Selah. I wonder if you’ve heard this word before. Selah is a Hebrew word that appears 71 times in the Psalms and it is left untranslated in most modern translations of the Bible. Sometimes it appears multiple times throughout a single Psalm in between verses that are often grouped as stanzas. For instance, in Psalm 46, Selah appears at the end of each of three movements (at the end of verses 3, 7, and 11). Other times it is the closing of a Psalm. So, what does this word mean? Selah.

I hope by now you’ve taken a moment to say the word aloud. Repeat it a few times. Listen to the sound your voice makes when you say it. If you’re with someone else, encourage them to say the word as well so you can hear it in another voice. Selah.

Biblical scholars have various opinions about the meaning of this special word. Some say it means “pause for benediction or blessing” while others think it is a musical mark to indicate an increase in volume. The Amplified Bible translates selah as “pause, and think of that.”

As I look at the world around us, and especially as I look at the news of the day, and even as I reflect on the upcoming holiday season of family gatherings, busy calendars, and over-full lives, I find myself needing more and more moments for “pause for benediction or blessing” and the more I need to turn to God. I need more selah.

Isn’t it interesting that an untranslated word from scripture can be a way that we can center ourselves on God even when the world around us seems to pull us away from God. Today, and in the coming days and weeks may we pause, reflect, redirect, and turn ourselves toward God, placing our trust in God, and relying on God’s steadfast love. Selah.

“Be still, and know that I am God!
I am exalted among the nations,
I am exalted in the earth.”
The Lord of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our refuge. Selah
(Ps. 46:10-11)

As you head toward holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas, may you find some moments of selah. Look for opportunities to mark your day with that indescribable pause/reflection/turning toward God. Perhaps it is between tasks at the office or errands to the grocery store. Or maybe in the car after dropping the kids off at school or another activity (or, even better, inviting your kids to practice selah with you). The more we engage in spiritual practices, the greater the chance that they will become our second nature. You can use a Psalm like Psalm 46 to guide your practice or simply take moments where you focus your attention on God’s sovereignty and faithfulness in your life.

by: Kelsey Vasquez & Sabrina Ball

The educational program at Pinnacle Preschool has been heavily influenced by the educators of Reggio Emilia, Italy since 1998. Their unique approach was born out of the literal rubble of World War II and in direct opposition to the fascist regime Italy experienced under Mussolini. Last month, the educator tours in Reggio Emilia reopened from Covid restrictions and four members of Pinnacle Preschool staff were able to travel, learn, and explore for a full week.

Democracy is a weaving of differences grounded in liberty and fundamental rights. Children are the owners of rights and we each hold the responsibility to make explicit our image of childhood and our image of the child. An education that is based on democracy allows for the expansion of perspectives and richness of interpretations. It is crucial to be involved, to feel like you belong, in order to welcome others. What are the ways that we truly see children?

Diversity in children’s work is the starting point to appreciating the differences, to welcoming the differences in each of us as essential pieces to the larger puzzle. Often, typical preschool classrooms are filled with examples of how learning is transmitted from the adult to the child, such as worksheets, product-based arts and crafts, and a directed organization of what children do and how much time they spend doing it.

The Reggio Emilia Approach deviates from this traditional view of early childhood. School is a place where children go in their entirety: physically, emotionally, cognitively, with their knowledge, doubts, and curiosities. Learning processes take place in aesthetic, playful, and emotional situations and contexts. Liberty is experienced, not in an attitude that children simply do whatever they want, but as the right to be involved, to express themselves. Liberty to time; time for meaningful learning that is deep and purposeful.

Our week of study in Reggio was a reminder of how important this work is as we continue to resist the trend of pushing down standardized learning and rushing through childhood. It reinvigorates us as educators and encourages us to continue to offer the best practices to our families, advocate within our community, and continue to share our educational program with educators from across our state.

Well . . . as this BLOG entry is posted, the nation is concluding the 2022 midterm voting. 

Folks who know me, know that my personal views of American politics and the church have changed over time. I grew up in a setting, and a family, that walked sometimes predictable and sometimes unpredictable paths down the middle of the road that winds through the terrain of faith and politics. Culturally conservative, economically liberal, generally segregated in a white working-class suburb but racially aware and sensitive (if at a distance), and generally committed to the idea that the church is the context in which all of these things are best worked out. I also absorbed a sense that there was something sacred about America--competing with church and family for my ultimate affection. I think my father (now deceased) believed that the Constitution was on par with scripture. His view was not untypical for second-generation immigrants. He rightfully appreciated the opportunities America had given his (my) family. And I shared his appreciation. I simply assumed that while Jesus had no party affiliation, respectable Christians would still tend to lean to the Right on most issues (not all). As a high school student, I gave an invocation at a rally for Betty Ford, when her husband was running for President. And I was proud to do it.

All of that was shaken a bit. First shake came during my college years. Encountering deep, systemic poverty in Chicago and joining committed Christians working to address it. Discovering persons of deep faith who saw the world, and their own experience, differently than I saw my own. Opening up to history in new ways, including seeing that American history is less a story of inevitable progress and innocent defense of human rights than it is a site of often fascinating and sometimes concerning struggles between forces and interests—sometimes coming out well, sometimes not.

Studying in England, I encountered committed Evangelical Christians who considered themselves Marxists (Go figure!). I saw different ways of ordering society and found fresh perspectives looking at America from afar.

Questions welled up. What place, really, has "nation" in the life of faith and the mission of the global church? Where are my primary allegiances, and can I sustain multiple allegiances? In what order shall I place my obligations as a believer?

A growing connection to the Middle East lifted this all to a new level for me. Especially so while living with and observing non-violent Jewish and Christian activists in Israel and on the West Bank. This gave me a sense of how morally powerful faithful, fearless, and selfless action can be. This also left me with a sense of how distorted the conversation around righteousness, justice, and America's role in the world can become when divorced from actual effects.  

America is a shining city on a hill for all to admire and emulate. It's also a power broker, too often ignorant of the consequences our self-serving policies can sometimes have. We do good. We do the opposite of good. And we wander in between, with mixed results. As Americans and as an American nation, we are not one thing. We are many things. This I've come to believe. But let me be clear. I don't think this view is "anti-American." I'm an American and I'm grateful to be. I desire good for the nation.  

So the church. I do think we should be committed to authentic (not manipulated) democracy--not because it's God-ordained, but because it best protects space for healthy dialogue and well-ordered liberty. Yet I also believe we're called to not confuse the nation with God's Kingdom. Our goal as believers is faithfulness, not power. Our vision is God's realm, not American influence. Our Lord is not a political party but is a Crucified Savior who is raised for all people. Our kindred are our American neighbors, for sure, but our kindred are also all people, everywhere, who seek peace, hope, compassionate community, and a just way forward for all (and especially for the vulnerable). I think our alliances should be based on prudence, prayer, and possibility—not party. This I have come to believe, even as I join in praying for the nation (and for the world the nation impacts). God bless America, and God bless all people.

When the Apostle Paul writes his first letter to the Corinthians, he begins with the following:

To the church of God which is at Corinth, to those who have been sanctified[1] in Christ Jesus, saints by calling, with all who in every place call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, their Lord and ours.

Paul considered anyone who had a faithful trust in Jesus as God’s Messiah a “saint.” Male, female, Jew or Greek, slave or free: all who were part of the church were considered “saints.” This is a bit different from what we might think today when we hear the word “saint.” Certain Christian groups have named those they think of as ‘very holy people,’ around whom miracles happened let’s say, as “saints.” These “saints” can be petitioned through prayer to intercede on our behalf before God, or so some believe. In everyday usage, if someone said, “You’re a saint,” just after you’ve done something nice for them, you may say, “I’m not that holy, I’m just doing my best.” “Saint” can mean anything from “a do-gooder” to “an enlightened being who has transcended the human sphere of sin.” It seems pretty tough to be a saint!

The other way we’ve come to think of a “saint” is “anyone in the church who has died.” We hear in scripture: At that moment the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth quaked and the rocks were split. The tombs broke open, and the bodies of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised. After Jesus’ resurrection, when they had come out of the tombs, they entered the holy city and appeared to many people. (Matthew 27:51-53)

About 1900 years ago the church started celebrating those “saints” who in faith had gone on to be with God. Some churches made this celebration around Easter…as a sign of trust in the Resurrection. Other Christians replaced Pagan commemorations of the dead with a Christian-themed, solemn remembrance. The Christians in England called this celebration, “All Hallows’ Day.”  The word hallow means “to make holy.” We still use this word in the traditional Lord’s Prayer, “Our Father which art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.” ‘Hallowed’ [2]means, “made holy.” So, the Hallowed Ones are those who have been made holy by God in Jesus Christ. Saints don’t make themselves holy; they are declared holy by God. Another closely related word to hallow and holy is whole.

We could think of the “saints” as those whom God has made whole, having been restored to the fullness of life, free of pain, suffering, and mourning.

As we have come to this time of the year when we remember those who have gone on before us, take time to give thanks for the “saints” that are still in our midst, those do-gooders and the seemingly “not so good yet.” Pray for the saints, those with polished halos and tarnished halos alike. God is the one who hallows, makes us holy, and calls us to be “saints.” Pray for the grace and strength to live up to that calling.

[1] Sanctified (made holy) and saint both come from the same Latin root word, sanctus, which means “holy.”

[2] From the Wycliffe English translation of the Bible (c. 1400) we hear the 1 Corinthians passage above as: To the chirche of God that is at Corynthe, to hem that ben halewid in Crist Jhesu, and clepid (called) seyntis, with alle that inwardli clepen (call upon) the name of oure Lord Jhesu Crist, in ech place of hem and of oure. 

Few things made our neighborhood buzz collectively as did the annual summer block party. I’m excited just remembering my elementary aged self, gearing up to ride my bike to the fun. The one day of the entire year we gathered to eat great food and play with kids from the whole neighborhood. The icing on the cake? We partied beyond curfews and bedtimes in the forbidden zone--the middle of the street!

Did your neighborhood have a block party? Have you ever attended one? If so, what do you recall? Can you smell the grill cooking? Can you taste the pie? What games did you play? Can you feel the joy of community?

Long gone are the days of the block party….at least in the neighborhood where I grew up. And long gone are the days of knowing every neighbor in the neighborhood. I’ve noticed something over the years. Maybe our work culture has changed. Perhaps it’s due to more screen time. Or busier schedules. I’m not sure why, but we are spending less and less time with our neighbors. Some of us don’t even know our neighbors.

As a follower of Jesus, a follower of the One who says the second greatest commandment is to “Love your neighbor as yourself,” the fact that we are becoming less and less neighborly sticks out like a sore thumb to me. What would it look like to actually live out this commandment with our actual neighbors? 

A few years ago, I read a book called, The Art of Neighboring by Dave Runyon and Jay Pathak. Runyon and Pathak outline a simple way to be the neighbors Jesus calls us to be. They encourage us to start by simply filling out a 3x3 block map. If your house is the center block, and the other eight blocks represent the houses surrounding yours, can you name your neighbors in those houses? Give it a try! How many neighbors do you know?

Just over a month ago we moved into our new home. I have three houses of neighbors I’ve gotten to know but I have many more names to learn. I’m going to commit to learning those names, however, because I do believe it’s the first step in becoming the neighbor Jesus wants me to be. A simple step with the potential to lead to something great.

I dare to dream that if we lived out this commandment literally, our streets, neighborhoods, towns and cities will change for the better. I dare to believe lives will be blessed simply by knowing you are not alone. You have a neighbor right next door if you need one—from a cup of sugar to a ride to the doctor or even a shoulder to cry on. It all starts with just learning some names…. and then maybe throwing a block party.