Have you ever caught yourself looking at someone else's life, work, or talents and thinking, "What about them?" You're not alone. In this deeply reflective episode, we explore a fascinating moment between Jesus and Peter from John 21 that perfectly captures our human tendency toward comparison.

After his resurrection, Jesus is having a profound conversation with Peter about his future when Peter suddenly points to John and asks, "What about him?" Jesus's response cuts straight to the heart of our comparison culture: "What has that got to do with you?" It's the spiritual equivalent of "keep your eyes on your own paper" – a reminder that comparing ourselves to others distracts us from our unique purpose.

Drawing on the wisdom of Rabbi Zuzia, who famously said that in heaven we won't be asked "Why weren't you Moses?" but rather "Why weren't you Zuzia?", we confront the beautiful challenge of becoming fully ourselves. Your particular combination of experiences, challenges, gifts, and perspectives has never existed before in human history – which means true comparison is not only unhelpful, it's impossible.

When we fixate on others' journeys, we rob the world of our singular contribution. The ultimate question isn't whether you measured up to someone else's standard, but whether you fully embraced the unique you that you were created to be. What is your voice, your perspective, your gift that the world desperately needs? How can you be more fully you today?

Share this episode with someone who needs freedom from the comparison trap, and join us in person or online at Central in Elk River as we continue exploring what it means to live authentically in community.

Join us! Facebook | Instagram | www.clcelkriver.org

Standing in the temple courts during the vibrant Festival of Sukkot, surrounded by massive oil lamps commemorating God's pillar of fire, Jesus makes his bold declaration: "I am the light of the world." The timing couldn't be more profound—moments after extending radical grace to a woman caught in adultery and publicly shamed.

This powerful message comes alive when we understand its context. The festival celebrated how God guided the Israelites through desert darkness with a pillar of fire, providing direction and protection amid uncertainty. Now Jesus stands in that same temple, essentially claiming, "That divine light that led your ancestors? That's me. I am that light for you today."

For the woman whose sins were brutally exposed before the crowd, Jesus' words offered immediate freedom. For the stone-dropping accusers confronted with their own darkness, it presented a new path. For everyone witnessing this dramatic scene, it revealed the true nature of God's light—not to expose and condemn, but to illuminate a way forward out of shame and guilt.

We all know darkness. Maybe it's the public exposure of mistakes like Ben's experience on the news. Perhaps it's the crushing weight of private shame. Or possibly it's just the uncertainty of life's challenges looming before us like a desert night. We try everything to escape—relationships, achievements, possessions—but like a disappointing childhood toy, these worldly solutions never truly satisfy.

Jesus offers something radically different. Not a temporary flicker, but transformative light that leads to genuine life. And the most beautiful part? This invitation extends to everyone—the religious, the broken, the uncertain, the ashamed. Wherever you find yourself today, whatever darkness surrounds you, the light of the world is calling you to follow him into new life.

Join us! Facebook | Instagram | www.clcelkriver.org

Have you ever pondered the beautiful tension between your cosmic significance and humble origins? This reflective episode explores an ancient rabbinical practice of carrying two contradictory truths that perfectly balance our understanding of human existence.

The rabbis recommended keeping two pieces of paper in your pockets. The first reads, "For me, the whole world was created" – a profound reminder of your inherent value and cosmic significance. Think about those magical moments when you've witnessed something breathtaking all alone: a shooting star streaming across the night sky or deer racing through your backyard in a flash nobody else saw. These experiences feel divinely orchestrated just for you, affirming that your presence in this world matters deeply.

The second paper simply states, "I am but dust and ashes." This humbling truth connects to our origins in both science and scripture. The Hebrew word "adam" (humanity) relates to "adamah" (earth) – we are essentially "dirt beings" temporarily animated by divine breath. When life ends, our bodies return to the soil while our spirits return to their source. This perspective keeps our egos in check when we start feeling too important.

What makes this practice so powerful is how it creates perfect equilibrium in our lives. When despair or worthlessness overwhelms you, reach for the reminder of your cosmic value. When pride inflates your sense of importance, touch the truth of your humble, temporary existence. By embracing both realities simultaneously, we find our proper place in the universe – significant enough to live with purpose, humble enough to serve with compassion. Which truth do you need to carry closest to your heart today?

Join us! Facebook | Instagram | www.clcelkriver.org

What happens when religious gatekeeping collides with divine compassion? Jesus' declaration "I am the gate for the sheep" emerges from a powerful confrontation over a man born blind—healed but subsequently expelled from the synagogue by religious leaders more concerned with rule-keeping than rejoicing in restoration.

This declaration arrives during Hanukkah, the Festival of Dedication, when Jews celebrated the rededication of the temple—the gateway to God's presence—after it had been desecrated. The timing is no coincidence. While religious leaders were celebrating a historical gateway, they were simultaneously blocking access to those deemed unworthy. Into this context, Jesus boldly positions himself as the true access point to God and abundant life.

The metaphor of the gate speaks profoundly to questions of belonging and exclusion. In ancient sheepfolds, the gate served multiple functions—protecting sheep from predators while allowing them to come and go for nourishment. Jesus contrasts his approach with that of the Pharisees, who he strikingly labels "thieves and robbers" for how they've harmed rather than helped the vulnerable. Where they created barriers, Jesus offers genuine access.

This teaching challenges us to examine our own tendencies toward gatekeeping. Where do we, like the Pharisees, miss miracles because we're enforcing our own rules? How might we become more like Jesus, who left the safety of religious institutions to find those pushed to the margins? As one pastor reflects, "Our primary responsibility as a church is not to explain the world, but to change it." The question isn't who deserves entry—it's whether we'll join the Shepherd in seeking those who have been excluded.

Ready to explore how Jesus continues to challenge our gates of exclusion? Join us as we discover what it means that Jesus is not just a gatekeeper, but the gate itself—offering genuine protection, freedom, and abundant life for all who enter.

Join us! Facebook | Instagram | www.clcelkriver.org

What are we truly hungry for? In a world filled with temporary satisfactions, Jesus offers something far more substantial when he declares "I am the Bread of Life."

This powerful statement—the first of seven "I Am" declarations in John's Gospel—reaches back to the very name of God revealed to Moses at the burning bush. When God identified himself as "I AM WHO I AM" (Eyah asher Eyah), he established himself as being itself, the foundation of all existence. Jesus now claims this divine identity while offering himself as the solution to our deepest hungers.

The setting is significant: Jesus has just fed 5,000 people in the wilderness near Passover, deliberately evoking the story of God providing manna during the Exodus. Just as the ancient Israelites cried out for liberation from Egyptian oppression, first-century Jews longed for freedom from Roman rule. Through this miracle, Jesus signals that he is the liberator they've awaited—but not the kind they expected.

When the crowds follow him seeking more bread, Jesus challenges them to look beyond physical sustenance that only satisfies temporarily. "Don't work for food that spoils," he urges, "but for food that endures to eternal life." When they ask what works they must perform to earn this enduring bread, his answer is beautifully simple: none. This bread requires no achievement, no striving—only open hands ready to receive.

We all experience spiritual hunger—a persistent ache that material comforts and temporary pleasures can't fill. We reach for things that satisfy momentarily but leave us hungry again. Jesus offers himself as the only bread that truly satisfies, the only provision that endures. In the wilderness places of our lives—the dry, dark, anxious spaces—his promise remains: "God will see to it."

Where else would we go? Only Jesus has the words of eternal life.

Join us! Facebook | Instagram | www.clcelkriver.org

The profound symbolism of Ash Wednesday unveils a journey from endings to new beginnings. Far from being simply a gloomy reminder of mortality, the message "you are dust, and to dust you shall return" offers a beautiful invitation to transformation.

Dust and ashes represent the end of something. Throughout Scripture, we see figures like Job and the people of Nineveh sitting in ashes as a powerful symbol of coming to the end of destructive paths. Job, after losing everything and questioning God, covers himself in dust when he realizes he doesn't have all the answers. The Ninevites, upon hearing God's message through Jonah, cover themselves in ash to signify their wicked ways must end. These biblical examples teach us that true repentance—the Hebrew "shuv" meaning "to turn away"—involves recognizing when we've been walking down unhealthy paths and making the decision to turn around.

The challenging question we must ask ourselves: what in our lives needs to come to an end? Is it unhealthy habits, destructive self-talk, measuring our worth by worldly standards, or perhaps darkness that lives in the depths of our hearts that no one else sees? The beauty of Ash Wednesday is that while we receive ashes as a symbol of our mortality, they come in the shape of a cross—a reminder that our endings can become beginnings through Christ's redemptive work. Life may be astonishingly brief, but Jesus came so we might experience abundant life now. What needs to end in your life so you can truly begin living the way God intended? Take time this Lenten season to reflect, repent, and turn toward what gives life.

Join us! Facebook | Instagram | www.clcelkriver.org

Ryan opens episode 77 of the Reflections podcast by sharing a fascinating encounter at Starbucks with a man who left his Protestant evangelical church to become Catholic. The man's surprising reason? He was tired of theological arguments and wanted one authoritative voice to provide definitive answers. This conversation launches Ryan into a thoughtful exploration of why he takes the completely opposite approach to faith.

Drawing from ancient Jewish traditions, Ryan explains how rabbis approached sacred texts not as puzzles with single correct answers, but as multifaceted gems to be turned and examined from different angles. Each rabbi would bring their interpretive "yoke" to the discussion table, offering diverse perspectives that weren't viewed as competing rights and wrongs, but as honoring the text through thoughtful engagement. Even Jesus participated in this tradition with his own unique interpretive approach.

This "turning the gem" metaphor illuminates a profound spiritual practice – the same unchanging text reveals different insights depending on our perspective, life stage, and the Spirit's guidance. Ryan argues that wrestling with scripture in community, engaging with difficult questions, and allowing space for multiple viewpoints doesn't diminish our respect for sacred writings but actually honors God. While acknowledging that some interpretations are indeed better than others, he invites listeners to embrace the wonder, mystery and collaborative journey of faith rather than seeking oversimplified answers. What might we discover when we approach our faith with both reverence and a willingness to wrestle with its complexities?

Join us! Facebook | Instagram | www.clcelkriver.org

Dive into a captivating exploration of the profound interplay between fear and wonder in the realm of faith in this episode. Drawing from personal stories and biblical narratives, we unpack the meaning of Yirah, a Hebrew word that translates to a unique blend of awe and fear in respect to the divine. As we share experiences of standing at the edge of mountains and experiencing the unrivaled vastness of the ocean, we awaken to the idea that encountering God invites both reverence and thrill.

Join us as we discuss the transformative impact of awe on our understanding of God, encouraging listeners to embrace the mystery of life and the divine presence woven into our experiences. With insights from well-known figures like Jacob and Ezekiel, we reflect on how such encounters shatter our perceptions and lead us to deeper wisdom. By recognizing the miraculous moments around us, we foster a sense of connection with the divine that can enrich our lives.

Ultimately, this episode is a rallying call to open our hearts and minds to the expression of wonder in our everyday lives, advocating for a shift in perspective that prioritizes the magic of existence over the mundane. Engage with us and discover how fostering a deeper sense of awe can lay the groundwork for an enriching faith journey. Let's embark on this exploration together—don’t forget to subscribe, share, and leave a review!

Join us! Facebook | Instagram | www.clcelkriver.org