eating with the outcast, and supporting the lowest people in society's social stratum:  women, children, demon possessed, tax collectors, the diseased, and the like. They will see a man who sacrifices his social life and prospects for a long life so that other lives will flourish--and by doing so, he will flourish in ways that wouldn't be possible otherwise. 

When people accept Jesus' invitation to come and see what he is doing, hey will see a man of constant movement.

What do people see when they look at our lives? People pay attention to our actions. If our actions don't match our words, people don't accept our words. But it's worse: people see us as hypocrites, one of those Christian types they hate so much. But wait, it's even worse: if our actions habitually don't match our words, people begin to assume that ALL Christians are hypocrites.

It's tough, this mission of being God's hands in a world that needs so much.  So, let's start with a simple approach.  Each morning, ask God to help you be the light of the world today. Remember that the world watches you, waiting for your light. Remember that when your light shines, other people see it. Forgive yourself for days when you're a dimly burning wick (to use the words of Isaiah's, in last week's readings) and remember that God does not extinguish a dimly burning wick.  Even a dimly burning wick is better than no flame at all.

Martin Luther said that faith should move your feet. We are called to be people who are moving and acting, not people who are waiting to go to Heaven.  Take heart:  even the smallest movements can lead to great changes down the road.