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
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
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
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
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
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
