Today's readings: Psalms 130; 148, Genesis 11:27-12:8, Hebrews 7:1-17, John 4:16-26
No matter how strong our faith, we eventually have a day - or maybe an achingly long series of days - when God seems far away. We don't talk about those much in church. Rather, church often seems to have an unspoken rule that we are always supposed to put on a brave face: anything else might cause others to question the sincerity of our faith. Expressions of doubt during a Bible study prompt others to offer arguments for belief so they don't have to feel uncomfortable. A minor breakdown during prayer time is viewed as unseemly and inappropriate, maybe even a topic for gossip in the parking lot. Loss and weakness are celebrated if we've already overcome them, but no one likes to watch the sausage being made. A story of overcoming a gambling addiction? Testify! A confession about how your ongoing blackout drinking leads to promiscuity? Save it for the 12-step meeting. We talk a good game about brokenness, vulnerability and healing but we really want to skip right to the "after" photo because the "before" is too upsetting.
The Psalms tell a different story. Many of them describe how we can be simultaneously faithful and in a wretched state. The author of Psalm 130 is crying out to to God from the depths of despair (v 1). He recognizes his own failings and shortcomings (v 3). He finds himself unable to do anything but wait for the Lord (v 6) and hope for the best. He still puts his trust in God but he's not putting up a brave front.
Questions, moments of weakness, despair: these do not demonstrate a lack of faith. They are the times that tell us whether we had any faith in the first place. Like the psalmist, sometimes the best we can do is beg God to get us through the darkness while we hunker down and hang on until daylight (v 6). A healthy faith community will offer safe space to rail against injustice, our struggles, and the seeming distance of God. It will face darkness head on but bring a light into it. Since communities are made of people, the responsibility of creating such space then falls on each of us. We can be ourselves when we allow others to do the same.
Evening readings: Psalms 32; 139
Friday, January 24, 2014
Monday, January 20, 2014
Hurrah! Now what?
Today's readings: Psalms 135, 145; Genesis 8:6-22; Hebrews 4:14-5:6; John 2:23-3:1
Imagine you are a member of Noah's family. You've been inside the ark for 150 days. What once seemed like an enormous structure has shrunk to feel cramped and confining. The smell of animals and their trappings permeates your clothes and hair. After 5 months maybe you have begun to wonder if you will live to see the waters recede or if you are really in a floating tomb. But the day you've been hoping for has finally arrived: a dove has returned with evidence of dry land. Today is the day you get out.
As the cover is pulled back and the door opens you are giddy with excitement, but before long that feeling fades and others replace it. After months at sea, your legs are unsteady on land. Sunlight you haven't seen in months feels good on your face, but is blinding and disorienting. The family you love but desperately want some time away from insists on gathering together to praise God and plan the next steps. The world is bright and new, yet it's a little ... disappointing.
Reaching a goal can raise us to an emotional high, but afterward it may also leave us feeling empty. Ready for renewal and transformation, we discover we need to take a little time to steady ourselves and gain our bearings. We are satisfied to complete our project, to graduate, to retire, to give up that bad habit, or to start that new routine. The Bible is full of stories of abrupt transformations, so we may be disappointed to learn that even the biggest events of our own lives are made of ... baby steps.
When we are reborn in Christ - however many times that may happen - we learn to crawl again before we learn to run again. Freedom from an addiction happens one day at a time. Forgiving others is a gradual release. Commitments to daily prayer are often a series of initial setbacks. Healing is followed by the tedium of rebuilding a life one block at a time.
A little emotional letdown is not a sign of failure or insignificance, but part of the process. One day we will remember back to the moment the ground became solid under our feet, and appreciate each step it made possible to take afterward.
Evening readings Psalms 97, 112
Imagine you are a member of Noah's family. You've been inside the ark for 150 days. What once seemed like an enormous structure has shrunk to feel cramped and confining. The smell of animals and their trappings permeates your clothes and hair. After 5 months maybe you have begun to wonder if you will live to see the waters recede or if you are really in a floating tomb. But the day you've been hoping for has finally arrived: a dove has returned with evidence of dry land. Today is the day you get out.
As the cover is pulled back and the door opens you are giddy with excitement, but before long that feeling fades and others replace it. After months at sea, your legs are unsteady on land. Sunlight you haven't seen in months feels good on your face, but is blinding and disorienting. The family you love but desperately want some time away from insists on gathering together to praise God and plan the next steps. The world is bright and new, yet it's a little ... disappointing.
Reaching a goal can raise us to an emotional high, but afterward it may also leave us feeling empty. Ready for renewal and transformation, we discover we need to take a little time to steady ourselves and gain our bearings. We are satisfied to complete our project, to graduate, to retire, to give up that bad habit, or to start that new routine. The Bible is full of stories of abrupt transformations, so we may be disappointed to learn that even the biggest events of our own lives are made of ... baby steps.
When we are reborn in Christ - however many times that may happen - we learn to crawl again before we learn to run again. Freedom from an addiction happens one day at a time. Forgiving others is a gradual release. Commitments to daily prayer are often a series of initial setbacks. Healing is followed by the tedium of rebuilding a life one block at a time.
A little emotional letdown is not a sign of failure or insignificance, but part of the process. One day we will remember back to the moment the ground became solid under our feet, and appreciate each step it made possible to take afterward.
Evening readings Psalms 97, 112
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