Viva Variety

Today's readings: Psalms 22; 148, Deuteronomy 7:12-16, Titus 2:1-15, John 1:35-42

According to John’s gospel, the first two disciples to follow Jesus were originally disciples of John the Baptist. One day the three of them were standing around when Jesus walked by and John declared him the Lamb of God. The two disciples began to literally follow him, until he turned around and asked what they were looking for. Then they followed him home. One of them (Andrew) found his brother Simon and told him they’d found the Messiah. Upon meeting Simon, Jesus told him his new name was Cephas (Aramaic for Rock, the same meaning as Peter).

But don’t Matthew, Mark, and Luke tell a much more interesting version of this story? In that one, Jesus goes down to the docks, starts recruiting, and promises to make any who follow him “fishers of men.” The sales pitch is so good people drop their nets and follow him immediately. This tale was surely known to the author of John, so why not use it?

In both versions, whether guided by a teacher or invited directly, Jesus’s disciples feel immediately compelled to follow him. In a way, these two paths are representative of the ways we can come to know Christ: we can be born into a faith passed on to us, or Jesus can come bursting into our lives from seemingly nowhere. Neither way is more correct than the other, but one makes a more exciting story. While this was not the point the author of John was trying to make, maybe we can consider it when hearing people’s varying faith journeys.

If we have been born into a faith, some people’s conversion stories may seem more dynamic and exciting than our own lifelong belief. We should let their enthusiasm reinvigorate our own faith and challenge us to look at it as if it were new to us. If we are converts, we have recently given much thought to what we believe and why, like immigrants who’ve studied to become citizens. Though it may seem others haven’t worked quite as hard for the privilege, we can rely on the grounded experience of lifelong citizens of faith to inform us of the rich traditions we share. No matter how we’ve come to know Christ, we have gifts to share.

Evening readings: Psalms 105; 130

Ash Wednesday: Turn Around, Jonah

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

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

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

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

Evening readings: Psalms 27, 51

God Will Wait

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

In church we learn to praise and worship and express our gratitude to God. We thank God for the good things in our lives, and ask for his strength during the bad times. We admire people whose faith is rock-solid even during times of crisis, and usually aspire to have that kind of faith ourselves. In fact, there may be a little cultural pressure from other Christians not to express negative emotions toward God.

So let’s thank him for one more thing: the psalmists! They were not afraid to rail at God when things got tough. The author of Psalm 42 declares: “My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me continually, ‘Where is your God?’” (v 3) This psalmist is not afraid to ask: “Why have you forgotten me? Why must I walk about mournfully because the enemy oppresses me?” (v 9) And these were not private episodes behind a locked door where the other faithful could not see and judge: they were public declarations recorded for the ages. If psalms of lamentation made it into the Bible, just maybe it’s all right for us to express such feelings ourselves, even in public.

God is not so fragile that he will turn away from us like a fair weather friend because we’ve hurt his feelings. During Rosh Hashanah faithful Jews make atonement for their failings, but part of the tradition also involves calling God to account for the state of the world. The very name of the nation of Israel means “wrestling with God.” We are not required to be always happy or even satisfied with God. It might even be impossible, since we are built to be in a relationship with God, and all deep relationships at some point experience conflict.

An argument does not end a real relationship. Handled properly, it is a chance for learning and growth – though when we argue with God it is almost certainly we are the ones who need to grow. At the close of the psalm, the psalmist tells his soul: “Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my help and my God” (v 11b). If at this or any moment you are angry with God, it’s not the end of the relationship. God will wait.

Evening readings: Psalms 102; 133

Who Built It?

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

Shortly before the Israelites ended their forty years of wandering in the desert, Moses spoke to them about how they were to live in the promised land. These sermons, which make up most of the book of Deuternomy, were good news for the Israelites, but not for the Canaanites – who were already living in the promised land of Cana. The authors of Deuteronomy, through the words of Moses, warn the people of Israel:

“When the LORD your God has brought you into the land that he swore to your ancestors […] — a land with fine, large cities that you did not build, houses filled with all sorts of goods that you did not fill, hewn cisterns that you did not hew, vineyards and olive groves that you did not plant — […] take care that you do not forget the LORD.” (Deut 6:10-12)

How easy it is to believe we have received all the good things in our lives through our own merit, and to forget how much of it is due to the people who came before us. These people are not only direct ancestors, but those who shaped our lives and societies through victories – and sometimes more poignantly through losses. Financial inheritance, good genes, a strong work ethic, economies stable enough to support business, roads, an education, natural resources beyond measure, civil rights: all these things which contribute to our success and survival were provided by others who either gave them or had them taken away. No matter how hard we’ve worked for what we have, we didn’t do it alone.

Our sense of gratitude is tied to our sense of history. Each person’s life is built on the bones of those who voluntarily and involuntarily contributed to it. Our sense of justice is also tied to our willingness to remember history. All societies, past and present, are a mix of what we’ve built, what we’ve been given, and what we’ve taken. When the Israelites remembered how God had delivered them to their homes, they also had to remember the people of Cana. When we give thanks for what we have, let’s also remember where it came from.

Evening readings: Psalms 82; 29

Stop! Collaborate and listen.

Today's readings: Psalms 104; 149, Isaiah 61:10 - 62:5, 2 Timothy 4:1-8, Mark 10:46-52

Today in Mark, we read the story of a blind beggar who was sitting by the roadside when Jesus passed by on his way out of Jericho. When he realized it was Jesus, he began to cry out to him, but many people tried to silence him. Mark doesn’t identify these people who “ordered him to be quiet” (Mark 10:48), but the implication is they were followers of Christ. The blind man’s persistence paid off when Jesus stopped to wait for him, then healed him saying: “Go; your faith has made you well” (v 52).

Have we ever been one of the silencers? For example, during Sunday worship as we follow Jesus down the road from the first hymn to the eventual benediction and dismissal, we aren’t generally fond of interruptions. How would we react to a blind beggar shouting out in faith in the middle of that journey? To a crying baby and exhausted mother? To a grieving widower who sobs when the joyful song we are singing reminds him of the wife he just lost? We might actually shush them, or we might rely on the pressure of the group to do so, or we could ignore their obvious need. In any case, the message is clear: don’t interrupt.

Sure we could dismiss them as inconsiderate: why can’t they wait for an appropriate moment? Yet what moment could be more appropriate than a gathering of the followers of Jesus – the man who knew he was on the road to crucifixion but stopped in his tracks when someone cried out? In worship or in everyday life, following Jesus means stopping where he would stop. We can’t expect need and pain to wait until a convenient break in the scheduled activities to express themselves; otherwise we’ve marched Jesus right out of town.

While we can’t reasonably run down every side street searching for blind beggars, let’s be careful not to ignore or silence the needy right in our path because we have a well-crafted agenda that doesn’t involve them. Worship is more than formal prayer and praise; it is any expression of love and gratitude for God and his creation. Sometimes an interruption is an opportunity to do our most meaningful worship.

Evening readings: Psalms 138; 98

Get Over It

Today's readings: Psalms 51; 148, Isaiah 61:1-9, 2 Timothy 3:1-17, Mark 10:32-45

When Christians gain power, trouble follows. Before we get too bent out of shape over that statement, let's just be clear it's true about any religion. Some Christians like to claim we live in a nation that is – or at least should be – Christian. What exactly does that mean? Which particular branch of Christianity are they referring to? And most importantly what part of the teachings of Jesus leads them to believe political power is a good influence on Christian character – or vice versa?

Jesus tells his disciples time and again, they are meant to be servants as he is a servant. To be first, they must be slaves of all (Mark 10:44). In one sense we are fortunate to live in a time and place where our faith is not a threat to our well-being. On the other hand, having been told that we should expect persecution, we have greatly skewed our sense of what that means. Because we have no reason to fear martyrdom, we fear that any loosening of our grasp on power and control is a form of persecution. For evidence we only need look as far as the trumped up War on Christmas: why would we ever expect places of commerce to assert our religious beliefs? Then there's the outrage over religious displays that have been removed from government property or – worse yet! – made inclusive. Government recognition of a religion makes us beholden to that government – the very antithesis of what Jesus taught.

In twenty-first century America we simply don't suffer any real persecution for our faith – unless allowing people to disagree with us or having our feelings hurt has become a form of persecution. So perhaps instead of railing against perceived slights, we should be celebrating them! When we rub society the wrong way, we're just doing our job. When we rub other Christians the wrong way, we're probably earning overtime. Paul says "all who want to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted" (Tim 3:12). When we settle for becoming outraged at someone who thinks we shouldn't get to tell them how to live, we demonstrate our faith is too weak to handle the persecution ladled on those who truly spread the Good (but sometimes unpopular) News.

Evening readings: Psalms 142; 65

Broken Relationships

Today's readings: Psalms 89:1-18; 147:1-11, Isaiah 59:1-21, 2 Timothy 1:15-2:13, Mark 10:1-16

Time after time, Jesus taught his followers love, mercy, and justice supersede any technically correct but unjust applications of the law. He ate with "unclean" sinners (Mark 2). He violated the Sabbath laws to heal (Mark 3 and elsewhere) and declared the Sabbath was made for man, not the other way around. He declared all foods "clean" (Mark 7).  He criticized religious leaders for their hypocrisy (chapter all-of-them). It must have felt like he was tossing out the rulebook. Until the Pharisees asked about divorce.

Suddenly Jesus was proposing stricter standards, saying Moses permitted divorce only because his people were stubborn and those who remarried committed adultery (10:2-10). Does this seem like an unexpected turn? Not if we understand that Jesus also calls us to integrity. A man could divorce his wife regardless of his wife's wishes. After that he owed her nothing, and she could easily end up a beggar in the street. Consigning someone to such a fate because someone else caught your eye was the opposite of merciful and just.

While modern day divorce does not generally result in such extreme circumstances, it is always unfortunate. Society expects (insists?) divorcing parties to be antagonistic, or even vindictive. Yet as we do in all situations, we have the choice to act with integrity. For ourselves and our children, we should do our best to remember the other person is a beloved child of God, whom we once professed to love as well.

Relationships of all kinds strain and break, but as members of the body of Christ we remain united at some level. Even when we can't stand each other - maybe especially then - the route of mercy and justice leads us home to wholeness.

Evening readings: Psalms 1; 33

There is no eye in team Jesus

Today's readings: Psalms 42; 146, Isaiah 58:1-12, 2 Timothy 1:1-14, Mark 9:42-50

One of the difficulties of being an original disciple might have been figuring out when to take Jesus literally, and when he was exaggerating to make a point. The book of Acts and the letters of Paul don't tell any stories of one-handed, one-eyed evangelists, so they seem to have assumed the latter when he said "If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off" (Mk 9:43) and "if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out" (v 47).

Jesus was not advocating self-mutilation. He was telling us we need to remove from our lives anything that leads us toward sin and away from God. His choice of imagery tells us this process may be painful, and that we may be called to separate ourselves from things we hold dear. If "it is better [...] to enter life lame than to have two feet and to be thrown into hell" (vv 45-46), surely we can examine our own lives for obstacles we need to remove.

Maybe we need to free ourselves of an addiction. Or maybe our words are wicked with gossip. Is there a relationship we prioritize above our faith? Do we love the sound of jingling coins too much to give them away? Tongues, loins, ears ... Jesus could have used any body parts to make his point that no matter how painful it seems in the short term, we must give up things - no matter how treasured or vital they seem - that hold us back from entering fully into the life he offers.

Christ doesn't ask us to give these things up simply to exercise power over us. Every bad habit and unhealthy behavior we lop off makes room for a more abundant life. When our spirits are unburdened, our hands, feet, and  eyes - all our parts - are unlikely to betray us. As backwards as it may seem, sometimes we must cut parts away to find wholeness.

Evening readings: Psalms 102; 133

Last / First

Today's readings: Psalms 5; 145, Isaiah 57:14-21,  Galatians 6:11-18, Mark 9:30-41

If you’ve been on a job interview in the last fifteen years or so, there’s a good chance you’ve been asked: “Where do you see yourself five years from now?” Potential employers ask this question hoping to determine how well the position fits with your goals and motivation. Imagine you are applying for the position of president of a Fortune 500 company, then imagine answering this question with: “I’m hoping to be in an entry-level position in the mail room by then.”

That would be a pretty crazy answer – unless you were interviewing for the position of disciple. Jesus had some fairly unorthodox recruiting techniques (“Hey, Peter and Andrew! Quit your jobs and follow me!”) so it’s no surprise his career advice was unconventional as well. When the disciples were arguing about which of them was the greatest, Jesus told them: “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mk 9:35). When following Jesus, success means service.

This doesn’t mean we should suppress or hide our own gifts and contributions, or that we can’t be leaders. To the contrary, we should fully use all the talents at our disposal to the glory of God. We can even apply for that CEO position, as long as in all things we are serving as Christ commanded. No matter how successful the world tells us we might be, God’s criteria for success include how welcoming we are to children (v 37) or whether we give a thirsty person a cup of water (v 41). We can serve from a penthouse or a cardboard box, but we must serve.

Servant leadership costs us. Sometimes that cost may be social standing and higher earnings, other times it may be our safety. Paul bore the marks of servant leadership on his body in the form of scars from beatings he received for spreading the gospel (Gal 6:17). We don’t aspire to these hardships or offer them as proof of our superior humility , but if necessary, we modestly accept them. They prepare us for a career of Christ-like leadership. If someone asks us where we want to be in five years, are we ready to say “last of all?”

Evening readings: Psalms 82, 29

Susan Werner - "Probably Not"

Related to today's post about faith and doubt. Susan Werner is a gem.

When in doubt...

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

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

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

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

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

Evening readings: Psalms 125, 90

That was fast...

Read this article minutes after posting today's devotional on Christianity's self-inflicted PR problem. The author isn't making that point specifically, but it's a sad illustration.

Beautifully Broken

Today’s readings: Psalms 84; 148, Isaiah 55:1-13, Galatians 5:16-24, Mark 9:2-13

Christians have an image problem. Like any other group in the age of the 24-hour news cycle, our most extreme and attention-grabbing brothers and sisters make the news and tell our story … whether we’d like them to or not. When a tiny church comprised of a handful of family members pickets military funerals to protest homosexuality, they make national headlines for years. A “family-values” politician caught in an affair becomes a media spectacle and fodder for those who would point out Christian hypocrisy. These types of public relations problems are not unique to Christians, or even religious groups. The public is fascinated with scandals, especially when they involve someone who has portrayed him- or herself as a “righteous” person.

Paul seems to draw distinct lines between the drunken, quarrelsome fornicators who will not inherit the kingdom of God, and the joyful, generous peacemakers who will (Gal 5:19-23). We want to heed his words: for good or ill, the behaviors he describes do have consequences in our lives and relationships with God and each other. As Christians we can feel pressure to appear as if we have all the good qualities and none of the bad. In reality, we have the same faults and foibles as everyone else, and when we pretend otherwise, people can practically smell the insincerity. Humbly acknowledging our own flaws doesn’t diminish our witness. To the contrary it tells the true story of grace: not that we become perfect, but that we accept God’s love despite our imperfections.

Acknowledging our flaws doesn’t mean we should settle for them. As we grow in our faith, our behaviors and attitudes will reflect that growth. When someone is thoroughly grounded in her or his faith, other struggling people – believers and non-believers alike – feel comfortable enough with that person to be truthful. To love like God loves, we must recognize a person’s brokenness without defining them by it. Let’s do our part to fix that image problem by showing the world following Christ means being humble and truthful. As Christ’s broken body heals the world, our broken and contrite hearts do also.

Evening readings:  Psalms 25; 40

Slaves To Love

Today's readings: Psalms 116; 147:12-20, Isaiah 54:1-10 (11-17), Galatians 5:1-15, Mark 8:27-9:1

For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another.

- Galatians 5:13

Culture wars in the United States focus on rights and freedoms. Conflict arises when one faction views a gain of rights by the opposition as a loss of freedom for its own: gay marriage vs. religious liberty; public displays of religious symbols vs. separation of church and state; federal regulations vs. states’ rights, etc. We tend to think of freedom as the “right” to do the things we want. Compare this idea to the above quote from Paul’s letter to the Galatians. Paul’s idea of the freedom granted us through Christ is not about indulging our “rights” but about joyously embracing our responsibilities.

In Paul’s vision, we are responsible to each other to a degree he compares to slavery. The idea that someone else’s well-being is my responsibility is not capitalist, democratic, or libertarian. Strictly speaking neither is it socialist nor communist, though claiming these ideals might get you branded as such. Christian principles transcend economics and politics of every stripe. Consistently applied, they will manage to offend almost everyone who defines his or her identity primarily through a political or economic affiliation. We may claim and even believe we identify primarily as followers of Christ, but if our worldview involves rationalizing away the idea of loving enslavement to one another, we are mistaken.

In John 15:13 Jesus states: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.” This statement is about more than being willing to take a bullet. It is about living in a way that makes us as accountable for the lives of others as for our own. This is not a typical modern western attitude – in fact it seems counterintuitive. It redefines a successful life as one that is not about itself. But following Christ means following him out of step with the culture around us. First and foremost we are residents of the kingdom of heaven, and it doesn’t grant dual citizenship.

Evening readings: Psalms 26; 130

Thanks In Advance

Today’s readings: Psalms 12; 146, Isaiah 52:1-12, Galatians 4:12-20, Mark 8:1-10

Why do we say, “Thank you?”

From childhood many of us are taught to sprinkle our conversation with a generous seasoning of “thank yous” until it becomes more of a reflex than a spontaneous outpouring.  Most of the time we say it after we’ve received something, such as a gift or a compliment. The sentiment behind our thanks may vary. Much (maybe most) of the time we are genuinely grateful for what we’ve received. Other times we may be humbled. And then there are those times we may feel unworthy of what we’ve received. Like many phrases which seem simple and easy to interpret, “Thank you” can turn out to be quite complicated.

When Jesus asked the disciples to feed thousands of people with a few fish and loaves of bread, he began the meal by giving thanks to God. This may seem little different than the grace said before a typical church pot luck, but there is one important difference: Jesus hadn’t received anything yet. Even though we say grace in advance of a meal, we know there is a meal waiting to be had. For what was Jesus thankful? Perhaps for the faith that God would provide.

Some people believe thanking God, or the universe, in advance is part of a formula for actualizing your desires. Beginning from a place of thanks is much simpler than that: it helps us acknowledge that what we have is enough, and when we have enough we find it easier to share with those who do not. The idea of saying grace is tied primarily to meals (partly because people were literally praying the food would not kill them), but what if we said a prayer of thanks before a wider range of activities? Thanking God for the time, money, resources, and love in our lives – in advance of the time we need or share them – can greatly improve our attitudes and outlook.

Let’s not reserve our thanksgiving until after we have received. Let’s give thanks in advance for whatever it is God may place in our lives, and we will be prepared to put those gifts to use in ways beyond imagining.

Evening readings:  Psalms 36; 7

The Moral Arc

Morning readings: Psalms 122; 149, Isaiah 51:1-8, Galatians 3:23-29, Mark 7:1-23

The Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. famously said: "The arc of the moral universe is long but it bends toward justice." He was not the first to use this particular metaphor. In 1857 Unitarian minister Theodore Parker used it in a sermon against slavery. Between Parker and King, other religious referenced the "moral arc." This image endures because because it bears out over time. Over the centuries, as prejudices become less acceptable, more and more people have gained access to freedom and justice .

Jesus constantly expanded the circle of justice to include the disenfranchised and despised. As Paul wrote to the Galatians: "There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus." (Gal 3:28). Distinctions that separate human beings from one another have no meaning in the kingdom of God. Since Paul's time, the moral arc has led the church to remove divisions and champion justice in the form of abolition, civil rights, child labor laws, and other progressive social movements. Like society at large, the church experiences an uneven ebb and flow of progress, but on the whole it moves in the direction of justice. What barriers to justice are eroding right now?

Popular wisdom says that once we get to know individuals  or groups, we are more inclined to consider them equal and treat them justly. While this is generally true, and while it is desirable to broaden our understanding of the world by getting to know people, a hard truth remains: we simply don't have time to understand all the people Jesus would have us love. Does Christian love - expressed in mercy and justice - require us to understand its recipients? It does not, and demands to be extended especially toward those who remain alien to us.

Perhaps the only real division is between people we understand and people we don't. Can we rise to the challenge of loving people justly even when our lack of understanding makes us uncomfortable? The road to justice arcs beyond our ability to see, but it is where Christ waits to meet us.

Evening readings: Psalms 100; 63

Riding Out The Storm

Today's readings: Psalms 88; 148, Isaiah 50:1-11, Galatians 3:15-22, Mark 6:47-56

The Gospels contain a few different versions of stories about Jesus walking on water. In today's reading from Mark, he begins striding across the Sea of Galilee when he notices the disciples in their boat are struggling against the waves. The shortest sentence in this story may be the most revealing: "He intended to pass them by." (Mark 6:46b)

Jesus only climbed into their boat when they thought he was a ghost and grew afraid. Until that point, it seemed he expected they would be capable of fending  for themselves. Only a few minutes away from his presence, and they lost courage and - it seems - the ability to recognize him.

At some points in our lives, even the most faithful can feel like God has abandoned us. What if - like Jesus walking past the disciples in the boat - God has more faith in our ability to weather the storms than we do? Our strength derives from the knowledge (if not necessarily the feeling) God is always with us, but he does not literally need to be in the same boat. Could it be possible that when God is moving in a direction we don't expect, particularly one that is diverging from us, we might fail to recognize the movement as his?

Jesus was teaching his disciples more than how to follow him: he was teaching them to lead others. He left them (and us) the Holy Spirit, but he also left them with the reassurance he believed they were capable of feeding his sheep (John 21:15-17). It took a lot of stormy moments - culminating in the crucifixion - for the disciples to understand this lesson. If we are to be witnesses for the good news, we must not despair every time the boat rocks. During the worst storms, even if we are to drown, God walks the waters to lift us out.

Evening readings: Psalms 6; 20

A burden shared...

Today’s readings: Psalms 54; 146, Isaiah 48:12-21 (22), Galatians 1:18-2:10,  Mark 6:1-13

When Jesus felt the disciples were finally ready to travel and spread his teachings, he dispatched them in pairs. He told them to bring nothing extra: no food, no luggage, no extra clothes and no money. For shelter they were to rely on the hospitality of the communities they visited, and in its absence they were to rely on the open road. Though his commands sounded harsh, Mark reports the disciples had successful journeys.

It’s easy to develop a mindset that we just can’t survive without the basics. As technology evolves, the “basics” have become anything but: smart phones, tablets, fitness bands, bottled water, credit cards, etc, etc.  Today we can barely imagine going on a mission trip without a GPS and the Bible on an e-reader. Imagine what it would feel like to have Jesus unpacking your purse or backpack or luggage saying: “You won’t be needing this mp3 player. Or this phone. Or different shoes for hiking and digging. Or this pencil. Or…” until eventually you have nothing but a walking stick, the clothes on your back, and a single companion.

Photo Credit: John Schultz

Yet what a gift it is when two people are separated by no distractions and joined by a dedication to the Good News. On our own we can easily wander down the wrong path, but a companion keeps us accountable and on track. Our fear is less when someone has our back, and our strength is greater when we are responsible for and with another. Throughout the scriptures we can read examples of prophets and leaders who were at their best when they had a partner sharing the burden: Moses and Aaron, David and Jonathan, Ruth and Naomi, Elijah and Elisha.

Relationships are formed in the absence of distractions. Being fully present with another person while you both are working for the Kingdom of God is a uniquely bonding experience. That work can be anything from digging wells in Africa to praying together for someone in need. It can’t be done well if we are dealing with unnecessary items that distract us from the task at hand. Jesus teaches us again and again that we don’t need possessions. Even more he teaches us we need each other.

Evening readings: Psalms 28; 99

Worthy

Today’s readings: Psalms 57; 145, Isaiah 48:1-11, Galatians 1:1-17,  Mark 5:21-43

Every one of us feels insecure about something. Perhaps it's our physical appearance. Our weight. Our ability. Our lovability. Our faith. Secrets we keep. Secrets we can't keep. Things we've done. Things we've left undone. Sadly, human beings have an infinite capacity for reasons to feel insecure. Left to fester, feelings of insecurity can quickly grow into feelings of unworthiness. Do we know anyone who feels unworthy to be loved by themselves, by others, or even by God? Where do we get these ideas we might be unworthy?

In today's gospel story, a woman who suffered with a hemorrhage for twelve years touched Jesus's robe and was healed by her faith. Under Levitical law, this woman was unclean, and therefore unworthy of touching a rabbi like Jesus. Societal norms might have kept her from being healed, but Jesus had no words of rebuke for her – only words of praise for her faith. As the incarnation of the divine, Jesus demonstrated unworthiness is a concept we use to hold each other back but it places no limitations on God's love for us. We must never let anyone tell us differently.

Other times feelings of unworthiness spring from actions we have taken and lives we have led. In his letter to the Galatians, Paul reminds them that before he evangelized for Christ, he was a murderer of Christians – surely a matter of no small regret. He also points out that once God chose him, he "did not confer with any human being" (Gal 1:16) but set directly about his calling. We learn at least two things from his experience. First, we are worthy because God tells us so, not because we or someone else decides it. Second, we don't have to wait for the approval of others to behave as though we are worthy: if that were the case, Paul would never have gotten started!

If God felt a notorious murderer of Christians was worthy of being their greatest evangelist, how much ego does it take to believe our small offenses make us unworthy of God's love? When we don't have faith in our own worthiness, let's remember our God has faith in us!

Evening readings: Psalms 85; 47

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