Category: Monday Morning Blog

Chapter 52

But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream …
Matthew 1.20

Very often, our prayers seem to vanish into the void. Like the ancient psalmists, we wrestle with questions: What happens to our faith when prayers for healing or peace go unanswered? How do we trust God’s purposes when His silence feels unbearable?

The Christmas story offers surprising answers. It shows us that God’s silence often cradles His most profound purposes. Consider Joseph: a righteous man whose dreams of a peaceful family life were shattered. His fiancée’s unexpected pregnancy disrupted every plan, and his prayers for normality seemed ignored. Yet through this divine disruption came the salvation of the world.

Mary’s story mirrors this pattern. Surely, she prayed for a safe and joyful entrance into motherhood. Instead, she faced suspicion, hardship, and a dangerous journey to Bethlehem. Her unanswered prayers for normalcy brought God into human flesh, reshaping history forever.

And the shepherds, weary of Roman oppression, prayed for a triumphant Messiah to overthrow their oppressors. What they received instead was a vulnerable baby in a manger. Their prayers for power met silence, yet that silence revealed a Savior who identifies with the weak and lowly.

These stories remind us that unanswered prayers are not divine rejection but sacred invitations. They call us to trust that even in silence, God is at work—transforming disruption into redemption, disappointment into deeper trust, and human weakness into channels of divine strength.

Prince of Peace, whose silence often shapes us more than Your answers, grant us faith to trust Your wisdom in our unanswered prayers. Transform our questioning into questing, our disappointment into deeper trust. Give us Joseph’s faithful persistence, Mary’s courageous acceptance, the shepherds’ hopeful watching, and the Magi’s determined seeking… We pray in the precious name of Jesus Christ, Lord of silence and unanswered prayers… Amen

A paraphrased summary of Taras M. Dyatlik, Advent Reflections – Awaiting the Prince of Peace.

Wishing you God’s abundant blessings in the days leading up to Christmas and beyond.

Philemon

Chapter 51

Advent Reflections from Ukraine “Awaiting the Prince of Peace”

Taras, on behalf of the iROAD team: Roman, Olga, Ksenija and Katherina.

[Dedicated to all refugees that were rejected the shelter in the countries with “no war…” Including Ukraine, which rejected Palestinian, Lebanese and Syrian refugees before the “big war”… I pray that those refugees will forgive our “no room” and “no interest”…]

The Gospel of “No Room…”

As millions of Ukrainians seek shelter from Russian missiles and war, the ancient words “no room” echo with fresh pain. When bomb shelters fill beyond capacity, when refugee centers reach their limits, when European countries begin restricting their “possibilities” — we confront an age-old human paradox. While unprecedented numbers of Ukrainians have found welcome abroad (7.7 million scattered globally, almost 25% of our population, with 5.3 million in EU countries alone), this full-scale exposes deeper questions about human selectivity in compassion.

How do we process this complex reality? Societies that welcome Ukrainians often continue turning away those of different religions or skin colors in their hour of need… I must acknowledge our own history: before this “big war,” independent Ukraine since 1991 was not notably inclusive in refugee assistance. Now, with 3.7 million internally displaced people seeking shelter in safer regions within Ukraine, we face the profound irony of becoming a nation of refugees who once restricted refuge to others…

I pray this experience can transform us: having known both rejection and welcome, exclusion and embrace, might we emerge from this war with deeper understanding of human displacement? Can our suffering teach us not just to receive mercy but to extend it more broadly? The ancient words “no room” challenge us not only to find shelter but to become people who make room for others in need…

“She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” (Luke 2:7)

Luke presents the “no room” problem with stark simplicity. Bethlehem, swollen with census travelers and “strangers,” couldn’t find space for a woman in labor. The inn’s closure wasn’t active hostility but passive indifference — that subtle evil that allows suffering while maintaining respectability. Perhaps the innkeeper even felt justified: rules are rules, capacity is capacity, what can one do?

This ancient story finds tragic echoes in our modern reality — which some delicately call a “crisis” or “situation,” avoiding the stark truth of Russia’s war against Ukraine… Like Mary and Joseph seeking shelter in Bethlehem, millions of Ukrainians navigate labyrinthine bureaucracies, knock on foreign doors, and face the cold mathematics of refugee quotas and capacity limits… Some find welcome, like Mary and Joseph found their stable; others hear those ancient words dressed in modern diplomatic language: “no further possibilities,” “quota limits reached,” “temporary suspension of applications…”

The stable that sheltered Jesus mirrors today’s improvised sanctuaries — overcrowded subway stations during air raids, basement bomb shelters converted from storage spaces, abandoned buildings transformed into temporary homes, and even cattle barns repurposed as refugee centers… These unlikely spaces, like Bethlehem’s manger, become holy ground not through architectural grandeur but through their life-preserving purpose…

Yet the theological implications run deeper. God chose to enter human history through double rejection — first by having “no room” in Bethlehem’s inn, then through ultimate rejection on Calvary’s cross… This wasn’t divine accommodation to human failure but part of God’s intentional identification with the excluded… Making “no room” part of salvation’s story reveals a profound truth: divine presence often manifests most powerfully in spaces of rejection and displacement…

The manger wasn’t Plan B but part of divine purpose — showing how God’s presence deliberately inhabits places where society has “no room” for “them,” and eventually, for “us…” This raises a profound question for Ukraine’s wartime reality: What constitutes our true place of worship — a shelter or a church? The answer emerges through experience: both become sacred when they serve divine purpose. A bomb shelter where people pray together during air raids becomes as holy as a cathedral… Do you hear? As holy as a cathedral… A church basement storing humanitarian aid becomes as sacred as its altar… Do you hear? As holy as an altar… The God who chose a stable for His entrance into human history continues to manifest presence in unexpected spaces of refuge and rejection…

Perhaps “no room” is never really about capacity but about priorities, echoing through history in various forms of denial: “no time” to help, “no resources” to share, “no strength” to care, “no interest” in others’ suffering. Like Bethlehem’s inn that had no room for its Savior, we craft sophisticated excuses for our exclusions — citing limited resources, emotional fatigue, compassion burnout, or simply the overwhelming scale of need…

Yet the stable teaches us a different response: it offered not what it lacked but what it had… what it had, not what it lacked… No bed? Here’s clean straw. No privacy? Here’s a quiet corner. No warmth? Here’s shelter from wind. No resources? Here’s simple space. This mirrors today’s wartime reality where the poorest communities often share the most generously, where those with “nothing to give” somehow find something to share, where “no room” becomes “enough room” through love’s creativity…

May we be found among those who, like the stable, offer whatever we have — whether space, time, resources, or simply presence — trusting that God often arrives through those for whom society claims to have “no room,” “no budget,” “no capacity.” For in God’s economy, it’s not the abundance of our resources but the readiness of our hearts that creates space for divine presence. Sometimes the fullest worship happens in the emptiest places, and the richest giving comes from the poorest hands…

Prince of Peace, who chose to enter human history through rejection and “no room,” transform our hearts’ closed doors into spaces of welcome. When we are tempted to say “no time,” “no strength,” “no resources,” remind us of Bethlehem’s stable that offered what little it had. When our churches and homes feel stretched beyond capacity, grant us creativity to make room anyway. When compassion fatigue tempts us to turn away, help us remember that in welcoming those for whom society has “no room,” we welcome You. Make us people who, like the stable, never say “nothing to offer” but always ask “what can we share?” For You still come to us through those whom society excludes, and Your presence still sanctifies the humblest spaces where love makes room. We pray in the precious name of Jesus Christ, Lord of “no room” people… Amen

Taras, on behalf of the iROAD, 13.12.2024

A Poem Inspired by Isaiah 59

Chapter 50

What does it sound like when woodwind weeps and Scripture sings? Let us listen to this symphony of prayer, lament, and hope. Let us hear what flows from the meeting of sacred word and sacred sound. A cry for deliverance. A song of redemption. A whisper of eternal grace.

This ancient cry of a heart pursued, and place it beside the duduk, the wooden flute whose every note carries the weight of exile and hope. Now, put them together—not simply side by side, but in a blender of sound, soul, and poetry. Stir their raw emotions, their aching vibrations, their hope for deliverance, and listen to what emerges.

“Behold, the LORD’s hand is not shortened,
That it cannot save,
Nor His ear dull,
That it cannot hear.”
So the prophet cried to the fading winds,
To hearts weighed with dust,
To souls longing for a horizon
Where hope might rise like an untouched dawn.

The melody begins—low, mournful, ancient.
A whisper carried by time’s trembling breath,
A voice shaped by exiled stones, it sways like the wandering
Reaching, stumbling, yearning for light
In a world where shadows multiply.

Oh, Israel, your walls are broken.
The temple sleeps beneath its ruin,
And the streets echo not with songs of joy
But with the cries of a nation untethered.
Injustice stalks the alleys,
Truth has stumbled in the marketplace,
And the hand of peace is struck aside.

Where is the light? Where is the voice?
The stars are dim; the heavens silent.
Yet the melody rises,
Like a thread of hope climbing the dark,
A promise trembling on the edge of night.

The sound swells—now fierce, now tender,
A story both mournful and defiant.
It speaks of a Redeemer,
Of hands not shortened,
Of arms strong enough to pull the lost
From their endless drowning.
For though sin has built a canyon,
Love will build a bridge.

I hear the cries of confession:
“Justice is far from us,
And righteousness does not overtake us.
We hope for light, but behold, darkness;
For brightness, but we walk in gloom.”
And the melody bends beneath their weight,
Like a branch heavy with winter’s ice,
Like hearts heavy with the knowing
That they are their own undoing.

But then it rises, slowly, surely,
like the breaking of dawn.
A new voice enters, rich and golden,
The “arm of the LORD,” the Savior promised.
He steps into the ruins,
Clothed in righteousness,
With a zeal, no storm can quench.

“And a Redeemer will come to Zion,
To those in Jacob who turn from transgression.”
And the song becomes a hymn—
A hymn for the broken,
For the blinded who grope for walls,
For the weary who walk in endless twilight.

Oh, melody of grace,
Sing now of justice and mercy’s embrace.
For on the cross, they kissed,
And in the tomb they wept,
And in the dawn they rose
Hope incarnate, alive forevermore.

The final notes are not a lament
But a whisper of eternal promise.
Hope has come, and hope will come again.
For though we live in the “not yet,”
The “already” sings louder.
And we wait, not in silence,
But in a symphony of trust,
Carried by the winds of a world remade.

Let the Duduk weep its final tear
Not for despair, but for joy
Rising on the wings of eternity.

Blessing you with the hope of the 2nd advent
Philemon

Chapter 49

Good Monday Morning to this new week

Living Faith: Wisdom from Modern Theological Minds

1. N.T. Wright:

“Heaven is important, but it’s not the end of the world.”

2. Stanley Hauerwas:

“The church doesn’t have a social strategy; the church is a social strategy.”

3. John Piper:

“God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.”

4. Miroslav Volf:

“Forgiveness flounders because I exclude the enemy from the community of humans and myself from the community of sinners.”

5. Timothy Keller:

“The gospel says you are more sinful and flawed than you ever dared believe, but more accepted and loved than you ever dared hope.”

6. Pope Benedict XVI (Joseph Ratzinger):

“The world offers you comfort. But you were not made for comfort. You were made for greatness.”

7. Elizabeth A. Johnson:

“We are not just stewards of creation; we are also members of the community of creation.”

8. Robert Barron:

“Your life is not about you. You are sent to reflect the glory of God, to act as a conduit of grace to the world, to carry the divine life within you and share it.”

9. Hans Küng:

“No peace among the nations without peace among the religions. No peace among the religions without dialogue between the religions.”

10. Gustavo Gutiérrez:

“You say you care about the poor? Then tell me, what are their names?”

11. John Zizioulas:

“To be and to be in communion are the same thing.”

12. David Bentley Hart:

“God’s beauty is infinite and inexhaustible; its splendor is the measure of all things.”

13. Serene Jones:

“Theology is not an abstract discipline; it is a way of making sense of the struggles and hopes of real people.”

14. Jacquelyn Grant:

“Theologizing about liberation must not become an abstract exercise divorced from the realities of those who suffer.”

15. Kwame Bediako:

“The gospel is at home in every culture, and no culture is the gospel’s permanent home.”

16. C. René Padilla:

“The gospel of the kingdom is good news of total salvation: spiritual, material, social, and ecological.”

17. Mercy Amba Oduyoye:

“In African cosmology, life is the ultimate gift, and theology must affirm its flourishing for all.”

18. Willie James Jennings:

“The Christian imagination must be reshaped by a vision of belonging that disrupts segregation and exclusion.”

19. James K.A. Smith:

Jesus is a teacher who doesn’t just inform our intellect but forms our very loves. He isn’t content to simply deposit new ideas into your mind; he is after nothing less than your wants, your loves, your longings.”

20. Catherine Keller:

“Creation is not an event of the past, but the ongoing process of God’s relational becoming.”

Wishing an inspired start to this new week with these 20 Voices shaping faith in the 21st century.

Philemon

Chapter 48

midweek churnings
wells of wisdom
reservoirs of strength
catalysts for compassion.
#embracing the shadow within

Each of us wrestles with our shadow self. Yet this doesn’t have to undo us. In fact, there are riches hidden in the dark if we have the courage to face what is there. When we confront our fears, weaknesses, and wounds, we begin to realize that even our struggles can become sources of wisdom, strength, and compassion. The shadow isn’t necessarily evil; rather, it holds the potential to lead us to wholeness. By integrating these hidden aspects of ourselves, we not only transform our pain but also discover a deeper authenticity and capacity to connect with others. The journey through the shadow can illuminate the path to our truest and most complete selves.

Ps: In many Western cultures, the shadow is often seen as negative, something to be avoided or rejected. In contrast, some Eastern cultures view the shadow as a natural and essential part of the self, recognizing that both light and dark are integral aspects of the whole. Embracing the shadow in these cultures is often seen as a path to spiritual growth and self-awareness. Indigenous cultures may also perceive the shadow as an important element of the human experience, necessary for wholeness, wisdom, and personal transformation.

I suggest you take a mix of these perspectives in the interpretation of the quote above, as each offers valuable insights into the process of integrating the shadow for spiritual development.

Or the Apostle Paul writes about his shadow in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (NIV), “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Wishing you a good Friday!

Philemon

Chapter 47

Good Monday Morning

Welcome to week 48 of 2024 and chapter 47 of Warapunga.ch.

This week, we reflect on the life and legacy of Anthony (Tony) Campolo, a remarkable sociologist, pastor, author, and spiritual advisor, who passed away on November 19, 2024, at the age of 89. Campolo was a leading voice in the evangelical left, known for his commentary on religious, political, and social issues. In 2007, he co-founded the Red Letter Christians movement, emphasizing the teachings of Jesus as central to Christian living. Campolo’s guiding principle was, “Jesus is the lens through which we interpret the Bible.”

Connecting Like Jesus

No one in history has connected with others as Jesus did. He interacted not just with peers but also with those deemed outcasts by society, offering a relational style unlike any other. Crowds from all walks of life followed him—fishermen, Roman soldiers, and government officials—each drawn by his presence and teachings.

The Bible tells us how Roman soldiers, sent to arrest him, returned empty-handed because they were captivated by his words. They explained simply, “Never has anyone spoken like this!” (John 7:46). Fishermen left their livelihoods to follow him, and his charisma drew people who were not only mesmerized by his words but transformed by them (Mark 6:30–33). Even his enemies could recognize the impact he had on his followers (Acts 4:13).

What made Jesus so uniquely compelling? His ability to connect with people transcended communication techniques; it was spiritually charged communication that resonated with both the simplest child and the most elite scholar. This connection held the power to transform lives and change the course of history.

As Tony Campolo and Mary Darling wrote in their book Connecting Like Jesus, spiritually charged communication combines practical skills with spiritual practices to create deeper, God-honoring connections. They remind us that effective communication is not just about skill but also spiritual empowerment that transforms relationships.

Overcoming Guilt and Anxiety

In Why I Left, Why I Stayed, Campolo reflected on two obstacles to living fully in the present:

• “Guilt keeps me oriented to the past, focusing on what I should or should not have done. Anxiety, on the other hand, orients me to the future, preventing me from enjoying life now. Caught between guilt and anxiety, I have nothing left to address the present moment in which I find myself.”

This wisdom encourages us to let go of burdens from the past and fears for the future, freeing ourselves to live more fully in the present.

Spiritual Disciplines for Connection

Campolo also emphasized the power of spiritual disciplines—centering prayer, the prayer of examen, lectio divina, and spiritual direction—as tools for connecting with God and others. These practices invite us to reflect with gratitude, repent of unloving actions, and align our deepest desires with God’s truth.

In the words of Campolo and Darling:
• “Nobody becomes or remains good in isolation. We have to help one another grow.”

A New Week, A New Opportunity

As we step into this week, may we be inspired by Tony Campolo’s legacy to connect deeply, live presently, and grow together in love and grace.

Wishing you a meaningful start to this new week,
Philemon

Chapter 46

Good Monday Morning to this new week 46 of 2023 

“That night all the members of the community raised their voices and wept aloud. All the Israelites grumbled against Moses and Aaron, and the whole assembly said to them, “If only we had died in Egypt! Or in this wilderness! Why is the Lord bringing us to this land only to let us fall by the sword? Our wives and children will be taken as plunder. Wouldn’t it be better for us to go back to Egypt?” And they said to each other, “We should choose a leader and go back to Egypt.” Numbers 14; 1-4 

This week, I played a role in organising  an event with the church. We sought to infuse fresh elements into this annual event, beginning with a new venue, extending to the catering arrangements, and even reshaping the overall structure of the evening’s program. As the preparations unfolded, to my big astonishment” just 15 minutes before the event’s start, a chorus of skepticism echoed from various members of the employed staff.  Remarks such as “this won’t work,” “we’ve always done it like this,” and predictions of inadequacy permeated the air.

In the midst of these complaints, I took a moment for reflection. Inwardly, annoyance surfaced hearing the grumbing to what we as key team had organised, prompting me to draw a parallel with the timeless narrative of the people of Israel, as well described in the book of Numbers. Their yearning for the familiarity of Egypt emerged. This longing manifested as resistance, with dissenting voices expressing doubts about the chosen path. The echoes of discontent even reached a point where some suggested the unthinkable – appointing a new leader to guide them back into the captivity of Egypt. Astonishingly, they perceived this regression as a preferable alternative to the arduous journey through the wilderness towards the promised land under their current leadership.

Recognizing this parallel, I found myself reflecting on this resistance to change ingrained in the human psyche, the magnetic pull of the familiar, and the inherent trepidation that accompanies forays into uncharted territories. Much like the Israelites navigating their discontent, our own journey to innovate and welcome change encountered a large chorus of skepticism and doubt.

Standing there, just 15 minutes before the event, I apprehensively observed the unfolding scenario. The “point of no return” had long passed, and the realization set in that the meticulously planned event would proceed as intended. Yet, amidst this realization, a palpable sense of pressure mounted. The audible grumbling reverberated through the air, revealing that many aspects of the preparations lay far beyond the comfort zones of the broader staff, who had not been intimately involved in the decision-making process for the event.

Certainly, I understand that the analogy may not be a perfect and even wrong to a certain degree, as the aspects of the past that we idealize are not directly linked to the captivity experienced by the Israelites. However, it’s intriguing how parallels emerge when we reflect on various facets of life. People often reminisce about a seemingly simpler time, citing factors such as having more time, enjoying better food, experiencing fewer illnesses, the absence of social media distractions, fewer cars on the road, and the abundance of trees— the list goes on. While acknowledging the differences in context, it’s fascinating to observe the common human tendency to romanticize aspects of the past, yearning for a time perceived as unburdened by the complexities of the present. This sentiment, though not synonymous with the Israelites’ captivity, echoes a experience in many current discussions. 

In response to the rebellion, Moses and Aaron fell facedown before the assembly gathered at the entrance of the tent of meeting. Their reaction was one of humility and earnest supplication before God. Joshua, the son of Nun, and Caleb, one of the twelve spies who had given a positive report about the Promised Land, tore their clothes in distress.

They tried to reason with the people, emphasizing the goodness of the land God had promised them and urging faith in God’s ability to bring them into it.

Moses then interceded on behalf of the people before God. In Numbers 14:13-19 (NIV), Moses said:

“But Moses said to the Lord, ‘Then the Egyptians will hear about it! By your power, you brought these people up from among them. And they will tell the inhabitants of this land about it. They have already heard that you, Lord, are with these people and that you, Lord, have been seen face to face, that your cloud stays over them, and that you go before them in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night. If you put all these people to death, leaving none alive, the nations who have heard this report about you will say, “The Lord was not able to bring these people into the land he promised them on oath, so he slaughtered them in the wilderness.”

Now may the Lord’s strength be displayed, just as you have declared: “The Lord is slow to anger, abounding in love and forgiving sin and rebellion. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation.” In accordance with your great love, forgive the sin of these people, just as you have pardoned them from the time they left Egypt until now.'”

Despite the people’s rebellion and desire to appoint a new leader and return to Egypt, Moses interceded on their behalf, appealing to God’s character and emphasizing God’s mercy and forgiveness.

This passage imparts a valuable lesson on the profound impact of humility and forgiveness. Moses, in his role as a leader, showcased a remarkable ability to navigate the tumult of discontent rooted in reflections on the past, doing so with grace. His plea to God serves as a great reminder of the transformative power inherent in forgiveness and the essential nature of collective responsibility.

Wishing you all a good start to this new week. 

Philemon

Chapter 45

Stoop down and reach out to those who are oppressed. Share their burdens, and so complete Christ’s law. Galations 6.2 MSG

When God reveals His name to Moses as “I AM WHO I AM” (Exodus 3:14), He shows Himself as the God of Presence: the One who is with us and for us. The incarnation of Christ is the ultimate proof of this presence: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). Emmanuel—“God with us”—is not just a name but the essence of God’s closeness to His creation, including humanity.

People of faith face an important challenge: How can we work toward healing and unity rather than deepening division? How can we create spaces of connection, even in times of separation? This calling requires a special wisdom in how we communicate and an openness to each other, combined with spiritual and practical support to bridge relational rifts.

With gratitude, we acknowledge God’s presence in all these efforts and thank those who act as His hands and feet in the mission of presence—partners, friends, and family who walk with us; those who pray and give; those who encourage with words and deeds; those who take risks for others; and those who create spaces from which we can look to the future with shared hope.

These reflections lead me to deeper questions: Who is present in my life? In whose life am I truly present? Who are we, co-present with each other in the mission of revealing Christ’s presence? How can my presence become a space for God’s action and a source of hope for others? Where am I particularly called to be present?

As Christ became the visible sign of the invisible God, our presence in each other’s lives is called to be a visible sign of His unseen but very real presence—a presence that is deeply needed in our world, divided by conflict, where embodied signs of His love and faithfulness shine as a beacon of hope.

Paraphrased and summarized from a text called “Journey Home”.

Wishing a very present start to this new week.
Philemon

Chapter 44

Good morning! I love sharing a bit of inspiration and saw a great text by M. Chironna that captures it well. Inspiration, he suggests, is not just a fleeting spark. It’s a call that stirs something dormant within us, drawing us toward a greater purpose.

“At the heart of what inspires us lies a deep, often unspoken search for meaning—one that is as much spiritual as it is psychological. Inspiration doesn’t simply happen; it awakens something dormant within us, calling us toward a greater sense of purpose or a fuller understanding of ourselves. Spiritually, inspiration can be seen as a divine spark, a moment of givenness where something transcendent touches our lives. It is as if God momentarily lifts us out of the ordinary, inviting us to glimpse a reality greater than ourselves. In this sense, inspiration is often about revelation—it reveals something we couldn’t fully see before, shedding light on a new perspective or possibility. Psychologically, inspiration resonates because it satisfies a deep-seated human need for growth, transcendence, and transformation. We might speak of Maslow’s construct of self-actualization, yet apart from the impartation of the Creator and our progressive partaking in His image and likeness, this remains an ideal that falls short of the actual glory of God. As Irenaeus reminds us, “the glory of God is a human being fully alive.” Christ Himself embodies the fullness of potential for the entire human race, a reality we are invited to embrace in Him. It is Christ—by way of the Cross—who leads us toward the fullest realization of our potential and enables us to transcend the broken limitations of the human ego. The Cross, through the inwrought work of the Spirit, moves us beyond self-centered desires and calls us to a life congruent with the Divine intent. Truly transformative inspiration often comes when we encounter the One who can do “exceedingly abundantly above all we ask or think.” It is the Spirit who calls us into the mediatorial presence and work of Christ, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, who alone does all things well, calls those things that are not as though they were, and promises to make a way where there seems to be no way. Abiding in union with this One—before whom prophets and sages fell as if dead in reverent awe at His “otherness”—we are invited into a life that not only transcends our limitations but reflects the unbounded, resurrected life of Christ.” M. Chironna

Wishing you an inspired unbounded start to this new week! “
Philemon

Chapter 43

Yes, escapism can actually be found in various forms in the Bible, where individuals or even communities try to avoid their current reality through distractions, isolation, or by seeking out imagined futures instead of facing their immediate issues. Here are some interesting biblical examples that resemble escapism:

Jonah the Runaway Prophet – Picture this: God tells Jonah to go preach to the people of Nineveh. Jonah’s response? “Nah, I’ll just take the world’s first Mediterranean cruise instead!” Cue Jonah booking it to the nearest port, hopping on a boat to Tarshish, and telling himself, “I’m totally not avoiding my problems. Just… travelling.” But even on the high seas, God has a way of finding you—so in comes the storm, a panicked crew, and an enormous fish ready to give Jonah a serious (and slimy) wake-up call.

Israelites’ Love Affair with Egypt’s ‘Fine Cuisine’. So, the Israelites escaped slavery in Egypt. Freedom! The open desert! …and the realization they’re all out of snacks. Almost immediately, they start romanticizing the “good old days” back in Egypt. “Ah, remember the fish? The cucumbers? Sure, we were slaves, but at least the food was decent!” Turns out, wandering the wilderness really makes you forget the whole “brick-making-under-the-whip” part.

False Prophets Selling Fairy Tales – Enter the false prophets, strolling in with messages like, “Everything’s fine! Peace is coming! Trust me!” Imagine them as ancient infomercial hosts: “Are you tired of doom and gloom prophecies? Try Our Super Peace and Prosperity Solution!” But behind the hype, things weren’t exactly rainbows and butterflies, and prophets like Jeremiah had to roll in with a reality check, breaking it to the people that ‘peace’ might not actually be “just three easy payments of some $ away.

The Prodigal Son’s Great Escape, is hardly the glamorous escape he envisioned. In a moment of clarity, he realizes that sometimes, the road back home is the true escape from the chaos we create for ourselves.

Elijah’s Wilderness Retreat, After a showdown with the prophets of Baal, Elijah finds himself on the run, consumed by fear and despair. But God, ever the compassionate caretaker, sends an angel with food and encouragement, showing that true refuge often comes not from isolation but from divine support.

Peter’s Return to Fishing – After the chaos of Jesus’ crucifixion, what does Peter do? He goes back to his old life as a fisherman, soothing but ultimately unfulfilling. Jesus eventually meets Peter on the shore, cooking breakfast and inviting him to step out of his comfort zone.

Sometimes, the urge to escape our challenges leads us back to places we thought we’d outgrown, but growth often happens when we face our calling head-on.

Escapism is often a journey toward deeper understanding. While each character sought to escape their reality, their encounters with God, whether through storms, wilderness, or reminders of purpose-led them back to the path of growth and fulfilment.

Let us neither embrace the chaos nor seek to escape it, but instead strive to navigate through it as the path becomes uncertain, drawing upon faith in God’s great mercy to guide us forward.

Philemon