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

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

Today's readings: Psalms 103,  150; Daniel 7:9-10, 13-14; 2 Corinthians 3:1-9; John 12:27-36a

Is the concept of an all-knowing God intimidating or comforting? Sadly, some have used it to intimidate or control, but the author of Psalm 139 finds great comfort in the idea that God has been and always will be with him, from conception through death. The implication of this presence is that God cares for each of us. As God’s carefully wrought creations, “fearfully and wonderfully made,” (v. 14) we are each of us the most precious works of art in the world. Artists frequently compare their own creations to children; how could we be less to God? Good parents are not judgmental or threatening, not waiting to strike down children who make mistakes. Good parents guide and challenge their children to be their best selves. Jesus assures us God is like a good parent, when he says things like no father, when his child asks for a fish, would hand him a snake (Matt 7:10, Luke 11:11).

Psalm 139 provides beautiful images of the relationship God intends to have with us: guide, artist, parent, creator. Jesus used similar metaphors to describe our relationship to God so we might explore the unknowable yet loving nature of God. God’s thoughts are beyond the comprehension of the psalmist and of us, yet God still offers an intimate relationship whether we are living in the light or the darkness.

If we stay aware of God’s presence in our lives, even when we don’t necessarily “feel” it, we are better able to rise to the opportunity of being our best selves. While we don’t want to reduce God to the role of supportive buddy or life coach, we can consider God’s presence as we devise plans, make decisions and take actions. Taking time to reflect on how God might view our actions before we act can help us transcend our fleeting impulses and feelings. Such reflection might trigger our conscience, or even guilt, but these can be signposts pointing us to a better – if sometimes more difficult – path. Exercising self-control is not the same as being shamed by someone else. God’s presence is not a fist knocking us down, but a hand lifting us up. Let's grab it and be the wonderful creations God intended.

Evening readings: Psalms 117; 139

Open wide and say "Awe!"

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

A sense of awe is a natural reaction to the miracle of creation. Non-theists, especially those involved in the sciences, frequently cite a sense of wonder as central to their own spirituality. People of faith, like the author of Psalm 104, go further and attribute the beauty and complexity of the universe to the divine intelligence behind it all. People who find time spent in nature helps them feel closer to God are closely attuned to this sense of wonder. If we spend a lot of time studying scripture and trying to wrap our brains around God, we may find it more difficult - or frivolous - to appreciate unexamined awe. Yet this is a legtimate way of apprehending God. As we deepen in our relationship with God - as we hope to continue doing our whole lives - let's take an occasional break from the "head" space we spend most of our time in to dwell in the "heart" space where that sense of awe can reach us best.

Busy people may need to intentionally slow down to notice everyday wonders. The sky is always above, but do we ever think of it as being stretched out as the tent of God's dwelling place, or of the winds as God's messengers (Ps 104:2, 4)? These poetic images do not need to be literal to reveal truth to us. The psalmist finds wonder in springs gushing forth to give drink to every wild animal, in food brought forth from the earth, in trees and mountains, darkness and light, predator and prey. If we ever have trouble feeling our connection to a sense of wonder, Psalm 104 is an amazing resource for reestablishing it.

Let's commit to being aware of the sources of awe in our own lives. The diverse beauty of a garden or a wild meadow. The complexity of our own  bodies, even when they can no longer serve us well. The grace of a flock of hundreds of birds swooping in unison. The power of a storm that extends farther than we can comprehend. Awe can be inspiring and terrifying at the same time. What it can not be is analyzed, for then it ceases to be awe. Let us simply dwell in the presence of the Lord and for a while let awe crowd out everything else. It blesses a soul.

Evening reading: Psalm 29

Ineffable

Today's readings: Psalms 46 or 47; 146; 59:15b-21; Revelation 2:8-17; John 4:46-54

in-ef-fa-ble *
adjective
1. incapable of being expressed or described in words
2. not to be spoken because of its sacredness; unutterable

Applying words to God is a tricky business. Since God is infinite, any definition we construct insufficient. We write and speak about God, and around God, but the words we use are not God. Some of the most powerful writing about God is not expository but poetic. The psalmists and prophets were particularly gifted at painting their experience of God in vivid metaphors, some so strange as to be dreamlike. When discussing God as a saving force, Isaiah described a warrior with a breastplate of righteousness, a helmet of salvation, garments of vengeance and a mantle of fury (Is 59:17). God is infinitely more than a warrior, but for Isaiah this was an image that addressed the needs of the time. When we contrast that with God as portrayed as a mother hen gathering her chicks (Matt 23:37), it is apparent different metaphors for God serve different purposes.

One danger of metaphors is that we allow them to become definitions. For example, God as “Father” is one of the most common metaphors, so common that many people take is as a firm definition. Many find this image strong and comforting, but to others who have not had good paternal experience it can be jarring, even alienating. While we should welcome the potential for growth that exists in grappling with challenging notions of God, when we insist on our own image of God as the defining one, we do a disservice to the God who is present for all people in all times and places. Furthermore, we hamper our opportunity to experience God in ever richer ways.

The good news is that if no words are sufficient – all words are on the table. We may not be able to define God, but we can express our understanding of God in words and images that reflect our own experiences. We are not limited to existing, traditional terms that alienate or offend us. To some people – people who feel the need to control the uncontrollable experience that is God – this notion is dangerous and heretical. But if our goal is truly to better understand God and not just to create a God in an image that is convenient for us, the work of doing so is holy.

Evening readings: Psalms 27; 93 or 114   * ineffable. (n.d.). Dictionary.com Unabridged. Retrieved January 08, 2013, from Dictionary.com website: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/ineffable

(What Is) Love, Actually?

Today's readings:  Psalms 90,  149; Isaiah 8:1-15; 2 Thessalonians 3:6-18; Luke 22:31-38

If you didn't already know, or didn't pick it up over this past week, the traditional theme of the second week of Advent is love. We throw the word "love"around a lot, and tend to use it as if its meaning is consistent and apparent to all. We use just one word to describe feelings, actions and attitudes toward dissimilar things. "I love pizza." "I love God." "I love Blazing Saddles." "I love making love." Sophisticated, precise users of language may choose different words to better express nuance, but in the common vernacular, love is love is love.

As we've reflected on different types of love - romantic, divine, merciful, charitable, etc. - what questions has it raised for you? Through your own experiences and studies, how has your working definition of love changed? Do you experience love primarily as a feeling, an attitude or an action? A mix of all three? Or something else entirely? If we are actively engaged in the world, our understanding of love is endlessly evolving. Take marriage as an example. The passionate intensity of a new love can not sustain twenty, forty or sixty years of marriage; as the years pass, the landscape of the relationship changes. Self help books that teach us our relationship is floundering if we fail to hold onto or rekindle that early passion have it all wrong. Stubborn insistence that love must look and feel the same five, ten or thirty years down the road is deadly to a marriage. Movies, TV and books tell us a relationship that loses its youthful intensity is somehow lacking, but the opposite is often true: just as mature people gain depth, gravity and patience so do mature relationships.

Our love for God and people must be allowed to follow a similar path if it is to mature. Sometimes we need to let go of what we think love is before we can reach that next level of depth. That can be scary, or feel like a loss, especially when the letting go is forced on us. At the close of this second week of Advent, can we commit to bravely exploring a deeper understanding of love over the coming year? We might find God in the most surprising places!

Evening readings: Psalms 80, 72

Oh, for the love of God...

Today's readings: Psalms 18:1-20; 147:12-20; Isaiah 7:1-9; 2 Thessalonians 2:1-12; Luke 22:1-13

How does one love God? It would seem obvious we are supposed to: today's first psalm opens with "I love you, o Lord, my strength" (Ps 18:1), and Jesus told us the greatest commandment was to love God with all one's soul, heart and mind (Matt 22:37). But what does that mean exactly? God is not present to us in the immediate way of a parent, child, spouse or friend. Yet it doesn't seem quite right to love God in a more abstract sense like we might love a book or a song or a favorite flavor of ice cream. Gratitude, wonder, fear and awe - these all seem likely responses to the creator of the universe ... but love? How does one love something that at times seems like little more than a hopeful idea?

Yet we find ways. Perhaps we respond to God's love for us as manifested in Christ. Perhaps a sense of awe infuses our exterior and interior landscapes, illuminated by the Holy Spirit. Perhaps some of us do experience God to be as close as a neighbor or relative ... or imaginary friend. There are as many ways to experience God as there are people to have the experience. Yet experience and/or belief do not necessarily translate into love. How do we, with all the limits of human existence, love a limitless and ultimately unknowable God? Especially when tragedy and injustice obscure God's love for us... Is it possible to love something simply because one is supposed to?

The truth is some of us do, and some of us do not, and some of us want and try to. Sometimes the best we can do is take our cue from the man who told Jesus "I believe; help my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24). "I love; help my lack of love!"

Fortunately, just as love for people can be expressed in actions and attitudes even when feelings aren't quite there, our love for God does not have to ebb and flow with our sense of God's nearness. When James tells us "faith without works is dead" (Jam 2:20), he is describing the inability of true faith not to manifest itself in loving works. Similarly our desire to express love to others is a sign that true love of God is within us, whether it burns brightly or flickers but dimly. Either way, it guides us through the dark times.

Evening readings: Psalms 126, 62