And now for something completely different ...

Because the imagery is powerful and inspiring, a meditation on Psalm 42, verses 14 and 15.

I am poured out like water,

          and all my bones are out of joint; 

Great God without you my life has no shape, my soul meanders. Do not let me disappear into the ground, into nothingness. Gather me up, oh God. Scoop me into your palms. When you look upon me may you see your face reflected back. Let me rest in your cupped hands, held in your peace, until you see fit to pour my spirit into a vessel of your making.  Then will I stand tall and straight, for the Lord has given me form.

     my heart is like wax; 
          it is melted within my breast; 

Soothe my burning heart, oh Lord. It wilts from the heat of its own anger. It grows soft and weak as the flames of slander and gossip close in. But the breath of your Spirit soothes and refreshes me, and the working of your hand sculpts my resolve. If my heart is wax, press your seal into it so all may know it is my God who has restored me. 

my mouth is dried up like a potsherd,
          and my tongue sticks to my jaws;
          you lay me in the dust of death. 

Without your living waters, my words stick in my throat like bitter ash. Do not leave me to thirst, to parch like a broken, leaking pot discarded on the side of the road. Even in the midst of life’s deserts, I pray you rain mercy on me, my loving God. May I catch your mercy on my tongue; may it wash the dust from my skin; may it pour all around me and water the seeds you would have me tend, until he deserts bloom with mercy. 

I am water.

I am wax.

I am dust.

You are the vessel that contains me.

You are the seal that promises me.

You are the rain that refreshes me.

In you my weakness are made strong,

and my strengths are multiplied.

For he did not despise or abhor 
          the affliction of the afflicted; 
     he did not hide his face from me, 
          but heard when I cried to him. - v. 24

The Art of Prayer

Today's readings: Psalms 102, 147-12:20; Deuteronomy 7:6-11; Titus 1:1-16; John 1:29-34

Art teaches truth beyond the scope of mere facts. The poetry of Psalm 102, for example, invokes vivid images because the facts do not adequately communicate the depths of the psalmist's despair or his awe of the Lord. “I am terribly sad” would tell us something, but it can’t compare to the exquisite anguish expressed by “I eat ashes with my food and mingle my drink with tears” (v 9). While “God is eternal” might suffice for an academic theology discussion, it doesn’t say much about God’s relationship to the mortal world. Describing the heavens and earth as garments that will eventually wear out, or saying that God will change them like clothing (vv 26-27), put us in touch with the vastness of eternity. Burning bones, withering grass, a little bird on a roof – these densely packed images don’t just impart knowledge but tune us into the emotional state of the psalmist.

Artistic forms of prayer can lend depth to our spiritual experiences. When we pray from our deepest pains or joys, stating the facts or making requests may not be adequate to communicate our experiences and needs, even to ourselves. Could we consider writing God a poem? The idea may sound like something to do when Vacation Bible School is rained out, but the Bible is loaded with prayerful poems. Its 150 psalms and numerous canticles (hymns) teach us poetry and music are an integral part of the language of faith. The psalms themselves were originally meant to be sung, and the layers of artistic expression add to their power. We don’t have to be great poets or composers to turn our feelings into art; when it comes to prayer, honesty trumps virtuosity every time. Any honest attempt at prayer can only bring us closer to God.

Approaching the Bible, prayer or God from a poetic or other artistic perspective opens us to new ways of knowing. Modern culture tends to equate truth only with facts, but truth is transcendent. History books are informative, but Picasso’s Guernica illuminates the devastation of war in ways no book could convey. Being created in God's image, however we understand that, means we too are fulfilled by creating.

Evening readings: Psalms 27, 126

Ash Wednesday: Turn Around, Jonah

Today's readings: Psalms 5, 147:1-11; Jonah 3:1-4:11; Hebrews 12:1-14; Luke 18:9-14

When most people think of the story of Jonah, they think of "Jonah and the Whale" or the great fish that carried him in its belly to dry land. While that may be the most spectacular element of the story, it is not the most important. Today's reading comes from the end of the story, when Jonah has preached to the Ninevites as the Lord commanded him to do. He is despondent because the Ninevites - enemies who oppressed his people - have taken his warning to heart and repented, and worse yet the Lord has forgiven and spared them from destruction. Jonah is so upset he retreats to the edge of town, where the hot sun beats down on him, and tells the Lord he would rather die than be party to the Ninevite's salvation. The Lord, of course, sees it differently.

Lent is a time to meditate on our own need to repent, to turn away from our sins and towards our God. Jonah's story reminds us repentance comes in many forms. Are we Ninevites, blatantly disregarding God? If so, we can decide right now to accept God's eternally open invitation to reconciliation. When we truly repent we won't need to wear sackcloth like the real Ninevites for the change to be obvious. Jonah, it turns out, is a tougher nut to crack. He clings so tightly to his hatred of the Ninevites that he resents God's mercy and willingness to forgive them. If we are religious people who think we've got it right, self-reflection might reveal we're Jonahs. We might not be able to accept deep down that those who aren't quite getting it right, or who have done us wrong, or who aren't repenting in the ways we think they should, are equally beloved by God. Being "in the right" can blind us to just how wrong our hearts are.

This Lent, let's reflect on how we might repent and forgive those who challenge us. Not only does God forgive them, but He invites us to be part of the whole process. That means we can't sit on our cushion of resentment watching them from afar, but that we must learn to live in the thick of them, loving them even when we can't like them. We will know we have repented when, no matter which way we turn, we face God.

Evening readings: Psalms 27, 51

Prepare Ye

Today's readings: Psalms 42, 146; Deuteronomy 6:16-25; Hebrews 2:1-10; John 1:19-28

When the Pharisees pressed John the Baptist to tell them who he thought he was, he replied: "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Make straight the way of the Lord'" as the prophet Isaiah said (John 1:23). Note that he did not say he was the one making the way straight, but was the one calling others to do so. He offered a rallying cry, but did not take it upon himself to fill the valleys and lower the mountains and level the rugged places (Isaiah 40:4). No, he left those duties to us.

If we look critically at the spiritual landscape of our local community, our nation or our world, can we claim we have carved out a straight path that will allow the glory of the Lord to be revealed to all (Isaiah 40:5)? Let's just say a lot of this highway project remains to be completed. Valleys of poverty too deep to see out of obscure that glory for many people. For others, it's mountains of wealth, power or other worldly distractions that block the line of sight between them and the Lord's revealed glory. How many pairings of mountains and valleys does our world contain? High and low social status. Casually discarding half-empty bottles of water versus surviving off dew gathered on tarps. Piles of diamonds towering above the graves of those who died to excavate them. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could fill all the valleys simply by pushing the mountains into them?

The challenge isn't that simple, and none of us can complete this project alone. Some days the best we can do is to move one teaspoon of earth at a time, and not even all that without spilling some.  But John the Baptist, Isaiah, and all the prophets and saints keep calling to us: "Prepare ye the way of the Lord." As long as we keep to our task - spoon by spoon, shovel by shovel, mountain by mountain - we know the path of the Lord is that much closer to being prepared.

If it all seems overwhelming, perhaps we can begin by evening out the mountains and valleys - those things blocking God from view - in our own hearts. Maybe then we can be one of the countless stepping stones the Lord can use to stride to the places most in need.

Evening readings: Psalms 102, 133

Bootstraps

Today's readings: Psalms 5, 145; Deuteronomy 6:1-15; Hebrews 1:1-14; John 1:1-18

Before the Israelites entered the promised land, God had a few things to say to them. In addition to reinforcing the Law, he warned them not to forget - and not to let their descendants forget - that the houses, cisterns and vineyards they used were not of their own making, but had been provided by God and created by the land's former occupants (Deut 6:10-12). No matter what culture or century we live in, it's good to remember our successes do not occur in a vacuum, but are dependent on what we've received from others.

We like the notion of the self-made man or woman, but it is mostly a myth. Usually when we describe a person as self-made, we mean someone who started from poverty and ended with some amount of wealth. Yet even if they started with no money, someone instilled a work ethic into them, cut them a break by being their first employer or customer, or built the economic system that allowed them to flourish. And while anyone should be commended for using their God-given talents wisely, having talent for financial success is not always under our control. Different people have different abilities, so what comes naturally and seems like common sense to one person may not be so for another. Just as a technical art education isn't guaranteed (and isn't always required) to produce a gifted artist, financial success requires abilities we can not simply will into being.

When we see someone who is not successful, we like to think we would have done better if we'd been in their place. Worked harder. Made smarter choices. The truth is we really don't know who we'd be without the blessings we may not take time to consider as contributing to our achievements. We can take credit for stewarding our gifts, resources and opportunities wisely, but we shouldn't forget we did not create them out of nothing. Keeping this in mind helps us maintain a more charitable attitude. We can be grateful for the blessings we've had without blaming others for the blessings they have not had. We can pull ourselves up by our bootstraps only because they were crafted by a gifted shoemaker.

Evening readings: Psalms 82, 29

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

Today's readings: Psalms 103,  150; Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; 2 Corinthians 3:1-9; John 12:27-36a

Is the concept of an all-knowing God intimidating or comforting? Sadly, some have used it to intimidate or control, but the author of Psalm 139 finds great comfort in the idea that God has been and always will be with him, from conception through death. The implication of this presence is that God cares for each of us. As God’s carefully wrought creations, “fearfully and wonderfully made,” (v. 14) we are each of us the most precious works of art in the world. Artists frequently compare their own creations to children; how could we be less to God? Good parents are not judgmental or threatening, not waiting to strike down children who make mistakes. Good parents guide and challenge their children to be their best selves. Jesus assures us God is like a good parent, when he says things like no father, when his child asks for a fish, would hand him a snake (Matt 7:10, Luke 11:11).

Psalm 139 provides beautiful images of the relationship God intends to have with us: guide, artist, parent, creator. Jesus used similar metaphors to describe our relationship to God so we might explore the unknowable yet loving nature of God. God’s thoughts are beyond the comprehension of the psalmist and of us, yet God still offers an intimate relationship whether we are living in the light or the darkness.

If we stay aware of God’s presence in our lives, even when we don’t necessarily “feel” it, we are better able to rise to the opportunity of being our best selves. While we don’t want to reduce God to the role of supportive buddy or life coach, we can consider God’s presence as we devise plans, make decisions and take actions. Taking time to reflect on how God might view our actions before we act can help us transcend our fleeting impulses and feelings. Such reflection might trigger our conscience, or even guilt, but these can be signposts pointing us to a better – if sometimes more difficult – path. Exercising self-control is not the same as being shamed by someone else. God’s presence is not a fist knocking us down, but a hand lifting us up. Let's grab it and be the wonderful creations God intended.

Evening readings: Psalms 117; 139

When in doubt...

Today's readings: Psalms 63, 149; Isaiah 56:1-8; Galatians 5:25-6-10; Mark 9:14-29

Doubt is an inescapable factor of the human condition. From double-checking to make sure the iron is unplugged to wondering whether a God could possibly exist, we all experience some form of doubt, most of us on a fairly reguar basis. Many of us fall prey to the false choice between doubt and faith. In a world that emphasizes an "either/or" mentality, we can find it difficult if not sometimes impossible to embrace a "both/and" perspective. It is entirely possible to balance both doubt and faith in our lives.

After her death, Mother Teresa became a famous example of the embodiment of both doubt and faith. The publication of her private papers revealed her inner struggle with God and faith. For some people, this revelation confirmed their skepticism of faith. But rather than undermine her previous image, perhaps it really served to make her more accessible: if such a revered religious figure struggled with the same doubts we do, our faith also has the potential to be as great as hers.

Jesus did not turn away doubters. One day a man brought his son to Jesus. The boy was struck mute and convulsed with seizures as a result of a demon. When the man asked Jesus to help "if you are able" (Mark 9:22), Jesus replied all things were possible to those who believed (v 23). The man replied "I believe; help my unbelief!" (V 24). Could there be a more desperate, humble and honest response? Jesus went on to heal the boy through prayer. Yet this man, while his belief was bolstered in the moment, certainly continued to experience doubt throughout his life, just as the rest of us do.

We are built to juggle what seem like contradictory emotions and ideas. At a good memorial or wake, we grieve loss and laugh at memories. Sending a child to the first day of kindergarten or college is often bittersweet. Our relationships with loved ones are a complicated mix of love, anger and countless other simultaneous feelings. These conflicting emotions do not invalidate each other or the experiences that drive them. God has given us the ability to harbor both faith and doubt, so let us use each wisely.

Evening readings: Psalms 125, 90

For discussion: When has doubt served you well? (comment below)