Julia Ward Howe, who wrote the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," asked Senator Charles Sumner to come to the aid of a needy citizen. When Sumner turned her down with the excuse that he had grown too busy to concern himself with individuals, Howe replied, "Charles, that's remarkable. Even God hasn't reached that stage yet."

The problem with our sense of “where the problem is” is that we are like the people of Gadara. When you ask, “Where is evil?” they would point to “that man over there.” We’re pretty sure the problem is “out there” somewhere—bad people, bad institutions, bad laws, bad luck. But Jesus in the gospels knew the truth—if evil lives out through our social structures, it is birthed in the human heart.

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The problem with our sense of “where the problem is” is that we are like the people of Gadara. When you ask, “Where is evil?” they would point to “that man over there.” We’re pretty sure the problem is “out there” somewhere—bad people, bad institutions, bad laws, bad luck. But Jesus in the gospels knew the truth—if evil lives out through our social structures, it is birthed in the human heart. Evil, as Walter Wink puts it, has no existence apart from dwelling within and among us humans.

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It is rather peculiar that a holiday so connected with abundance and the numbering of blessings would have begun as gratitude for bare survival, but fitting. Thanksgiving is the recognition of our dependence on God, not the congratulating of ourselves. We are blessed, but not deservedly. Life is a gift from Someone, not something to which we are entitled. It is a time to stop, take stock, and celebrate in the spirit of those early survivors.

Transcript can be found at https://garyfurr.me/2025/11/28/squantos-kindness/

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Years ago, I spoke to a group of young ministers recently out of seminary. I shared a list of learnings to help them. Number 5 went,

"Church people are sinners, but, hey, imagine what they used to be like. If you want honesty in advertising, then here’s a church slogan for you: “We’re old, we’re dull, but hey, you ain’t no prize yourself.”

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Immigration is both a continual theme of the American story and a recurring point of conflict. The deep divisions of the current moment are echoes of the past the we ignore and repeat.

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A dead battery, a cussing mechanic, and an invitation to give a devotion to the Georgia Senate. Just another lesson in maturity in spite of myself.

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I wrote to reflect not just on what was lost, but on what was revealed to me, even in the worst of times—about faith, about love, about fear, about my worries that all our efforts to stay alive as the church wouldn’t be enough, only to discover on the other side that what held these precious, human, imperfect souls in my charge together wasn’t me or the staff, or the building after all. It was the fragile threads of faith and the mystery of God that binds us, even when it seems completely absent to our view.

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When we love our neighbor this way, forgetting ourselves in love for another, we connect with the powerful love that is at the heart of all things. It is life-giving. It is also impossible unless God helps us to love. And yet we know, from those moments in life where we see it clearly, that this is what we were made for. So why don’t we love each other this way, if it is what we were made for?

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