Dear St. Augustine's 'ohana,
This week, we hear from the prophet Isaiah once again. But this is not the Isaiah whose words sting with warning or lament. This Sunday, we meet Isaiah the dreamer, Isaiah the poet of hope, Isaiah who dares to proclaim joy in a world that has forgotten what joy feels like.

We are stepping deeper into Advent. This third Sunday of Advent is called Gaudete Sunday. Gaudete is a Latin word meaning "Rejoice!" This Sunday offers an invitation to take a joyful pause in Advent's introspection as Christmas nears. This week, we are invited to examine our lives through the lens of joy.

This is not a surface-level joy that ignores pain or papers over fear. This is a deep joy that rises from God’s presence already moving within us. Isaiah says, “Come, let us walk in the light.” Look for the light especially when life feels dim. Sometimes the darkness makes it easier see the faintest flicker—just enough to remind us that hope is still alive, that joy is still possible, that God’s future is already glowing inside the present moment. When we notice even the tiniest light, we can place it in our hearts and amplify it through our attitudes, our choices, our small acts of compassion and courage.

Mary's wonderous story of carrying the light of the Christ child embodies this kind of joy. She had every reason to live in fear and dread. As an unmarried young woman in a rigid society that confined women to the household, denied them education, denied them legal standing, and deemed them ritually unclean, Mary faced judgment, danger, and an unknown future. And yet, her song rises like a lantern in the night.

Mary sings of God's power not as domination but as restoration and rebalancing. In her vision, God is turning the world toward compassion. Mary names a God whose strength is found in mercy, whose justice is tenderness, whose might is revealed in feeding and lifting and healing.

And then there is John the Baptist, the fiery prophet, the one who pointed with fierce certainty toward Jesus. Yet even John finds himself in a dark place, held in the confines of a prison cell and held in the grip of doubt. “Are you the one who is to come?” he asks.

Even John wonders. Even John waits for the light to break in. Jesus answers with his hopeful vision of life transformed: the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the poor receive good news. In other words, the light is already shining—look where life is sprouting and blooming!

Advent joy is not naïve. It is courageous. It is born in deserts, prisons, uncertain futures, and trembling hands. And yet joy is the sign that God is near, that creation is still unfolding, that the Holy One is still turning the world toward mercy and healing.

On this Gaudete Sunday, we are invited remember that we do not have to carry the burden of manufacturing joy on our own. This holy light of joy is our Creator's gift. May we receive it with open hearts. With hearts filled, may we allow joy to shine so the world may find its way home by the light we share.
​
With gratitude and blessings,
Vicar Jennifer
​
P.S., Mahalo for reading this message! I send my thoughts on the coming Sunday's scripture lessons in our weekly e-newsletter. If you'd like, you can sign up here to receive it. My e-message is usually a sneak peak of the coming Sunday's sermon, so if you're curious to hear more, head to our Facebook page for our livestream or go to our YouTube page to view past services. As always, I would love to see you in person on a Sunday! And please let me know if you'd like to talk about anything I've written here.

Please feel free to pass along this message or use what I've written. Please ensure proper attribution to the author, whether that's me or another writer. I often quote folks whose wisdom I admire! Blessings on your explorations in Spirit, and I look forward to walking with you on your journey!

Dear St. Augustine's 'ohana,
As we move into the second week of Advent, we continue the journey that began last Sunday with the theme of hope. Advent hope is not wishful thinking. Rather, it is a practice of opening our lives to allow God’s hopeful future to emerge through us.

This week, our focus widens to include peace. The readings for this Sunday invite us to see peace not as the absence of conflict, but as a deep inner grounding that can grow from our complicated roots. Like trees, our roots grow in both rocky and rich soil, tapping into our ancestral past, cultural teachings, and societal conditioning. Peace comes from connecting with God as we disentangle these roots to find the Source of Spirit that taps into God's vision of love.

In this week's Hebrew scripture passage, Isaiah's poetry draws on the image of a tree stump, representing human history. But rather than seeing the stump as representing what has been lost, what has ended, or what no longer looks fruitful, Isaiah gives us the beautiful image of a green shoot emerging from the stump. He reminds us that God’s peace often begins in places that feel cut down or depleted. Even in what appears dead, life remains hidden in the roots. God’s peace grows slowly, steadily, and honestly—from the inside out.

To my ears, Isaiah's verses invite us to embrace peace by examining the stories we’ve inherited. In repeating these narratives, we often begin to define ourselves by the light and dark in tales we accept without question, unconsciously claiming them as our own. Advent reminds us to look for God's truth in these rooted stories that we might find the balance between light and darkness in them. This is not something we achieve once and for all. It is an ongoing process of sitting with what is shadowed in us, allowing God’s light to meet us there to help us discover new clarity.

In this week's gospel, John the Baptist, fiery as he is, ultimately invites us to do this inner “root work.” Religious leaders publicly accuse him of usurping their spiritual authority while privately seeking the baptismal cleansing John offers. In response, John speaks truth to power, calling them a "brood of vipers" and saying, "Bear fruit worthy of repentance." He urges these leaders to do good work in the world rather than simply claiming the good work of generations past.

I do not hear John the Baptist's call to repentance as license to condemn others. Rather, I hear it as an invitation to renew the good within ourselves by recognizing and transforming the shadows that hold us back. Without this inner clarity, our attempts to “speak truth” can easily slide into hurtful judgment. We all know how quickly a frustrated word or a snap decision can cause harm to relationships that matter to us. Advent peace begins with pausing, listening, and letting God help us understand what is truly going on beneath the surface.

This Advent, may we stay awake to the green shoots God is growing in our lives. May we cultivate clarity, protect our relationships, and trust that peace begins with the gentle work of the Spirit at our roots.

With gratitude and blessings,
Vicar Jennifer
​
P.S., Mahalo for reading this message! I send my thoughts on the coming Sunday's scripture lessons in our weekly e-newsletter. If you'd like, you can sign up here to receive it. My e-message is usually a sneak peak of the coming Sunday's sermon, so if you're curious to hear more, head to our Facebook page for our livestream or go to our YouTube page to view past services. As always, I would love to see you in person on a Sunday! And please let me know if you'd like to talk about anything I've written here.

Please feel free to pass along this message or use what I've written. Please ensure proper attribution to the author, whether that's me or another writer. I often quote folks whose wisdom I admire! Blessings on your explorations in Spirit, and I look forward to walking with you on your journey!

Dear St. Augustine's 'ohana,
Advent begins with a deep longing as we read Isaiah’s dream of swords becoming ploughshares and spears becoming pruning hooks. This is an improbable vision by the world’s standards, but it is a hope we hold at a soul level. Isaiah invites us to imagine a world where tools of harm become tools of nourishment. In this hopeful vision, the ways of war and division are transformed into ways of connection with the 'āina and love for all.

Bringing his message home, Isaiah says, “Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.” These words soothe and calm us, providing Advent hope. They invite us to remember that we don't have to wait for the light. We can choose it, trust it, and walk in it now. We can live as though this hopeful vision is already breaking into the world through us.

The season of Advent ushers in the new church year. We enter a time of quiet and reflection, keeping both clock time and soul time as we wait with anticipation. As Paul says, something new is already stirring. It's time to put aside the weight we’ve been carrying and “put on the Lord Jesus Christ,” the garment of a new humanity. Many of us carry a profound weight today while recognizing the injustice of weight heaped inequitably upon those who can least afford to carry it.

This week, Jesus offers a teaching that sounds like warning but is actually invitation to champion justice by paying attention to what's happening in the world right now and acting on it in daily life. He urges us to live each moment as though God has arrived in our midst. Advent calls us to the kind of wakefulness that helps us see that God is already here, flowing through our ordinary daily actions of kindness, inclusion, compassion, and love.

On this first Sunday in Advent, I wonder: What are the swords in our lives that God is inviting us to lay down? What are the ploughshares we are being asked to take up? Where are we being invited to move from fear to trust, from guardedness to generosity, from sleepwalking through life to living awake?

Observing a holy Advent season entails more than just counting down to Christmas. It is the beginning of the turning, the process of new life emerging through Christ's coming birth. This is a season of inner reflection during which we are invited to embrace our kuleana. In the turning, we see that the light we long for is already rising within us, reshaping our minds, and guiding our steps. We begin our Advent journey with the same words Isaiah offered thousands of years ago: Come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.

With gratitude and blessings,
Vicar Jennifer
​
​P.S., Mahalo for reading this message! I send my thoughts on the coming Sunday's scripture lessons in our weekly e-newsletter. If you'd like, you can sign up here to receive it. My e-message is usually a sneak peak of the coming Sunday's sermon, so if you're curious to hear more, head to our Facebook page for our livestream or go to our YouTube page to view past services. As always, I would love to see you in person on a Sunday! And please let me know if you'd like to talk about anything I've written here.

Please feel free to pass along this message or use what I've written. Please ensure proper attribution to the author, whether that's me or another writer. I often quote folks whose wisdom I admire! Blessings on your explorations in Spirit, and I look forward to walking with you on your journey!

Dear St. Augustine's 'ohana,
Please join us this Sunday for a Holy Eucharist in commemoration of the Holy Sovereigns, Queen Emma and King Kamehameha.

In his recent address to the annual meeting of the Episcopal Diocese of Hawai'i, Bishop Bob opened his remarks with these words:

"I take this moment as your Bishop to honor and give thanks for the founding patrons of our Diocese, King Kamehameha IV (Alekanetero ʻIolani Kalanikualiholiho Maka o ʻIouli Kūnuiākea o Kūkāʻilimoku) and Queen Emma (Emma Kalanikaumakaʻamano Kaleleonālani Naʻea Rooke).

"I write from the land on which our Cathedral stands that was entrusted to the Church by the Holy Sovereigns. I acknowledge the trust they committed to our Church in 1862 to care for their people – Kānaka ʻŌiwi – and all of the children of these Islands, and for our responsibility to care for all of creation. As the Bishop of the Church invited to these islands, I deeply regret that we have not always fulfilled our responsibility through these many decades. We have often failed and turned a blind eye to those around us. For those things which we as the Church and as individual Episcopalians have done and the many things we have left undone that contributed to the harm inflicted on nā Kānaka ʻŌiwi and these islands, I offer our collective lamentation. I ask God’s forgiveness. I ask the prayers of our blessed ancestors and you, God’s people, that we, God’s Episcopal Church in Hawaiʻi, will have the will and courage to better fulfill our responsibility – kā mākou kuleana – to the people of these Islands and to God’s creation.

"On this my penultimate report to you as Bishop, I do so with the following in mind: Our Diocesan motto is “HE LANAKILA MA KE KEʻA” (Victory through the Cross). Our Diocesan ʻohana is united by faith in Jesus Christ and that is what we share with the world. We take seriously our commitment to incorporate “the Native Hawaiian Christian spiritual concepts of mana, malāma and pono into the overall life and work of the Church in all areas of ministry in the Diocese.” Ministry here must seek to care for others, creation and all that God has given us (malāma), to live righteously and in respect one for another (pono), and to find the holy (mana) that comes from God in all creation and all of God’s children."

I am grateful to Bishop Bob for articulating our ministry so clearly! I hear his words as clear instructions to us at St. Augustine's. Our commemoration this Sunday involves so much more than a simple head nod to Queen Emma and King Kamehameha IV. It is more than a mere check box to complete once a year and then forget for the other 51 Sundays.

It's important to pause to reflect on why St. Augustine's is here, why we seek to serve our community, and how that's connected to the initial invitation from Queen Emma and King Kamehameha that allows us to be here now. This is an opportunity to acknowledge the past wrongs of the Church by recommitting to our sacred responsibilities to our Hawaiian founders today and actively working to uphold those responsibilities in the coming years.

As I think about the work we do together in North Kohala, I believe we are indeed committed to and actively working toward fulfilling these responsibilities! The ministries we carry out in our four missions (see below) show how we are directing our hearts and our daily work as a church. Let's continue this work, which benefits all people in our community, while also being mindful of how our efforts relate to our commitment to the Kānaka 'Ōiwi. We have much more to do and, at the same time, we can be grateful for the work of each person in this community of faith.
Please join us this Sunday for a Holy Eucharist in commemoration of the Holy Sovereigns, Queen Emma and King Kamehameha.

In his recent address to the annual meeting of the Episcopal Diocese of Hawai'i, Bishop Bob opened his remarks with these words:

"I take this moment as your Bishop to honor and give thanks for the founding patrons of our Diocese, King Kamehameha IV (Alekanetero ʻIolani Kalanikualiholiho Maka o ʻIouli Kūnuiākea o Kūkāʻilimoku) and Queen Emma (Emma Kalanikaumakaʻamano Kaleleonālani Naʻea Rooke).

"I write from the land on which our Cathedral stands that was entrusted to the Church by the Holy Sovereigns. I acknowledge the trust they committed to our Church in 1862 to care for their people – Kānaka ʻŌiwi – and all of the children of these Islands, and for our responsibility to care for all of creation. As the Bishop of the Church invited to these islands, I deeply regret that we have not always fulfilled our responsibility through these many decades. We have often failed and turned a blind eye to those around us. For those things which we as the Church and as individual Episcopalians have done and the many things we have left undone that contributed to the harm inflicted on nā Kānaka ʻŌiwi and these islands, I offer our collective lamentation. I ask God’s forgiveness. I ask the prayers of our blessed ancestors and you, God’s people, that we, God’s Episcopal Church in Hawaiʻi, will have the will and courage to better fulfill our responsibility – kā mākou kuleana – to the people of these Islands and to God’s creation.

"On this my penultimate report to you as Bishop, I do so with the following in mind: Our Diocesan motto is “HE LANAKILA MA KE KEʻA” (Victory through the Cross). Our Diocesan ʻohana is united by faith in Jesus Christ and that is what we share with the world. We take seriously our commitment to incorporate “the Native Hawaiian Christian spiritual concepts of mana, malāma and pono into the overall life and work of the Church in all areas of ministry in the Diocese.” Ministry here must seek to care for others, creation and all that God has given us (malāma), to live righteously and in respect one for another (pono), and to find the holy (mana) that comes from God in all creation and all of God’s children."

I am grateful to Bishop Bob for articulating our ministry so clearly! I hear his words as clear instructions to us at St. Augustine's. Our commemoration this Sunday involves so much more than a simple head nod to Queen Emma and King Kamehameha IV. It is more than a mere check box to complete once a year and then forget for the other 51 Sundays.

It's important to pause to reflect on why St. Augustine's is here, why we seek to serve our community, and how that's connected to the initial invitation from Queen Emma and King Kamehameha that allows us to be here now. This is an opportunity to acknowledge the past wrongs of the Church by recommitting to our sacred responsibilities to our Hawaiian founders today and actively working to uphold those responsibilities in the coming years.

As I think about the work we do together in North Kohala, I believe we are indeed committed to and actively working toward fulfilling these responsibilities! The ministries we carry out in our four missions (see below) show how we are directing our hearts and our daily work as a church. Let's continue this work, which benefits all people in our community, while also being mindful of how our efforts relate to our commitment to the Kānaka 'Ōiwi. We have much more to do and, at the same time, we can be grateful for the work of each person in this community of faith.

Blessings,
​Vicar Jennifer

P.S., Mahalo for reading this message! I send my thoughts on the coming Sunday's scripture lessons in our weekly e-newsletter. If you'd like, you can sign up here to receive it. My e-message is usually a sneak peak of the coming Sunday's sermon, so if you're curious to hear more, head to our Facebook page for our livestream or go to our YouTube page to view past services. As always, I would love to see you in person on a Sunday! And please let me know if you'd like to talk about anything I've written here.

Please feel free to pass along this message or use what I've written. Please ensure proper attribution to the author, whether that's me or another writer. I often quote folks whose wisdom I admire! Blessings on your explorations in Spirit, and I look forward to walking with you on your journey!

Dear St. Augustine's 'ohana,
Isaiah paints God's vision that shimmers with possibility: “For I am about to create new heavens and a new earth.”

This isn’t a promise for someday; it’s an invitation for now. Creation is still unfolding—through our hands, through our prayers, through every small act of love that ripples outward. What Isaiah saw in prophetic poetry, we live out in our daily choices.

When we look around, it can feel as if everything is unraveling—wars, storms, divisions, and exhaustion. But Isaiah and Jesus both remind us that what looks like chaos to us can also be the labor of new life. Even if we can't see it, God transforms disorder into divine order. The old structures must crumble so that something truer, more compassionate, and more loving can rise.

In Luke’s gospel, Jesus warns that even the most beautiful temples will fall. The disciples are stunned; they’ve been conditioned by society to place their faith in stones and systems. But Jesus calls them—and us—back into relationship with Spirit. God’s dwelling is not limited to buildings or institutions. God lives within and among us, steady in the swirl of change for all of time.

The early Christians described two kinds of time: chronos and kairos. Chronos is clock time—our schedules, our deadlines, the rhythm that keeps us moving in harmony as community. Kairos is sacred time—the spacious moment when Spirit whispers, helping us discern right action at the right time. We need both. chronos helps us organize our lives; kairos helps us listen for the pulse of God beneath it all. Every day invites us to balance the two: to coordinate in collaboration as community and also to pause long enough to sense when the Holy is nudging us toward a new way of being.

At St. Augustine’s, we practice that balance through our shared work. We create a safe and inclusive spiritual home. Through our Thrift Shop, we offer relief from financial uncertainty and recycle what can be renewed. We feed our neighbors. We gather in unity to enjoy one another's company and make meaningful connections. We come together through art and music. These aren’t just tasks to keep us busy; they are the living edges of Isaiah’s vision—where heaven and earth meet in ordinary acts of love and care.

Through our shared work, we listen for the whispers of the Holy Spirit to help us discern how love can flow through our next actions at just the right time. I think this is what Paul meant as he reminded the Thessalonians not to grow weary in doing what is right. Faith is not passive waiting for rescue; it is the daily choosing to embody love. As our community lives this out, Christ’s coming isn’t a distant event but a reality already unfolding through us.

When life feels uncertain, remember the words we've said throughout this season in our Prayers of the People: "In the beginning, God was. Here and now, God is. In the future, God will be." This holy thread runs through every moment! What matters most is not predicting what comes next but practicing mindful presence in the here and now and trusting that even in the chaos, the Creator’s love is moving through us, renewing all things.

Blessings,
Vicar Jennifer

P.S., Mahalo for reading this message! I send my thoughts on the coming Sunday's scripture lessons in our weekly e-newsletter. If you'd like, you can sign up here to receive it. My e-message is usually a sneak peak of the coming Sunday's sermon, so if you're curious to hear more, head to our Facebook page for our livestream or go to our YouTube page to view past services. As always, I would love to see you in person on a Sunday! And please let me know if you'd like to talk about anything I've written here.

Please feel free to pass along this message or use what I've written. Please ensure proper attribution to the author, whether that's me or another writer. I often quote folks whose wisdom I admire! Blessings on your explorations in Spirit, and I look forward to walking with you on your journey!

 Jesus looked up at his disciples and said:
“Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
“Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
“Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.
“Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets."
"But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
"Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
"Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
"Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.

But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you. — Luke 6:20-31

Dear St. Augustine's 'ohana,
As we gather to celebrate All Saints Sunday, we'll hear the Beatitudes from the Gospel of Luke. When we hear this passage, our first impulse might be to sort ourselves into categories: Which one am I? Am I among the poor or the rich? Am I one who weeps or one who laughs? Have I known hunger or fullness? To which group do I belong: "blessed are you" or "woe to you"? In the context of a competitive society, we spend so much time identifying the winners and losers.

But perhaps that’s not the point of Jesus' words in this passage. Perhaps we are invited to hear the Beatitudes as a list of human experiences rather than identity-defining characteristics. Each of us experience both blessings and woes because we are human.

What may first appear to be a list dividing the blessed from the cursed is actually a portrait of the whole human condition. We are at once full and hungry, joyful and grieving, honored and rejected. The blessings and the woes belong together. They are not opposites—they are facets of our shared humanity.

The Beatitudes are not a checklist for worthiness. They remind us that in every circumstance—joy or sorrow, gain or loss—God is present. The Divine current moves through all of it. The list does not divide us into good people and bad people. The Beatitudes unify us, helping us consider the vast range of human experiences and hold compassion and love for all.

Jesus makes this clear in what he says next: “But I say to you that listen, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” The heart of the passage lives in these simple instructions, which invite us into compassion.

So as we celebrate the saints this weekend, we can ask God to guide us as God guides the saints who have gone before us, those living among us, and those yet to come. It's good to remember that "saints" are not perfect people. They are ordinary human beings who choose, again and again, to return to love. They practice kindness when it is difficult. They forgive when it seems impossible. They treat others not as judged by human standards, but as God sees them through the lens of divine love.

We can follow in the saints' footsteps! It’s simple but requires mindful attention and lots of practice. Treat people with kindness. Share love freely. Focus on what really matters for the good of the whole. This is where transformation begins: in meeting judgment with compassion; in meeting hatred with mercy; in meeting fear with love.

The realm of God is not a faraway reward for the worthy. It is what we step into when we live as though love is the truest thing about us—because it is.
Blessings,
Vicar Jennifer

P.S., Mahalo for reading this message! I send my thoughts on the coming Sunday's scripture lessons in our weekly e-newsletter. If you'd like, you can sign up here to receive it. My e-message is usually a sneak peak of the coming Sunday's sermon, so if you're curious to hear more, head to our Facebook page for our livestream or go to our YouTube page to view past services. As always, I would love to see you in person on a Sunday! And please let me know if you'd like to talk about anything I've written here.

Please feel free to pass along this message or use what I've written. Please ensure proper attribution to the author, whether that's me or another writer. I often quote folks whose wisdom I admire! Blessings on your explorations in Spirit, and I look forward to walking with you on your journey!

Dear St. Augustine's 'ohana,
In this week's gospel, we meet Martha and Mary. Martha is busy, working hard, making sure everything gets done. Mary is sitting at Jesus’ feet, listening. We often read this story as a binary—work or worship, service or stillness. But perhaps this lesson is about balance.
Jesus isn’t scolding Martha for serving. He’s inviting her to stop just long enough to remember why it matters—to let her service be rooted in love, not resentment.

Martha says: If I don’t do it, it won’t get done. Maybe that’s true. But is it the only truth?

What if we stopped virtue signaling and started soul listening? What if we let joy into our work and made time to pause? What if we stopped framing life as either/or—and embraced it as both/and?

Spirit reminds us to live in balance: meeting ourselves where we are—with grace—while also staying open to how the Spirit wants to stretch us.
​Blessings,
Vicar Jennifer +

P.S., Mahalo for reading this message! I send my thoughts on the coming Sunday's scripture lessons in our weekly e-newsletter. If you'd like, you can sign up here to receive it. My e-message is usually a sneak peak of the coming Sunday's sermon, so if you're curious to hear more, head to our Facebook page for our livestream or go to our YouTube page to view past services. As always, I would love to see you in person on a Sunday! And please let me know if you'd like to talk about anything I've written here.

Please feel free to pass along this message or use what I've written. Please ensure proper attribution to the author, whether that's me or another writer. I often quote folks whose wisdom I admire! Blessings on your explorations in Spirit, and I look forward to walking with you on your journey!

Dear St. Augustine's 'ohana,
Last week, reflected on the courage it takes to let go—of fear, of control, of all the ways we try to manage or protect ourselves. We named the invitation to release whatever keeps us from love, and to trust that when we do, we make space for the Spirit to move. Letting go, we said, is not weakness. It’s how love flows.

This week, we continue that flow—not just in surrender, but in gracious presence. We’re invited to stay open even when we are not received or accepted as we are. We are to travel light, even when burdens arise, to be at peace, and to carry peace wherever we go. We read in Luke 10 that Jesus sends out his followers not as conquerors and not as judges, but as guests. What does Christ teach us about being loving guests in our communities? In our families? In our own minds and bodies?

“Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house.’” We are to receive what is given with grace and gratitude. To eat what is offered. To stay present—not flitting from house to house looking for better treatment. Jesus teaches spiritual humility, inviting us to be content, grounded, and open to what comes.

And if we are not welcomed? Don’t retaliate. Don’t argue. Just shake the dust off your feet—and move on. 

What would it look like in our lives if we stopped clinging to rejection? What if we released resentment like dust falling from our soles? If we trusted that the Spirit keeps flowing, even where we are not accepted or received with love and grace?

We are guests not only in others' homes, but in ourselves. The God-gifted temples we call our bodies and minds are temporary vessels—ours to care for as guests while we are here on the planet. What if each day, we treated our hearts and minds like a guest room for the Spirit? We wouldn’t invite someone into a house piled with dirty dishes and laundry and say, “Sorry, I haven’t cleaned up in a while. Hope you don’t mind the mess.” But we do this spiritually all the time. We rush into prayer or try to extend love without tending to the inner room first.

To be good houseguests of the Spirit, we need regular cleansing. Spiritual cleansing doesn't mean perfection; it is a daily process that facilitates flow. Allow Spirit to move through, clearing what clogs us up, so we can flow with grace, wisdom, and love.

Flow as the Spirit flows. Not rigid. Not reactive. Not clinging to the past or obsessed with results. Be present. Gentle. Open. Let the Spirit keep your heart soft. Let love keep you moving. And when you are not received or accepted as you are, when your peace is not welcomed— shake off the dust, but not your love. Keep flowing.
​
Because love never ends. And the Spirit never stops moving.
​
Blessings,
Vicar Jennifer +

P.S., Mahalo for reading this message! I send my thoughts on the coming Sunday's scripture lessons in our weekly e-newsletter. If you'd like, you can sign up here to receive it. My e-message is usually a sneak peak of the coming Sunday's sermon, so if you're curious to hear more, head to our Facebook page for our livestream or go to our YouTube page to view past services. As always, I would love to see you in person on a Sunday! And please let me know if you'd like to talk about anything I've written here.

Please feel free to pass along this message or use what I've written. Please ensure proper attribution to the author, whether that's me or another writer. I often quote folks whose wisdom I admire! Blessings on your explorations in Spirit, and I look forward to walking with you on your journey!

Dear St. Augustine's 'ohana,
In a conversation this week, a friend was lamenting the state of the world. “I think I was born at the wrong time,” she said. “What makes you say that?” I asked. “Fear,” she answered.

As events continue to unfold across our nation and the world, the Executive Council of the Episcopal Church met this week in Maryland. In her opening remarks, House of Deputies President Julia Ayala Harris said, “This is not a moment of chaos. It is a moment of consequence. The tactics we are witnessing are not random. They are strategic: deliberate efforts to co-opt public institutions, erode the rule of law, and blur the boundaries between faith and state... These are hallmarks of what scholars call theocratic and state capture—the systematic merger of religious and political authority reshaping how power operates in our world.”

Amid this climate of fear and manipulation, we turn to scripture that grounds us in something deeper. On Sunday, we’ll hear of Jesus setting his face toward Jerusalem, knowing the cost of love yet moving forward with unwavering commitment. He invites his followers—then and now—to do the same: to let go of what gets in the way of love, and to trust the deeper current of the Spirit.

This story invites a question worth sitting with: What do we need to release to live more fully for love—not fear?

Sometimes the greatest obstacles to Divine love aren’t external forces, but what we grip inside:

• our expectations
• our assumptions
• our need to be right
• our judgment of others
• our fear of getting it wrong
• our clinging to what once made us feel safe

The Spirit calls us to let go—not into apathy, but into active, intentional love. Over the past few weeks, we’ve been reflecting on the image of the Water of Life—the water of our baptism that connects, nourishes, and teaches us how to live in the flow of grace. Like water, love flows in the present moment. It doesn’t cling to the past or force the future. It meets the moment fully, offering itself without fear. To live for love is to loosen our grip. To live with love is to let the Spirit guide our steps.

As Paul reminds the Galatians: “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control… If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.”

So may we ask ourselves honestly: What needs to be released in me today, so I can live more freely in love—and not in fear?
Blessings,
Vicar Jennifer

P.S., Mahalo for reading this message! I send my thoughts on the coming Sunday's scripture lessons in our weekly e-newsletter. If you'd like, you can sign up here to receive it. My e-message is usually a sneak peak of the coming Sunday's sermon, so if you're curious to hear more, head to our Facebook page for our livestream or go to our YouTube page to view past services. As always, I would love to see you in person on a Sunday! And please let me know if you'd like to talk about anything I've written here.

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