Today's readings: Ps 98,148; Isa 26:1-6; 2 Cor 5:16-6:2; John 8:12-19
Yesterday we considered Apocalyptic literature, a product of a people who did not define the world in strictly linear time. Scripture challenges us because it comes from a different perspective on reality. Surprisingly, modern physics tends to reinforce a non-linear understanding of time more than our own. In what other ways does scripture challenge us to change our perspective on reality?
In John and 2 Corinthians, Jesus and Paul tell us we need to stop seeing the world “according to the flesh” and start looking at it according to the spirit. Many people have taken this use of “flesh” to mean our bodies are evil, and somehow separate from our spirits—a sort of dualism that pits us against ourselves. Rather, Jesus and Paul use “flesh” as a metaphor for those things in the world that separate us from God. Scriptures similarly use the word “world”—but God created and loved the world, just as he created and loves our bodies.
When Jesus tells us to see things according to the Spirit, what might that mean? It means we aren’t to judge anyone. Even Jesus—who is able to judge—has chosen to judge no one (John 8:15). This is a paradox of our faith: those who should not judge do, and those who could do not. Any time we judge someone, we are seeing with the flesh, and not the spirit.
Paul tells the Corinthians that when we abandon the human point of view, we will see Christians as new creations (2 Cor 5:17). The lack of judgment of others, from others, and of ourselves frees us to be entirely new. Ironically, it is this lack of need to conform to or impose worldly righteousness that transforms us into Christ’s righteous ambassadors.
In Christ we find not a religion—defined by those who measure up and those who do not—but relationships. Truly immersing ourselves in Christianity takes courage, the courage of pioneers entering the wilderness of humankind and blazing trails to true relationship with others. Our true north is love. Our path is not the same as anyone else’s. Our adventure begins and ends in mystery.
Comfort: Your faith does not have to look like anyone else's.
Challenge: When you judge people, forgive them and yourself.
Prayer: God of Mystery, lead me through the wilderness of faith.
Evening reading: Ps 45, 96
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 98, 149; Gen 17:1-12a, 15-16; Col 2:6-12; John 16:23b-30
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
A Relationship With Mystery, Pt. 4
Today's readings: Ps 93, 147:12-20; Isa 25:1-9; Rev 1:9-20; John 7:53-8:11
Isaiah 25:8 looks toward the day when “God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth.” Today’s reading from Revelation begins to introduce John’s vision of Christ’s victory over all the evils in the world. Both are standard readings for the Christmas season, as we celebrate Christ’s arrival in the world. To which victory of the Lord do these readings really refer?
On Tuesday we touched on the idea that ancient people read scripture with a different understanding of time and meaning than we might. While Isaiah’s vision was about the eventual restoration of a Jewish people exiled in Babylon, early Christians co-opted it to tell of the coming of the Messiah. This approach might seem odd to modern sensibilities, but for people of the time it was part and parcel of an understanding that God’s plan of salvation unfolds in the past, present and future.
Isaiah 25 belongs to a genre known as apocalyptic literature (Isaiah—an early form—is more properly classified as proto-apocalyptic). Revelation is also apocalyptic literature. Typical of the genre, both blur the lines between the past and the future. Apocalyptic literature is not so concerned with historicity or specific prophecy as with the idea of the cosmic story of salvation. Time is fluid in these writings because God is always revealed anew to us, and the world is always being remade.
Apocalyptic literature invites us to dwell in the mystery of God’s unfolding plan, better expressed through visions and dreams than facts. The events have already happened, yet are still to happen. This paradox offers confidence that change will come, because it has come. During the Civil War and Civil Rights eras, African-Americans and their allies found inspiration in apocalyptic themes, which assured God’s eventual deliverance. Though mysterious, these themes were comforting.
If we read Isaiah only for the past, or Revelation only for the future, we miss the message of what God is doing today.
Comfort: God’s plan is unfolding—and we are part of it.
Challenge: Watch the news for modern stories of God’s deliverance.
Prayer: God of Mystery, thank you for your people’s dreams and visions.
Evening reading: Ps 89
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 98, 148; Isa 26:1-6; 2 Cor 5:16-6:2; John 8:12-19
Isaiah 25:8 looks toward the day when “God will wipe away the tears from all faces, and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth.” Today’s reading from Revelation begins to introduce John’s vision of Christ’s victory over all the evils in the world. Both are standard readings for the Christmas season, as we celebrate Christ’s arrival in the world. To which victory of the Lord do these readings really refer?
On Tuesday we touched on the idea that ancient people read scripture with a different understanding of time and meaning than we might. While Isaiah’s vision was about the eventual restoration of a Jewish people exiled in Babylon, early Christians co-opted it to tell of the coming of the Messiah. This approach might seem odd to modern sensibilities, but for people of the time it was part and parcel of an understanding that God’s plan of salvation unfolds in the past, present and future.
Isaiah 25 belongs to a genre known as apocalyptic literature (Isaiah—an early form—is more properly classified as proto-apocalyptic). Revelation is also apocalyptic literature. Typical of the genre, both blur the lines between the past and the future. Apocalyptic literature is not so concerned with historicity or specific prophecy as with the idea of the cosmic story of salvation. Time is fluid in these writings because God is always revealed anew to us, and the world is always being remade.
Apocalyptic literature invites us to dwell in the mystery of God’s unfolding plan, better expressed through visions and dreams than facts. The events have already happened, yet are still to happen. This paradox offers confidence that change will come, because it has come. During the Civil War and Civil Rights eras, African-Americans and their allies found inspiration in apocalyptic themes, which assured God’s eventual deliverance. Though mysterious, these themes were comforting.
If we read Isaiah only for the past, or Revelation only for the future, we miss the message of what God is doing today.
Comfort: God’s plan is unfolding—and we are part of it.
Challenge: Watch the news for modern stories of God’s deliverance.
Prayer: God of Mystery, thank you for your people’s dreams and visions.
Evening reading: Ps 89
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 98, 148; Isa 26:1-6; 2 Cor 5:16-6:2; John 8:12-19
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
A Relationship With Mystery, Pt. 2
Today's readings: Ps 2, 146; Isa 49:13-23, 54:1-13; Matt 18:1-14
In its original Aramaic, the Lord’s Prayer contains verb tenses that don’t exist in English. Where we speak of this day’s daily bread, the Aramaic speaks of today’s needs and simultaneously of needs yet to be. A people with this language can comprehend multiple levels of meaning for the same words and texts. Torah scholars today juggle its many levels. This concept is difficult for most of us, but it can help us understand how yesterday in Psalm 145 the Lord was slow to anger, and today in Psalm 2 this same Lord is one whose wrath is quickly kindled. Where we see contradiction, the original authors saw complexity.
If we are uncomfortable with uncertainty, such highly nuanced reading may be difficult for us, because firm answers will elude us. Yet, if we are to read scripture well, should we at least try to understand the mindset of its authors? These attempts may pit literal readings against a more contextual understanding. Take for example the practice of reparative therapy—that is, the attempt to “change” gay and lesbian people into heterosexuals. Providers of such therapy may believe they are saving people’s souls, but evidence shows this therapy to be unsuccessful. To the contrary, it is more likely to cause frustration or despair when people “fail” the process. Its young victims, when forced to choose between an immutable identity and rigid dogma often leave the church . How does this outcome relate to Jesus’ words that “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea” (Matt 18:6)? If, in the interest of curing an immediate sin, we drive someone away from God entirely, what does that say about our relationship to God and creation?
Our relationship to the sins—real or perceived—of others is a deeply complex one. We are called simultaneously to accountability (Matt 18:15-20) and to unlimited forgiveness (Matt 18:21-22). Only by opening ourselves to the mystery of God’s complexity can we be led.
Comfort: You are not the only one who doesn’t understand it all.
Challenge: The next time someone sins against you, try juggling the ideas of holding someone accountable while forgiving them..
Prayer: God of Mystery, help me balance righteousness and mercy.
Evening reading: Ps 110, 111
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 96, 147:1-11; Isa 12:1-6; Rev 1:1-8; John 7:37-52
In its original Aramaic, the Lord’s Prayer contains verb tenses that don’t exist in English. Where we speak of this day’s daily bread, the Aramaic speaks of today’s needs and simultaneously of needs yet to be. A people with this language can comprehend multiple levels of meaning for the same words and texts. Torah scholars today juggle its many levels. This concept is difficult for most of us, but it can help us understand how yesterday in Psalm 145 the Lord was slow to anger, and today in Psalm 2 this same Lord is one whose wrath is quickly kindled. Where we see contradiction, the original authors saw complexity.
If we are uncomfortable with uncertainty, such highly nuanced reading may be difficult for us, because firm answers will elude us. Yet, if we are to read scripture well, should we at least try to understand the mindset of its authors? These attempts may pit literal readings against a more contextual understanding. Take for example the practice of reparative therapy—that is, the attempt to “change” gay and lesbian people into heterosexuals. Providers of such therapy may believe they are saving people’s souls, but evidence shows this therapy to be unsuccessful. To the contrary, it is more likely to cause frustration or despair when people “fail” the process. Its young victims, when forced to choose between an immutable identity and rigid dogma often leave the church . How does this outcome relate to Jesus’ words that “If anyone causes one of these little ones—those who believe in me—to stumble, it would be better for them to have a large millstone hung around their neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea” (Matt 18:6)? If, in the interest of curing an immediate sin, we drive someone away from God entirely, what does that say about our relationship to God and creation?
Our relationship to the sins—real or perceived—of others is a deeply complex one. We are called simultaneously to accountability (Matt 18:15-20) and to unlimited forgiveness (Matt 18:21-22). Only by opening ourselves to the mystery of God’s complexity can we be led.
Comfort: You are not the only one who doesn’t understand it all.
Challenge: The next time someone sins against you, try juggling the ideas of holding someone accountable while forgiving them..
Prayer: God of Mystery, help me balance righteousness and mercy.
Evening reading: Ps 110, 111
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 96, 147:1-11; Isa 12:1-6; Rev 1:1-8; John 7:37-52
Monday, December 27, 2010
A Relationship With Mystery
Today's readings: Ps 34, 145; Prov 8:22-30; 1 John 5:1-12; John 13:20-35
When we’re young (or young to our faith) we most easily understand Christianity as a religion—a list of rules and ideas defining our relationship with God. This fledgling Christianity can provide comfort, often in the form of answers. In the long run, however, we must admit we face far more questions than we have answers. In the midst of these questions, we have three basic options: 1) to abandon our faith as inadequate or false; 2) to cling to religiosity despite our experiences; or 3) to mature from Christianity as religion to Christianity as relationship.
Experiencing our faith as a relationship—to God and others—takes us away from the feelings of comfort and control provided by rules. Like all steps into the unknown, this one can be frightening. Some people stay in miserable situations—soul-sucking jobs, abusive relationships, etc.—because fear of the unknown paralyzes them. Should this be the story of our faith life? It doesn’t have to be, if we can think of the mystery of faith as an adventure rather than a trial. This week we will not seek answers. Instead we will explore the mystery and paradox of faith.
Let’s begin by considering the odd exchange between Judas and Jesus at the Last Supper. When the disciples wanted Jesus to tell them who would betray him, he didn’t name names but dipped some bread, handed it to Judas, and said: “Do quickly what you are going to do.” At that moment, John tells us, “Satan entered into him” and he left (John 13:21-30). Earlier in the Gospel, Jesus successfully evaded the authorities a number of times, yet he allows (encourages?) a close companion to betray him. Why bring it up at all if he doesn’t intend to stop it, or let the disciples stop it? We don’t have to go so far as the Gnostics who paint Judas as a hero of the salvation story to realize this revelation of betrayal and the relationships it portrays are not black and white. What does it say about God’s transformational grace that even betrayal can serve a higher purpose?
Comfort: Mystery welcomes and frees us.
Challenge: Create a ”family tree” that doesn’t focus on biological relationships, but spiritual ones. Allow it to grow as complex as it will.
Prayer: God of Mystery, I trust you to lead me through the unknown.
Evening reading: Ps 29, 121
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 54, 146; Isa 48:12-21; Gal. 1:18-2:10; Mark 6:1-13
When we’re young (or young to our faith) we most easily understand Christianity as a religion—a list of rules and ideas defining our relationship with God. This fledgling Christianity can provide comfort, often in the form of answers. In the long run, however, we must admit we face far more questions than we have answers. In the midst of these questions, we have three basic options: 1) to abandon our faith as inadequate or false; 2) to cling to religiosity despite our experiences; or 3) to mature from Christianity as religion to Christianity as relationship.
Experiencing our faith as a relationship—to God and others—takes us away from the feelings of comfort and control provided by rules. Like all steps into the unknown, this one can be frightening. Some people stay in miserable situations—soul-sucking jobs, abusive relationships, etc.—because fear of the unknown paralyzes them. Should this be the story of our faith life? It doesn’t have to be, if we can think of the mystery of faith as an adventure rather than a trial. This week we will not seek answers. Instead we will explore the mystery and paradox of faith.
Let’s begin by considering the odd exchange between Judas and Jesus at the Last Supper. When the disciples wanted Jesus to tell them who would betray him, he didn’t name names but dipped some bread, handed it to Judas, and said: “Do quickly what you are going to do.” At that moment, John tells us, “Satan entered into him” and he left (John 13:21-30). Earlier in the Gospel, Jesus successfully evaded the authorities a number of times, yet he allows (encourages?) a close companion to betray him. Why bring it up at all if he doesn’t intend to stop it, or let the disciples stop it? We don’t have to go so far as the Gnostics who paint Judas as a hero of the salvation story to realize this revelation of betrayal and the relationships it portrays are not black and white. What does it say about God’s transformational grace that even betrayal can serve a higher purpose?
Comfort: Mystery welcomes and frees us.
Challenge: Create a ”family tree” that doesn’t focus on biological relationships, but spiritual ones. Allow it to grow as complex as it will.
Prayer: God of Mystery, I trust you to lead me through the unknown.
Evening reading: Ps 29, 121
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 54, 146; Isa 48:12-21; Gal. 1:18-2:10; Mark 6:1-13
Friday, December 10, 2010
Whose Serve Is It?
Today's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 7:10-25; 2 Thes 2:13-3:5; Luke 22:14-30
“Many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first” (Matt 19:30). After years of following Jesus, the disciples still struggled with this concept. When they sat down with him at his last Passover meal, “A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest” (Luke 22:24). They were resuming an argument begun back in the ninth chapter of Luke. We can deduce these events from Matthew and Luke are thematically related, because both contain assurances from Jesus that the disciples would be rulers over the twelve tribes of Israel (Matt 19:29, Luke 22:30). How might it be significant that Luke chose to place this conversation in the context of the Last Supper?
Each time we take communion, we are reminded howJesus served at that Last Supper table. By presenting the bread and wine as his body and blood, he foreshadowed his ultimate service – following his mission through to his death. We are also reminded that, as his followers, we do not seek to glorify ourselves, but to serve.
We should not serve – should not make an effort to be “the last” – simply to secure ourselves an eventual position among “the first.” We all know people who make a great show of being humble, people who engage in the same type of public piety Jesus rebuked. Sometimes maybe we even are those people. Jesus was not offering some miracle piety formula like [Unnecessary Martyrdom] + [Self-abasement] = [First]. That would be pointless, because God already loves each and every one of us fully. He was also not teaching us to be doormats, because true service requires strength. Rather, he was teaching us the structure and society of God’s kingdom, so unlike the world we encounter. In God’s kingdom, we recognize the leadership and love of humble service.
When we leave the communion table, we leave ready to meet the world in all its need and disarray. We leave ready to share and implement the truth of the Good News. We leave ready for service for its own, holy sake.
Comfort: Odd as it may sound sometime, service is a great freedom.
Challenge: Find a way to serve, and do it without fanfare.
Prayer: God of Peace, I am your humble servant.
Evening readings: Ps 130, 16
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 90, 149; Isa 8:1-25; 2 Thes 3:6-18; Luke 22:31-38
“Many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first” (Matt 19:30). After years of following Jesus, the disciples still struggled with this concept. When they sat down with him at his last Passover meal, “A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest” (Luke 22:24). They were resuming an argument begun back in the ninth chapter of Luke. We can deduce these events from Matthew and Luke are thematically related, because both contain assurances from Jesus that the disciples would be rulers over the twelve tribes of Israel (Matt 19:29, Luke 22:30). How might it be significant that Luke chose to place this conversation in the context of the Last Supper?
Each time we take communion, we are reminded howJesus served at that Last Supper table. By presenting the bread and wine as his body and blood, he foreshadowed his ultimate service – following his mission through to his death. We are also reminded that, as his followers, we do not seek to glorify ourselves, but to serve.
We should not serve – should not make an effort to be “the last” – simply to secure ourselves an eventual position among “the first.” We all know people who make a great show of being humble, people who engage in the same type of public piety Jesus rebuked. Sometimes maybe we even are those people. Jesus was not offering some miracle piety formula like [Unnecessary Martyrdom] + [Self-abasement] = [First]. That would be pointless, because God already loves each and every one of us fully. He was also not teaching us to be doormats, because true service requires strength. Rather, he was teaching us the structure and society of God’s kingdom, so unlike the world we encounter. In God’s kingdom, we recognize the leadership and love of humble service.
When we leave the communion table, we leave ready to meet the world in all its need and disarray. We leave ready to share and implement the truth of the Good News. We leave ready for service for its own, holy sake.
Comfort: Odd as it may sound sometime, service is a great freedom.
Challenge: Find a way to serve, and do it without fanfare.
Prayer: God of Peace, I am your humble servant.
Evening readings: Ps 130, 16
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 90, 149; Isa 8:1-25; 2 Thes 3:6-18; Luke 22:31-38
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Find the Room In Your Heart
Today's readings: Ps 18:1-20, 147:12-20; Isaiah 7:1-9; 2 Thes 2:1-12; Luke 22:1-13
It almost sounds like an excerpt from a cold war novel, but the disciples followed Jesus’ instructions, and prepared the Passover meal. Are we as willing to follow Jesus’ instructions today? Or do we claim Jesus didn’t really mean to give your shirt when someone takes your coat? Or to give to everyone who begs from you? Or to lend without expecting return? (Luke 6:29-35) Suddenly we’re social workers, expertly avoiding any “foolish” giving that might “enable” undesirable behaviors. Is it possible Jesus doesn’t instruct us solely to benefit the recipients of our charity, but to benefit us? God loves each of us as much as the beggar in the street, and grace need not be unilateral. The disciples could have easily disregarded Jesus’ instructions, and just snatched up the first available room. The end result would have been the same, right? Only if the room was the point. The point was trusting Christ enough to believe even crazy-sounding instructions were an extension of his love and purpose.
Our world is polluted with cheap grace. Checks to charitable groups and soup kitchens on holidays are commendable, but too often we substitute them for actual relationships with those who need us – and God’s love – the most. Why do we think charity is noble – until someone asks for it directly? Once, when a Liberian refugee our church helped resettle placed a list of needs on our bulletin board, I overhead someone say: “They’ve always got a hand out.” About a refugee. In church. Lest we become judgmental, let’s consider our own attitude toward the beggar on the street. Are we second-guessing Jesus’ intended result and grabbing the first available room, or are we taking time to follow the instructions, trusting in a greater purpose?
Comfort: Jesus and his teachings are trustworthy.
Challenge: The next time someone asks you for money or other help, give it to them if you can and meditate on your feelings about it.
Prayer: God of Peace, I will trust your instructions.
Evening readings: Ps 126, 62
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 7:10-25; 2 Thes 2:13-3:5; Luke 22:14-30
“… a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him into the house he enters and say to the owner of the house, ‘The teacher asks you, “Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?” ‘ He will show you a large room upstairs, already furnished. Make preparations for us there.”
Luke 22:1-12
It almost sounds like an excerpt from a cold war novel, but the disciples followed Jesus’ instructions, and prepared the Passover meal. Are we as willing to follow Jesus’ instructions today? Or do we claim Jesus didn’t really mean to give your shirt when someone takes your coat? Or to give to everyone who begs from you? Or to lend without expecting return? (Luke 6:29-35) Suddenly we’re social workers, expertly avoiding any “foolish” giving that might “enable” undesirable behaviors. Is it possible Jesus doesn’t instruct us solely to benefit the recipients of our charity, but to benefit us? God loves each of us as much as the beggar in the street, and grace need not be unilateral. The disciples could have easily disregarded Jesus’ instructions, and just snatched up the first available room. The end result would have been the same, right? Only if the room was the point. The point was trusting Christ enough to believe even crazy-sounding instructions were an extension of his love and purpose.
Our world is polluted with cheap grace. Checks to charitable groups and soup kitchens on holidays are commendable, but too often we substitute them for actual relationships with those who need us – and God’s love – the most. Why do we think charity is noble – until someone asks for it directly? Once, when a Liberian refugee our church helped resettle placed a list of needs on our bulletin board, I overhead someone say: “They’ve always got a hand out.” About a refugee. In church. Lest we become judgmental, let’s consider our own attitude toward the beggar on the street. Are we second-guessing Jesus’ intended result and grabbing the first available room, or are we taking time to follow the instructions, trusting in a greater purpose?
Comfort: Jesus and his teachings are trustworthy.
Challenge: The next time someone asks you for money or other help, give it to them if you can and meditate on your feelings about it.
Prayer: God of Peace, I will trust your instructions.
Evening readings: Ps 126, 62
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 7:10-25; 2 Thes 2:13-3:5; Luke 22:14-30
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Brick by Peaceful Brick
Today's readings: Ps 33, 146; Isa 5:18-25; 1 Thes 5:12-28; Luke 21:29-38
When we talk about peace, it’s easy to get caught up in large scale visions that seem difficult if not impossible to achieve. Maybe one of the reasons worldwide peace can seem like little more than a dream is because lasting peace even within our own small communities is so rare. Like many things, peace is something we learn over time, and our understanding of how to create it grows slowly.
As he closes his first letter to the Thessalonians, Paul offers several exhortations on how to “be at peace among yourselves” (v 13b). We would do well to review his list often, because many of the behaviors he describes are not our natural reactions. What is our natural response to idlers, the weak, and the faint-hearted (v 14)? In a culture that worships self-reliance, do we treat them with love or with disdain? What about people who do evil? Do we seek to do good for them (v 15), or do we want to see them get their just desserts? If God wants us to act this way, no wonder we also need to pray without ceasing (v 17)!
Peace is always a choice, but it is not always the easiest choice. When Paul and Christ speak of peace, they are sometimes talking about an inner calm, but they are also speaking about our actions. Just like agape love, shalom peace is more about what we do than how we feel. If peace has to wait on our feelings, it will be a pitiful sort of peace indeed. On the other hand, creating peace through action and relationship—like creating love through action and relationship—transforms our understanding of the world. Once we allow ourselves to be transformed into a people of peace, we might just find it easier to envision a peaceful world.
At first, our efforts at peace may be sloppy. But as we grow more skilled with them, we will be able to shape them into something useful, like the apprentice bricklayer who will one day piece together soaring castles.
Comfort: Peace in our actions creates peace in our hearts, our communities, and our world.
Challenge: One day a month, reflect on how well you are doing the following: admonishing idlers, encouraging the faint-hearted, helping the weak, seeking to do good to all, praying without ceasing, and giving thanks in all circumstances.
Prayer: God of Peace, teach me the foundations of peace making.
Evening reading: Ps 85, 94
When we talk about peace, it’s easy to get caught up in large scale visions that seem difficult if not impossible to achieve. Maybe one of the reasons worldwide peace can seem like little more than a dream is because lasting peace even within our own small communities is so rare. Like many things, peace is something we learn over time, and our understanding of how to create it grows slowly.
As he closes his first letter to the Thessalonians, Paul offers several exhortations on how to “be at peace among yourselves” (v 13b). We would do well to review his list often, because many of the behaviors he describes are not our natural reactions. What is our natural response to idlers, the weak, and the faint-hearted (v 14)? In a culture that worships self-reliance, do we treat them with love or with disdain? What about people who do evil? Do we seek to do good for them (v 15), or do we want to see them get their just desserts? If God wants us to act this way, no wonder we also need to pray without ceasing (v 17)!
Peace is always a choice, but it is not always the easiest choice. When Paul and Christ speak of peace, they are sometimes talking about an inner calm, but they are also speaking about our actions. Just like agape love, shalom peace is more about what we do than how we feel. If peace has to wait on our feelings, it will be a pitiful sort of peace indeed. On the other hand, creating peace through action and relationship—like creating love through action and relationship—transforms our understanding of the world. Once we allow ourselves to be transformed into a people of peace, we might just find it easier to envision a peaceful world.
At first, our efforts at peace may be sloppy. But as we grow more skilled with them, we will be able to shape them into something useful, like the apprentice bricklayer who will one day piece together soaring castles.
Comfort: Peace in our actions creates peace in our hearts, our communities, and our world.
Challenge: One day a month, reflect on how well you are doing the following: admonishing idlers, encouraging the faint-hearted, helping the weak, seeking to do good to all, praying without ceasing, and giving thanks in all circumstances.
Prayer: God of Peace, teach me the foundations of peace making.
Evening reading: Ps 85, 94
Monday, December 6, 2010
Lamenting Social Injustice
Today's readings: Ps 122, 145; Isa 5:8-17; 1 Thes 5:1-11; Luke 21:20-28
“Social Justice” is a hot button topic among Christians. For some, it has become a code phrase for political applications of liberal theology. Conservatives use it to accuse liberals of building entitlement or socialist government programming. Conversely, liberals may embrace it to paint conservatives as selfish or uncharitable. The truth is, every Christian wants a just society, but we might differ on the means of achieving it.
American culture tends to equate justice with punishment. We create thousands of laws to punish the guilty, but spend comparatively little effort on ensuring society takes care of its poor and needy. We balk at the idea that what we own may be an impediment to justice for someone else. However, the lament beginning with Isaiah 5:8 provides a common sense commentary on the economics required to foster a just society:
In God’s realm there is enough for everyone, but we thwart the system when we amass more than we really require. We don’t all need to earn equal wages or own equal property, but we do need to work toward a society where everyone has at least what they need. And our feelings about what people may or may not deserve don’t count as much as we might like them to. Contrary to popular sentiment, Christ doesn’t ask us to evaluate what we think people deserve, but to evaluate how we as individuals and communities use the gifts God has given us to serve others. The change giving creates in the heart of the giver is as important as the need met for the receiver. Just as nothing really belongs to Caesar, nothing belongs to us either. Do we live like we believe that?
True peace is not just the absence of conflict, but the presence of a just society. A society is just when we are as concerned about the “least of us” as we are about ourselves.
Comfort: Justice costs less than selfishness.
Challenge: Take a hard look at whether you are using the resources God has entrusted to you to foster a just society.
Prayer: God of Peace help me create Your justice.
Evening readings: Ps 40, 67
“Social Justice” is a hot button topic among Christians. For some, it has become a code phrase for political applications of liberal theology. Conservatives use it to accuse liberals of building entitlement or socialist government programming. Conversely, liberals may embrace it to paint conservatives as selfish or uncharitable. The truth is, every Christian wants a just society, but we might differ on the means of achieving it.
American culture tends to equate justice with punishment. We create thousands of laws to punish the guilty, but spend comparatively little effort on ensuring society takes care of its poor and needy. We balk at the idea that what we own may be an impediment to justice for someone else. However, the lament beginning with Isaiah 5:8 provides a common sense commentary on the economics required to foster a just society:
“Ah, you who join house to house, who add field to field, until there is room for no one but you, and you are left to live alone in the midst of the land!”
In God’s realm there is enough for everyone, but we thwart the system when we amass more than we really require. We don’t all need to earn equal wages or own equal property, but we do need to work toward a society where everyone has at least what they need. And our feelings about what people may or may not deserve don’t count as much as we might like them to. Contrary to popular sentiment, Christ doesn’t ask us to evaluate what we think people deserve, but to evaluate how we as individuals and communities use the gifts God has given us to serve others. The change giving creates in the heart of the giver is as important as the need met for the receiver. Just as nothing really belongs to Caesar, nothing belongs to us either. Do we live like we believe that?
True peace is not just the absence of conflict, but the presence of a just society. A society is just when we are as concerned about the “least of us” as we are about ourselves.
Comfort: Justice costs less than selfishness.
Challenge: Take a hard look at whether you are using the resources God has entrusted to you to foster a just society.
Prayer: God of Peace help me create Your justice.
Evening readings: Ps 40, 67
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Keep Lighting the Candle
Today's readings: Ps 90, 149; Isa 4:2-6; 1 Thes 4:1-12; Luke 20:41-21:4
Today concludes the first week of Advent, the week focused on Hope. Tomorrow anyone with an Advent wreath will light the second Advent candle, but they will also re-light the Hope candle, and keep lighting it until the day they light the Christ candle.
One of the joys of Advent is knowing exactly when Christ will arrive – the day is already marked on our calendars. Today’s scriptures from Isaiah, 1 Thessalonians and Luke addressed people who were waiting for their own day of deliverance, but waiting without a clear end date. These writers warned that in the meantime, things would get tougher – maybe even terrible. While none of them named a specific day, all of them were confident the day would come.
Still we wait. We watch things get better in some areas and worse in others. We know from the past that the future will be both glorious and terrible. Wars begin and end. Diseases appear and disappear. Hungry people are fed, and new people go hungry. Nothing in the world is new, yet we are made new in Christ. How are we to maintain Hope in Christ’s promises for a new and better kingdom in the face of such contradiction?
Our relationship with Hope must evolve. If faith maps our lives, Hope is no longer a pushpin marking some dream destination, but a great big arrow proclaiming “You are HERE!” When we light a candle of Hope – by visiting a sick friend, working for equality, feeding the hungry – God’s kingdom exists wherever the light of those candles shines. Like the light of a distant star, Hope is something we observe in the present, but is evidence of the past and the future.
The day we are waiting for is always today. If we are living in relationship with God, does it really matter when Christ returns? If knowing a date changes how we live, we aren’t living in Hope, but in desperation. It is in the act of lighting the candle – in letting the Hope of Christ illuminate our hearts – that Christ returns again and again.
Comfort: We hope for God’s kingdom and dwell in it simultaneously.
Challenge: Every day find a way to add light to the sum of light.
Prayer: God of Hope, I will trust you with my future.
Evening readings: Ps 130, 60
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 24, 150; Isa 5:1-7; 2 Peter 3:11-8; Luke 7:28-35
Today concludes the first week of Advent, the week focused on Hope. Tomorrow anyone with an Advent wreath will light the second Advent candle, but they will also re-light the Hope candle, and keep lighting it until the day they light the Christ candle.
One of the joys of Advent is knowing exactly when Christ will arrive – the day is already marked on our calendars. Today’s scriptures from Isaiah, 1 Thessalonians and Luke addressed people who were waiting for their own day of deliverance, but waiting without a clear end date. These writers warned that in the meantime, things would get tougher – maybe even terrible. While none of them named a specific day, all of them were confident the day would come.
Still we wait. We watch things get better in some areas and worse in others. We know from the past that the future will be both glorious and terrible. Wars begin and end. Diseases appear and disappear. Hungry people are fed, and new people go hungry. Nothing in the world is new, yet we are made new in Christ. How are we to maintain Hope in Christ’s promises for a new and better kingdom in the face of such contradiction?
Our relationship with Hope must evolve. If faith maps our lives, Hope is no longer a pushpin marking some dream destination, but a great big arrow proclaiming “You are HERE!” When we light a candle of Hope – by visiting a sick friend, working for equality, feeding the hungry – God’s kingdom exists wherever the light of those candles shines. Like the light of a distant star, Hope is something we observe in the present, but is evidence of the past and the future.
The day we are waiting for is always today. If we are living in relationship with God, does it really matter when Christ returns? If knowing a date changes how we live, we aren’t living in Hope, but in desperation. It is in the act of lighting the candle – in letting the Hope of Christ illuminate our hearts – that Christ returns again and again.
Comfort: We hope for God’s kingdom and dwell in it simultaneously.
Challenge: Every day find a way to add light to the sum of light.
Prayer: God of Hope, I will trust you with my future.
Evening readings: Ps 130, 60
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 24, 150; Isa 5:1-7; 2 Peter 3:11-8; Luke 7:28-35
Friday, December 3, 2010
"You don't need me to tell you this, but..."
Today's readings: Ps 72:1-7, 18-19; Isa 3:1-4:1; 1 Thes 4:1-12; Luke 20:41-21:4
It happens to all of us. Someone says, “You don’t need me to tell you this” then proceeds to tell you something you know they know you already know. How does it make you feel? Why do you think they feel the need to say it? This conversational/instructional tactic is called paralipsis, and Paul used it in his first letter to the Thessalonians to reinforce the need for the community to continue loving each other:
As a virtuoso communicator, Paul realized simply repeating an instruction might seem like an insult to the fledgling Christian community. When someone repeats something to us that we already know, it’s common to respond with an annoyed “I know that!” Paul also realized there are different levels of knowing. The most shallow level is simply being able to parrot what we’ve heard. As a habitual soda drinker, I know in my head it’s not good for me, and will tell you that. What I have yet to do is to know it on a deeper level, to internalize the knowledge until I act on it. Paul knew people well enough to know the Thessalonian church would need continued encouragement until its members internalized the knowledge and beliefs he was trying to share with them.
As we prepare this Advent for the coming of the Christ, let’s be open to hearing some of the stories we’ve heard in Advents past. We may be surprised to discover yet deeper meaning than we have found in them before. We may also be surprised to find how much more deeply we know them than we have before. As Christians, we know these stories teach us to be hopeful. Let us move from knowing hope, to being hope.
Comfort: God is patient while we grow into our faith.
Challenge: Pick one thing you know in your head, that you wish to know more deeply in your heart. Since Advent is the liturgical “New Year,” resolve to find ways to internalize it in the coming year.
Prayer: God of Hope, teach me to know your ways in my heart.
Evening readings: Ps 130, 60
It happens to all of us. Someone says, “You don’t need me to tell you this” then proceeds to tell you something you know they know you already know. How does it make you feel? Why do you think they feel the need to say it? This conversational/instructional tactic is called paralipsis, and Paul used it in his first letter to the Thessalonians to reinforce the need for the community to continue loving each other:
Now concerning love of the brothers and sisters, you do not need to have anyone to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love one another; and indeed you do love the borthers and sisters throughout Macedonia. But we urge you, beloved, to do so more and more.
1 Thessalonians 4:9-10
As a virtuoso communicator, Paul realized simply repeating an instruction might seem like an insult to the fledgling Christian community. When someone repeats something to us that we already know, it’s common to respond with an annoyed “I know that!” Paul also realized there are different levels of knowing. The most shallow level is simply being able to parrot what we’ve heard. As a habitual soda drinker, I know in my head it’s not good for me, and will tell you that. What I have yet to do is to know it on a deeper level, to internalize the knowledge until I act on it. Paul knew people well enough to know the Thessalonian church would need continued encouragement until its members internalized the knowledge and beliefs he was trying to share with them.
As we prepare this Advent for the coming of the Christ, let’s be open to hearing some of the stories we’ve heard in Advents past. We may be surprised to discover yet deeper meaning than we have found in them before. We may also be surprised to find how much more deeply we know them than we have before. As Christians, we know these stories teach us to be hopeful. Let us move from knowing hope, to being hope.
Comfort: God is patient while we grow into our faith.
Challenge: Pick one thing you know in your head, that you wish to know more deeply in your heart. Since Advent is the liturgical “New Year,” resolve to find ways to internalize it in the coming year.
Prayer: God of Hope, teach me to know your ways in my heart.
Evening readings: Ps 130, 60
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Discarding Idols
Today's readings: Ps 18:1-20, 147:12-20; Isaiah 2:5-22; 1 Thes 3:1-13; Luke 20:27-40
Isaiah is an Advent staple because it speaks vividly of preparing ourselves for what it is to come. Today’s passage speaks about the consequences of worshipping idols. Unlike Isaiah’s contemporaries, we probably don’t encounter many literal idols, or hand-crafted gods. However, Isaiah’s words about idols are still worth hearing today.
Isaiah’s people were constantly exposed to cultures who worshipped idols. Jews, whose God was unseen, were lured by the comfort of deities they could identify or even touch. We aren’t much concerned today that our Christian faith is threatened by golden calves, but we should be concerned about the power of man-made idols to stand between us and God.
For now, let’s define an idol to be anything we prioritize above God, if only fleetingly. We could list money, popularity, power, possessions, security, pride, comfort, etc. We may not actually worship these things as gods, but can we admit we are at least tempted to prioritize some of them before God? There’s nothing wrong with a nice car, lots of friends or a healthy 401k, but we must keep them in perspective. Taking an ethical stand in the workplace might cost us friends or a promotion, but we should not value those above our faith and principles. Such betrayals do more long-term damage to our spirits than any short-term gains are worth.
We should also be wary of idols disguised as faith. We don’t want to be like the pious man who shushed the beggar because she was interrupting his prayers to be more generous. Maybe we want to believe we have this Christian thing all sewn up because we can quote the Bible and avoid the right sins and study the right doctrine, as if reaching and maintaining some spiritual goal weight. If these things interfere with our ability to have a true relationship with God and with each other as Christ taught us, they have become idols. If God always thinks like we do, then we’ve made an idol of our ego and certainty. We can even make an idol of the Bible: some used it to justify African American slavery, clearly contrary to God’s love, and others use it to promote injustice even today.
Idols diminish our understanding of God. To prepare our hearts for Christ, we must empty them of idols. He will take up all the space we can offer!
Comfort: If our heart is empty of idols, God will find many ways to fill it.
Challenge: For the rest of the week, pray to recognize your idols.
Prayer: God of Hope, help me clear away my idols to make room for you.
Evening readings: Ps 126, 62
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 3:1-4:1; 1 Thes 4:1-12; Luke 20:41-21:4
Isaiah is an Advent staple because it speaks vividly of preparing ourselves for what it is to come. Today’s passage speaks about the consequences of worshipping idols. Unlike Isaiah’s contemporaries, we probably don’t encounter many literal idols, or hand-crafted gods. However, Isaiah’s words about idols are still worth hearing today.
Isaiah’s people were constantly exposed to cultures who worshipped idols. Jews, whose God was unseen, were lured by the comfort of deities they could identify or even touch. We aren’t much concerned today that our Christian faith is threatened by golden calves, but we should be concerned about the power of man-made idols to stand between us and God.
For now, let’s define an idol to be anything we prioritize above God, if only fleetingly. We could list money, popularity, power, possessions, security, pride, comfort, etc. We may not actually worship these things as gods, but can we admit we are at least tempted to prioritize some of them before God? There’s nothing wrong with a nice car, lots of friends or a healthy 401k, but we must keep them in perspective. Taking an ethical stand in the workplace might cost us friends or a promotion, but we should not value those above our faith and principles. Such betrayals do more long-term damage to our spirits than any short-term gains are worth.
We should also be wary of idols disguised as faith. We don’t want to be like the pious man who shushed the beggar because she was interrupting his prayers to be more generous. Maybe we want to believe we have this Christian thing all sewn up because we can quote the Bible and avoid the right sins and study the right doctrine, as if reaching and maintaining some spiritual goal weight. If these things interfere with our ability to have a true relationship with God and with each other as Christ taught us, they have become idols. If God always thinks like we do, then we’ve made an idol of our ego and certainty. We can even make an idol of the Bible: some used it to justify African American slavery, clearly contrary to God’s love, and others use it to promote injustice even today.
Idols diminish our understanding of God. To prepare our hearts for Christ, we must empty them of idols. He will take up all the space we can offer!
Comfort: If our heart is empty of idols, God will find many ways to fill it.
Challenge: For the rest of the week, pray to recognize your idols.
Prayer: God of Hope, help me clear away my idols to make room for you.
Evening readings: Ps 126, 62
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 3:1-4:1; 1 Thes 4:1-12; Luke 20:41-21:4
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Revolution, Not Institution
Today's readings: Ps 33, 146; Isa 1:21-31; 1 Thes 2:1-12; Luke 20:9-18
In the early church, Advent was a season for converts to prepare for baptism though penitence and fasting. Today it’s more a time for remembering Christ’s first coming into the world, but as an annual season it also reminds us Christ comes to us again and again. Every moment we have the potential to accept Christ yet more deeply into our hearts. Advent reminds us to be open to Christ’s arrival, and the change it brings.
Make no mistake: whether it’s a revolution of our inner landscape, the world, or the church, Christ’s coming is always a revolution. Why not a more gradual and less abrasive evolution? Because institutions of power, including the institution of the church, almost always perceive and resist the kind of change Christ represents as a threat. By definition, institutions function through clearly defined, long standing programs. In stark contrast, Christ’s radical, all-inclusive love thwarts exclusionary traditions.
While we challenge external institutions that impede the Realm of God, we must also examine whether we have established internal institutions that hinder our role in that realm – institutions such as job security or financial stability. For example, I know more than one minister who laments how the church treats gay and lesbian people, yet does not speak out on the issue because “the congregation just isn’t ready to hear it.” I question the real motives for such silence. Like the bad tenants who kill the son of the vineyard owner so they may gain his inheritance (Luke 20:9-18), could these people be selling out their convictions – and Christ – for a share of an inheritance they do not deserve? Christ did not pander to the masses at the expense of the oppressed.
Why does our desire to spark a Christ-like revolution seem to dwindle with age? We often point to increased wisdom, but what if it’s really because accumulated pension plans and social prominence mean we have more to lose? Perhaps Christ teaches us the Realm of God is more accessible to the poor, because – like they young – they don’t fear losing what they haven’t got. Our first allegiance is never to external or internal institutions, but to the Realm of God.
Comfort: There’s nothing we can lose that’s more valuable than God.
Challenge: Read the lyrics of or listen to “It Should Have Been Obvious” by The Choir.
Prayer: God of Hope, I seek to serve your kingdom first.
Evening readings: Ps 85, 94
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 50, 147:1-11; Isa 2:1-4; 1 Thes 2:13-20; Luke 20:19-26
In the early church, Advent was a season for converts to prepare for baptism though penitence and fasting. Today it’s more a time for remembering Christ’s first coming into the world, but as an annual season it also reminds us Christ comes to us again and again. Every moment we have the potential to accept Christ yet more deeply into our hearts. Advent reminds us to be open to Christ’s arrival, and the change it brings.
Make no mistake: whether it’s a revolution of our inner landscape, the world, or the church, Christ’s coming is always a revolution. Why not a more gradual and less abrasive evolution? Because institutions of power, including the institution of the church, almost always perceive and resist the kind of change Christ represents as a threat. By definition, institutions function through clearly defined, long standing programs. In stark contrast, Christ’s radical, all-inclusive love thwarts exclusionary traditions.
While we challenge external institutions that impede the Realm of God, we must also examine whether we have established internal institutions that hinder our role in that realm – institutions such as job security or financial stability. For example, I know more than one minister who laments how the church treats gay and lesbian people, yet does not speak out on the issue because “the congregation just isn’t ready to hear it.” I question the real motives for such silence. Like the bad tenants who kill the son of the vineyard owner so they may gain his inheritance (Luke 20:9-18), could these people be selling out their convictions – and Christ – for a share of an inheritance they do not deserve? Christ did not pander to the masses at the expense of the oppressed.
Why does our desire to spark a Christ-like revolution seem to dwindle with age? We often point to increased wisdom, but what if it’s really because accumulated pension plans and social prominence mean we have more to lose? Perhaps Christ teaches us the Realm of God is more accessible to the poor, because – like they young – they don’t fear losing what they haven’t got. Our first allegiance is never to external or internal institutions, but to the Realm of God.
Comfort: There’s nothing we can lose that’s more valuable than God.
Challenge: Read the lyrics of or listen to “It Should Have Been Obvious” by The Choir.
Prayer: God of Hope, I seek to serve your kingdom first.
Evening readings: Ps 85, 94
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 50, 147:1-11; Isa 2:1-4; 1 Thes 2:13-20; Luke 20:19-26
Sunday, November 28, 2010
First Sunday of Advent: Hope
Today's readings: Ps 24, 150; Isaiah 1:1-9; 3 Peter 1:1-10; Matthew 25:1-13
Today we begin the four-week season of Advent. Advent isn’t merely the prelude to Christmas. It is distinct in purpose and tone. Like Lent it is a season meant for reflection and preparation for the coming of Christ. Each Sunday has a specific theme, and today’s theme is Hope. Hope is one of those virtues some secularists attribute to simple-mindedness. Yet Christian hope is not a Pollyana, rose-colored experience.
3 Peter 1:10 Peter addresses Christian hope for the parousia, or second coming of Christ. The author attempts to assure his audience that, despite some people’s flagging belief in Christ’s imminent return, God is not slow but patient. Nearly two thousand years after this letter was written, we have experienced even more of God’s patience, and even bigger questions and doubts about Christ’s return.
In Matthew's Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids, Jesus talked about five bridesmaids who put oil in their lamps in preparation for the coming bridegroom, and five others who did not. When the bridegroom arrived in the night, the unprepared bridesmaids were left behind. Of course the fate of the bridesmaids represents that of people who are prepared or unprepared for the second coming of Christ.
Of what use are these parables and letters to us today? Christians have varying opinions about the literal or metaphorical truth about the second coming, but wherever one falls on that spectrum, as Christians we should share a common trait: Hope. We share hope that God is in the process of transforming the world into the vision offered by Christ. Hope does not mean we coast through life waiting for God to do something. Rather, it means we live as if Christ’s reign is already here. We don’t expect children to prepare for adulthood by remaining children: we expect them to gradually assume the responsibilities of an adult. In the same way prepare ourselves to be the bridegrooms of Christ by living as Christ instructed us. Whether the parousia is around the corner or not becomes irrelevant as we become the people God yearns for us to be.
Comfort: God is present in your life right now.
Challenge: This Advent, make use of an Advent wreath.
Prayer: God of hope, I fill the lamp of my heart for you.
Evening readings: Ps 25, 110
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 122, 145; Isaiah 1:10-20; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10; Luke 20:1-8
Today we begin the four-week season of Advent. Advent isn’t merely the prelude to Christmas. It is distinct in purpose and tone. Like Lent it is a season meant for reflection and preparation for the coming of Christ. Each Sunday has a specific theme, and today’s theme is Hope. Hope is one of those virtues some secularists attribute to simple-mindedness. Yet Christian hope is not a Pollyana, rose-colored experience.
3 Peter 1:10 Peter addresses Christian hope for the parousia, or second coming of Christ. The author attempts to assure his audience that, despite some people’s flagging belief in Christ’s imminent return, God is not slow but patient. Nearly two thousand years after this letter was written, we have experienced even more of God’s patience, and even bigger questions and doubts about Christ’s return.
In Matthew's Parable of the Ten Bridesmaids, Jesus talked about five bridesmaids who put oil in their lamps in preparation for the coming bridegroom, and five others who did not. When the bridegroom arrived in the night, the unprepared bridesmaids were left behind. Of course the fate of the bridesmaids represents that of people who are prepared or unprepared for the second coming of Christ.
Of what use are these parables and letters to us today? Christians have varying opinions about the literal or metaphorical truth about the second coming, but wherever one falls on that spectrum, as Christians we should share a common trait: Hope. We share hope that God is in the process of transforming the world into the vision offered by Christ. Hope does not mean we coast through life waiting for God to do something. Rather, it means we live as if Christ’s reign is already here. We don’t expect children to prepare for adulthood by remaining children: we expect them to gradually assume the responsibilities of an adult. In the same way prepare ourselves to be the bridegrooms of Christ by living as Christ instructed us. Whether the parousia is around the corner or not becomes irrelevant as we become the people God yearns for us to be.
Comfort: God is present in your life right now.
Challenge: This Advent, make use of an Advent wreath.
Prayer: God of hope, I fill the lamp of my heart for you.
Evening readings: Ps 25, 110
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 122, 145; Isaiah 1:10-20; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10; Luke 20:1-8
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Running Away From God
Today's readings: Ps 5, 6; Jon 1:1-17; Acts 26:24-27:8; Luke 8:40-56
Today we begin reading the short but powerful book of Jonah. Most of us remember this story from childhood Sunday School classes, mostly due to the story of Jonah being swallowed by a great fish and spit up on shore. In some Christian circles the fish and the attempts to explain how it could have “really happened” have become such a focal point of the story that the more important points of the story get lost. Jonah is a book about God’s love for all people, even the people we don’t love ourselves.
The first chapter opens as God commands Jonah to deliver a message to Nineveh, the capital of the Assyrians, who for a long time were Israel’s captors. Rather than heading east toward Nineveh, Jonah heads in the opposite direction toward the port city of Tarshish in the west. This decision doesn’t pan out well. The Lord sends a great storm to trouble the ship Jonah has chosen, and it doesn’t cease until the crew members throw Jonah overboard because they realize he has angered the Lord.
Are we ever like Jonah? Do we ever head the opposite direction from where the Lord would have us go? Intentionally or not, we all make that mistake sometimes. Maybe we don’t like what God is asking us to do, or the people he’s asking us to do it for. Maybe we are too preoccupied with our own concerns to hear the call of the Lord. Maybe we think we’ll answer later. Maybe we’re too busy justifying a fish story to see the greater truth behind it.
Whatever the reason, when we head away from God instead of toward God, we can expect some rough weather. Probably not our own personal tsunami or mammoth tuna, but our lives won’t be what they could. Even if everything appears fine to outside eyes, inside we will know things are off kilter. When we ignore God’s call, the repercussions play out in our lives not as punishments but as natural consequences. A nagging lack of peace and contentment ripples through and distorts all our relationships to other people, God and ourselves. As we will explore throughout our reading of Job, we will know we are heading toward God when we are heading toward reconciliation.
Comfort: Even if we move away, God is waiting for us to come back.
Challenge: Throughout your day, stop regularly to assess whether your actions are leading you toward or away from God’s call.
Prayer: God of Mystery, when you call me I will move toward you.
Evening reading: Ps 10,11
Today we begin reading the short but powerful book of Jonah. Most of us remember this story from childhood Sunday School classes, mostly due to the story of Jonah being swallowed by a great fish and spit up on shore. In some Christian circles the fish and the attempts to explain how it could have “really happened” have become such a focal point of the story that the more important points of the story get lost. Jonah is a book about God’s love for all people, even the people we don’t love ourselves.
The first chapter opens as God commands Jonah to deliver a message to Nineveh, the capital of the Assyrians, who for a long time were Israel’s captors. Rather than heading east toward Nineveh, Jonah heads in the opposite direction toward the port city of Tarshish in the west. This decision doesn’t pan out well. The Lord sends a great storm to trouble the ship Jonah has chosen, and it doesn’t cease until the crew members throw Jonah overboard because they realize he has angered the Lord.
Are we ever like Jonah? Do we ever head the opposite direction from where the Lord would have us go? Intentionally or not, we all make that mistake sometimes. Maybe we don’t like what God is asking us to do, or the people he’s asking us to do it for. Maybe we are too preoccupied with our own concerns to hear the call of the Lord. Maybe we think we’ll answer later. Maybe we’re too busy justifying a fish story to see the greater truth behind it.
Whatever the reason, when we head away from God instead of toward God, we can expect some rough weather. Probably not our own personal tsunami or mammoth tuna, but our lives won’t be what they could. Even if everything appears fine to outside eyes, inside we will know things are off kilter. When we ignore God’s call, the repercussions play out in our lives not as punishments but as natural consequences. A nagging lack of peace and contentment ripples through and distorts all our relationships to other people, God and ourselves. As we will explore throughout our reading of Job, we will know we are heading toward God when we are heading toward reconciliation.
Comfort: Even if we move away, God is waiting for us to come back.
Challenge: Throughout your day, stop regularly to assess whether your actions are leading you toward or away from God’s call.
Prayer: God of Mystery, when you call me I will move toward you.
Evening reading: Ps 10,11
Monday, October 11, 2010
Unlimited
Today's readings: Ps 1, 2, 3; Mic 7:1-7; Acts 26:1-23; Luke 8:26-39
A couple days ago we read about the disciples’ reaction to Jesus calming a storm. Today we read about his healing of a man long possessed by demons. One element these stories have in common is how some of the people who witness the events react: fearfully. Even thought Jesus saves them from physical and spiritual danger, their fear eclipses their gratitude.
What exactly did the people fear? They feared an unpredictable God, or more specifically a Jesus who served an unpredictable God. We might consider them in a patronizing fashion, but we shouldn’t be too quick to decide we are somehow wiser. What kind of messiah—what kind of God—do we think we have? We like the Jesus who eats with sinners and raises the dead, but what do we think of the Jesus who drives evil spirits out of a person and into a herd of swine who respond by killing themselves? However we interpret this story, we must grapple with a Jesus—with a God—who operates beyond our understanding. Even when we accept that discipleship has its demands, we like to think we know what those demands will be. We are more comfortable with a God we can define, even subconsciously, than a God we can’t tame to stay within the bounds of human expectations. For if we can’t set expectations on God, we can’t anticipate what expectations God might have of us!
Like the Gerasenes, we may retreat when we realize the “easy” parts of relationship with Christ are part of a larger package, a package we can’t wrap our arms or brains around. When we think of holy or righteous lives, we tend to think of them as peaceful and orderly. An exception may be the missionary who finds herself in dangerous and unknown territory, but we think of her as just that—an exception. The truth is, when we enter fully into relationship with Christ and God, our experience of God is mysterious and wild. Our hearts are at peace, but our lives are one surprise and risk after another. This may seem contradictory, but that’s part of the mystery.
Comfort: Releasing ourselves from the need to limit God frees God to remove the limits from our lives.
Challenge: Each day this week, write down one thing (news item, scripture passage, etc.) that confuses you about the nature of God. Afterward, thank God for not requiring you to understand.
Prayer: God of Mystery, thank you for not meeting my expectations.
Evening reading: Ps 4, 7
A couple days ago we read about the disciples’ reaction to Jesus calming a storm. Today we read about his healing of a man long possessed by demons. One element these stories have in common is how some of the people who witness the events react: fearfully. Even thought Jesus saves them from physical and spiritual danger, their fear eclipses their gratitude.
What exactly did the people fear? They feared an unpredictable God, or more specifically a Jesus who served an unpredictable God. We might consider them in a patronizing fashion, but we shouldn’t be too quick to decide we are somehow wiser. What kind of messiah—what kind of God—do we think we have? We like the Jesus who eats with sinners and raises the dead, but what do we think of the Jesus who drives evil spirits out of a person and into a herd of swine who respond by killing themselves? However we interpret this story, we must grapple with a Jesus—with a God—who operates beyond our understanding. Even when we accept that discipleship has its demands, we like to think we know what those demands will be. We are more comfortable with a God we can define, even subconsciously, than a God we can’t tame to stay within the bounds of human expectations. For if we can’t set expectations on God, we can’t anticipate what expectations God might have of us!
Like the Gerasenes, we may retreat when we realize the “easy” parts of relationship with Christ are part of a larger package, a package we can’t wrap our arms or brains around. When we think of holy or righteous lives, we tend to think of them as peaceful and orderly. An exception may be the missionary who finds herself in dangerous and unknown territory, but we think of her as just that—an exception. The truth is, when we enter fully into relationship with Christ and God, our experience of God is mysterious and wild. Our hearts are at peace, but our lives are one surprise and risk after another. This may seem contradictory, but that’s part of the mystery.
Comfort: Releasing ourselves from the need to limit God frees God to remove the limits from our lives.
Challenge: Each day this week, write down one thing (news item, scripture passage, etc.) that confuses you about the nature of God. Afterward, thank God for not requiring you to understand.
Prayer: God of Mystery, thank you for not meeting my expectations.
Evening reading: Ps 4, 7
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Who do you trust?
Today's readings: Ps 146, 147; Micah 6:1-8; 1 Cor 4:9-16; Matt 15:21-28
Micah 6:8 is one of those popular Bible verses that appears on everything from coffee mugs to t-shirts in Christian bookstores: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” The prophet is telling the people ritual is no substitute for relationship. It’s a message we also hear from Christ. Unfortunately, like Micah’s audience, many of us would rather look for God in a tidy set of rules than wade through the mess of justice and mercy.
We can do the real work of justice and mercy only if we rely on God to guide us. Like the Israelites, we can be tempted to put our faith in rules, but we also face the modern temptation of misplacing that faith in institutions rather than in God. Psalm 146:3 tells us “Do no put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is ho help.” Putting our faith in any mortal institution is a mistake: all are temporary and prone to corruption.
Governments, economic structures, and even churches are at heart more interested in their own survival than in justice and mercy. We can love our country, but we must recognize God loves every citizen of every nation equally. We can believe capitalism is the best economic system, but must admit in practice it can come in conflict with justice and mercy. We can identify with the denomination that best reflects our beliefs, but we must remember no church has remained unchanged longer than God has. No social structure is a substitute for God. Any one of them could be gone tomorrow. If the disappearance of one of them would fundamentally alter how we choose to live our lives, we are not seeking God first.
Of course we have to live within existing social structures, but our lives of justice and mercy should influence them more than they influence us. If we blindly trust governments, political parties, ideologies, etc., we will eventually be let down. If we are not, our loyalties are not with God. We live God’s justice and mercy independently from – and often in spite of – the worldly structures in which we find ourselves.
Comfort: God is constant.
Challenge: Consider which of your political, social and economic values might be in conflict with your faith.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to act justly and to love mercy.
Evening readings: Ps 111, 112, 113
Micah 6:8 is one of those popular Bible verses that appears on everything from coffee mugs to t-shirts in Christian bookstores: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” The prophet is telling the people ritual is no substitute for relationship. It’s a message we also hear from Christ. Unfortunately, like Micah’s audience, many of us would rather look for God in a tidy set of rules than wade through the mess of justice and mercy.
We can do the real work of justice and mercy only if we rely on God to guide us. Like the Israelites, we can be tempted to put our faith in rules, but we also face the modern temptation of misplacing that faith in institutions rather than in God. Psalm 146:3 tells us “Do no put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is ho help.” Putting our faith in any mortal institution is a mistake: all are temporary and prone to corruption.
Governments, economic structures, and even churches are at heart more interested in their own survival than in justice and mercy. We can love our country, but we must recognize God loves every citizen of every nation equally. We can believe capitalism is the best economic system, but must admit in practice it can come in conflict with justice and mercy. We can identify with the denomination that best reflects our beliefs, but we must remember no church has remained unchanged longer than God has. No social structure is a substitute for God. Any one of them could be gone tomorrow. If the disappearance of one of them would fundamentally alter how we choose to live our lives, we are not seeking God first.
Of course we have to live within existing social structures, but our lives of justice and mercy should influence them more than they influence us. If we blindly trust governments, political parties, ideologies, etc., we will eventually be let down. If we are not, our loyalties are not with God. We live God’s justice and mercy independently from – and often in spite of – the worldly structures in which we find ourselves.
Comfort: God is constant.
Challenge: Consider which of your political, social and economic values might be in conflict with your faith.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to act justly and to love mercy.
Evening readings: Ps 111, 112, 113
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Making Peace
Today's readings: Ps 140, 142; Mic 3:9-4:5; Acts 24:24-25:12; Luke 8:1-15
“The opposite of war isn’t peace; it’s creation.”
-- Jonathan Larson, Rent
It’s easy to think of peace as an end unto itself. In a world full of conflict, achieving true, lasting peace is a project humankind has never been able to complete. But if we ever did achieve peace… what then?
Then… everything. Peace is the environment we seek to establish in order to maximize our service to each other and to God. Peace is not an end, but a beginning. The prophet Micah offers many warnings to the nation of Israel, but he also offers them the hope of peace. He describes a day when conflict will end and people “shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks” (Mic 4:3). When this time comes, the people will walk in the name of the Lord forever (v. 5).
What about now? What do we do while we wait for that glorious time? Well, Jesus tells us “blessed are the peace makers” (Matt 5:9) - not the peace waiters. Like Micah’s soldiers-turned-farmers, we can turn our implements of destruction into tools of creation. Just as iron can be the material for either swords or plows, our own gifts and talents are raw stuff that can be channeled in many directions. A knack for leadership is a prime example of a gift that can be used for good or ill. The same might be said of almost any talent or skill, from engineering to baking to singing. Our talents are gifts from God, and we should employ them in the service of God’s creation. Like Micah’s farmers, we might need to examine and reshape them until they are put to their very best use.
Peace is not merely the absence of war; it is an ongoing, conscious effort to be in right relationship with everyone around us. Jesus is not known as the Prince of Peace because he passively avoided conflict. To the contrary, he actively transformed the destructive elements of this world until they served God. And he asks us to follow him.
Comfort: Peace is a project in which we can all participate.
Challenge: Make two lists: one for the skills and talents you are employing in service to creation, and another for those you are not. How can you get some of the items from the second list into the first?
Prayer: Teach me, O Lord, to make peace.
Evening readings: Ps 141, 143
“The opposite of war isn’t peace; it’s creation.”
-- Jonathan Larson, Rent
It’s easy to think of peace as an end unto itself. In a world full of conflict, achieving true, lasting peace is a project humankind has never been able to complete. But if we ever did achieve peace… what then?
Then… everything. Peace is the environment we seek to establish in order to maximize our service to each other and to God. Peace is not an end, but a beginning. The prophet Micah offers many warnings to the nation of Israel, but he also offers them the hope of peace. He describes a day when conflict will end and people “shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks” (Mic 4:3). When this time comes, the people will walk in the name of the Lord forever (v. 5).
What about now? What do we do while we wait for that glorious time? Well, Jesus tells us “blessed are the peace makers” (Matt 5:9) - not the peace waiters. Like Micah’s soldiers-turned-farmers, we can turn our implements of destruction into tools of creation. Just as iron can be the material for either swords or plows, our own gifts and talents are raw stuff that can be channeled in many directions. A knack for leadership is a prime example of a gift that can be used for good or ill. The same might be said of almost any talent or skill, from engineering to baking to singing. Our talents are gifts from God, and we should employ them in the service of God’s creation. Like Micah’s farmers, we might need to examine and reshape them until they are put to their very best use.
Peace is not merely the absence of war; it is an ongoing, conscious effort to be in right relationship with everyone around us. Jesus is not known as the Prince of Peace because he passively avoided conflict. To the contrary, he actively transformed the destructive elements of this world until they served God. And he asks us to follow him.
Comfort: Peace is a project in which we can all participate.
Challenge: Make two lists: one for the skills and talents you are employing in service to creation, and another for those you are not. How can you get some of the items from the second list into the first?
Prayer: Teach me, O Lord, to make peace.
Evening readings: Ps 141, 143
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 137, 144; Mic 5:1-4, 10-15; Acts 25:13-27; Luke 8:16-25
Small Things
Today's readings: Ps 131, 133, 134; Mic 3:1-8; Acts 24:1-23; Luke 7:36-50
For the last several weeks we’ve been reading about larger than life figures. Hosea selected a wife and gave his children very unusual names to teach a whole nation about God’s relationship with Israel. Esther risked her life to save her people. John the Baptist paved the way for Christ himself. How can we ever hope to measure up to such grand expressions of faith? The good news is… we don’t have to!
Most of us are going to live out a quieter faith life, but not a lesser one. Sometimes we become convinced faith requires grand gestures, and we can become so preoccupied with figuring out what significant things we’re meant to do, that we are no longer able to simply be. A life of faith will undoubtedly make demands of us, and there may be some occasions where the grand gesture is in order, but even if that happens, most of our life will be lived between those moments. How we live our faith in those “between” times is every bit as important.
Today’s psalm selections illustrate faith unfolding in the time between. Psalm 131 is only three verses long, but its imagery of children and mothers at peace speaks volumes about the nature of faith during quiet times. Mothers and children are about as common a phenomenon as we’ll find, but using them to express our relationship with God expands our understanding of both.
Psalm 133 is about the blessedness of living in unity. Another three-verse gem, this psalm contains imagery that may be unusual to us (oil running over a beard and collar?), but it shows us the importance of being. There is no doing in this psalm. Action does not enhance the simple blessing of living in God’s realm.
Finally, Psalm 134 (also three verses) is an evening benediction that probably marked the change in priests from day shift to night shift. God was present even in this small daily exchange, just as God is present in the small transactions of our everyday lives. When we recognize this truth, every moment is part of the holy.
Comfort: No life is too small for God to be great in it.
Challenge: Write three sentences describing your relationship with God.
Prayer: Teach me, O Lord, to see you in the small things.
Evening reading: Ps 132, 135
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 140, 142; Mic 3:9-4:5; Acts 24:24-25:12; Luke 8:1-15
For the last several weeks we’ve been reading about larger than life figures. Hosea selected a wife and gave his children very unusual names to teach a whole nation about God’s relationship with Israel. Esther risked her life to save her people. John the Baptist paved the way for Christ himself. How can we ever hope to measure up to such grand expressions of faith? The good news is… we don’t have to!
Most of us are going to live out a quieter faith life, but not a lesser one. Sometimes we become convinced faith requires grand gestures, and we can become so preoccupied with figuring out what significant things we’re meant to do, that we are no longer able to simply be. A life of faith will undoubtedly make demands of us, and there may be some occasions where the grand gesture is in order, but even if that happens, most of our life will be lived between those moments. How we live our faith in those “between” times is every bit as important.
Today’s psalm selections illustrate faith unfolding in the time between. Psalm 131 is only three verses long, but its imagery of children and mothers at peace speaks volumes about the nature of faith during quiet times. Mothers and children are about as common a phenomenon as we’ll find, but using them to express our relationship with God expands our understanding of both.
Psalm 133 is about the blessedness of living in unity. Another three-verse gem, this psalm contains imagery that may be unusual to us (oil running over a beard and collar?), but it shows us the importance of being. There is no doing in this psalm. Action does not enhance the simple blessing of living in God’s realm.
Finally, Psalm 134 (also three verses) is an evening benediction that probably marked the change in priests from day shift to night shift. God was present even in this small daily exchange, just as God is present in the small transactions of our everyday lives. When we recognize this truth, every moment is part of the holy.
Comfort: No life is too small for God to be great in it.
Challenge: Write three sentences describing your relationship with God.
Prayer: Teach me, O Lord, to see you in the small things.
Evening reading: Ps 132, 135
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 140, 142; Mic 3:9-4:5; Acts 24:24-25:12; Luke 8:1-15
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Finding Fault
Today's readings: Ps 119:145-176; Mic 2:1-13; Acts 23:24-35; Luke 7:18-35
Imagine holding a party for a hundred people. Ninety-nine are perfectly behaved, and one drinks a little too much and is a spectacle on the dance floor. When you tell the story of your party, which guest will you talk about the most? Imagine reading an incredibly beautiful poem, and finding a misspelling in the last line. Would the beauty of the poem be diminished for you? Is it human nature to focus on the negative, even in the face of abundant positives? The Bible tells us this tendency has existed for a long time – especially when it comes to preachers and preaching.
When the prophet Micah denounced Israel’s social evils, he pointed out how the people did not want to hear any preaching that addressed their shortcomings. They said things like “one should not preach of such things; disgrace will not overtake us” (Mic 2:3). Rather, Micah tells Israel they would prefer a preacher who would “preach to you of wine and strong drink” (v. 11). We all love a preacher who can make us feel good about ourselves, and none of us want to be made to feel like dirt every Sunday. Still, a real minister needs to lovingly rebuke and guide us when necessary. We should not be too quick to find fault when a preacher challenges us. Some pastors feel so pressured to always please the congregation, they won’t even address controversial issues.
The gossip about John the Baptist and Jesus showed just how hard it is to please the people. John was an ascetic who lived in the wilderness, ate off the land, and abstained from alcohol. Some of the people, put off by his unconventional choices, claimed he was possessed by a demon. Jesus, on the other hand, ate and drank freely with all kinds of people. Never too quick to be satisfied, the people called him a glutton and a drunkard. John and Jesus both offered very challenging messages. Is it possible that finding fault with the preachers’ personal lives made it easier to dismiss the difficult message? Is this a tendency we can recognize in people – including ourselves! – today?
When we begin to criticize a preacher, or anyone who challenges our way of thinking, let’s examine our motives. Some criticism may be genuine, but some may be a way of deflecting a message we really need to hear.
Comfort: Listening to a hard message is better than living in ignorance.
Challenge: When you criticize others, ask what that says about you.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to love the hard word.
Evening readings: Ps 128, 129, 130
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 131, 132, 133; Mic 3:1-8; Acts 24:1-23; Luke 7:36-50
Imagine holding a party for a hundred people. Ninety-nine are perfectly behaved, and one drinks a little too much and is a spectacle on the dance floor. When you tell the story of your party, which guest will you talk about the most? Imagine reading an incredibly beautiful poem, and finding a misspelling in the last line. Would the beauty of the poem be diminished for you? Is it human nature to focus on the negative, even in the face of abundant positives? The Bible tells us this tendency has existed for a long time – especially when it comes to preachers and preaching.
When the prophet Micah denounced Israel’s social evils, he pointed out how the people did not want to hear any preaching that addressed their shortcomings. They said things like “one should not preach of such things; disgrace will not overtake us” (Mic 2:3). Rather, Micah tells Israel they would prefer a preacher who would “preach to you of wine and strong drink” (v. 11). We all love a preacher who can make us feel good about ourselves, and none of us want to be made to feel like dirt every Sunday. Still, a real minister needs to lovingly rebuke and guide us when necessary. We should not be too quick to find fault when a preacher challenges us. Some pastors feel so pressured to always please the congregation, they won’t even address controversial issues.
The gossip about John the Baptist and Jesus showed just how hard it is to please the people. John was an ascetic who lived in the wilderness, ate off the land, and abstained from alcohol. Some of the people, put off by his unconventional choices, claimed he was possessed by a demon. Jesus, on the other hand, ate and drank freely with all kinds of people. Never too quick to be satisfied, the people called him a glutton and a drunkard. John and Jesus both offered very challenging messages. Is it possible that finding fault with the preachers’ personal lives made it easier to dismiss the difficult message? Is this a tendency we can recognize in people – including ourselves! – today?
When we begin to criticize a preacher, or anyone who challenges our way of thinking, let’s examine our motives. Some criticism may be genuine, but some may be a way of deflecting a message we really need to hear.
Comfort: Listening to a hard message is better than living in ignorance.
Challenge: When you criticize others, ask what that says about you.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to love the hard word.
Evening readings: Ps 128, 129, 130
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 131, 132, 133; Mic 3:1-8; Acts 24:1-23; Luke 7:36-50
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
When In (or occuppied by) Rome...
Today's readings: Ps 121, 122, 123; Mic 1:1-9; Acts 23:12-24; Luke 7:1-17
The main conflict in the Gospels is between Jesus and the leaders of the Jewish faith. In Acts and the epistles, conflict arises as Jewish and Gentile Christians struggle to become one church. On a larger scale, the backdrop of the entire New Testament is the occupying Roman empire. Christ’s teachings represent upheaval not just to the Jewish religious leaders, but to the greater social and political order enforced from Rome.
Christ used imperial imagery in his lessons and parables – kingdoms, victories, etc. When he turned this language on its head in the service of God, he was telling the people the existing social structure was in its final days. Many Jews wished to silence him because Judaism was practiced at the pleasure of the emperor, and Jesus was the kind of rabble-rouser who drew the wrong kind of attention. His early followers lived under this constant imperial threat, but modern readers sometimes need to remind ourselves the faith had political ramifications as well. When we consider our present day commitment to our faith, what are we saying to Rome?
True to his inclusive nature, Jesus did not draw firm lines between the Romans and the Jews. When a Roman centurion asked Jesus to come heal his beloved slave, Jesus declares it is the faith of the centurion – and not the slave – that dwarfs the faith he has found in Israel. This declaration made it clear that God’s grace was not confined by ethnic or cultural boundaries, and also that Jesus’ Jewish disciples should not become too complacent about their own spiritual situation.
Paul’s Roman citizenship saved him from several difficult situations. Rules regarding the treatment of Roman citizens extended to all corners of the empire, so when the Romans learned of a Jewish conspiracy to kill Paul, they snatched him away to Caesarea not to defend him, but to ensure proper Roman protocol was observed. His relationship to the empire, which sometimes beneficial, was complicated by his faith.
The Roman Empire may be long gone, but imperialism in its many forms is alive and well. Our relationship to the world is also complicated. Are we introducing it to Christ’s message, or are we silencing the rabble rouser?
Comfort: God’s kingdom continues to transform earthly realms.
Challenge: Meditate on what “imperialism” we must stand up to today.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to speak up when it is right to do so.
Evening readings: Ps 124, 125, 126
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 119:145-176; Mic 2:1-13; Acts 23:23-35; Luke 7:18-35
The main conflict in the Gospels is between Jesus and the leaders of the Jewish faith. In Acts and the epistles, conflict arises as Jewish and Gentile Christians struggle to become one church. On a larger scale, the backdrop of the entire New Testament is the occupying Roman empire. Christ’s teachings represent upheaval not just to the Jewish religious leaders, but to the greater social and political order enforced from Rome.
Christ used imperial imagery in his lessons and parables – kingdoms, victories, etc. When he turned this language on its head in the service of God, he was telling the people the existing social structure was in its final days. Many Jews wished to silence him because Judaism was practiced at the pleasure of the emperor, and Jesus was the kind of rabble-rouser who drew the wrong kind of attention. His early followers lived under this constant imperial threat, but modern readers sometimes need to remind ourselves the faith had political ramifications as well. When we consider our present day commitment to our faith, what are we saying to Rome?
True to his inclusive nature, Jesus did not draw firm lines between the Romans and the Jews. When a Roman centurion asked Jesus to come heal his beloved slave, Jesus declares it is the faith of the centurion – and not the slave – that dwarfs the faith he has found in Israel. This declaration made it clear that God’s grace was not confined by ethnic or cultural boundaries, and also that Jesus’ Jewish disciples should not become too complacent about their own spiritual situation.
Paul’s Roman citizenship saved him from several difficult situations. Rules regarding the treatment of Roman citizens extended to all corners of the empire, so when the Romans learned of a Jewish conspiracy to kill Paul, they snatched him away to Caesarea not to defend him, but to ensure proper Roman protocol was observed. His relationship to the empire, which sometimes beneficial, was complicated by his faith.
The Roman Empire may be long gone, but imperialism in its many forms is alive and well. Our relationship to the world is also complicated. Are we introducing it to Christ’s message, or are we silencing the rabble rouser?
Comfort: God’s kingdom continues to transform earthly realms.
Challenge: Meditate on what “imperialism” we must stand up to today.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to speak up when it is right to do so.
Evening readings: Ps 124, 125, 126
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 119:145-176; Mic 2:1-13; Acts 23:23-35; Luke 7:18-35
Monday, October 4, 2010
Removing Logs
Today's readings: Ps 106:1-18; Hos14:1-9; Acts 22:30-23:11; Luke 6:39-49
Point your index finger straight up. Keeping both eyes open, move your finger slowly toward one eye until it rests against your eyelashes. Notice what happens: even though you know it’s there, your eyes and brain compensate and most of your finger disappears from sight. To actually see it, you have close the other eye or make some pretty marked adjustments to how you see things.
Now think of the proverbial logs in our eyes. At first they are irritating or distracting, but over time we adjust. We look past our self-involvement and call it common sense. Our judgmental log fades into a haze we think of as high expectations. Apathy blends into a background of alleged maturity. The log is more than a metaphor for our perception. Perception itself is a product of the brain, the physical tool we shape and re-shape with each choice and decision. Every time we ignore our own selfishness, for example, we are that much more likely to be selfish the next time. To adjust our behavior to the point where we are more concerned with our own logs than with our neighbor’s speck, we must make the (sometimes great) effort to intentionally refocus our mental and spiritual perception.
Why are we so preoccupied with our neighbor’s speck anyway? Partly because it distracts us from examining our own flaws too closely. But isn’t it also true that what we find most irritating about others is often what we don’t like about ourselves? Perhaps the speck we see is really a familiar log viewed through our own skewed perspective.
Once we honestly set about the task of learning to see clearly, we inevitably begin to think more clearly. When we think clearly, we develop the understanding and compassion Jesus wants us to have for ourselves and others. We can’t feel real compassion for others until we understand our own shortcomings and have compassion for ourselves. Though this doesn’t mean we can keep carrying our logs – Jesus does call us to remove them, after all. And isn’t it easier to find our way through the world once they’re gone?
Comfort: God is always ready to help us remove the logs.
Challenge: Be brave, and ask someone you trust to point out a few of the logs that might be weighing you down.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to see myself clearly.
Evening readings: Ps 106:19-48
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 121, 122, 123 ; Mic 1:1-9; Acts 23:12-24; Luke 7:1-17
Point your index finger straight up. Keeping both eyes open, move your finger slowly toward one eye until it rests against your eyelashes. Notice what happens: even though you know it’s there, your eyes and brain compensate and most of your finger disappears from sight. To actually see it, you have close the other eye or make some pretty marked adjustments to how you see things.
Now think of the proverbial logs in our eyes. At first they are irritating or distracting, but over time we adjust. We look past our self-involvement and call it common sense. Our judgmental log fades into a haze we think of as high expectations. Apathy blends into a background of alleged maturity. The log is more than a metaphor for our perception. Perception itself is a product of the brain, the physical tool we shape and re-shape with each choice and decision. Every time we ignore our own selfishness, for example, we are that much more likely to be selfish the next time. To adjust our behavior to the point where we are more concerned with our own logs than with our neighbor’s speck, we must make the (sometimes great) effort to intentionally refocus our mental and spiritual perception.
Why are we so preoccupied with our neighbor’s speck anyway? Partly because it distracts us from examining our own flaws too closely. But isn’t it also true that what we find most irritating about others is often what we don’t like about ourselves? Perhaps the speck we see is really a familiar log viewed through our own skewed perspective.
Once we honestly set about the task of learning to see clearly, we inevitably begin to think more clearly. When we think clearly, we develop the understanding and compassion Jesus wants us to have for ourselves and others. We can’t feel real compassion for others until we understand our own shortcomings and have compassion for ourselves. Though this doesn’t mean we can keep carrying our logs – Jesus does call us to remove them, after all. And isn’t it easier to find our way through the world once they’re gone?
Comfort: God is always ready to help us remove the logs.
Challenge: Be brave, and ask someone you trust to point out a few of the logs that might be weighing you down.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to see myself clearly.
Evening readings: Ps 106:19-48
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 121, 122, 123 ; Mic 1:1-9; Acts 23:12-24; Luke 7:1-17
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Cowards Pass The Mustard
Today's readings: Ps 118; Hos 13:4-14; 1 Cor 2:6-16; Matt 14:1-12
Batman famously characterizes criminals as a “superstitious and cowardly lot.” After reading Matthew’s account of the execution of John the Baptist, we may be inclined to agree.
When Herod Antipas heard about Jesus, he was convinced John the Baptist had been raised from the dead with terrifying new powers. Was he superstitious? Definitely. But the unjust circumstances of John’s death had Herod looking over his shoulder out of guilt as much as superstition. Cowardly? Yes again. Herod condemned John to death because he was afraid to break an unwise oath to Salome (the daughter of Herodias who was Herod’s sister-in-law, niece and lover) in front of his guests. Herodias had Salome request John’s head on a platter, because John protested her incestuous relationship with Herod. Herod himself had no taste for John’s particularly gruesome execution (Matt 14:9), but he valued social standing and power above justice. Herod shows us dictators and their ilk are paranoid for a reason: the evil deeds required to secure power will come back to haunt you. Jesus may not have been John the Super-Zombie Baptist, but he was everything Herod feared.
In the previous chapter of Matthew, Jesus compared the Kingdom of God to a mustard seed. In his day, wild mustard was a weed farmers tried to keep off their lands, but it always came back. Keeping it in check required constant vigilance, or it became a great nuisance that choked out the crops. That is what the inhabitants of the Kingdom of God are to the unjust: a constant threat that keeps popping up in unexpected places. When unjust dictators rise to power, they nearly always kill, imprison or otherwise silence those who cry for justice, but doesn’t there always seem to be a new mustard crop springing up?
Great evil is rarely born fully formed, but is built from an accumulation of casually unjust acts; at any point Herod could have stopped the chain of events that led from his relationship with Herodias to John’s execution. Similarly, the Kingdom of God sprouts from tiny, persistent seeds. Let love and justice grow wildly in our hearts until they choke out evil.
Comfort: If we don’t cut love back, it just keeps growing.
Challenge: Pay attention to your small acts; they build the larger you.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to act justly, even when it’s not convenient.
Evening readings: Ps 145
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 106:1-18; Hos 14:1-9; Acts 22:30-23:11; Luke 6:39-49
Batman famously characterizes criminals as a “superstitious and cowardly lot.” After reading Matthew’s account of the execution of John the Baptist, we may be inclined to agree.
When Herod Antipas heard about Jesus, he was convinced John the Baptist had been raised from the dead with terrifying new powers. Was he superstitious? Definitely. But the unjust circumstances of John’s death had Herod looking over his shoulder out of guilt as much as superstition. Cowardly? Yes again. Herod condemned John to death because he was afraid to break an unwise oath to Salome (the daughter of Herodias who was Herod’s sister-in-law, niece and lover) in front of his guests. Herodias had Salome request John’s head on a platter, because John protested her incestuous relationship with Herod. Herod himself had no taste for John’s particularly gruesome execution (Matt 14:9), but he valued social standing and power above justice. Herod shows us dictators and their ilk are paranoid for a reason: the evil deeds required to secure power will come back to haunt you. Jesus may not have been John the Super-Zombie Baptist, but he was everything Herod feared.
In the previous chapter of Matthew, Jesus compared the Kingdom of God to a mustard seed. In his day, wild mustard was a weed farmers tried to keep off their lands, but it always came back. Keeping it in check required constant vigilance, or it became a great nuisance that choked out the crops. That is what the inhabitants of the Kingdom of God are to the unjust: a constant threat that keeps popping up in unexpected places. When unjust dictators rise to power, they nearly always kill, imprison or otherwise silence those who cry for justice, but doesn’t there always seem to be a new mustard crop springing up?
Great evil is rarely born fully formed, but is built from an accumulation of casually unjust acts; at any point Herod could have stopped the chain of events that led from his relationship with Herodias to John’s execution. Similarly, the Kingdom of God sprouts from tiny, persistent seeds. Let love and justice grow wildly in our hearts until they choke out evil.
Comfort: If we don’t cut love back, it just keeps growing.
Challenge: Pay attention to your small acts; they build the larger you.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to act justly, even when it’s not convenient.
Evening readings: Ps 145
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 106:1-18; Hos 14:1-9; Acts 22:30-23:11; Luke 6:39-49
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Loving Our Enemies
Today's readings: Ps 107:33-43, 108; Hos 11:1-9; Acts 22:17-29; Luke 6:27-38
When Christ tell us to love our enemies, the underlying assumption is that we will have enemies. None of us gets through this life without having at least a few. How are we to love them? As usual, Jesus doesn’t tell us how to feel but how to behave: “Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you” (Luke 6:27b-28). This sounds like the epitome of selflessness, but the truth is we engage in these actions to transform ourselves and our relationships with the world.
Unless we are engaged in a war, referring to someone as an “enemy” can seem melodramatic. To put Christ’s words into action, we can think of our enemies as anyone we don’t feel like blessing, praying or doing good for. Maybe our enemies are social – the people who challenge us at work, school or other social groups. Maybe our enemies are political; few things can set us against each other so quickly, even when we share common goals. Maybe our enemies are inherited through longstanding cultural grudges, and we don’t have any firsthand reason to clash. In all these cases, society teaches us to distrust, outmaneuver or outright harm our enemies. The television reality show turns strangers into enemies for entertainment. Our hands may not be at war, but our hearts certainly are.
If we love our enemies only in an attempt to change them, we are missing the point. While we never want to discourage a move from enemy to friend, having any purpose for love other than love itself will eventually frustrate and disappoint us – and short-circuit the power of love to change our own hearts. How should we pray for our enemies, if not to change them? Just like we would pray for our loved ones. Make no mistake – such prayer sometimes takes an immense effort when we have been wronged or hurt. We can’t wait until we feel like praying for them, for that day may never come. Prayer for those who anger us isn’t hypocritical, it is a discipline crucial to re-shaping our hearts to better resemble Christ's heart.
Loving those who love us is nothing to brag about (v. 32), but loving those who despise us – while expecting nothing in return! – changes both our hearts and the world.
Comfort: Loving our enemies gets easier with practice.
Challenge: Pray for your enemies – and mean it.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to love my enemies as Christ loves me.
Evening readings: Ps 33
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 118; Hos 13:4-14; 1 Cor 2:6-16; Matt 14:1-12
When Christ tell us to love our enemies, the underlying assumption is that we will have enemies. None of us gets through this life without having at least a few. How are we to love them? As usual, Jesus doesn’t tell us how to feel but how to behave: “Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you” (Luke 6:27b-28). This sounds like the epitome of selflessness, but the truth is we engage in these actions to transform ourselves and our relationships with the world.
Unless we are engaged in a war, referring to someone as an “enemy” can seem melodramatic. To put Christ’s words into action, we can think of our enemies as anyone we don’t feel like blessing, praying or doing good for. Maybe our enemies are social – the people who challenge us at work, school or other social groups. Maybe our enemies are political; few things can set us against each other so quickly, even when we share common goals. Maybe our enemies are inherited through longstanding cultural grudges, and we don’t have any firsthand reason to clash. In all these cases, society teaches us to distrust, outmaneuver or outright harm our enemies. The television reality show turns strangers into enemies for entertainment. Our hands may not be at war, but our hearts certainly are.
If we love our enemies only in an attempt to change them, we are missing the point. While we never want to discourage a move from enemy to friend, having any purpose for love other than love itself will eventually frustrate and disappoint us – and short-circuit the power of love to change our own hearts. How should we pray for our enemies, if not to change them? Just like we would pray for our loved ones. Make no mistake – such prayer sometimes takes an immense effort when we have been wronged or hurt. We can’t wait until we feel like praying for them, for that day may never come. Prayer for those who anger us isn’t hypocritical, it is a discipline crucial to re-shaping our hearts to better resemble Christ's heart.
Loving those who love us is nothing to brag about (v. 32), but loving those who despise us – while expecting nothing in return! – changes both our hearts and the world.
Comfort: Loving our enemies gets easier with practice.
Challenge: Pray for your enemies – and mean it.
Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to love my enemies as Christ loves me.
Evening readings: Ps 33
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 118; Hos 13:4-14; 1 Cor 2:6-16; Matt 14:1-12
Friday, October 1, 2010
The Joy of Uncertainty
Today's readings: Ps 102; Hos 10:1-15; Acts 21:37-22:16; Luke 6:12-26
The passage beginning with Luke 6:17 and ending with verse 49 is sometimes called the Sermon on the Plain. It parallels many of the themes of the better known and more comprehensive Sermon on the Mount found in chapters 5-7 of Matthew. Verses 20-26 contain a list of blessings and woes that sound very much like the Beatitudes (Matt 5:1-11). This list describes a reversal of fortune in which the afflicted will be comforted, and the comfortable will be afflicted. The images were jarring to their original audience, and can be difficult to interpret and apply today.
When we hear “Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry” (v. 25), does it mean we should go hungry? Is the Realm of God a world in which all people are meant to be hungry? What if we are the hungry, and through the grace of God we become full? Into which camp – the blessed hungry or the cursed full – do we then belong?
A simple approach to these questions might be to say if we are full (or rich, or laughing, or popular) at the expense of others, woe to us. A more thought-provoking, and possibly more useful, approach might be to say we should never be completely certain which camp we are in. We would be foolish and ungrateful to reject gifts like a good meal or a roof to sleep under. After all, Jesus encourages us to provide these things to the poor. However, we would be equally (if not more) foolish to believe such gifts mark us as specially favored by God. The type of blessing Jesus speaks of in this passage is a state of right relationship with God. When we become complacent or take this relationship for granted, the relationship will suffer. Too much certainty our poverty is a sign of God’s favor is no better than a belief that material comfort is evidence of the same thing. This tension in the relationship helps us actively evaluate and fine-tune it throughout our lives.
Unwavering certainty in our own state of righteousness – or sinfulness – closes us off from the transformational grace of Christ in our lives, and in the lives of others. The gift of uncertainty keeps us humble seekers, always ready to discover Christ in new ways.
Comfort: The less we think we know, the better we can know God.
Challenge: Contrast the ways in which you are poor and rich.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, thank you for a relationship that always grows.
Evening readings: Ps 107:1-32
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 107:33-43, 108; Hos 11:1-9; Acts 22:17-29; Luke 6:27-38
The passage beginning with Luke 6:17 and ending with verse 49 is sometimes called the Sermon on the Plain. It parallels many of the themes of the better known and more comprehensive Sermon on the Mount found in chapters 5-7 of Matthew. Verses 20-26 contain a list of blessings and woes that sound very much like the Beatitudes (Matt 5:1-11). This list describes a reversal of fortune in which the afflicted will be comforted, and the comfortable will be afflicted. The images were jarring to their original audience, and can be difficult to interpret and apply today.
When we hear “Woe to you who are full now, for you will be hungry” (v. 25), does it mean we should go hungry? Is the Realm of God a world in which all people are meant to be hungry? What if we are the hungry, and through the grace of God we become full? Into which camp – the blessed hungry or the cursed full – do we then belong?
A simple approach to these questions might be to say if we are full (or rich, or laughing, or popular) at the expense of others, woe to us. A more thought-provoking, and possibly more useful, approach might be to say we should never be completely certain which camp we are in. We would be foolish and ungrateful to reject gifts like a good meal or a roof to sleep under. After all, Jesus encourages us to provide these things to the poor. However, we would be equally (if not more) foolish to believe such gifts mark us as specially favored by God. The type of blessing Jesus speaks of in this passage is a state of right relationship with God. When we become complacent or take this relationship for granted, the relationship will suffer. Too much certainty our poverty is a sign of God’s favor is no better than a belief that material comfort is evidence of the same thing. This tension in the relationship helps us actively evaluate and fine-tune it throughout our lives.
Unwavering certainty in our own state of righteousness – or sinfulness – closes us off from the transformational grace of Christ in our lives, and in the lives of others. The gift of uncertainty keeps us humble seekers, always ready to discover Christ in new ways.
Comfort: The less we think we know, the better we can know God.
Challenge: Contrast the ways in which you are poor and rich.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, thank you for a relationship that always grows.
Evening readings: Ps 107:1-32
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 107:33-43, 108; Hos 11:1-9; Acts 22:17-29; Luke 6:27-38
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Mob Mentality
Today's readings: Ps 105:1-22; Hos 5:8-6:6; Acts 21:27-36; Luke 6:1-11
Poor Paul. As if his actions weren’t polarizing enough, the Asian Jews in the Jerusalem temple were ready to string him up for things he hadn’t done. They only had to say Paul had brought Greeks into the temple (he hadn’t), and the crowd dragged him outside, barred the doors, and beat him. Reaction was swift, forceful – and completely unwarranted.
Have you ever found yourself caught up in a mob mentality? It’s easy to separate ourselves from the mob by painting it as a collection of villains, but a mob isn’t always about torch-wielding villagers. In our age of instant communication, the mob may be virtual, but it is no less infectious. We condemn or canonize people over a single image or sound bite. When we are inclined to agree with a given mob’s sentiment, we are less likely to be aware of crossing the line from observer to participant. Take political campaigns: aren’t we more likely to believe and repeat negative things about the opposition? Toss in the need of politicians to “spin” a situation to manage immediate public perception, and careers – even lives – are ruined by a media-driven mob. Even seemingly positive behaviors – for example, responses to natural disasters – are made less effective by mob mentality. Charitable organizations often end up wasting donations that arrive in unmanageably large quantities at the beginning of a disaster recovery, and later run short, because people respond as a well-intentioned mob, rather than waiting to assess long-term needs.
The slow-burning mob, like the one that plotted against Jesus as his teachings began to threaten the status quo, is especially insidious. Today terms like “whisper campaign” describe an indirect attack meant to destroy a person’s reputation. Rather than appealing to a person’s sense of outrage, this type of attack appeals to the ego; we all like to feel like we are “in the know” and a whisper campaign helps us believe we are privy to insider information. We can become part of a mob without ever knowing it. The seeds planted by the Pharisees at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry help prime the mob that eventually yells “Crucify him!”
As people of faith, we must temper our reactions with love and patience. As the hands of Christ, we do not swing blindly at shadows.
Comfort: God made us capable of thoughtful action and reaction.
Challenge: Fact check even the claims you are inclined to agree with.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, thank you for the gift of discernment.
Evening readings: Ps 105:23-45
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 102; Hos 10:1-15; Acts 21:37-22:16; Luke 6:12-26
Poor Paul. As if his actions weren’t polarizing enough, the Asian Jews in the Jerusalem temple were ready to string him up for things he hadn’t done. They only had to say Paul had brought Greeks into the temple (he hadn’t), and the crowd dragged him outside, barred the doors, and beat him. Reaction was swift, forceful – and completely unwarranted.
Have you ever found yourself caught up in a mob mentality? It’s easy to separate ourselves from the mob by painting it as a collection of villains, but a mob isn’t always about torch-wielding villagers. In our age of instant communication, the mob may be virtual, but it is no less infectious. We condemn or canonize people over a single image or sound bite. When we are inclined to agree with a given mob’s sentiment, we are less likely to be aware of crossing the line from observer to participant. Take political campaigns: aren’t we more likely to believe and repeat negative things about the opposition? Toss in the need of politicians to “spin” a situation to manage immediate public perception, and careers – even lives – are ruined by a media-driven mob. Even seemingly positive behaviors – for example, responses to natural disasters – are made less effective by mob mentality. Charitable organizations often end up wasting donations that arrive in unmanageably large quantities at the beginning of a disaster recovery, and later run short, because people respond as a well-intentioned mob, rather than waiting to assess long-term needs.
The slow-burning mob, like the one that plotted against Jesus as his teachings began to threaten the status quo, is especially insidious. Today terms like “whisper campaign” describe an indirect attack meant to destroy a person’s reputation. Rather than appealing to a person’s sense of outrage, this type of attack appeals to the ego; we all like to feel like we are “in the know” and a whisper campaign helps us believe we are privy to insider information. We can become part of a mob without ever knowing it. The seeds planted by the Pharisees at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry help prime the mob that eventually yells “Crucify him!”
As people of faith, we must temper our reactions with love and patience. As the hands of Christ, we do not swing blindly at shadows.
Comfort: God made us capable of thoughtful action and reaction.
Challenge: Fact check even the claims you are inclined to agree with.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, thank you for the gift of discernment.
Evening readings: Ps 105:23-45
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 102; Hos 10:1-15; Acts 21:37-22:16; Luke 6:12-26
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tradition
Today's readings: Ps 101, 109; Hos 4:111-19; Acts 21:15-26; Luke 5:27-39
Since Jesus first challenged the Pharisees and their understanding of the law, his followers have struggled with our relationship to custom and tradition. Some, like Paul, are able to see beyond tradition to a wider ministry. Others like the church in Jerusalem have a harder time letting go. Today Christians do not observe many Jewish traditions or customs, but we have added many of our own that can make us seem as rigid as Pharisees. How do we know when to hold on, and when to let go?
Paul’s efforts to gather Gentiles under the umbrella of Christ’s grace caused many to doubt his commitment to his Jewish identity. Like many efforts at inclusiveness, Paul’s acceptance of the other was interpreted by his own community as a rejection. To assuage their concerns, Paul went through the Jewish rituals of purification, but he understood his salvation was in Christ, not in ritual. Modern churches experience this phenomenon when leaders reach out to new people with different customs. My own church struggled with adopting inclusive language, as some people interpreted it as a rejection of the masculine rather than a way to share the Gospel more effectively. From rearranging furniture to changing the structure of the liturgy, some people will resist change – and grace.
But we don’t change for the sake of change. When Jesus, using wine as a metaphor, declares “The old is good,” (Luke 5:39), he is talking about the very old – the love and purpose of God that predates even the law. We tend to think our customs and traditions have always been, and after a time we stop reflecting on the purpose they serve. In some churches, a misstep during the offertory, a bungling of the Words of Institution, or an improperly stored card table can cause great consternation. When this happens, it is time to examine whether our traditions are serving the very old, or if we – like the Pharisees – have lost sight of their true purpose. In the latter case we do not necessarily have to change our traditions, but we do need to renew our relationship to them.
As faithful followers of Christ, we should respect what he respected, and challenge what he challenged. To do this well, we must know why we do what we do.
Challenge: Learn why your church worships the way it does. If no one can really tell you, start a conversation about it.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, I seek to know your purposes.
Evening readings: Ps 119:121-144
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 105:1-22; Hos 5:8-6:6; Acts 21:27-36; Luke 6:1-11
Since Jesus first challenged the Pharisees and their understanding of the law, his followers have struggled with our relationship to custom and tradition. Some, like Paul, are able to see beyond tradition to a wider ministry. Others like the church in Jerusalem have a harder time letting go. Today Christians do not observe many Jewish traditions or customs, but we have added many of our own that can make us seem as rigid as Pharisees. How do we know when to hold on, and when to let go?
Paul’s efforts to gather Gentiles under the umbrella of Christ’s grace caused many to doubt his commitment to his Jewish identity. Like many efforts at inclusiveness, Paul’s acceptance of the other was interpreted by his own community as a rejection. To assuage their concerns, Paul went through the Jewish rituals of purification, but he understood his salvation was in Christ, not in ritual. Modern churches experience this phenomenon when leaders reach out to new people with different customs. My own church struggled with adopting inclusive language, as some people interpreted it as a rejection of the masculine rather than a way to share the Gospel more effectively. From rearranging furniture to changing the structure of the liturgy, some people will resist change – and grace.
But we don’t change for the sake of change. When Jesus, using wine as a metaphor, declares “The old is good,” (Luke 5:39), he is talking about the very old – the love and purpose of God that predates even the law. We tend to think our customs and traditions have always been, and after a time we stop reflecting on the purpose they serve. In some churches, a misstep during the offertory, a bungling of the Words of Institution, or an improperly stored card table can cause great consternation. When this happens, it is time to examine whether our traditions are serving the very old, or if we – like the Pharisees – have lost sight of their true purpose. In the latter case we do not necessarily have to change our traditions, but we do need to renew our relationship to them.
As faithful followers of Christ, we should respect what he respected, and challenge what he challenged. To do this well, we must know why we do what we do.
Challenge: Learn why your church worships the way it does. If no one can really tell you, start a conversation about it.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, I seek to know your purposes.
Evening readings: Ps 119:121-144
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 105:1-22; Hos 5:8-6:6; Acts 21:27-36; Luke 6:1-11
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
From "Either/Or" to "Both/And"
Today's readings: Ps 97, 99, 100; Hos 4:1-10; Acts 21:1-14; Luke 5:12-26
When we argue, typically we are less interested in understanding another person’s point of view, than convincing someone we are right. How often have we felt that if only we could find the perfect combination of words, we could sway an opposing viewpoint? We almost can’t believe someone could disagree with us yet still hold a legitimate opinion. When we move out of the realm of numbers, statistics and case studies and into the realm of faith, opinions may be all we have. The faithful community can survive - and even thrive on - differing perspectives by remembering God is present in all persons and situations.
In today’s reading from Luke, Jesus cleansed a man of leprosy and “ordered him to tell no one” (v. 5:14). Luke doesn’t directly tell us the man disobeyed, but he does say “more than ever the word about Jesus spread abroad” (v. 15). Christ had to go into the wilderness just to find solitude for prayer. However, the man’s disobedience increased Christ’s reputation and following. They had different ideas on how to respond to the miracle, and in the middle of this difference the Spirit worked.
When Paul was ready to leave Caesarea and return to Jerusalem, the prophet Agabus warned him the Jews in Jerusalem would capture Paul and turn him over to the Gentile authorities. Naturally the people did not want him to go. But Paul was “ready to be bound and even to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus” (Acts 21:13). God’s love was present both in Paul’s friends, who wanted him to remain safely with them, and in Paul, who valued his mission over his personal safety. We can imagine the discussion was a lot more heated and heartfelt than Acts describes. In the end, Paul and his friends can agree on one thing: “The Lord’s will be done” (v. 14).
In our homes, our churches, and our world, people of good faith will have very different opinions. Faith sometimes means dwelling in the mystery of God working toward seemingly contradictory purposes. In most cases, we can accommodate each other without compromising our integrity or faith. Sometimes, we may juggle internal contradictions. God is in all of it.
Comfort: We know that all things work together for good for those who love God (Romans 8:28).
Challenge: Ask someone’s opinion without offering your own.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, thank you for the complexities of life.
Evening readings: Ps 94, 95
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 101, 109; Hos 4:11-19; Acts 21:15-26; Luke 5:27-39
When we argue, typically we are less interested in understanding another person’s point of view, than convincing someone we are right. How often have we felt that if only we could find the perfect combination of words, we could sway an opposing viewpoint? We almost can’t believe someone could disagree with us yet still hold a legitimate opinion. When we move out of the realm of numbers, statistics and case studies and into the realm of faith, opinions may be all we have. The faithful community can survive - and even thrive on - differing perspectives by remembering God is present in all persons and situations.
In today’s reading from Luke, Jesus cleansed a man of leprosy and “ordered him to tell no one” (v. 5:14). Luke doesn’t directly tell us the man disobeyed, but he does say “more than ever the word about Jesus spread abroad” (v. 15). Christ had to go into the wilderness just to find solitude for prayer. However, the man’s disobedience increased Christ’s reputation and following. They had different ideas on how to respond to the miracle, and in the middle of this difference the Spirit worked.
When Paul was ready to leave Caesarea and return to Jerusalem, the prophet Agabus warned him the Jews in Jerusalem would capture Paul and turn him over to the Gentile authorities. Naturally the people did not want him to go. But Paul was “ready to be bound and even to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus” (Acts 21:13). God’s love was present both in Paul’s friends, who wanted him to remain safely with them, and in Paul, who valued his mission over his personal safety. We can imagine the discussion was a lot more heated and heartfelt than Acts describes. In the end, Paul and his friends can agree on one thing: “The Lord’s will be done” (v. 14).
In our homes, our churches, and our world, people of good faith will have very different opinions. Faith sometimes means dwelling in the mystery of God working toward seemingly contradictory purposes. In most cases, we can accommodate each other without compromising our integrity or faith. Sometimes, we may juggle internal contradictions. God is in all of it.
Comfort: We know that all things work together for good for those who love God (Romans 8:28).
Challenge: Ask someone’s opinion without offering your own.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, thank you for the complexities of life.
Evening readings: Ps 94, 95
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 101, 109; Hos 4:11-19; Acts 21:15-26; Luke 5:27-39
Monday, September 27, 2010
A Two-Way Street
Today's readings: Ps 89:1-18; Hos 2:14-23; Acts 20:17-38; Luke 5:1-11
In difficult times, we often ask ourselves whether we can really trust God. How often do we ask the complementary question: can God trust us?
The opening chapters of Hosea compare the relationship between God and Israel to the relationship between a husband and unfaithful wife. We can’t help but relate to this image of intimate betrayal, and the emotions it raises are useful tools for Hosea. He hopes to shock Israel into repenting over the trust it has violated, much like unfaithful spouses might confess to relieve their own guilt. God trusted Israel in a partnership, but Israel found other partners to satisfy immediate political and material needs. In chapter 2 of Hosea, God’s sense of betrayal eventually yields to a desire for reconciliation – a desire to trust Israel again. To trust us again.
Modern believers can struggle with the idea of a personal God. Does God really feel things like betrayal and trust? Maybe not in ways we understand, but the story of Christianity teaches us God relies on us to usher in God’s Kingdom. If we embrace the idea that we are created in the image of God – in all God’s faithfulness – maybe we can be a people who deserve that trust.
Jesus trusted extravagantly. When it was time to recruit disciples, he didn’t pick from the people he knew back in Nazareth, or from the residents of Capernaum who adored him for the signs he displayed. Instead he selected strangers who – upon realizing how special he was – declared themselves unworthy of such trust (Luke 5:8). They let him down along the way, but Jesus trusted these people to become his church.
In our daily lives, are we mindful that God is trusting us at any given moment? Do we live in a way that honors that trust? As in a marriage, two-way trust should not be a burden, but a relief. God trusts us enough to let us fail, as well as to succeed. God’s trust – and love – never falter, even when we do. How well do we value and honor that trust? God creates each of us worthy to help usher in the Kingdom. Let us be trustworthy as well.
Comfort: God’s trust in us is not a burden, but a joyful responsibility.
Challenge: Try to trust as extravagantly as God.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, I will do my best to be worthy of your trust.
Evening readings: Ps 89:19-52
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 97, 99, 100; Hos 4:1-10; Acts 21:1-14; Luke 5:12-26
In difficult times, we often ask ourselves whether we can really trust God. How often do we ask the complementary question: can God trust us?
The opening chapters of Hosea compare the relationship between God and Israel to the relationship between a husband and unfaithful wife. We can’t help but relate to this image of intimate betrayal, and the emotions it raises are useful tools for Hosea. He hopes to shock Israel into repenting over the trust it has violated, much like unfaithful spouses might confess to relieve their own guilt. God trusted Israel in a partnership, but Israel found other partners to satisfy immediate political and material needs. In chapter 2 of Hosea, God’s sense of betrayal eventually yields to a desire for reconciliation – a desire to trust Israel again. To trust us again.
Modern believers can struggle with the idea of a personal God. Does God really feel things like betrayal and trust? Maybe not in ways we understand, but the story of Christianity teaches us God relies on us to usher in God’s Kingdom. If we embrace the idea that we are created in the image of God – in all God’s faithfulness – maybe we can be a people who deserve that trust.
Jesus trusted extravagantly. When it was time to recruit disciples, he didn’t pick from the people he knew back in Nazareth, or from the residents of Capernaum who adored him for the signs he displayed. Instead he selected strangers who – upon realizing how special he was – declared themselves unworthy of such trust (Luke 5:8). They let him down along the way, but Jesus trusted these people to become his church.
In our daily lives, are we mindful that God is trusting us at any given moment? Do we live in a way that honors that trust? As in a marriage, two-way trust should not be a burden, but a relief. God trusts us enough to let us fail, as well as to succeed. God’s trust – and love – never falter, even when we do. How well do we value and honor that trust? God creates each of us worthy to help usher in the Kingdom. Let us be trustworthy as well.
Comfort: God’s trust in us is not a burden, but a joyful responsibility.
Challenge: Try to trust as extravagantly as God.
Prayer: Glorious Creator, I will do my best to be worthy of your trust.
Evening readings: Ps 89:19-52
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 97, 99, 100; Hos 4:1-10; Acts 21:1-14; Luke 5:12-26
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Taming the Tongue
Today's readings: Ps 66. 67; Hos 2:1-14; Jam 3:1-13; Matt 13:44-52
The Letter of James offers many real-world applications for the Gospel. In Chapter 3, the author stresses the importance of controlling the words we say. We tend to think we use words to express thoughts, but it is equally true the words we use shape our thoughts – which in turn shape our actions. The careless word we use today may use us tomorrow.
Some people have used this passage from James to argue against profanity. There are good reasons to keep profanity in check (to paraphrase Kurt Vonnegut in Hocus Pocus, profanity gives people an excuse not to listen to you), but this scripture is more concerned with the impact words have on the community. It teaches “the tongue is a fire” (James 3:6) which can kindle an inferno of conflict. At one time or another, all of us have experienced the damage gossip, rumor and innuendo can inflict on a community. Words are powerful, so using them carelessly or maliciously is never advisable.
Instead, this scripture encourages us to think of the tongue as a bit or a rudder: control it, and we control the larger body attached to it. For example, our instinctual response to someone who cuts us off in traffic is not usually a complimentary phrase. What if, instead of calling someone a @#$% so-and-so, we reminded ourselves out loud, “Child of God.” Not as immediately satisfying, to be sure, but how might it change our thinking about that person? Done regularly, how might such reactions change our thinking, period? We might use our own words to train our brains to respond more compassionately. Popular culture lionizes the gutsy, shoot-from-the-hip types, but pausing long enough to consider and control what we say before we say it is an excellent habit to cultivate.
The author asks how the same mouth can utter both blessings and curses. He compares the mouth to a spring spouting both fresh and salt water: it can’t happen – the salty will ruin the fresh. As Christians in a society of talkers, we should be careful not to ruin our hearts with “salty” words. To be safe, maybe we can borrow an idea from St. Francis, and preach the Gospel at all times – using words only when necessary.
Comfort: We can control our tongue; it does not have to control us.
Challenge: Find ways to share the Good News without using words.
Prayer: God of strength, help me control my words and shape my heart.
Evening readings: Ps 19, 46
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 89:1-18; Hos 2:14-23; Acts 20:17-38; Luke 5:1-11
The Letter of James offers many real-world applications for the Gospel. In Chapter 3, the author stresses the importance of controlling the words we say. We tend to think we use words to express thoughts, but it is equally true the words we use shape our thoughts – which in turn shape our actions. The careless word we use today may use us tomorrow.
Some people have used this passage from James to argue against profanity. There are good reasons to keep profanity in check (to paraphrase Kurt Vonnegut in Hocus Pocus, profanity gives people an excuse not to listen to you), but this scripture is more concerned with the impact words have on the community. It teaches “the tongue is a fire” (James 3:6) which can kindle an inferno of conflict. At one time or another, all of us have experienced the damage gossip, rumor and innuendo can inflict on a community. Words are powerful, so using them carelessly or maliciously is never advisable.
Instead, this scripture encourages us to think of the tongue as a bit or a rudder: control it, and we control the larger body attached to it. For example, our instinctual response to someone who cuts us off in traffic is not usually a complimentary phrase. What if, instead of calling someone a @#$% so-and-so, we reminded ourselves out loud, “Child of God.” Not as immediately satisfying, to be sure, but how might it change our thinking about that person? Done regularly, how might such reactions change our thinking, period? We might use our own words to train our brains to respond more compassionately. Popular culture lionizes the gutsy, shoot-from-the-hip types, but pausing long enough to consider and control what we say before we say it is an excellent habit to cultivate.
The author asks how the same mouth can utter both blessings and curses. He compares the mouth to a spring spouting both fresh and salt water: it can’t happen – the salty will ruin the fresh. As Christians in a society of talkers, we should be careful not to ruin our hearts with “salty” words. To be safe, maybe we can borrow an idea from St. Francis, and preach the Gospel at all times – using words only when necessary.
Comfort: We can control our tongue; it does not have to control us.
Challenge: Find ways to share the Good News without using words.
Prayer: God of strength, help me control my words and shape my heart.
Evening readings: Ps 19, 46
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 89:1-18; Hos 2:14-23; Acts 20:17-38; Luke 5:1-11
Saturday, September 25, 2010
We're on a mission from Gahd
Today's readings: Ps 87, 90; Hos 1:1-2:1; Acts 20:1-16; Luke 4:38-44
When someone claims to be on a mission from God, we probably think they are making a Blues Brothers reference. If we realize they are serious, we may question their grip on reality. When someone’s calling makes us uncomfortable, we tend throw around words like obsession. We say things like, “I know she’s really into recycling… but used staples?” We know Christ told the rich young man to sell everything and give the proceeds to the poor (Luke 18:22), but how would we react if someone we knew actually went and did it? People immersed in mission can look unbalanced to us… and raise uncomfortable questions within us.
What would we make of Hosea? On God’s order, he married a cult prostitute and named two of their children the Hebrew equivalents of “not my people” and “no mercy” so he could proclaim his family a living symbol of God’s dissatisfaction with Israel. In the field of missions, he makes staple-recyclers look like unranked amateurs. But what can he teach us?
Though Hosea is undoubtedly a more extreme example of dedication to mission than any of us will need to be, he is a model of structuring one’s life around a relationship with God, rather than cramming that relationship into a life already full of other things. Ideally, we would judge all our activities by how well they foster our relationship with God, and change or discard those that don’t. Easier said than done, right? We can’t perfect ourselves, but we can prioritize according to how God calls us, and stop worrying about how people might negatively perceive our dedication.
If Hosea is a bit too extreme for us to relate to, we can also look to Jesus. When he was ready to leave Capernaum, the people wanted to prevent him, but he was clear about the need to spread the Gospel elsewhere (Luke 4:42-43). Not everyone will receive our mission-based decisions gladly, but we do not need to feel guilty about sticking to the mission. At the same time, God’s love must always be our guiding principle, or the mission will become merely a new law to enslave us. Let us prayerfully consider what God calls us to do, and how we are called to do it.
Comfort: What other people think is never more important than God.
Challenge: Make a list of your weekly activities. Which are serving God, and which are wasting time? Remember that rest serves God also.
Prayer: God of strength, make me fit for the mission you would give me.
Evening readings: Ps 136
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 66, 67; Hos 2:2-14; Acts 20:1-16; Luke 4:38-44
When someone claims to be on a mission from God, we probably think they are making a Blues Brothers reference. If we realize they are serious, we may question their grip on reality. When someone’s calling makes us uncomfortable, we tend throw around words like obsession. We say things like, “I know she’s really into recycling… but used staples?” We know Christ told the rich young man to sell everything and give the proceeds to the poor (Luke 18:22), but how would we react if someone we knew actually went and did it? People immersed in mission can look unbalanced to us… and raise uncomfortable questions within us.
What would we make of Hosea? On God’s order, he married a cult prostitute and named two of their children the Hebrew equivalents of “not my people” and “no mercy” so he could proclaim his family a living symbol of God’s dissatisfaction with Israel. In the field of missions, he makes staple-recyclers look like unranked amateurs. But what can he teach us?
Though Hosea is undoubtedly a more extreme example of dedication to mission than any of us will need to be, he is a model of structuring one’s life around a relationship with God, rather than cramming that relationship into a life already full of other things. Ideally, we would judge all our activities by how well they foster our relationship with God, and change or discard those that don’t. Easier said than done, right? We can’t perfect ourselves, but we can prioritize according to how God calls us, and stop worrying about how people might negatively perceive our dedication.
If Hosea is a bit too extreme for us to relate to, we can also look to Jesus. When he was ready to leave Capernaum, the people wanted to prevent him, but he was clear about the need to spread the Gospel elsewhere (Luke 4:42-43). Not everyone will receive our mission-based decisions gladly, but we do not need to feel guilty about sticking to the mission. At the same time, God’s love must always be our guiding principle, or the mission will become merely a new law to enslave us. Let us prayerfully consider what God calls us to do, and how we are called to do it.
Comfort: What other people think is never more important than God.
Challenge: Make a list of your weekly activities. Which are serving God, and which are wasting time? Remember that rest serves God also.
Prayer: God of strength, make me fit for the mission you would give me.
Evening readings: Ps 136
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 66, 67; Hos 2:2-14; Acts 20:1-16; Luke 4:38-44
Thursday, September 23, 2010
People Are People
Today's readings: Ps 83; Est 7:1-10; Acts 19:11-20; Luke 4:14-30
Sometimes all it takes to be a prophet is an understanding of human nature and a keen sense of irony. When Jesus begins preaching in his home town of Nazareth, he knows the people in the synagogue will want the same signs he performed earlier in Capernaum. (You may remember from our reflection on Mark 6:1-6 that the people of Nazareth had so little faith, Jesus was unable to do more than lay hands on a few sick people.) Jesus tells them “no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown” (Luke 4:24) Five verses later, they are trying to throw him off a cliff.
They could have tried to be more accepting, if only to prove him wrong, right? But that’s not human nature. Who as an adolescent does not at least consider responding to a parent by saying something like “If you’re going to give me the third degree about drinking every time I leave the house, I might as well just do it!” One irony is a protective parent pushing a teenager toward exactly the behavior s/he wishes to avert, and a second is the immature person’s assertion of innocence via threat of guilt. In a more adult example, consider the spouse who blames infidelity on a partner’s insecurity about the spouse’s faithfulness. Or the faithful who want to throw their savior off a cliff.
Jesus saw it coming, and so should we. Across time, geography and culture certain truths about human nature persist. We tend to think we are more self-aware than other people, but in reality – not so much. When we’re not busy convincing ourselves we are better than we are, we may be looking at other cultures and communities as “noble savages” who are somehow exempt from the less desirable traits of humanity. Or worse, we may look at whole groups of people as more capable of corruption than we could ever be. As clichéd as it might sound, people are people.
The good new is, we can be better. First, we must abandon the mindset that we are exempt from basic human nature. Second, we must honestly examine ourselves as an outsider (Jesus, maybe?) might see us. Finally, we must consciously decide to act in ways consistent with our faith, even if that action goes against our nature. Let’s step back from the cliff.
Comfort: God knows our nature – and our potential.
Challenge: Ask yourself what you do, even though you know better.
Prayer: God of strength, I seek your nature before my own.
Evening readings: Ps 85, 86
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 88; Est 8:1-8, 15-17; Acts 19:21-41; Luke 4:31-37
Sometimes all it takes to be a prophet is an understanding of human nature and a keen sense of irony. When Jesus begins preaching in his home town of Nazareth, he knows the people in the synagogue will want the same signs he performed earlier in Capernaum. (You may remember from our reflection on Mark 6:1-6 that the people of Nazareth had so little faith, Jesus was unable to do more than lay hands on a few sick people.) Jesus tells them “no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown” (Luke 4:24) Five verses later, they are trying to throw him off a cliff.
They could have tried to be more accepting, if only to prove him wrong, right? But that’s not human nature. Who as an adolescent does not at least consider responding to a parent by saying something like “If you’re going to give me the third degree about drinking every time I leave the house, I might as well just do it!” One irony is a protective parent pushing a teenager toward exactly the behavior s/he wishes to avert, and a second is the immature person’s assertion of innocence via threat of guilt. In a more adult example, consider the spouse who blames infidelity on a partner’s insecurity about the spouse’s faithfulness. Or the faithful who want to throw their savior off a cliff.
Jesus saw it coming, and so should we. Across time, geography and culture certain truths about human nature persist. We tend to think we are more self-aware than other people, but in reality – not so much. When we’re not busy convincing ourselves we are better than we are, we may be looking at other cultures and communities as “noble savages” who are somehow exempt from the less desirable traits of humanity. Or worse, we may look at whole groups of people as more capable of corruption than we could ever be. As clichéd as it might sound, people are people.
The good new is, we can be better. First, we must abandon the mindset that we are exempt from basic human nature. Second, we must honestly examine ourselves as an outsider (Jesus, maybe?) might see us. Finally, we must consciously decide to act in ways consistent with our faith, even if that action goes against our nature. Let’s step back from the cliff.
Comfort: God knows our nature – and our potential.
Challenge: Ask yourself what you do, even though you know better.
Prayer: God of strength, I seek your nature before my own.
Evening readings: Ps 85, 86
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 88; Est 8:1-8, 15-17; Acts 19:21-41; Luke 4:31-37
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Just one little bite...
Today's readings: Ps 119:97-120; Est 6:1-14; Acts 19:1-10; Luke 4:1-13
Some of us long for the day when our faith is so strong, temptation will never taunt us again. It will be a long wait. Luke 4 tells the story of Jesus’ temptations in the desert. Note that while he was able to resist temptation, not even Jesus could avoid it entirely.
Many of us feel shame about our temptations. We think we are the only people tempted to think or act a certain way. We are especially reluctant to confess to those who could counsel us best, because we want to keep their respect. Instead we attempt to resist certain urges in silence and solitude, and the very thing we try to avoid – food, sex, gossip, drugs, alcohol – becomes the center of our attention because we have nowhere to banish it. Maybe we remember scripture like Matthew 5:28 ("anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart”) and believe our temptation has already condemned us.
When we speak openly about our temptations – to trusted counselors, support groups, etc. – we find first that we are not alone. We also find speaking the truth relieves the self-imposed pressure that only increases temptation. We learn scriptural words like “lust” and “covet” don’t refer to casual thoughts, but to ungoverned desire. We also learn casual thoughts left unchecked can become ungoverned desire. Most importantly, we learn sunlight is the best disinfectant even for spiritual ailments.
When we pray that God “lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil” what are we really asking? To avoid all instances of temptation? Unrealistic. We are acknowledging temptation is part of life, and that we must rely on God to help us respond appropriately. We know Jesus was tempted until the end of his ministry, when he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane that his burden might pass (Luke 22:42). The import lesson is that even in the face of temptation, he submitted himself to God.
We must not assume we’ve already lost the battle when we are tempted. The spiritual discipline of resisting temptation in small things helps us build strength in case serious temptations arise. Let’s follow the example of Jesus, and openly admit our temptation, but choose to submit to God.
Comfort: God is greater than temptation; we just have to invite him in.
Challenge: If you struggle with temptation, find a place to talk about it.
Prayer: God of strength, deliver us from evil.
Evening readings: Ps 81, 82
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 83; Est 7:1-10; Acts 19:11-20; Luke 4:14-30
Some of us long for the day when our faith is so strong, temptation will never taunt us again. It will be a long wait. Luke 4 tells the story of Jesus’ temptations in the desert. Note that while he was able to resist temptation, not even Jesus could avoid it entirely.
Many of us feel shame about our temptations. We think we are the only people tempted to think or act a certain way. We are especially reluctant to confess to those who could counsel us best, because we want to keep their respect. Instead we attempt to resist certain urges in silence and solitude, and the very thing we try to avoid – food, sex, gossip, drugs, alcohol – becomes the center of our attention because we have nowhere to banish it. Maybe we remember scripture like Matthew 5:28 ("anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart”) and believe our temptation has already condemned us.
When we speak openly about our temptations – to trusted counselors, support groups, etc. – we find first that we are not alone. We also find speaking the truth relieves the self-imposed pressure that only increases temptation. We learn scriptural words like “lust” and “covet” don’t refer to casual thoughts, but to ungoverned desire. We also learn casual thoughts left unchecked can become ungoverned desire. Most importantly, we learn sunlight is the best disinfectant even for spiritual ailments.
When we pray that God “lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil” what are we really asking? To avoid all instances of temptation? Unrealistic. We are acknowledging temptation is part of life, and that we must rely on God to help us respond appropriately. We know Jesus was tempted until the end of his ministry, when he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane that his burden might pass (Luke 22:42). The import lesson is that even in the face of temptation, he submitted himself to God.
We must not assume we’ve already lost the battle when we are tempted. The spiritual discipline of resisting temptation in small things helps us build strength in case serious temptations arise. Let’s follow the example of Jesus, and openly admit our temptation, but choose to submit to God.
Comfort: God is greater than temptation; we just have to invite him in.
Challenge: If you struggle with temptation, find a place to talk about it.
Prayer: God of strength, deliver us from evil.
Evening readings: Ps 81, 82
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 83; Est 7:1-10; Acts 19:11-20; Luke 4:14-30
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)