These Boots Were Made For Preachin'

Today’s readings: Psalms 56; 149, Isaiah 46:1-13, Ephesians 6:10-24, Mark 5:1-20

In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul created one of the most popular extended metaphors in Christian literature: the armor of God. He writes about the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the spirit. He mentions shoes, but is noticeably less specific about them: “put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace” (Eph 6:15).

What do we put on to make us ready to proclaim the gospel of peace? As a society we design and purchase shoes specific to a countless number of functions. Sneakers are now court shoes, cross-trainers, running shoes, walking shoes, and on and on. We buy shoes specific to occupations, seasons, and recreational choices (we’re especially looking at you, bowlers!). Perhaps we really don’t need so many kinds of shoes, but each makes its corresponding activity easier, safer, and/or more comfortable. That may be a good model for proclaiming the gospel.

Not everyone is open to hearing the good news in the same way. Some prefer an intellectual approach. Others respond to a more emotional testimony. And others learn more from observing our actions than listening to our words. There are probably as many ways people hear the gospel proclaimed as there are … styles of shoes. Our natural tendency is to proclaim the gospel in a way that fits us comfortably: “If I am touched by emotional stories, you must be, too!” Sharing the gospel with someone in a way that does not speak to them can be awkward and even painful. Just as we might check the weather before deciding on flip-flops or snow boots, we should take time to get to know someone rather than forcing an inappropriate style of witness on them.

We can each become a collector of “proclamation” footwear – it’s free, takes up no  space in our closets, and the more we have the more we can spread the good news!

Evening readings: Psalms 118; 111

Questions Worth Asking

Today's readings: Psalms 36; 147:12-20, Isaiah 45:5-17, Ephesians 5:15-33, Mark 4:21-34

Human beings like answers. It was true thousands of years ago in the time of the prophet Isaiah, it's true today, and it will be true thousands of years from now. Uncertainty vexes us. Sometimes we are more content to grasp at false answers than to have no answers at all. Yet sometimes the answer is simply ... there is no answer.

When the exiled nation of Israel cried out against God's seeming abandonment of them, Isaiah challenged their right to take God to task. He compared them to clay questioning the choices of the potter. The God of Israel declared he "made weal and created woe" (Is 45:7) as he saw fit, and human beings should not strive to comprehend why.

Like the ancient Israelites, we often want to know why God has allowed things

(more often bad than good) to happen to us. Some people's faith evaporates when something bad happens and the world stops making sense to them. "How can a loving God let bad things happen?" they wonder. That question can feel threatening to people of faith. An entire industry of apologetics, creationist "proofs," and theological musings has evolved to address that question. In the end, most of them are overly pat and largely unsatisfying.

Questioning is healthy, but some questions will remain unanswerable. Isaiah, Job, Proverbs: these scriptures and others advise us energy spent on unanswerable questions could be put to better use. If we can accept that God is good and bad things still happen, we can move on to address questions of a faith lived in the world as it really is: Whom shall we serve? How shall we love? Where is God leading us? Questions worth asking are worth living through.

Evening readings: Psalms 80; 27

Idols, Idols Everywhere

Today's readings: Psalms 123; 146, Isaiah 44:9-20, Ephesians 4:17-32, Mark 3:19b-35

The prophet Isaiah paints a very vivid picture of a man creating an idol. This man plants and nourishes a cedar. Half of it he uses as fuel for a fire he can use to roast meat and warm himself. The other half he carves into a god and worships. As far as Isaiah is concerned, he is worshipping the equivalent of the ashes left from his cook fire.

For some people, money is an idol, though it is no more than paper and stamped metal (and sometimes no more than a promise). For others it's a tribal affiliation, such as a political party whose platform is only as stable as it's electability. Still others idolize a denomination, the Bible, beauty, fame, or power. We may not call them idols, but they serve the same purpose and keep us from full relationship with the true God.

Even family can be an idol. When Jesus' family tries to call him away from the crowd gathered around him to hear his teachings, he declares: "Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother" (Mk 3:35). When we focus on immediate family to the exclusion of our greater family in God, we have created an idol. We need not reject our birth family, but we should be prepared to add to it.

What idols do we need to clear from our own lives? What draws focus and energy that belong to God? Perhaps it is a grudge we bear. Maybe it is an obsession with social status. It could be an addiction or a relationship or ... well, anything.

Anything we idolize is ultimately no more than ash destined to blow away on the wind. Only God is constant. We can appreciate the impermanent things of creation, but our love must be reserved for the eternal creator.

Evening readings: Psalms 30; 86

Healthy Body /Healthy Spirit

Today's readings: Psalms 135; 145, Isaiah 44:6-8, 21-23, Ephesians 4:1-16, Mark 3:7-19

When an injury occurs, overcompensating with another body part can cause further harm. For example, limping for an extended period can strain the good leg and the back and require additional treatment. Another example of the interconnectedness of our parts is the phenomenon of referred pain, which occurs when injury to one body part causes pain in a different one, such as a spinal injury causing arm pain, making proper diagnosis and treatment difficult.

In the letter to the Ephesians, Paul compares the structure of the body of Christ to the human body. He emphasizes the importance of each part, and the need for unity in a healthy body. For the body to grow in love, all parts must function properly. Sometimes, though, we may not be able to easily determine which part we're meant to be. What then?

Our "diagnostic test" is this: do our actions (or inactions) contribute to the spiritual unity of the body? If we cause other parts to falter or carry our burdens, we need to reexamine our role. However, any physical therapist knows pain in the cause of healing is sometimes unavoidable. When it occurs in the body of Christ, we must ask ourselves whether the pain is a price to pay for unity. If it is, the body will be stronger for enduring it; if not we must cease. When the body is brought back into balance, pain for all members of the body is minimized and the use of our gifts is maximized.

Like physical health, spiritual health is not founded on quick fixes. It is a mature approach to healthy, balanced decisions benefitting the body, not just ones satisfying our localized  whims and short-term comfort. We all depend on each other, and must provide and accept support accordingly.

Evening readings: Psalms 97; 112

My Own Worst Enemy

Today's readings: Psalms 19; 150, Isaiah 43:14-44:5, Hebrews 6:17-7:10, John 4:27-42

The Gospels contain two prominent stories about Samaritans. The more famous is the parable of the good Samaritan, but today's reading from John is about a Samaritan woman Jesus met at a well, and the results of her witness to her people. Religiously and ethnically the Samaritans were an offshoot of Judaism -- though they would tell you it was the other way around. One primary difference was that Jews considered Jerusalem the center of the faith, while Samaritans claimed it was Mount Gerizim. This and a few other differences made them enemies. As with many feuds, both tribal and personal, their common past seemed more to divide than unite them.

It would have been shocking to Jesus' contemporaries that he interacted with a Samaritan (let alone a woman). Her witness to her people would have been equally scandalous, yet it was so powerful they sought Jesus out and invited him to teach them. He spent two days with them, but we learn no details of this exchange other than they recognized him as the Messiah.

Inclusion of this passage may have been political, but it illustrates the inclusive nature of Christ's faith and politics. Throughout history, Christian denominations have split bitterly over ideas that most lay people never understand. Political parties are increasingly polarized, most of that division driven by extreme elements not representing the vast middle. Family members nurse grudges for years or even decades after an argument has no more relevance to their lives. Maintaining such rifts causes much more damage and fallout than the original source of tension ever could. Christ showed us we need to transcend these differences and heal these wounds face to face.

Evening readings: Psalms 81; 113

"The sabbath was made for man..."

Today’s readings: Psalms 104; 149, Isaiah 42:18-43:13, Ephesians 3:14-21, Mark 2:23-3:6

Jesus was constantly reminding the religious leaders of his time that the law was not created to oppress the people. When the Pharisees accused him of violating the Sabbath by picking grain to eat, he told them: “The Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath” (Mk 2:28) He reminded them that King David ate the bread in the temple when he was starving. The comparison may have been a bit of a stretch, but his point is clear: God’s foremost priority is the people, not the law. While it may be clear to us that picking a handful of grain for the moment’s enjoyment is qualitatively different than working a day in the field, the Pharisees made no such distinction between the letter and spirit of the law.

On the other hand, as Jesus tried to put the law into perspective, he at no time dismissed it wholesale. He never claimed the Sabbath was made for humankind…  to ignore. Christians should remember this when we consider whether faith absolves us of any particular obligations. We are eager to hear the message we are not slaves to the law, and we should just as eagerly receive Christ’s words about our responsibilities to justice and mercy. American culture is particularly prone to establishing rights, but how would we react to any proposed Bill of Responsibilities? Freedom is only one side of the coin. Despite our freedom – or maybe even because of it – Jesus clearly has expectations of our behavior; we are to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and visit the sick and imprisoned (Matt 25:31-46). Because the spirit is more important than the letter, this is not a simple checklist but a starting point. Freedom can be a wild creature; fortunately God gave each of us a brain, and we need to use it to rein in our fredom toward his service.

Like the Sabbath or the law, Jesus’ teachings were tools given to humankind. We depend on them to do our job as Christians. As with any good tools, we must learn to use them properly. To master them, not only do we have to read the manual, we have to apply them in the real world, and gain experience to know how they handle in action. A plumber isn’t a slave to his wrenches, but he isn’t much of a plumber without them.

Freedom from the law is a gift, but it is a gift we must use responsibly.


Evening reading: Psalms 138; 98

Chaotic Justice

Today's readings: Psalms 51; 148, Isaiah 42:1-17, Ephesians 3:1-13, Mark 2:13-22

Justice. To twenty-first century, Western sensibility, the word "justice" implies a certain type of order: punishment for wrongdoing, restitution for injury, protection and recovery of one's belongings and well-being. We use it in an almost exclusively legal sense. Phrases like "economic justice" spark debate about wealth redistribution  and who is deserving and who is not. We want justice to be blind, orderly, and swift.

God may take issue with that. When Isaiah describes the arrival of God's justice, the scene he paints is chaotic. God's justice lays waste to mountains, cries out like a woman in labor, and turns rivers into islands (Is. 42:14-15). As the representative of God's justice, Christ turns expectations upside down. He dines with tax collectors and other "undesirables." He eats and drinks to excess (as defined by those whose primary interest is not justice). He tells crazy stories about patched cloth and bursting wineskins. He doesn't behave at all like the messiah the Pharisees would have him be. When challenged about the company he keeps, Christ tells them straight up he is here for the sinners, not the righteous (Mark 2:17b).

If we broaden our understanding of justice beyond its strict legal interpretation, how is justice playing out in our modern world? Often it requires acts of civil disobedience -- acts that are seemingly the opposite of what is legally "just." Think of Rosa Parks, Susan B. Anthony, and Mahatma Gandhi. Each participated in great civil unrest in the name of justice. Not all were Christian or even acting from religious motivation, yet each helped move their corner of the world into a little better alignment with the kingdom of God, where the last are first and no distinctions are made on gender, social status, or ethnicity (Gal 3:28, Col 3:11).

We tend to think of blessed lives as quiet and orderly, but God's justice will upend our carefully crafted plans and lives. Followers of Christ spend a good deal of time on the margins of society, living with and working on behalf of the disenfranchised. According to each of our means and talents, we work for the type of justice that seeks to include rather than exclude, to practice mercy rather than revenge, and to raise to messy life systems that are orderly but deadly to the soul. Justice does not lock things down; it cracks them open.

Evening readings: Psalms 142; 65

Raise The Roof

Today's readings: Psalms 97; 147:12-20, Isaiah 41:17-29, Ephesians 2:11-22, Mark 2:1-12

When people learned Jesus had returned home after several days away, a crowd gathered outside his home. It was so large that one man, whose friends had carried him there on a mat because he was paralyzed, couldn't get near the door. Undeterred, they tore an opening in the roof and lowered him into the house. Jesus rewarded his faith first by forgiving his sins, then by healing his infirmity.

This healing was performed partly as a demonstration to those who questioned Jesus's authority to forgive sins. The faith of the man helped Jesus further his ministry.

How hard would we work to get our friends to Jesus? Would we tear open a roof? Open a door to give them a place to stay? Open a window to freshen a room they can't leave? Open our mouths to speak of the good news?

Of course we shouldn't try to force the unwilling to meet him. But we can lend a hand to lift up those who are paralyzed by fear, addiction, or guilt. When we suffer those same conditions ourselves, we may need to lean on the strength and faith of others to deliver us to Christ's presence. Even when it seems impossible that we might reach him, there is a way to be found if we persevere.

When we break through whatever barriers are between us and Christ's healing presence, we may be surprised to find what we really need is forgiveness -- from God and from ourselves. Without a clean start, any other type of healing we experience will be incomplete. We are healed not just for our own sakes, but also to further Christ's ongoing ministry by sharing our own witness of the good news.

Evening readings: Psalms 16; 62

Extras: Read All About Them

Today's readings:  Psalms 89:1-18; 147:1-11, Isaiah 41:1-16, Ephesians 2:1-10,  Mark 1:29-45

Shortly after Jesus recruited his first four disciples, they all stopped at the house of Simon (whom Jesus would later rename Peter). Simon's mother-in-law was sick in bed, so Jesus healed her. When her fever passed, the Gospel of Mark tells us, she began serving them.

Who doesn't appear in this story? Simon's wife, that's who. The presence of a mother-in-law tells us she existed, but Mark makes no mention of her. Nor do any of the other gospels. In first Corinthians, Paul mentions how she attended him in his ministry, yet he does not mention her name.

What must it have been like for her when her husband came home and said he'd quit his job to follow a revolutionary? That bombshell must have been unsettling at least. Given the station of women in the first century, her fate was sealed when her husband made this decision for her.

No one's journey unfolds in a vacuum. For good or ill, our decisions have repercussions for our loved ones. Our sacrifices become their sacrifices. While each of us is the star of his or her own life, there is no such thing as a supporting player: everyone is equally loved by God.

Simon's wife had a name. And hopes for her future. And as full and rich an interior life as anyone. As we grow in our faith story, some characters will stand out, but most won't. It's the "background" characters who reveal our character. Do we think of them as mere functionaries, filling a role but without inherent value? Or are we looking for Christ among them, open to hearing their tales? If in God's kingdom the last are first, perhaps the extras have the real leading roles.

Evening readings: Psalms 1; 33

Evangelize vs. Evange-lies

Today’s readings: Psalms 42; 146, Isaiah 40:25-31, Ephesians 1:15-23, Mark 1:14-28

Evangelists have a bit of an image problem. For some people the word “evangelist” evokes revival tents packed with fake healings and snake oil salesmen. The world of televangelism, with its shiny suits and big hair and hellfire pledge drives to fund air conditioned dog houses, hasn’t done them any favors either. The stereotype of the modern evangelist doesn’t seem to have much in common with John the Baptist and his camel hair tunic. For as long as we’ve had religion – maybe because we have religion – we’ve had people trying to make a buck off  faith and fear. That’s not evangelism.

When Jesus recruited his disciples, he did so with an eye toward the future and the evangelizing they would be called to do. Even in his day, people were wary of the clergy, and with good reason. Jesus didn’t start his search among religious leaders: he chose fishermen. These fishermen – Peter, Andrew, James, and John – were men of the world, hard-working businessmen who could get dirty when necessary and be salesmen when needed. If they had good news to spread – news good enough to make them leave their old lives behind – people would listen.

We are all called to evangelize, to spread the good news of the Gospels. Very few of us are called to do it by preaching from a pulpit. Members of the New Monastic movement do it by moving to the inner city and becoming part of the community. Jay Bakker – son of infamous televangelists Jim and Tammy – started Revolution Church in a bar where many of the patrons had fewer addictions, tattoos, and piercings than he did. Some people spread the good news by volunteering at church to help the elderly prepare income tax statements and others take youth to rebuild after disasters.
Real evangelists exist everywhere; you can recognize them because it’s obvious they’ve dropped their nets and found new lives following Christ.

Saint Francis is credited with saying: “Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words.” Less famously he also said:  “If God can work through me, he can work through anyone.” Each of us is equipped to evangelize the moment she or he has a story to tell.  Whether we share it through words or actions, it is a recognizably true story. The truth eventually withstands all image problems.

Evening readings: Psalms 102; 133

Holy Attire

Today’s readings: Psalms 5; 145, Isaiah 40:12-24, Ephesians 1:1-14, Mark 1:1-13

Have you ever heard the saying: “Clothes make the man?” It means that people will make judgments about you based on your attire. As people of faith we are not supposed to make judgments or draw conclusions about anyone too quickly, but the reality is we do it all the time. A pair of scrubs versus a nun’s habit versus a UPS uniform do in fact tell us something about a person’s vocation.

When John the Baptist appeared in clothes of camel hair and a leather girdle (more like what we would think of as a belt), and ate locusts and wild honey, it told the people of his time he was an old school prophet, reminiscent of those who had preached four or five centuries before him. Those same elements may seem extreme to modern sensibilities, but in his time they lent John credibility as a herald of the messiah.

While we don’t want to be self-conscious about our appearances, we should be aware of the messages they send out. Of course there is no one way to look. People of faith wear nice suits and jeans dirty from hard work. The crosses they wear may be demure gold ones or large, colorful tattoos. They express their truths in traditional attire and transgendered selections. So what part of our appearance shouts, “I am a Christian!”

2014 St. Joseph County AIDS Walk

It is the hand outstretched in a gesture of giving. It is the eye without a squint of judgmentthat truly sees someone as a person. It is the lip formed around words of love and encouragement instead of gossip. It is the head bowed in prayer at the bedside of a dying friend. It is the feet marching toward justice.

In today’s world, with its emphasis on individuality and personal achievement, these things are radical and countercultural. We can’t be content to witness with Jesus fish bumper stickers and John 3:16 coffee mugs and an occasional "Have a blessed day" that are nothing more than tribal tattoos.

Our appearance matters not because we want people to judge us kindly, but because it tells people what part our faith plays in our lives. Designer neckties and facial piercings say nothing about our God, but our demeanor and tone and generosity will be witnesses for the Spirit. What story will they tell?

Evening readings: Psalms 82; 29

Make Straight The Path

Today’s readings: Psalms 104; 150, Isaiah 40:1-11, Hebrews 1:1-12, John 1:1-7, 19-20, 29-34

The prophet Isaiah, when addressing the exiled nation of Israel, talked about preparing a highway for the Lord. Mountains would be leveled and valleys filled in anticipation of His arrival. In that time and place, kings who planned to travel over difficult terrain would send workers out ahead of them to prepare the path for smooth travel. John the Baptist quotes Isaiah in expectation of the arrival of Christ, crying: “Make straight the way of the Lord!” (John 23) While Christ traveled many literal roads, God certainly doesn’t need a highway to enter any part of the world. What might it mean for us to prepare the way of the Lord?

Isaiah and John were both speaking to people living under oppression. The valleys and mountains represented obstacles that kept the people from experiencing the justice of God’s kingdom. Making them straight meant removing sources of injustice. It’s tempting to interpret the mountains as wealth and the valleys as poverty, and the leveling as an equalization, but justice is about more than wealth redistribution. Justice is about seeing and treating each other as the equally loved children of God that we are.

What obstacles do we need to remove today? Racism, sexism, ageism, homophobia, religious intolerance – these and other forms of oppression continue to exist. Laws may prohibit them, but not truly stop them. The poor and imprisoned can become trapped in legal but unmerciful systems designed to keep them poor and imprisoned. Human justice exists in courts, while God’s justice resides in our hearts.

The task of working for justice may seem as insurmountable as literally filling valleys and razing mountains, but as the king never sent out just one guy into the wilderness to ready the whole path, neither do we do it alone. Only a few of us are called to be on the front line leading the way, but each of us is called to participate in the successful completion of the project. Making straight the way of the Lord requires a community willing to band together to brave the wild places in our society. These places may be in our homes, our workplaces, our municipalities, or even our churches.

Where will you plant your shovel?

Evening readings: Psalm 29

Here's Your Sign

Today's readings:  Psalms 46 or 47; 147:12-2, Isaiah 59:15b-2, Revelation 2:8-17, John 4:46-54

Today's reading from the Gospel of John tells the story of Jesus' second miracle, or sign. When a Roman official asks Jesus to come to Capernaum to heal his dying son, Jesus tells the man to go home and his son will live. Just as Jesus promises, the man's son recovers and the man and his whole household become believers. However, it's what Jesus says before he sends the man away that is quite telling: “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.” (John 4:48)

Jesus does not seemed excited about performing this sign. Nor was he enthused

about his mother pressuring him into his first sign, when he changed water into wine at a wedding banquet. His miracles are often accompanied by aggravating circumstances: the disciples don't believe he can feed a multitude with a few loaves and fishes ... for the second time;  his closest friends doubt him even as he raises Lazarus from the dead; Peter' doubt causes him to sink beneath the waves when Christ helps him walk across the water. Christ hopes for faith that doesn't depend on miracles, yet sometimes he resigns himself to the "necessary evil" of providing a sign.

Many of us have hoped for signs. Who couldn't use a little reassurance now and then? But the real measure of our faith is what we do in the absence of signs. How pleasing must it have been for Christ when peopled followed him not because of what he could do for them, but because of who he was and what he taught? The second time the disciples presented him with loaves and fishes, he commanded them to feed the crowd themselves, and they were successful. Faith is not just believing in what Christ can do for us, but in trusting that he will accomplish miraculous things through us.

Evening readings:  Psalms 27; 93 or 114

A (Son of) Man walks into a bar ...

Today's readings:  Psalms 46 or 97; 147:1-11, Isaiah 52:3-6 Revelation 2:1-7, John 2:1-11

Christian spiritual practice is associated with many things: self-denial, martyrdom, and hair shirts -- to name a few. "Partying" never seems to make the list. Yet Jesus' first miracle (or sign), recounted in today's reading from John, took place at a big wedding party. The miracle was turning water into wine -- and not just any wine, but the good stuff (John 2:10).

Certainly we need to take our faith and spiritual practices seriously, but a truly spiritual life does not require us to say "no" to actually living. While accusations of our savior being a glutton and a drunkard (Matt 11:19, Luke 7:34) are overstated, might it be the tiniest bit arrogant to think we are called to live a more "wholesome" life than he?

It's easy to start thinking the point of fasting, prayer, or any other discipline is the practice itself -- to make an idol of it. We are not called to sacrifice just because God likes to make arbitrary demands of us. The end game of sacrifice is not to create a bunch of morosely pious Christians, but to help usher God's justice into the world so that all have what they need to be loved, loving, and whole.

In the parable of the prodigal son, a father welcomes home his repentant son with a feast (Luke 15:11-32). This story illustrates the difference between self-destructive indulgence, and celebrating in joyful faith. We need to recognize this difference and understand when it is time for restraint and when it is time for merriment.

Service and faithfulness do not have to mean a lack of cheer or even -- heaven forbid! -- fun. Seriously, folks...

Evening readings: Psalms 27; 93 or 114

Conspiracy Theory

Today's readings: Psalms 72; 14, Isaiah 52:7-10, Revelation 21:22-27,  Matthew 12:14-21

"But the Pharisees went out and conspired against him, how to destroy him." - Matthew 12:14

Sadly, we aren't especially surprised when we discover our leaders -- political, religious, or otherwise -- are not working in our best interest. Power is intoxicating, and human beings who have it generally don't like to give it up. The pharisees felt their power was threatened by Jesus and his teachings, and they were willing to play dirty to retain it. Like politicians across all times, they convinced themselves and others it was for the greater good.

It would be nice to say Christians today were not nearly as prone to conspire against Christ, but it wouldn't be true. Early Christians held beliefs that ran counter to the dominant culture. In America, Christians a

re the dominant culture. Because this is the case, it is easy to start assuming the things we value as a society must be Christian. We conflate value-neutral systems like capitalism and democracy with Christianity in a way that makes them seem like the Unified Theory of Everything Good. When Jesus gets wrapped up in marketing gimmicks and partisan politics and national pride, we have -- intentionally or not -- conspired to undermine his message. When Christians view and treat the poor as moral failures instead of fellow travelers, or allow others to do so, we have traded Christ for comfort.

What if we could conspire on behalf of Christ? What if, instead of assuming Christ values the same things we do, we lived in loving opposition to the parts of our culture -- even the self-identified Christian ones -- that betray him? If we aren't rocking the boat in radically inclusive ways, we'll never know what it's like to walk on water.

Evening reading: Psalms 100; 67

Hearing Our Shepherd

Today's readings: Psalms 111; 149, Genesis 28:10-22, Hebrews 11:13-22, John 10:7-17

One of the most popular images of Jesus is that of The Good Shepherd. Sheep were an integral part of his culture and the traits and importance of shepherds would have been familiar to his audience. He contrasts the role of the shepherd – who would lay down his life for his sheep – to the role of hired hand, someone who was likely to flee when things got dangerous. He also speaks of the thief and the wolf, who scatter and harm the sheep out of greed and selfishness. Jesus is confident his own flock will hear and know him and be led to safety.

Sheep are not especially bright, but they know their own shepherd because he or she lives among them as a constant companion, protector and guide. They don’t have much choice but to become familiar. We, on the other hand, are free to follow our shepherd or not, to listen for or to ignore him. How can we come to know the call of our shepherd and to discern it from the hired hands and thieves who may be wolves in shepherd’s clothing?

We can know his words. Reading the Gospels for ourselves is very different from trusting others to interpret scripture for us. Many a thief has used it to bilk well-meaning sheep from their money and eventually their faith. Sitting down regularly with the Gospels and reliable sources of commentary to help us understand them in context will teach us to recognize the voice of our shepherd.

Our shepherd’s voice will lead us to abundant life. Any message that leaves us feeling diminished or unloved by God is being delivered by an inept hired hand. Of course our shepherd will challenge us and correct our path for our own good, but only in loving ways. Christ is always calling us out of the wilderness onto the path of life, not tangling us up in thorny condemnation.

We can pray. Not necessarily long, bleating prayers to fill up the silence, but quiet prayers that leave room for us to hear the divine voice always present to us. If we are out of practice it may take us a while to hear that voice, but we’ll know it when we do.

We may be smarter than sheep, but we still need our Good Shepherd.

Evening reading: Psalms 107; 15

Mavis Staples - Have a little Faith (Conan)

I've decided for the new year to add more to the blog than just my own musings, particularly things that are uplifting or tie into the theme of the day. Here's a video of one of my favorites from Mavis Staples.

Reasonable Faith

Today's readings: Psalms 48; 148, Genesis 12:1-7, Hebrews 11:1-12, John 6:35-42, 48-51

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” – Hebrews 11:1

“Faith” is a loaded term. We can’t quite agree on its meaning, not like we can agree on the definitions of “waffle” or “goldfish.” Even when we use it in the sense of “Christian faith” or “Muslim faith” we can disagree on the very foundations of those phrases. Instead we tend to pack it with our own assumptions and experiences, often so much so that conversation about it becomes practically impossible.

If we are comfortable with our own understanding of faith, is there any pressing need to define it per se? Perhaps not in a manner that we would use to persuade someone, but there is benefit to at least giving it some thought. If we don’t, we run the risk of letting others define it for us, possibly to the point of undermining it. Seminary pushes quite a few people from blind faith to abandonment of faith altogether. One reason is because they’ve allowed others to define their faith in terms of Biblical literalism, unexamined mythologies, or other beliefs that simply refute reality. When those beliefs are challenged, faith in them crumbles.

Critics of religious faith have used Hebrews 11:1 (“the conviction of things not seen”) to portray Christians as deniers of fact and believers in fairy tales. In some cases this may be true, but these are not the qualities and essence of faith. Faith is a surrender, not of reason, but of the need to build a sense of purpose on nothing but what we can prove. Even the scientific method requires faith that the laws of the universe are, on some level, reliable and predictable. This is not an argument for the existence of God, but for the truth that human beings can not function without faith in something.

Think about what your faith means to you. Does it hinge on something that could be disproved? Then it is not faith. Does it require you to deny reality? Then it is not faith. Does it provide you with the assurance that –  no matter what evidence you must accept, nor hardship you must endure – your life and all lives have meaning as part of a greater reality beyond immediate comprehension? Then it is faith. But don’t take my word for it.

Evening reading: Psalms 9; 29

What's In A Name?

Today's readings: Psalms 98; 147:12-20, Genesis 17:1-12a, 15-16, 1 Colossians 2:6-12, John 16:23b-30

Have you ever done something in someone else's name? Perhaps you've held power of attorney for someone. If you're a parent maybe you've signed official documents for a minor. Maybe you've forged love notes to Roxanne on behalf of your more attractive but less eloquent competition.

Has anyone ever done anything in your name? In cases of identity fraud, such an event can be disruptive and disastrous. Even in situations where we willingly hand this authority to someone, we know we are taking a risk with our reputation and possibly our livelihood.

Yet Jesus trusts us to beseech God in his name. In John 16 he tells the disciples anything they ask in his name will be granted. Some people interpret this as a magical formula, like children who think tacking "please" onto a request means it will automatically be fulfilled. It ends up on the end of every quick prayer for an open parking space.

The privilege of asking for something in Jesus' name is an honor we must treat with dignity. None of us would want someone to throw our name around in demeaning or disrespectful ways. When we use Jesus' name it should never be tacked on as an afterthought; rather, we should have already considered whether what we about to ask is worthy of the honor.

That goes double for any claims we make about acting in Jesus' name. It's tempting to invoke Jesus in unexamined support of our own behaviors and biases, so we need to be cautious about attaching his name to them. We should be particularly wary of using his name to condemn or exclude – would you be comfortable accounting to him personally for someone you rejected in his name? The gift he makes of his name to us is a responsibility to use wisely, not a blank check.

Jesus wants us to approach God in his name. He trusts us to understand that means representing him in thought and deed. How much would you have to love and trust someone to allow them to speak to God in your name? That's how much Jesus loves you.

Evening reading: Psalms 99; 8

Jesus Wept

Today's readings: Psalms 54; 146, Proverbs 4:1-27, 1 John 4:7-21, John 11:30-44

When Sunday school students are assigned to memorize Bible verses, John 11:35 is especially popular because in many translations it is the Bible’s shortest verse: “Jesus wept.” Generally it’s chosen more for novelty than theological significance, but pound-for-pound it may be the most profound statement about God’s love for us in all of scripture.

Why did Jesus weep? We must understand the context of the verse to know. Jesus was returning to Bethany because his dear friend Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha, had died. Jesus was greatly disturbed when Mary said if he had been there, Lazarus would not have died. As she showed him to the tomb, others made similar comments that Jesus could have prevented Lazarus’s death. At this point Jesus became greatly disturbed again and wept. 

We might think Jesus was grieving over his friend, but he had known for days that Lazarus was dead – and would be rising again. We might think he was weeping in sympathy for Mary, Martha and others. This particular interpretation may be comforting, but the original Greek phrasing suggests something else. When we read Jesus was “greatly disturbed in Spirit and deeply moved” (v 33), we need to understand the original Greek points not to sadness, but to indignation or chagrin. Jesus was upset that even those closest to him still understand neither who he was, nor the life God offered through him.

The weeping of an angry Jesus may at first seem disappointing or even unsettling. On reflection, what seemed like a humanizing, relatable moment may begin to feel like condemnation. Upon further consideration though, how can we not be touched by the idea that God deeply desires a relationship with us on a level that is so primal our inability to conceive of it frustrates Christ to tears? At one time or another all of us have been frustrated, also sometimes to tears, by a loved one who just seems lost. We want them to be whole and well. Christ loves us so much that he doesn’t just want to cry with us, but to help us understand how God’s love can lift us from this vale of tears to a place of peace.

Evening reading: Evening Psalms 28; 99