It's 3:16 somewhere...

Today's readings:   Psalms 27; 147:12-20, Deuteronomy 9:23-10:5, Hebrews 4:1-10, John 3:16-21

John 3:16 is possibly the most commercially successful verse in the Bible. It's so marketable that the reference alone is enough to sell millions of keychains, bumper stickers, t-shirts, coffee mugs, eyeglass cases, and just about anything else that can sport an imprint. It is the unofficial logo of Brand Jesus.

It's a beautiful verse that sums up the message of the gospel: "For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life." Is it possible it could be a little too popular? Without delving into the whole discussion about faith versus works, is it possible we can be so happy all we have to do is "believe" that we never get around to doing the work of God's kingdom? After all, belief is a solitary and internal occurrence. It doesn't feed the poor or clothe the naked, or do any of the things Jesus says we do for him when we do them for the least of our sisters and brothers.

The verses following John 3:16 expand on its statement, and describe how those who believe embrace the light, and those who don't believe stay in the darkness because it hides their deeds. No matter how strongly we "believe in him" (and what exactly that means is a discussion unto itself), maybe we should spend a few moments considering whether we would be comfortable with Christ's light shining on our lives. Belief is the beginning of faith, not the end. If how we live our lives does not stand up to the light, our belief dies on our lips instead of living in our hearts.

Jesus's sacrifice requires more from us than buying our accessories at the local branch of "3:!6 24/7." Bumper stickers will eventually fade in the light; the service we perform in Christ's name is eternal.

Evening readings:  Psalms 126; 102

Money Changes Everything

Today's readings: Psalms 34; 146, Deuteronomy 9:(1-3) 4-12, Hebrews 3:1-11, John 2:13-22

Today's reading from John is one of the most famous Jesus stories of all time. Jesus enters the temple and -- incensed by the money changers and people selling animals -- he fashions a whip out of cords and drives them away livestock and all. He then turns over the tables of the moneychangers. Scary, eh? This  Jesus is not the forgiving Prince of Peace in whom we find comfort. This Jesus is angry and impulsive.

Or is he? We don't know how many cords he used, but creating a whip involved knotting each one in a specific fashion. Not an all-day process, but long enough for people to notice what he was doing. And whipping was not a typical Jewish punishment: it was a specifically Roman practice. Money changers converted Roman currency, which the Jews were forced to use under Roman occupation, into currency acceptable at the temple -- at very high cost. Those selling animals took advantage of poor people who had no livestock of their own to sacrifice. More than impulsive rage, Jesus's response communicated a specific message: those who used the occupation to further oppress their Jewish brothers and sisters placed themselves outside the community and were subject to the brutality of the masters they chose to serve.

While whipping is off the table, we need have no patience for people who try to insert commerce between us and our God. True followers of Christ do not ask for donations in exchange for prayer or show favor in proportion to one's financial resources. Religious leaders who do such things, particularly when they exploit the poor and desperate, deserve to be challenged and -- if necessary  -- rebuked. No human agent stands between us and God. His love and grace are free to all.

Evening readings: Psalms 25; 91

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

Gifted Children

Today's readings: Psalms 48; 147:12-20; 1 Kings 19:1-8; Ephesians 4:1-16; John 6:1-14

We have an odd relationship with gifts. Some of them, the ones that are just the ones we want or didn’t know we wanted – can be treasured for a lifetime. Others, like a ceramic lamp given to you by a beloved relative but not quite to your taste, can be a burden – especially if you feel obliged to put it out when she visits. Giving gifts can be an equally mixed experience. It’s a joy when we know just what to give or stumble across the perfect item, and it’s a painful obligation to select a gift when we are uninspired.

Gifts from God can be the same way. We may value them, as Paul valued the spiritual gifts of the
church at Ephesus (Eph 4:1-8). We may feel they are burdens, as did Elijah who ran and hid when the consequences of his prophetic gift became dangerous (1 Kings 19:1-8). Or like the apostle Andrew, who never imagined five loaves and two fishes would feed thousands, we may not even recognize how mighty they are (John 6:8-9).  In the end, no matter how we feel about them, gifts are meant to be used: to do any less is to fail be to be true to ourselves and to God.

While we shouldn’t underestimate our gifts, we shouldn’t overestimate them either. They don’t exist in a vacuum, and are most effective when combined with the gifts of others. The gifts of a community support and amplify each other. Some provide vision, some provide funds, and some provide skill. As Paul told the Ephesians, “we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and knit together by every ligament with which it is equipped, as each part is working properly, promotes the body's growth in building itself up in love” (Eph 4:15b-16).

Let us embrace both our gifts and their limits. Let us neither neglect nor boast of them. Let us embrace the gifts of the community so each may multiply the fruits of the others. Each child of God is a gifted child. Living into those gifts and encouraging others to do so makes us participants in the realm of God that yearns to break though into the world.

Evening readings: Psalms 9; 29

401K. IRA. WWJD?

The story of the loaves and fishes is known even to many non-Christians because it works on several levels. It foreshadows communion as an example of Jesus welcoming everyone to the table (even if the table is a grassy hill). It speaks to our basic need to be fed both physically and spiritually. It challenges our reflex to respond to the world as a place of scarcity and need. That last idea, where we wrestle with faith versus practicality, can be especially difficult for us in a culture where terms like "Christian Financial Planning" and "prosperity gospel" abound.

Whether Jesus performed a supernatural act, or the crowd was moved to share what was hidden amongst them, the point is the same: when we dedicate our resources to God's purposes, there will be more than enough. When the crowd dispersed, there were enough fragments of the original five loaves left to fill twelve baskets! When we have a fish or loaf and others don't, the gospel calls us to act in faith. Sometimes that means releasing what we have and trusting that it will serve a higher purpose. For an individual that loaf might be time, money and/or talent. For a church community the fish might be other assets; for example, if our attachment to owning and maintaining a particular piece of real estate erodes our time and ability to do mission, we need to ask whether a fear of scarcity causes us to grip that fish more tightly.

In God's economy, resources hoarded are resources wasted. As loath as we Americans are to admit it, our obsession with 401K and IRA runs counter to WWJD. It only makes sense to us to plan for our financial future, but that is never the future Jesus teaches about unless he says to stop worrying and trust nothing but God. If we are "responsible" people, that message can be a real punch to the gut, but if we are faithful people we need to hear it and wrestle with what it means for us, especially when it puts our feet to the fire. We spend our whole lives learning to loosen our grip on what we know we possess to free our hands for God.

Hearing the Message

Today's readings: Psalms 96; 149; Isaiah 12:1-6; Revelation 1:1-8; John 7:37-52 

When we receive a message, we evaluate it from different angles. We consider the source, the delivery style and the content. We may ask ourselves: Is the source reliable? Is the delivery sincere, sarcastic or something else entirely? Is the content believable? Communication is a complicated endeavor, but because it happens constantly we tend to take for granted that we handle this complexity efficiently. In most cases this may be true, but if we're not paying attention we can be manipulated - or unwittingly manipulate the message ourselves.

In John 7 Jesus delivers a message meant for both the uneducated crowds and the highly educated Pharisees, to varying effects. The crowd loves him; the pharisees want to find a reason to arrest him. At the very least they want to dismiss him because he comes from the backwater town of Galilee. When Nicodemus points out that Jewish "law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing" (v 51), they suggest Nicodemus must be from Galilee if he wants to defend Jesus. While the Pharisees fume and fuss, at this point they have no legitimate reason to discredit the message other than "I don't like it."

How do we react to messages we don't like? Does that reaction depend on the source? If we are told at work we have performed poorly, does our reaction depend on whether it comes from a co-worker, superior or subordinate? Should it? Certainly we need to be critical of messages we hear, but first we need to be willing to hear the content, regardless of the source. If our first response to a negative message or criticism is "Who do you think you are?" ... there's a good chance we are unfairly negating a source to avoid unpleasant content. It is a human and understandable reaction, but leaving it unexamined diminishes our integrity.

This effect pervades all levels of society - families, businesses, government, religion etc. Like Nicodemus when faced with it we should challenge it. In a just society, valid content is considered fairly regardless of the source. Let's welcome truth wherever it is found.

Evening readings: Psalms 132; 97

The Details Are in the Devil

Today's readings: Psalms 34, 147:12-20; Proverbs 8:22-30; 1 John 5:1-12, John 13:20-35

In John's account of the last supper, after Jesus handed Judas a piece of bread, "Satan entered into [Judas]" and Jesus sent him on his way to advance his act of betrayal (John 13:27). What do we think of this idea of Satan entering him? Do we think Judas was set up? Not in control? A co-conspirator with the Devil himself? All these ideas and more have been proposed by theologians across the centuries. One of the reasons they appeal to some of us is that they suggest Judas was not wholly responsible for his actions, and the next logical step down that path of thinking is that perhaps we are not wholly responsible for our own wrongdoings. Even if we don't blame Satan directly, we are prone to pin our failings on others: parents who were too strict (or not strict enough), peers who pressure us into poor choices, employers who don't treat us fairly, spouses who disappoint us. The simple truth is we are responsible for our own actions. Period.


An earlier chapter in John tells us Judas, as treasurer of the group, stole from the money bag (John 12:6). Satan doesn't get the blame for that one, which implies something about Judas’ character. It may seem like a big leap from stealing petty cash to betraying the savior of the world, but is it really? Certainly we all fail and sin in ways big and small, so what’s the difference between us and Judas?

Nothing, that’s what. And admitting that unpleasant truth can keep us from falling into the same spiritual trap as Judas. Just as we let God into our lives a little at a time by opening a door in our hearts through acts and attitudes of love and charity, we let in evil – whatever we name it – through acts and attitudes of selfishness and betrayal. Evil didn’t force its way into Judas: it stepped through an opening pushed wide over time. The good news is we can control which doorway is wide and which is narrow. Facing up to that control may involve the difficult task of honestly reevaluating our accountability for our own choices, but doing so prepares us to make better ones that let Christ in further. And in Christ there are no victims, only victors.

Evening readings: Psalms 19, 121

Justice or Just You?

Today's readings: Psalms 50, 147:1-11; Isaiah 6:1-13; 2 Thessalonians 1:1-12; John 7:53-8:11

Today's readings contain a lot of words about justice. In Psalm 50, God is portrayed as a devouring fire and a mighty tempest delivering judgment (v 3-4). Smack in the middle of the verses of praise from Psalm 147, God is casting down the wicked (v 6). In Isaiah's vision cities are laid to waste and the land made desolate and reduced to stumps as a result of God's wrath and justice (6:11-13). In his letter Paul tells the Thessalonian church that "it is indeed just of God to repay with affliction those who afflict you" (v 6).

Then we get to one of the most famous stories in the Bible, the story of the woman who is about to be stoned for adultery. She gets to walk away when Jesus challenges anyone without sin to cast the first stone. Before he speaks that famous line, he squats down and starts writing on the ground. The Bible does not explain what he wrote, but several theories are floating around: he was stalling to collect his thoughts; he was cataloging the sins of her accusers; he was writing their names as a subtle way of displaying his supernatural knowledge. There's an intriguing case to be made that, per the prophecies of Jeremiah, he was the only one present actually interested in delivering justice as prescribed by the laws of the temple (which also required the presence of her conspicuously absent male cohort) and writing in the dirt was part of the ritual.

Whether any or none of those speculations is true, there is a powerful message in the uncertainty. Any one of us could think of something we would prefer Jesus not know about, let alone write down for the world to see. Thinking about our own shortcomings shifts our focus from justice to mercy. Too often justice is what we want to happen to other people, while mercy is what we hope for ourselves. Of course justice is important, but without mercy it is only revenge. When we stoop to pick up a rock, we're in a perfect position to read what's written in the dirt at our feet. Justice may be blind, but Jesus restores sight.

Evening readings: Psalms 53, 17