​I have long found this passage fascinating for a couple of reasons — first of all because it is so radical, but also because I am not sure how to apply it to myself.  In Jesus' time, the Jewish people certainly had enemies — mainly anyone representing the Roman government.  I think of an ‘enemy’ as someone who is trying to hurt me — physically, emotionally, financially, or in some other way, and honestly, I don’t think I have any enemies. I am really not aware that anyone in the world right now is trying to figure out how to hurt me. Strangers may be rude to me or cut me off on the highway, but no one is waking up each morning thinking, ‘How am I going to defeat Tom finally?’

I suppose that I had enemies at one time. There were bullies in my elementary school and Junior High who seemed quite intent on finding ways to hurt me, either physically or emotionally. I am still not sure why. I also don’t remember thinking of them as ‘enemies’, even when we would read the Sermon on the Mount in Sunday School. I was certainly more focused on hiding from them than I was on figuring out how to follow Jesus by loving them, but I was also 10 years old, so maybe I should cut myself some slack!

While I do not believe that I have any current enemies in any real sense, I do still get hurt — often by friends or family members who actually care a great deal. They don’t mean to hurt me, but it still happens.  I think the hurt that comes from a family member can be much more painful than the hurt that comes from an ‘enemy’ like a bully. We don’t expect bullies to be nice to us or to love us, but we do expect our friends and family to support us. When they fail, even accidentally, the hurt can be hard to get past. I am also reminded of the saying “I am my own worst enemy.”  I am certainly capable of doing things that leave me upset, regretful, sad or even angry with myself.  Maybe Jesus is asking us to love people whom we find hard to love, perhaps a family member, a close friend, or even oneself.  
 
A few years ago, a friend of mine suggested something that has stuck with me ever since —learn to love and forgive myself, as well as love and forgive those who have hurt me, particularly close family and friends. To forgive myself — that is sometimes harder than forgiving others, even a schoolyard bully.

The gospel of John gives us the most radical example I can imagine of loving one’s enemies. As Jesus is dying on the cross, he prays, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  I find it fairly easy to imagine that an 11-year-old schoolyard bully doesn’t really understand what he is doing as he punches some hapless kid. I find it much harder to imagine that Roman soldiers did not know that they were slowly torturing someone to death, or even that the person they were torturing might be innocent. Jesus extends an incredible amount of grace to the people who were most certainly his enemies. I sometimes find it hard to extend this much grace to myself — did I not know what I was doing? 

I would imagine that many of us who attend 1st Presbyterian do not have enemies. No one is plotting a way to hurt us.  If this is the case, what do we do with Jesus’ command to love our enemies? These words still resonate with me and lead me to ponder this question: How do I continue to learn to love and forgive myself, and to love and forgive people who care about me but somehow have still hurt me?  
 
In His Name, Tom

Step, step, dive into the cool water. Eyes open and blurry, a sudden sting of water. I forgot to lower my goggles! I stopped and staggered, rubbing my eyes before adjusting the straps of my goggles.

Okay, try again. I dove in again, hoping no one in the crowd noticed. My delay put me behind the pack, which my friends who have done triathlons before actually encouraged me to do to stay out of the fray of flailing arms and kicking feet.

I started with the slow freestyle stroke I practiced for the last month, but the water was choppier than I expected. With each breath, I gulped in water until I was sputtering and wheezing. I was already out past where I could touch, so I paused and tread water to try to get my bearings. Although I stopped making forward progress in the 500-meter course, my heart did not stop pounding and my lungs did not stop gasping.

I looked ahead, and the first buoy was still so far away. I practiced my swims along the shoreline. I had never been this far out in the lake. There were rescue helpers on paddleboards and kayaks. Still treading water, I held back sobs and contemplated how long I could last before needing rescue.

"My only goal is to not drown," I had joked to friends before the race, my first sprint triathlon, or any race for that matter. It didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

I knew I would be rescued if needed, but my pride would be mortally wounded. 
Luckily, I was prepared for panic.

The email to racers stated repeatedly, "Do not panic."

Surely, they would not write that if it wasn't a common reaction. 

Okay, I am panicking. And what else can I do? 

I thought of all my training. I knew I could swim 500 meters — had swum more than that during my training! — but that was in the shelter of the pool — clear, smooth water, delineated lanes, nothing creepy below the murky surface, and, most importantly, absent 50 competitors flailing and cutting through the choppy water.

"Doggy paddle if you have to," my friend had told me. “Just keep moving.”

I started to move forward in a modified breast stroke, keeping my head above water the whole time, and even then, the choppy water slapped up in my face every minute or so, and I’d find myself coughing again.

Just make it to the first buoy, I told myself. Then you can give up.

I surprised myself and kept going.

***
​
I rounded the first buoy and felt immediate relief. Five minutes earlier, I couldn’t even imagine making it here. Still moving forward little by little, panic gave way to little micro goals. 

If I can make it to the first, I can make it to the second. If I can make it to the second buoy, I can swim to the finish.

I had practiced stretches of 50 strokes or meters at a time before stopping to catch my breath. With the adrenaline and choppy waters, I could barely make it 10 strokes before I found myself waterlogged and panicked, lungs screaming, heart pounding. I ditched my original plan and alternated 10 strokes of freestyle like I practiced, 10 breast strokes with my head above water to catch my breath and get my bearings, then 10 breast strokes with my head dipping under water, then repeat.

To my surprise, the shoreline crept closer. And closer. Until I stretched out my legs and my toes plunged into soft sand. Legs jelly and heart racing, I emerged safe on the shore.
 
***

on the 1st and 3rd Wednesdays of the month, we’ll gather for WellSpring -- a time to grow together as a church family by exploring how to read, understand, and live out God’s Word.

The name WellSpring comes from the image of a deep, life-giving source. Proverbs 4:23 says, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” God’s Word is meant to be that source -- a living well from which we draw wisdom, strength, and hope. The more we drink deeply from it, the more it shapes our hearts and transforms our lives.

Why This Class Matters
In our busy, noisy world, the Bible can sometimes get reduced to inspirational quotes we see online or favorite verses we remember from childhood. But the Bible is far more than that. It is a rich, complex, God-breathed library that speaks across time, culture, and language. And here’s the thing: it wasn’t just meant for scholars or pastors to understand. It was given to all of God’s people.

The challenge is that reading the Bible faithfully requires us to approach it with the right tools -- and in community. That’s exactly what WellSpring will offer: a place to ask honest questions, dig into Scripture together, and grow in both knowledge and faith.

Over six session, we'll explore topics like:

​Each session will include teaching, discussion, and practical tools you can use in your own reading of Scripture. You don’t need to be an “expert” — all you need is a Bible, a curious heart, and a willingness to learn.
​
Why You Should Come

​And perhaps most importantly — this class isn’t about filling your head with facts. It’s about letting God’s Word fill your life with His presence.

​The Details

​We believe WellSpring will be a place where faith is deepened, friendships are formed, and the Spirit works in ways we can’t yet see. So, mark your calendars, invite a friend, and come ready to learn. Let’s gather around God’s Word together -- not just to understand it, but to be transformed by it.

In grace and gratitude,
Pastor McLane

Songs are a lot like books. I’m learning that as life goes on and you gather more and more experiences, the songs and books you once knew take on entirely new meanings and really ought to be revisited. 

I recently reread Gone with the Wind and The Thorn Birds (Colleen McCullough) and, 25 years later, these books were almost as if I had never read them. 25 years of life brings with it so much -- grief, love, success, sadness, terrible mistakes, wonderful triumphs — I think we can sum all these up into the word “wisdom”. Having more wisdom than I did 25 years ago (I hope so!) puts books and certainly songs into new perspectives worth revisiting. 

Currently, I’m helping a dear friend move through some challenges and grief. One of the fallouts from some bad choices they have made is the feelings of unworthiness and deep shame. Pastor McLane gave a wonderful sermon on Sunday concerning self-control. One thing he said stuck with me as I was talking with my friend. Essentially, instead of dwelling or living in the shame and “why” of certain actions, Christ wants us to walk into the light and life He has planned for us. 

That really resonated with me. To me, this is a perspective issue — a glass half full or half empty thought, if you will. We can sit and feel shame as a way of paying our pittance for our sins, whatever they may be, or we can walk with hope and love into the GRACE that Christ has freely given us. He has a life for us — one removed from shame and feelings of unworthiness — we just have to accept it and focus on that. Dwelling in shame and unworthiness is not the life Christ wants for us. 

As I was having this discussion with my hurting friend this week, I tried to convey those thoughts. When discussing this concept, this song by DC Talk popped right back into my head.  And honestly, I have not heard or thought about this song in at least twenty years. It was a magic light bulb, and it felt so relevant that I’m sure God planted it in my head for that moment and person. If only to offer one more opportunity for relation and perspective. 

These lyrics and the words of Pastor McLane are relevant and helpful as I help my friend navigate a difficult time, but they are also a blessing to me. It is a deeply human experience to feel shame and unworthiness -- something all of us can relate to at some point in our lives. It is hard to change our focus, and look for the life Christ has planned for us. Why do I deserve that? But I do. We all do. Because Jesus says so.

Songs have always reached beyond where my own words can. People who have gone through similar circumstances bring their words and their stories to life for not only themselves but for others to resonate with.  As life moves along, sometimes the right song or the right story comes back around for just the right moment. 

I’m hopeful that maybe these lyrics will resonate with you in whatever you are uniquely going through, as I pray they will -- even if in a small way -- for my friend as well. And yes, even for myself.

In His Name, Jenny