Amos denies his critic’s claim that he is a professional prophet; he insists he was unexpectedly called by God, just as the 12 apostles were and just as each of us is, so that, in the words of Saint Paul, “we might exist for the praise of God’s glory.”

My mother didn’t believe in training wheels. When all the other kids on the block were getting “two-wheeler” bikes to replace their tricycles, theirs came with an extra set of little wheels on the back—just in case. But my mother didn’t adhere to that worldview. “It won’t help you learn to balance,” she said. “And balance is everything.”

Thankfully, I’ve never been seriously sick or injured. I haven’t needed anyone to tend to me physically since I got my wisdom teeth out as a teenager. Which is a good thing since I have an irrational phobia about going to the doctor. Even something as little as getting a shot makes me nervous. 

Her peers on the faculty watched as her body wasted away. They sat quietly eating their lunches during meetings, knowing she was in the bathroom purging hers. Her perpetual bruises, black eyes, and broken bones were explained away as everyday accidents, though everyone knew they were symptoms of her progressing disorder.

My family and I were on a walk while at my parents’ cottage on a small lake in Southwest Michigan when we got a lesson about life. Around the bend in the lake we met an old couple sitting on rickety lawn chairs fishing.

Gathered as church, we pray to our God who grants us forgiveness.

Grant me, O Lord and God, a mind to know you, a heart to seek you, wisdom to find you, conduct pleasing to you, faithful perseverance in waiting for you, and a hope of finally embracing you.