Monday Manna: What Are You Still Holding?

By Reverend T.J. Lucas

Ok, so this is a not-so-Monday Manna this week. I've been holding onto some things — physically, emotionally, and spiritually — that I finally had to let go of so I can truly begin to move forward and heal. Which has had me thinking a lot about the healing we all need right now. And I'm especially sitting with that as our country's 250th anniversary approaches next month. So before we move forward, let's reflect on Sunday's message one more time.

Unhealed pain doesn't stay quietly inside us. It moves like water finding the path of least resistance, often flooding whoever is closest to us with our pain. For the past two Sundays I've argued that Sarah carried a lifetime of undealt-with trauma — shame, grief, the fear of being forgotten — and it went straight at the most vulnerable person in her household, her servant, Hagar. Hagar had no power to refuse Sarah's demands and Sarah still wasn't ready to accept God's promises so she wanted to take things into her own hands. She had Hagar sleep with her husband to make an heir.

Despite Sarah's lack of faith, God was faithful and still gave her the promised son which she named Isaac (we see him in a different light in this upcoming Sunday's scriptures). All was well until the moment Sarah's insecurities surfaced again and instead of seeing God's love could be multiplied, she only saw division. She cast out her servant and son...Hagar and Ishmael were discarded. They were sent into the wilderness with empty hands — nothing but bread, a skin of water, and a child she couldn't save. When the water ran out, Hagr put him under a bush, walked far enough away not to watch him die, and wept. This was an All-time low for her and she was desperate for a new beginning.

And that is exactly where God met her — offering not just water for the moment but a future for her son and his descendants. All she had to do was release what she'd been clutching from her past and trust the promises of God.

So I want to ask you something. What are you still holding? Not what you're carrying for someone else. Not what you're managing, explaining away, or staying too busy to feel. What is the grief, the grudge, the version of yourself you've outgrown, the shame you keep dragging into every new season — that God might be asking you to set down so you can finally see the well right in front of you?

This July our nation turns 250 years old. By the ancient biblical calendar, 250 years is five complete Jubilee cycles — a Jubilee of Jubilees. Jubilee, declared every fifty years in Israel (the year after 7 cycles of 7 years), was never just a celebration. It was a structural act of release. Land returned. Debts forgiven. People freed. God literally built a reset into the rhythm of life beyond just Sabbath day (which technically should be the seventh day of the week) and says to us as a societal whole to reset so we can flourish. I think a big reason there is so much stagnation in our world is this is not a widely adopted practice.

So this year, don't let it pass you by. This 250 year celebration is not just a party--it is a reset that belongs to we the people. Not our leadership. To everyday believers and citizens.

Jubilee doesn't ask how far we've come. It asks what we are willing to release so something new can actually grow. You cannot plant in land that never rested. You cannot receive what your hands are too full to hold.

So come to the Word this week the way Hagar came to the wilderness — with whatever you have left, honest about what's gone, and open to a well you couldn't see before. Let us enter a season of Jubilee together.

Kick off your week with the Word of God through our weekly spiritual practice of Dwelling in the Word:

The Four Movements of Lectio Divina AKA Dwelling in the Word

Taking time to slow down and simply dwell in the Word is one of the most life-giving rhythms we can cultivate. In a world that constantly demands we read for information or efficiency, this spiritual practice invites us to read for intimacy and transformation. It is about letting the text master us, rather than us trying to master the text.

Here is a simple, four-step guide to help you sit with the Scriptures, followed by brief, clear summaries of the passages you've selected to guide your reflection.

Before you begin, find a quiet space, take a few deep breaths, and invite the Holy Spirit to speak.

1. Lectio (Read): Read the passage slowly, gently, and preferably aloud. Don't rush to finish. Just listen for a single word, phrase, or image that seems to shimmer or catch your attention.

2. Meditatio (Reflect): Read the passage a second time. Take that specific word or phrase and chew on it. Why did the Spirit highlight this for you today? How does it intersect with your current joys, burdens, or questions?

3. Oratio (Respond): Read the passage a third time. Now, turn your reflections into an honest prayer. Talk to God as you would a trusted friend — pour out your gratitude, your doubts, your requests, or your repentance based on what the text stirred up.

4. Contemplatio (Rest): Read the passage one final time. Release all your thoughts and simply rest silently in God's presence, letting His love wash over you like a deep exhale.

Scripture Summaries for Reflection This Week

Use these one-line summaries of the text to pick which scripture you will dwell in each day of this week. I have found staying in one scripture for a longer period of time can draw out more than bouncing between several. These are from the Revised Common Lectionary. You can read them in full all together here.

Genesis 22:1–14 — In the most demanding test of his faith, Abraham trusts that God will provide — and at the last moment, God does.

Psalm 13 — The psalmist cries out honestly into what feels like divine silence, and somehow arrives at praise on the other side of the waiting.

Jeremiah 28:5–9 — Jeremiah holds his ground in the presence of a false prophet, trusting that time and truth will prove who has actually heard from God.

Psalm 89:1–4, 15–18 — A song of covenant faithfulness, declaring that God's steadfast love is not a feeling but a foundation — firm as the heavens, generation to generation.

Romans 6:12–23 — Paul draws the sharpest possible line between what we were and what we are: no longer slaves to what was killing us, now free for the life God intended.

Matthew 10:40–42 — Jesus closes his sending instructions with this: even a cup of cold water given in his name is not forgotten. The small act of welcome is never small to God.