Today's readings: Psalms 24, 150; Isaiah 33:17-22; Revelation 22:6-11, 18-20; Luke 1:57-66
One popular "definition" of insanity is to do something over and over and expect a different outcome. Maybe it's popular because almost all of us can relate to it in some manner: this time I'll stick to my diet; this time I'll quit smoking; this time my child will behave responsibly. An entire industry of books, videos and web sites has grown around the science of changing our behavior to achieve the results we tell ourselves we want. But before any techniques can be effective, we must first ask ourselves whether we truly want to change. And if we are honest, an uncomfortably high number of times the answer is ... "not really." Or perhaps more accurately, "not if I have to push my boundaries to get there." All to often we will consciously or unconsciously choose an unpleasant present over an uncertain future.
Even little changes can seem like major upheavals. When, in today's reading from Luke, Elizabeth decides to name her son John instead of naming him for his father Zechariah, as the tradition of family names dictates, the neighbors and friends reject the idea. They ask the father, who has been struck mute for a long time, to verify her choice. When he agrees to the choice in writing, his tongue is suddenly freed and he begins praising and preaching about the Lord. The neighbors are freaked out, but real change has occured, and in the person of John the Baptist will pave the way for greater change still.
Taking that first real step can be intimidating. If, for example, we are prone to gossip - or just listening to it when others share - it takes a lot of courage to break that pattern. When we finally decline to participate we might be called a hypocrite bcause of past participation. We also risk a loss in popularity or social standing. These possibilities provide powerful incentive and excuse not to change, even when we know we should. And there are countless similar situations with the same dynamic. But if we find the courage to make that change even when those around us are working against it, we - like Zechariah - may just find parts of ourselves freed to get about the work of the Lord.
Evening readings: Psalms 25, 110
Showing posts with label Luke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Luke. Show all posts
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
Sometimes it's better to receive...
Today's readings: Psalms 102, 148; Isaiah 7:10-25; 2 Thessalonians 2:13-3:5; Luke 22:14-30
How do you feel about being loved? The answer may depend on the kind of love we are talking about. Romantic love? Most of us are happy to receive it. Love in the form of mercy? We are often surprised by it, but almost always welcome it. How about love in the form of charity? Ah! That's a tougher one. As Christians, we are usually happy to dispense it, but many (most?) of us are far less comfortable on the receiving end. But wait ... if we believe receiving charity somehow diminishes us, what does that say about our true feelings about others who accept it? Are we thinking of them as equals? How we receive tells us about the underpinnings of our giving.
Before Jesus broke bread and poured wine at the Last Supper, he stripped to the waist and washed the feet of everyone present. Later he told them "the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves" (Luke 22:26). This passage is usually used to teach the importance of being servants, but it contains another, often overlooked lesson: we must be willing to be served. How does this idea sit with us -- particularly us capitalist, by-our-own-bootstraps, modern Americans? Not very well, that's how. We are immersed in a secular culture based on a merit mentality with an implicit asumption the virtuous are rewarded and the lazy and other "sinners" are not. We have to be deliberate about disentangling ourselves from this notion, or we can't truly be givers in a Christian sense; nor can we get past the insecurity (masquerading as pride) which prevents us from receiving with a glad heart.
The requirements we have chosen to place on all the communion tables that are heirs to that Last Supper say more about the people making the rules than the people they exclude. The necessary flip side of believing some are not welcome at the table is the idea that the rest have somehow earned an invitation. Christ's gifts to us can never be earned but are given freely. Until we believe it is acceptable - necessary - for us to receive love from God or people without earning it, we can't truly believe it for others. Let's receive joyfully!
Evening readings: Psalms 130, 16
How do you feel about being loved? The answer may depend on the kind of love we are talking about. Romantic love? Most of us are happy to receive it. Love in the form of mercy? We are often surprised by it, but almost always welcome it. How about love in the form of charity? Ah! That's a tougher one. As Christians, we are usually happy to dispense it, but many (most?) of us are far less comfortable on the receiving end. But wait ... if we believe receiving charity somehow diminishes us, what does that say about our true feelings about others who accept it? Are we thinking of them as equals? How we receive tells us about the underpinnings of our giving.
Before Jesus broke bread and poured wine at the Last Supper, he stripped to the waist and washed the feet of everyone present. Later he told them "the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves" (Luke 22:26). This passage is usually used to teach the importance of being servants, but it contains another, often overlooked lesson: we must be willing to be served. How does this idea sit with us -- particularly us capitalist, by-our-own-bootstraps, modern Americans? Not very well, that's how. We are immersed in a secular culture based on a merit mentality with an implicit asumption the virtuous are rewarded and the lazy and other "sinners" are not. We have to be deliberate about disentangling ourselves from this notion, or we can't truly be givers in a Christian sense; nor can we get past the insecurity (masquerading as pride) which prevents us from receiving with a glad heart.
The requirements we have chosen to place on all the communion tables that are heirs to that Last Supper say more about the people making the rules than the people they exclude. The necessary flip side of believing some are not welcome at the table is the idea that the rest have somehow earned an invitation. Christ's gifts to us can never be earned but are given freely. Until we believe it is acceptable - necessary - for us to receive love from God or people without earning it, we can't truly believe it for others. Let's receive joyfully!
Evening readings: Psalms 130, 16
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Act Now, Love Later
Today's readings: Psalms 133, 46; Isaiah 5:18-25; 1 Thessalonians 5:12-28; Luke 21:29-38
Yesterday we looked at the relationship between God and humanity as a love story moving from estrangement to reunion. Today's espistle reading from Paul to the Thessalonians also addresses how we express love, but rather than from a romantic perspective, it looks at the practical sort of love we are called to implement in our community. This type of love, also known as agape or charitable love, is not about how we feel toward someone, but about how we act toward them. When Paul advises his audience not to repay evil with evil but to do kindness always (1 Thess 5:15), he does not add "and like each other."One of the hallmarks of Christian love is that we do right by others no matter how we feel in the moment.
Our pop psychology culture puts a lot of emphasis on exploring how we feel. Reality shows and bad therapy model a sort of emotional purging that may be cathartic for us, but which leaves those caught in our emotional wake to flounder. Acting contrary to our emotions may even earn us the title of "hypocrite." We should be careful not to buy into the notion that our emotions define us or should define our actions. Good therapists and wise spiritual leaders teach us there is a deeper self that lies beneath our emotions. When Paul asks us to repay evil with kindness (and he asks us this because Jesus asked first), he is encouraging us to engage that deeper, truer self. The love of God that is the foundation of the deeper self may sometimes be experienced through emotions, but it precedes and follows any emotional expression, and it never promotes the self at the expense of others.
We act in love toward others because they are beloved of God, not because we are fond of them, or because charitable actions "feel" good. Though we can reap a benefit from these actions, especially if our actions are loving when our gut is not. In a culture that encourages us to let feelings guide our actions, we tend to forget that our actions mold our feelings. Acting in love transforms us into loving people who reflect the love of God. What more could we aspire to?
Evening readings: Psalms 85, 94
Yesterday we looked at the relationship between God and humanity as a love story moving from estrangement to reunion. Today's espistle reading from Paul to the Thessalonians also addresses how we express love, but rather than from a romantic perspective, it looks at the practical sort of love we are called to implement in our community. This type of love, also known as agape or charitable love, is not about how we feel toward someone, but about how we act toward them. When Paul advises his audience not to repay evil with evil but to do kindness always (1 Thess 5:15), he does not add "and like each other."One of the hallmarks of Christian love is that we do right by others no matter how we feel in the moment.
Our pop psychology culture puts a lot of emphasis on exploring how we feel. Reality shows and bad therapy model a sort of emotional purging that may be cathartic for us, but which leaves those caught in our emotional wake to flounder. Acting contrary to our emotions may even earn us the title of "hypocrite." We should be careful not to buy into the notion that our emotions define us or should define our actions. Good therapists and wise spiritual leaders teach us there is a deeper self that lies beneath our emotions. When Paul asks us to repay evil with kindness (and he asks us this because Jesus asked first), he is encouraging us to engage that deeper, truer self. The love of God that is the foundation of the deeper self may sometimes be experienced through emotions, but it precedes and follows any emotional expression, and it never promotes the self at the expense of others.
We act in love toward others because they are beloved of God, not because we are fond of them, or because charitable actions "feel" good. Though we can reap a benefit from these actions, especially if our actions are loving when our gut is not. In a culture that encourages us to let feelings guide our actions, we tend to forget that our actions mold our feelings. Acting in love transforms us into loving people who reflect the love of God. What more could we aspire to?
Evening readings: Psalms 85, 94
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Hope
Now that it’s almost over, let’s consider the traditional theme
of this first week of Advent: Hope. Does that seem inconsistent with the
earlier posts of the week? We’ve spent a good chunk of time considering how not to be a Christian, and that doesn’t
seem especially hopeful. But what is hope? It is the desire for, and possibly
even the faith in, a better future. By definition, it implies at least some
dissatisfaction with the present. There’s nothing wrong with being dissatisfied
with our faith lives, with feeling that somehow they fall short of what they
could be. Such feelings may even be essential to prodding us into deepening our
relationship with God. It doesn’t mean our faith lives are not good and rich. Such
dissatisfaction today, this week, this season, is an indicator that we hope they will be even better in days to
come.
For hope to be more
than a sentimental notion, we must face the things that we hope will change.
Some of those things will be external, such as injustice, poverty and
discrimination. Others like resentment, fear and hypocrisy will be internal. But
being brutally honest about these things doesn’t mean we hand them power over
our lives. Being able to name them takes that power away. The beauty of hope –
a hope that is backed by the promises of Christ – is that it tells us we and
the world are not defined by how we have failed, but by who God has created us
to be. Many people – far too many, Christian and non-Christian – let mistakes
and failures define how they see themselves and get trapped in those
definitions. Hope is what we have when we can believe if only for an instant that
God sees us as better than we see ourselves.
Isaiah had to show the Israelites their many failings and
the inevitable consequences before he could show them the hope that lay beyond.
Paul admitted the Thessalonians would have to confront danger head-on before
finding the glory of God. Jesus told his listeners: “By your endurance you will
gain your souls” ( Luke 21:19). Hope exists not because we are in denial about how bad things are today, but because God helps us see tomorrow.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Look at me!
Today's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 3:1-4:1;1 Thess 4:1-12; Luke 0:41-21:4
Beware the religious. At least (according to today's reading from Luke) those people who wear religion on their sleeves - or in the case of the case of the scribes, the sleeves of their excessively long robes. And those who make a public display of long prayers (v 20:46-47). Jesus is quick to point out the hypocrisy when outer forms of religion are counter to a person's inner state. Not everyone with a Jesus fish (ichthus) bumper sticker is devouring widows' houses (v 20:47), but if they do the disparity is all the more egregious for their display. The flip side is the martyr who just won't die - the person who abases him or herself unnecessarily (but quite obviously) in an insincere humility.
The bottom line: religious and pious efforts should be inwardly directed. Incidentally, the irony of that last statement coming from the creator of a devotional blog is not lost... There's nothing wrong with outward symbols of our faith as long as we're not using them to impress others with how holy we are. Having the fanciest Bible cover in Sunday school or sporting an "In God We Trust" license plate only invites scrutiny, and does little if anything to spread the Gospel. Neither does telling anyone who will listen the story of how we got stuck in the kitchen during the potluck because no one else would lift a finger to do all those dishes.
About the worst message we can send to non-believers is that Christians are somehow perfected by our faith. First it obviously isn't true (compare divorce rates between Christians and non-Christians for a start), and more importantly it's exactly counter to the message of the Gospel. We are not nor do we need to be (or appear to be) perfect: even better, we are forgiven! One way we can respond to God's forgiveness is to readily forgive ourselves and others. When we falter, any resulting distance between us and God is entirely of our own making. It takes more time than putting on a "Jesus Saves" t-shirt in the morning, but showing people that we remain in God's love despite our imperfections is about the best testimony we can give!
Evening Readings: Ps 130, 16
Beware the religious. At least (according to today's reading from Luke) those people who wear religion on their sleeves - or in the case of the case of the scribes, the sleeves of their excessively long robes. And those who make a public display of long prayers (v 20:46-47). Jesus is quick to point out the hypocrisy when outer forms of religion are counter to a person's inner state. Not everyone with a Jesus fish (ichthus) bumper sticker is devouring widows' houses (v 20:47), but if they do the disparity is all the more egregious for their display. The flip side is the martyr who just won't die - the person who abases him or herself unnecessarily (but quite obviously) in an insincere humility.
About the worst message we can send to non-believers is that Christians are somehow perfected by our faith. First it obviously isn't true (compare divorce rates between Christians and non-Christians for a start), and more importantly it's exactly counter to the message of the Gospel. We are not nor do we need to be (or appear to be) perfect: even better, we are forgiven! One way we can respond to God's forgiveness is to readily forgive ourselves and others. When we falter, any resulting distance between us and God is entirely of our own making. It takes more time than putting on a "Jesus Saves" t-shirt in the morning, but showing people that we remain in God's love despite our imperfections is about the best testimony we can give!
Evening Readings: Ps 130, 16
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Puzzling It Out
Today's readings: Ps 18:1-20, 147:12-20; Isaiah 2:5-22; 1 Thessalonians 3:1-13; Luke 20:27-40
Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.
- Luke 20:38
When Jesus describes the Lord as a "God of the living" what are the implications? On one level he is specifically addressing the Sadducees who do not believe in resurrection and are trying to trip him up. On another (and when is the meaning of anything Jesus says not multi-layered?) he - or at least the author of Luke - is pointing out the futility of trying to cram God and God's kingdom into the countless tiny human-made fragments that describe and limit our faith. If we treat them like they are pieces of a coherent puzzle and try to force them into a single picture, we soon learn that not only are we missing countless pieces, but the ones we have didn't come out of the same box. The only way we can make them fit inside the frame is to tear off the inconvenient bits and pound them flat.
No wonder the picture of Christianity can often make so little sense, especially to outsiders. Because not knowing can be uncomfortable or even scary, we can waste a lot of time playing with those pieces; dollars to donuts the Sadducees had wrestled with the "which husband in heaven" question before. Spending our time this way does not engage us with the "God of the living" - instead it pulls away from life and all its messiness.
An insistence on theological tidiness, especially about unknowable things like the afterlife, doesn't make us better believers. Mystics of any faith, to a person, describe the moment of divine revelation as a moment of surrender to mystery. The wisest people admit to knowing nothing.
Getting stuck in "head" religion ultimately leads to frustration. Thinking you lack spiritual wisdom because you don't know the right terms or scripture quotes is just not true. God is in living hearts, not dead pages. Christ is called the Living Word because he informs and moves through the world, not because we can read about him.
Rather than "bow down to the work of [our] own hands" (Isa 2:8) by trying to stuff God into the ideas we've created, let's trust that God is present with us in the glorious chaos of life.
Evening readings: Psalms 126, 62
Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.
- Luke 20:38
When Jesus describes the Lord as a "God of the living" what are the implications? On one level he is specifically addressing the Sadducees who do not believe in resurrection and are trying to trip him up. On another (and when is the meaning of anything Jesus says not multi-layered?) he - or at least the author of Luke - is pointing out the futility of trying to cram God and God's kingdom into the countless tiny human-made fragments that describe and limit our faith. If we treat them like they are pieces of a coherent puzzle and try to force them into a single picture, we soon learn that not only are we missing countless pieces, but the ones we have didn't come out of the same box. The only way we can make them fit inside the frame is to tear off the inconvenient bits and pound them flat.
An insistence on theological tidiness, especially about unknowable things like the afterlife, doesn't make us better believers. Mystics of any faith, to a person, describe the moment of divine revelation as a moment of surrender to mystery. The wisest people admit to knowing nothing.
Getting stuck in "head" religion ultimately leads to frustration. Thinking you lack spiritual wisdom because you don't know the right terms or scripture quotes is just not true. God is in living hearts, not dead pages. Christ is called the Living Word because he informs and moves through the world, not because we can read about him.
Rather than "bow down to the work of [our] own hands" (Isa 2:8) by trying to stuff God into the ideas we've created, let's trust that God is present with us in the glorious chaos of life.
Evening readings: Psalms 126, 62
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
No apologies. Sort of.
Today's readings: Psalms 50, 147:1-11; Isaiah 2:1-4; 1 Thessalonians 2:13-20; Luke 20:19-26
When someone criticizes your faith or religious beliefs, what is your first reaction? What about other beliefs, such as politics or favorite band or best shortstop of all time? If you're like most of us, your first instinct is to defend your position. This isn't by default a bad response, but it should never be our only response. Eager as we might be to "enlighten" the person who disagreees with us by exposing them to a torrent of facts and ideas, such a defensive reaction does not send the the message that we are confident. To the contrary, it often comes acoss as desperate, or even self-delusional.
This need to convince others (or is it really ourselves?) that we are right keeps Christian bookstores in business. Their shelves are stocked with volume after volume of apologetics, or defenses of and arguments for the Christian faith supposedly meant to intellectually arm the well-meaning Christian against non-believers, especially smart ones. Careful study of these books on creationism, biblical inerrancy and gospel reliability instead reveals they are mostly meant to help Christians convince ourselves we haven't backed the wrong horse. Being knowledgeable about our faith and its history is a good thing, but too much "head" religion tears our focus away from the real fruits of the spirit. And if our faith balances on an intricate and delicate house of Bible flash cards, its eventual fall is only ever one firmly slammed door away.
When our faith is challenged, the best thing we can do is listen to that challenge with an open mind. Listening doesn't mean admitting we are wrong; it means the foundation of our faith is firm enough to withstand a little rough weather. If the scribes and priests in today's passage from Luke 20 had been willing to hear the criticisms Jesus gave in his parables, they might have appeared less foolish and actually learned something. When God speaks to us through others, it's rarely to say "Keep on doing what you're doing." Rather, it's to show us something new. Trusting God enough to risk being wrong will help us learn what's right.
Evening readings: Psalms 53, 17
When someone criticizes your faith or religious beliefs, what is your first reaction? What about other beliefs, such as politics or favorite band or best shortstop of all time? If you're like most of us, your first instinct is to defend your position. This isn't by default a bad response, but it should never be our only response. Eager as we might be to "enlighten" the person who disagreees with us by exposing them to a torrent of facts and ideas, such a defensive reaction does not send the the message that we are confident. To the contrary, it often comes acoss as desperate, or even self-delusional.
This need to convince others (or is it really ourselves?) that we are right keeps Christian bookstores in business. Their shelves are stocked with volume after volume of apologetics, or defenses of and arguments for the Christian faith supposedly meant to intellectually arm the well-meaning Christian against non-believers, especially smart ones. Careful study of these books on creationism, biblical inerrancy and gospel reliability instead reveals they are mostly meant to help Christians convince ourselves we haven't backed the wrong horse. Being knowledgeable about our faith and its history is a good thing, but too much "head" religion tears our focus away from the real fruits of the spirit. And if our faith balances on an intricate and delicate house of Bible flash cards, its eventual fall is only ever one firmly slammed door away.
When our faith is challenged, the best thing we can do is listen to that challenge with an open mind. Listening doesn't mean admitting we are wrong; it means the foundation of our faith is firm enough to withstand a little rough weather. If the scribes and priests in today's passage from Luke 20 had been willing to hear the criticisms Jesus gave in his parables, they might have appeared less foolish and actually learned something. When God speaks to us through others, it's rarely to say "Keep on doing what you're doing." Rather, it's to show us something new. Trusting God enough to risk being wrong will help us learn what's right.
Evening readings: Psalms 53, 17
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
But why ...?
Today's readings: Palms 122, 145; Isaiah 1:10-20; 1 Thessalonians 1:1-10; Luke 20:1-8
Sometimes the biggest barrier between us and God is religion itself. Hardly an original thought, but we need to hear it periodically. The problem is most "religious" activity at one time had a spirit-filled purpose behind it that slowly faded from memory until the ritual became a substitute for the underlying purpose. Take the animal sacrifices mentioned today in Isaiah. We consider animal sacrifice barbaric, but among the Israelites the practice was a step away from barbarism: the surrounding cultures were sacrificing humans. The author of Isaiah tells us the sacrifices themselves have become offensive to God, reeking of the hypocrisy of their practitioners. Instead of continuing on a path toward God's ever expanding justice and compassion, the Israelites settled for ritual over the mercy God would have them act upon the poor, the orphaned and the widowed. When ritual is stripped of relationship, it is no longer of God.
If we think we only need to learn this lesson once, Luke disabuses of that notion pretty quickly. When the Jewish authorities are faced with the question of whether John's baptism (and by implication the nature of Jesus) was heavenly or earthly, their concerns are misplaced. These people would have been familiar with Isaiah. Still their focus is on which answer might make them look foolish or rile the people. The status quo is more important to them than truth itself!
Like it or not, we all have some tendency to let unexamined preferences calcify into dogma. Things like language choices and personal causes can slant our thinking and actions in ways we don't notice. The familiar tempts us even when it no longer serves us. The Israelites - in Isaiah's or Jesus' time - surely did not set out to create traditions and habits that separated them from God, and neither do we. Let's be cautious not to let imperceptible drift over long periods of time move us away from the intentions behind our actions. "What Would Jesus Do" may seem trite ... but pairing it with "Why Would Jesus Do It?" might just sweeten the scent of our sacrifices.
Evening readings: Psalms 40, 67
Sometimes the biggest barrier between us and God is religion itself. Hardly an original thought, but we need to hear it periodically. The problem is most "religious" activity at one time had a spirit-filled purpose behind it that slowly faded from memory until the ritual became a substitute for the underlying purpose. Take the animal sacrifices mentioned today in Isaiah. We consider animal sacrifice barbaric, but among the Israelites the practice was a step away from barbarism: the surrounding cultures were sacrificing humans. The author of Isaiah tells us the sacrifices themselves have become offensive to God, reeking of the hypocrisy of their practitioners. Instead of continuing on a path toward God's ever expanding justice and compassion, the Israelites settled for ritual over the mercy God would have them act upon the poor, the orphaned and the widowed. When ritual is stripped of relationship, it is no longer of God.
If we think we only need to learn this lesson once, Luke disabuses of that notion pretty quickly. When the Jewish authorities are faced with the question of whether John's baptism (and by implication the nature of Jesus) was heavenly or earthly, their concerns are misplaced. These people would have been familiar with Isaiah. Still their focus is on which answer might make them look foolish or rile the people. The status quo is more important to them than truth itself!
Like it or not, we all have some tendency to let unexamined preferences calcify into dogma. Things like language choices and personal causes can slant our thinking and actions in ways we don't notice. The familiar tempts us even when it no longer serves us. The Israelites - in Isaiah's or Jesus' time - surely did not set out to create traditions and habits that separated them from God, and neither do we. Let's be cautious not to let imperceptible drift over long periods of time move us away from the intentions behind our actions. "What Would Jesus Do" may seem trite ... but pairing it with "Why Would Jesus Do It?" might just sweeten the scent of our sacrifices.
Evening readings: Psalms 40, 67
Sunday, December 2, 2012
The Most Wonderful Time of the Year? Not so fast...
Readings: Ps 63, 149; Zechariah 14:12-21; Philipians 2:1-11; Luke 19:41-48
Happy New Year! "What?" you might say, "Aren't Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving bad enough? Do we have to get an early jump on this holiday too? Am I already behind for Valentine's Day?" While the answer to that last question depends on your loved one, New Year's greetings are in order because today is the first day of Advent, the beginning of the Christian liturgical year. That must be why we start celebrating Christmas so early, right?
Wrong. Today's scriptures are anything but celebratory. In Zechariah 14 we read about "panic from the Lord" (v 13) and plagues on camels, donkeys and other innocent creatures (v 15). In Luke 19 Jesus weeps over the city and drives the merchants from the temple. How do plagues and weeping jibe with tinsel, wrapping paper and a baby in a manger? Well... they don't. And that's the point of Advent.
Thinking as a Christian almost always means upending cultural expectations. While the world twinkles and parties, we are called to deeper considerations. Advent is a season of reflection on why we need Christ to enter the world in the first place. Jumping right to the tidy manger on the mantel is tempting, but it's the preceding journey that gives it meaning. Not just the difficult journey of Mary and Joseph. Not just the tumultuous history of the Jewish people. The journey that led to the plagues of poverty, conflict and injustice Christ weeps over today. Taking time to mourn the world puts Christmas into context and transforms it from a secular holiday to a true holy day. If, as greeting card companies suggest, we keep Christmas in our hearts every day, we may not have room for Advent, which helps us discover where Christmas needs to happen next.
We don't have to eschew trees and parties as some sign of external piety. But maybe for this short season we can let excess remind us there is poverty, feasting remind us there is hunger, and festivity remind us there is suffering. Christmas truly begins when we invite Christ to enter the world through us so all these things may be transformed.
Evening readings: Ps 125, 90
Happy New Year! "What?" you might say, "Aren't Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving bad enough? Do we have to get an early jump on this holiday too? Am I already behind for Valentine's Day?" While the answer to that last question depends on your loved one, New Year's greetings are in order because today is the first day of Advent, the beginning of the Christian liturgical year. That must be why we start celebrating Christmas so early, right?
Wrong. Today's scriptures are anything but celebratory. In Zechariah 14 we read about "panic from the Lord" (v 13) and plagues on camels, donkeys and other innocent creatures (v 15). In Luke 19 Jesus weeps over the city and drives the merchants from the temple. How do plagues and weeping jibe with tinsel, wrapping paper and a baby in a manger? Well... they don't. And that's the point of Advent.
Thinking as a Christian almost always means upending cultural expectations. While the world twinkles and parties, we are called to deeper considerations. Advent is a season of reflection on why we need Christ to enter the world in the first place. Jumping right to the tidy manger on the mantel is tempting, but it's the preceding journey that gives it meaning. Not just the difficult journey of Mary and Joseph. Not just the tumultuous history of the Jewish people. The journey that led to the plagues of poverty, conflict and injustice Christ weeps over today. Taking time to mourn the world puts Christmas into context and transforms it from a secular holiday to a true holy day. If, as greeting card companies suggest, we keep Christmas in our hearts every day, we may not have room for Advent, which helps us discover where Christmas needs to happen next.
We don't have to eschew trees and parties as some sign of external piety. But maybe for this short season we can let excess remind us there is poverty, feasting remind us there is hunger, and festivity remind us there is suffering. Christmas truly begins when we invite Christ to enter the world through us so all these things may be transformed.
Evening readings: Ps 125, 90
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Ash Wednesday: Preparing for the Lenten Journey
Today's readings: Ps 5, 147:1-11; Amos 5:6-15; Heb. 12:1-14; Luke 18:9–14
Today is the day Christians all over the world begin the annual Lenten pilgrimage. Most of us won’t travel physically but spiritually, and we hope in a direction moving us closer to God in Christ. Our modes of transportation vary: prayer, fasting, giving something up, taking something extra on – the possibilities are limitless. And like physical pilgrims, we may find we need to carefully select which belongings will travel well to a destination we may not know much about.
Today’s parable from Luke illustrates one of the things we might be better leaving behind: ego. When we read about the Pharisee who thanks God he is not the tax collector praying nearby, we aren’t surprised Jesus says the tax collector (who is humbling praying for mercy) is more justified before God. Most of us – even religious leaders – identify more with the character of the tax collector than the Pharisee. But should we? Is it truth or ego that tells us we are righteous?
The moment we thank God we are not the Pharisee, we may be guilty of his sin: pride and judgment. In Jesus’ time, the message of beloved sinners was revolutionary. People needed to hear it. Twenty centuries on, as a faith community comfortable with Jesus’ MO, we need to be careful we don’t wear the tax collector’s humility as the latest fashion of outward righteousness. Letting go of the idea that we are righteous (or sinful!) can be scary, because it erodes our comfortable, self-defined identity.
As we prepare for our Lenten journey, let’s unpack the thick cloak of ego to make room for uncertainty. And let’s not make the mistake of defining uncertainty as the lack of something; rather, let’s recognize it as necessary space for the new things God wants us to carry. If we cling too tightly to who we are, we are closed to who God would have us be.
Sometimes we are the Pharisee. Sometimes we are the tax collector. Most often we are a mix of both. God will help us find the balance.
Comfort: Letting go is sometimes the only way to hold something new.
Challenge: Meditate on today’s passage from Luke.
Prayer: God of the journey, help me know what to keep, and what to leave behind.
Evening readings: Ps 27, 51
Discussion question:
When have you had cause to question your assumptions about your identity?
Today is the day Christians all over the world begin the annual Lenten pilgrimage. Most of us won’t travel physically but spiritually, and we hope in a direction moving us closer to God in Christ. Our modes of transportation vary: prayer, fasting, giving something up, taking something extra on – the possibilities are limitless. And like physical pilgrims, we may find we need to carefully select which belongings will travel well to a destination we may not know much about.
Today’s parable from Luke illustrates one of the things we might be better leaving behind: ego. When we read about the Pharisee who thanks God he is not the tax collector praying nearby, we aren’t surprised Jesus says the tax collector (who is humbling praying for mercy) is more justified before God. Most of us – even religious leaders – identify more with the character of the tax collector than the Pharisee. But should we? Is it truth or ego that tells us we are righteous?
The moment we thank God we are not the Pharisee, we may be guilty of his sin: pride and judgment. In Jesus’ time, the message of beloved sinners was revolutionary. People needed to hear it. Twenty centuries on, as a faith community comfortable with Jesus’ MO, we need to be careful we don’t wear the tax collector’s humility as the latest fashion of outward righteousness. Letting go of the idea that we are righteous (or sinful!) can be scary, because it erodes our comfortable, self-defined identity.
As we prepare for our Lenten journey, let’s unpack the thick cloak of ego to make room for uncertainty. And let’s not make the mistake of defining uncertainty as the lack of something; rather, let’s recognize it as necessary space for the new things God wants us to carry. If we cling too tightly to who we are, we are closed to who God would have us be.
Sometimes we are the Pharisee. Sometimes we are the tax collector. Most often we are a mix of both. God will help us find the balance.
Comfort: Letting go is sometimes the only way to hold something new.
Challenge: Meditate on today’s passage from Luke.
Prayer: God of the journey, help me know what to keep, and what to leave behind.
Evening readings: Ps 27, 51
Discussion question:
When have you had cause to question your assumptions about your identity?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
The Memory (and Reality) of Persistence
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| The Persistence of Memory (Salvador Dali) |
Today's readings: Ps 98, 146; Deut 8;11-20; James 1:16-27; Luke 11:1-13
Service projects – particularly those spanning several days and states – reveal a lot about people. Ask almost anyone rebuilding a home or painting a school and they will tell you they are working hard. Watch them a while, and you’ll see differences in performance that don’t necessarily depend on age, experience or ability. People believe they are working hard as long as they are working harder than they usually do. By the end of a lengthy service project, many people – young people in particular – have their eyes opened to the difference between what they think is hard work (based on past experience) and what is actually hard work.
Persistence is similar. Many of us think we are persistent, but crumple in the face of real resistance. In Luke 9, Jesus advises his disciples to be persistent in their faith. He says a neighbor woken in the middle of the night by a knock on the door does not respond out of an inner sense of charity, but because the knocker is persistent. Jesus isn’t telling us to pester God into submission, but that true persistence can accomplish what appeals to good nature may not. How often do we hear someone claim something was meant to be or not meant to be because it was or wasn’t convenient? How many dreams are abandoned because of a lack of persistence? How many poor decisions are based on expedience? Important things – building a career, raising a child, achieving social justice – require persistence. More than that, they require us to examine whether we are actually persistent, or whether we merely think we are.
On the other hand, let’s not confuse being persistent with being stubborn. When we follow urgings of the Spirit despite resistance, we are persistent. When we grow deaf to the Spirit and insist on our own way, we are stubborn. Persistence is the fulcrum that balances complacency and obstinacy. To achieve this balance, this practice of discernment, we must yoke persistence with prayer. As we grow in faith, what we thought was tremendous persistence yesterday may be a fraction of what we need for tomorrow. Or we may realize that while we’ve been knocking, what we need to ask for has changed. No matter the outcome, a healthy persistence leaves us knowing we’ve done what we were called to do.
Comfort: Success not yet achieved is not the same as failure.
Challenge: List some dreams you’ve let go. Is it time to pick one up?
Prayer: Holy God, strengthen me when my flesh is weaker than my spirit.
Evening readings: Ps 66, 116
Service projects – particularly those spanning several days and states – reveal a lot about people. Ask almost anyone rebuilding a home or painting a school and they will tell you they are working hard. Watch them a while, and you’ll see differences in performance that don’t necessarily depend on age, experience or ability. People believe they are working hard as long as they are working harder than they usually do. By the end of a lengthy service project, many people – young people in particular – have their eyes opened to the difference between what they think is hard work (based on past experience) and what is actually hard work.
Persistence is similar. Many of us think we are persistent, but crumple in the face of real resistance. In Luke 9, Jesus advises his disciples to be persistent in their faith. He says a neighbor woken in the middle of the night by a knock on the door does not respond out of an inner sense of charity, but because the knocker is persistent. Jesus isn’t telling us to pester God into submission, but that true persistence can accomplish what appeals to good nature may not. How often do we hear someone claim something was meant to be or not meant to be because it was or wasn’t convenient? How many dreams are abandoned because of a lack of persistence? How many poor decisions are based on expedience? Important things – building a career, raising a child, achieving social justice – require persistence. More than that, they require us to examine whether we are actually persistent, or whether we merely think we are.
On the other hand, let’s not confuse being persistent with being stubborn. When we follow urgings of the Spirit despite resistance, we are persistent. When we grow deaf to the Spirit and insist on our own way, we are stubborn. Persistence is the fulcrum that balances complacency and obstinacy. To achieve this balance, this practice of discernment, we must yoke persistence with prayer. As we grow in faith, what we thought was tremendous persistence yesterday may be a fraction of what we need for tomorrow. Or we may realize that while we’ve been knocking, what we need to ask for has changed. No matter the outcome, a healthy persistence leaves us knowing we’ve done what we were called to do.
Comfort: Success not yet achieved is not the same as failure.
Challenge: List some dreams you’ve let go. Is it time to pick one up?
Prayer: Holy God, strengthen me when my flesh is weaker than my spirit.
Evening readings: Ps 66, 116
Discussion question: When has persistence paid off for you? (please comment)
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
But where did you get the bootstraps?
Today's readings: Ps 98, 146; Jer 32:16-25; Rom. 12:1-21; Luke 8:1-15
Have you ever made a promise to God? Many of us have, often in the context of a negotiation: “Dear God, if you only grant [fill in the blank]… I promise to never/always [fill in the second blank].” Are we able to keep such promises? Sometimes, but not always. In retrospect, we may realize we were foolish to make them in the first place. God knows we can be weak when it comes to keeping promises or holding up our end of a deal.
In today’s reading, Jeremiah tells the story of how the Israelites lost the land given to them by God when they forgot God and lived sinfully – in other words, when they didn’t hold up their end of the deal. The nature of this story is so timeless as to be clichéd. How often do we hear about “self-made” athletes, entertainers or politicians who achieve success, only to forget their humble beginnings? And how often do these stories end with a fall from grace when the successful lose perspective? How frequently have we pleaded with God to deliver us – only to insist on our own way once things improve? When times are good do we, like the Israelites, forget the God who provides for us and return to the old ways that caused us trouble in the first place? When it’s no longer convenient, do we neglect our responsibilities to follow our own desires?
In Romans, Paul warns us not to overestimate our own wisdom (12:16). He is speaking about comparing ourselves to others, but it is good advice in many situations. When times are good, let’s not be so foolish as to think we have earned something others have not, and when times are bad let’s not rely solely on our own resources to get out of trouble. We learn from the Israelites that such attitudes can turn good situations to bad, and bad to worse. Our efforts count, but not for everything.
Promises do not help us convince God to act one way or another, and failing to meet promises – even with the best intentions – damages our character. Relying on promises is a way of telling God what to do – of relying on our own wisdom. Instead let’s seek God’s will in all circumstances, and live as if we’ve promised to make our lives a holy and living sacrifice (Rom 12:1).
Comfort: We have greater resources than our own thoughts.
Challenge: Meditate on promises you have kept… and broken.
Prayer: Loving God, thank you for being constant when I am not.
Evening readings: Ps 66, 116
Discussion question: When have you succeeded or failed in doing your part? How did it affect your sense of self? (please comment)
Have you ever made a promise to God? Many of us have, often in the context of a negotiation: “Dear God, if you only grant [fill in the blank]… I promise to never/always [fill in the second blank].” Are we able to keep such promises? Sometimes, but not always. In retrospect, we may realize we were foolish to make them in the first place. God knows we can be weak when it comes to keeping promises or holding up our end of a deal.
In today’s reading, Jeremiah tells the story of how the Israelites lost the land given to them by God when they forgot God and lived sinfully – in other words, when they didn’t hold up their end of the deal. The nature of this story is so timeless as to be clichéd. How often do we hear about “self-made” athletes, entertainers or politicians who achieve success, only to forget their humble beginnings? And how often do these stories end with a fall from grace when the successful lose perspective? How frequently have we pleaded with God to deliver us – only to insist on our own way once things improve? When times are good do we, like the Israelites, forget the God who provides for us and return to the old ways that caused us trouble in the first place? When it’s no longer convenient, do we neglect our responsibilities to follow our own desires?
In Romans, Paul warns us not to overestimate our own wisdom (12:16). He is speaking about comparing ourselves to others, but it is good advice in many situations. When times are good, let’s not be so foolish as to think we have earned something others have not, and when times are bad let’s not rely solely on our own resources to get out of trouble. We learn from the Israelites that such attitudes can turn good situations to bad, and bad to worse. Our efforts count, but not for everything.
Promises do not help us convince God to act one way or another, and failing to meet promises – even with the best intentions – damages our character. Relying on promises is a way of telling God what to do – of relying on our own wisdom. Instead let’s seek God’s will in all circumstances, and live as if we’ve promised to make our lives a holy and living sacrifice (Rom 12:1).
Comfort: We have greater resources than our own thoughts.
Challenge: Meditate on promises you have kept… and broken.
Prayer: Loving God, thank you for being constant when I am not.
Evening readings: Ps 66, 116
Discussion question: When have you succeeded or failed in doing your part? How did it affect your sense of self? (please comment)
Friday, May 20, 2011
Use Me
Today's readings: Ps 96, 148; Jer 31:1-14; Col 2:8-23; Luke 7:1-17
Today in Luke we read two short healing stories. Luke offers us many healing stories, but these two have particular lessons for us. Unlike the stories where a faithful woman touches Jesus’ garment (8:40-47), or a blind beggar calls out to him (18:25-42), the characters in today’s story are healed because of Jesus’ work through others
A Roman centurion who was too humbled to petition Jesus directly on behalf of a beloved servant. Instead, he sent Jewish elders and then friends to tell Jesus he had faith that if Jesus willed it, the servant would be healed; he didn’t need to impose a face-to-face meeting. When we pray or intercede for others, are we as wise and humble as the centurion? When we see an ailing co-worker, or a friend in a bad marriage, are we tempted to “fix” things? If so, we may think we need to pray or work hard enough to “convince” God to act. The truth is none of us can fix anyone else, and God will act as God will. Like the centurion and his friends, often the best we can do is to stand ready to let God use us. This is not a passive state – it is a decision to trust and to be open to possibility.
Jesus encountered a widow grieving her only son. His heart went out to the woman, and he commanded the son to rise from his funeral bier. Compassion is a powerful tool for God to use in the world. We may be unlikely to witness someone raised from the dead, but even in our greatest grief, God’s presence can spark new life. Consider John and Reve Walsh who, after the murder of their son Adam, founded the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. Compassion both for the Walshes and from them made such an endeavor possible.
So are we to jump from cause to cause and expect miraculous results from every prayer dashed off on our way to the next one? Of course not. Such a life would be shallow and ultimately frustrating. But we learn from the centurion and the widow that we may knowingly or unknowingly become God’s instruments for someone else’s healing. Our faith life does not unfold in just our own lives, but in the lives of those around us. Let’s be alert and open to the time God chooses us to bring others to new life.
Comfort: God’s compassion is boundless.
Challenge: Pray for God to open your eyes to needs you might address.
Prayer: God of Freedom, thank you for the opportunity to serve.
Evening readings: Ps 49, 138
Discussion Question: When do you feel has God used you in someone's life, or used someone else in yours? (please comment)
Today in Luke we read two short healing stories. Luke offers us many healing stories, but these two have particular lessons for us. Unlike the stories where a faithful woman touches Jesus’ garment (8:40-47), or a blind beggar calls out to him (18:25-42), the characters in today’s story are healed because of Jesus’ work through others
A Roman centurion who was too humbled to petition Jesus directly on behalf of a beloved servant. Instead, he sent Jewish elders and then friends to tell Jesus he had faith that if Jesus willed it, the servant would be healed; he didn’t need to impose a face-to-face meeting. When we pray or intercede for others, are we as wise and humble as the centurion? When we see an ailing co-worker, or a friend in a bad marriage, are we tempted to “fix” things? If so, we may think we need to pray or work hard enough to “convince” God to act. The truth is none of us can fix anyone else, and God will act as God will. Like the centurion and his friends, often the best we can do is to stand ready to let God use us. This is not a passive state – it is a decision to trust and to be open to possibility.
Jesus encountered a widow grieving her only son. His heart went out to the woman, and he commanded the son to rise from his funeral bier. Compassion is a powerful tool for God to use in the world. We may be unlikely to witness someone raised from the dead, but even in our greatest grief, God’s presence can spark new life. Consider John and Reve Walsh who, after the murder of their son Adam, founded the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children. Compassion both for the Walshes and from them made such an endeavor possible.
So are we to jump from cause to cause and expect miraculous results from every prayer dashed off on our way to the next one? Of course not. Such a life would be shallow and ultimately frustrating. But we learn from the centurion and the widow that we may knowingly or unknowingly become God’s instruments for someone else’s healing. Our faith life does not unfold in just our own lives, but in the lives of those around us. Let’s be alert and open to the time God chooses us to bring others to new life.
Comfort: God’s compassion is boundless.
Challenge: Pray for God to open your eyes to needs you might address.
Prayer: God of Freedom, thank you for the opportunity to serve.
Evening readings: Ps 49, 138
Discussion Question: When do you feel has God used you in someone's life, or used someone else in yours? (please comment)
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Is God speaking your language?
Today's readings: Ps 47, 14712-20; Jer 31:1-14; Col 2:8-23; Luke 6:39-49
The United Church of Christ (UCC) offers a promotional campaign featuring the slogan: “God is still speaking.” This campaign is controversial, because many Christians who identify themselves as “Bible-believing” are not comfortable with the idea that the Bible is not the complete and solitary source of God’s truth. But what if God is not saying new things, but old things in new ways?
For many people, the King James Bible – deliberately written in language archaic even for its time – has associated Biblical language with “smite,” “begat” and “yea, verily.” Biblical imagery is replete with ancient animal husbandry practices, arcane measurements (“What’s a cubit?” Bill Cosby asks in his famous Noah routine) and cultures which simply no longer exist. But Biblical texts were written to be understood. The Hebrew texts were transmitted orally, which meant the language needed to be memorable and accessible. And what good could a prophet do if his listeners couldn’t identify with his language? Biblical authors did not let language get in the way of understanding, and neither should we.
When Jeremiah tells the Israelites they will once again plant vineyards on the hills of Samaria (v. 5), he is telling people God restores them to wholeness. A contemporary example might be the end of apartheid and reparations in South Africa. When Paul wrote of the “uncircumcision of the flesh” (v. 13) he didn’t need to explain the meaning to his audience. Today we typically use more gender-inclusive imagery about the faithful. When Jesus told his listeners “People don’t pick figs from thorn bushes” (v. 44) he was speaking to people who actually picked figs. If he spoke to U.S. citizens today, maybe he would speak of raspberries and poison ivy.
The point is, God wants to be heard, in whatever ways we might be open to hearing. If we are really to see Christ in others, our vision can’t be limited to a book. If we want to speak Christ to others, we can’t do it with words we wouldn’t use ourselves. We don’t want to study or create poor translations that betray the spirit of the Gospel just to be modern or politically correct, but we don’t want to reflexively reject the modern either. The living God speaks to us through living languages – and living people.
Comfort: Anyone can hear God.
Challenge: Read a scripture translation you haven’t read before.
Prayer: God of freedom, thanks for the many ways you can be heard.
Evening readings: Ps 68, 113
Discussion question: How do you feel God speaks to you? (Please comment)
The United Church of Christ (UCC) offers a promotional campaign featuring the slogan: “God is still speaking.” This campaign is controversial, because many Christians who identify themselves as “Bible-believing” are not comfortable with the idea that the Bible is not the complete and solitary source of God’s truth. But what if God is not saying new things, but old things in new ways?
For many people, the King James Bible – deliberately written in language archaic even for its time – has associated Biblical language with “smite,” “begat” and “yea, verily.” Biblical imagery is replete with ancient animal husbandry practices, arcane measurements (“What’s a cubit?” Bill Cosby asks in his famous Noah routine) and cultures which simply no longer exist. But Biblical texts were written to be understood. The Hebrew texts were transmitted orally, which meant the language needed to be memorable and accessible. And what good could a prophet do if his listeners couldn’t identify with his language? Biblical authors did not let language get in the way of understanding, and neither should we.
When Jeremiah tells the Israelites they will once again plant vineyards on the hills of Samaria (v. 5), he is telling people God restores them to wholeness. A contemporary example might be the end of apartheid and reparations in South Africa. When Paul wrote of the “uncircumcision of the flesh” (v. 13) he didn’t need to explain the meaning to his audience. Today we typically use more gender-inclusive imagery about the faithful. When Jesus told his listeners “People don’t pick figs from thorn bushes” (v. 44) he was speaking to people who actually picked figs. If he spoke to U.S. citizens today, maybe he would speak of raspberries and poison ivy.
The point is, God wants to be heard, in whatever ways we might be open to hearing. If we are really to see Christ in others, our vision can’t be limited to a book. If we want to speak Christ to others, we can’t do it with words we wouldn’t use ourselves. We don’t want to study or create poor translations that betray the spirit of the Gospel just to be modern or politically correct, but we don’t want to reflexively reject the modern either. The living God speaks to us through living languages – and living people.
Comfort: Anyone can hear God.
Challenge: Read a scripture translation you haven’t read before.
Prayer: God of freedom, thanks for the many ways you can be heard.
Evening readings: Ps 68, 113
Discussion question: How do you feel God speaks to you? (Please comment)
Friday, December 10, 2010
Whose Serve Is It?
Today's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 7:10-25; 2 Thes 2:13-3:5; Luke 22:14-30
“Many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first” (Matt 19:30). After years of following Jesus, the disciples still struggled with this concept. When they sat down with him at his last Passover meal, “A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest” (Luke 22:24). They were resuming an argument begun back in the ninth chapter of Luke. We can deduce these events from Matthew and Luke are thematically related, because both contain assurances from Jesus that the disciples would be rulers over the twelve tribes of Israel (Matt 19:29, Luke 22:30). How might it be significant that Luke chose to place this conversation in the context of the Last Supper?
Each time we take communion, we are reminded howJesus served at that Last Supper table. By presenting the bread and wine as his body and blood, he foreshadowed his ultimate service – following his mission through to his death. We are also reminded that, as his followers, we do not seek to glorify ourselves, but to serve.
We should not serve – should not make an effort to be “the last” – simply to secure ourselves an eventual position among “the first.” We all know people who make a great show of being humble, people who engage in the same type of public piety Jesus rebuked. Sometimes maybe we even are those people. Jesus was not offering some miracle piety formula like [Unnecessary Martyrdom] + [Self-abasement] = [First]. That would be pointless, because God already loves each and every one of us fully. He was also not teaching us to be doormats, because true service requires strength. Rather, he was teaching us the structure and society of God’s kingdom, so unlike the world we encounter. In God’s kingdom, we recognize the leadership and love of humble service.
When we leave the communion table, we leave ready to meet the world in all its need and disarray. We leave ready to share and implement the truth of the Good News. We leave ready for service for its own, holy sake.
Comfort: Odd as it may sound sometime, service is a great freedom.
Challenge: Find a way to serve, and do it without fanfare.
Prayer: God of Peace, I am your humble servant.
Evening readings: Ps 130, 16
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 90, 149; Isa 8:1-25; 2 Thes 3:6-18; Luke 22:31-38
“Many who are first will be last, and many who are last will be first” (Matt 19:30). After years of following Jesus, the disciples still struggled with this concept. When they sat down with him at his last Passover meal, “A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest” (Luke 22:24). They were resuming an argument begun back in the ninth chapter of Luke. We can deduce these events from Matthew and Luke are thematically related, because both contain assurances from Jesus that the disciples would be rulers over the twelve tribes of Israel (Matt 19:29, Luke 22:30). How might it be significant that Luke chose to place this conversation in the context of the Last Supper?
Each time we take communion, we are reminded howJesus served at that Last Supper table. By presenting the bread and wine as his body and blood, he foreshadowed his ultimate service – following his mission through to his death. We are also reminded that, as his followers, we do not seek to glorify ourselves, but to serve.
We should not serve – should not make an effort to be “the last” – simply to secure ourselves an eventual position among “the first.” We all know people who make a great show of being humble, people who engage in the same type of public piety Jesus rebuked. Sometimes maybe we even are those people. Jesus was not offering some miracle piety formula like [Unnecessary Martyrdom] + [Self-abasement] = [First]. That would be pointless, because God already loves each and every one of us fully. He was also not teaching us to be doormats, because true service requires strength. Rather, he was teaching us the structure and society of God’s kingdom, so unlike the world we encounter. In God’s kingdom, we recognize the leadership and love of humble service.
When we leave the communion table, we leave ready to meet the world in all its need and disarray. We leave ready to share and implement the truth of the Good News. We leave ready for service for its own, holy sake.
Comfort: Odd as it may sound sometime, service is a great freedom.
Challenge: Find a way to serve, and do it without fanfare.
Prayer: God of Peace, I am your humble servant.
Evening readings: Ps 130, 16
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 90, 149; Isa 8:1-25; 2 Thes 3:6-18; Luke 22:31-38
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Find the Room In Your Heart
Today's readings: Ps 18:1-20, 147:12-20; Isaiah 7:1-9; 2 Thes 2:1-12; Luke 22:1-13
It almost sounds like an excerpt from a cold war novel, but the disciples followed Jesus’ instructions, and prepared the Passover meal. Are we as willing to follow Jesus’ instructions today? Or do we claim Jesus didn’t really mean to give your shirt when someone takes your coat? Or to give to everyone who begs from you? Or to lend without expecting return? (Luke 6:29-35) Suddenly we’re social workers, expertly avoiding any “foolish” giving that might “enable” undesirable behaviors. Is it possible Jesus doesn’t instruct us solely to benefit the recipients of our charity, but to benefit us? God loves each of us as much as the beggar in the street, and grace need not be unilateral. The disciples could have easily disregarded Jesus’ instructions, and just snatched up the first available room. The end result would have been the same, right? Only if the room was the point. The point was trusting Christ enough to believe even crazy-sounding instructions were an extension of his love and purpose.
Our world is polluted with cheap grace. Checks to charitable groups and soup kitchens on holidays are commendable, but too often we substitute them for actual relationships with those who need us – and God’s love – the most. Why do we think charity is noble – until someone asks for it directly? Once, when a Liberian refugee our church helped resettle placed a list of needs on our bulletin board, I overhead someone say: “They’ve always got a hand out.” About a refugee. In church. Lest we become judgmental, let’s consider our own attitude toward the beggar on the street. Are we second-guessing Jesus’ intended result and grabbing the first available room, or are we taking time to follow the instructions, trusting in a greater purpose?
Comfort: Jesus and his teachings are trustworthy.
Challenge: The next time someone asks you for money or other help, give it to them if you can and meditate on your feelings about it.
Prayer: God of Peace, I will trust your instructions.
Evening readings: Ps 126, 62
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 7:10-25; 2 Thes 2:13-3:5; Luke 22:14-30
“… a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him into the house he enters and say to the owner of the house, ‘The teacher asks you, “Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?” ‘ He will show you a large room upstairs, already furnished. Make preparations for us there.”
Luke 22:1-12
It almost sounds like an excerpt from a cold war novel, but the disciples followed Jesus’ instructions, and prepared the Passover meal. Are we as willing to follow Jesus’ instructions today? Or do we claim Jesus didn’t really mean to give your shirt when someone takes your coat? Or to give to everyone who begs from you? Or to lend without expecting return? (Luke 6:29-35) Suddenly we’re social workers, expertly avoiding any “foolish” giving that might “enable” undesirable behaviors. Is it possible Jesus doesn’t instruct us solely to benefit the recipients of our charity, but to benefit us? God loves each of us as much as the beggar in the street, and grace need not be unilateral. The disciples could have easily disregarded Jesus’ instructions, and just snatched up the first available room. The end result would have been the same, right? Only if the room was the point. The point was trusting Christ enough to believe even crazy-sounding instructions were an extension of his love and purpose.
Our world is polluted with cheap grace. Checks to charitable groups and soup kitchens on holidays are commendable, but too often we substitute them for actual relationships with those who need us – and God’s love – the most. Why do we think charity is noble – until someone asks for it directly? Once, when a Liberian refugee our church helped resettle placed a list of needs on our bulletin board, I overhead someone say: “They’ve always got a hand out.” About a refugee. In church. Lest we become judgmental, let’s consider our own attitude toward the beggar on the street. Are we second-guessing Jesus’ intended result and grabbing the first available room, or are we taking time to follow the instructions, trusting in a greater purpose?
Comfort: Jesus and his teachings are trustworthy.
Challenge: The next time someone asks you for money or other help, give it to them if you can and meditate on your feelings about it.
Prayer: God of Peace, I will trust your instructions.
Evening readings: Ps 126, 62
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 102, 148; Isa 7:10-25; 2 Thes 2:13-3:5; Luke 22:14-30
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Revolution, Not Institution
Today's readings: Ps 33, 146; Isa 1:21-31; 1 Thes 2:1-12; Luke 20:9-18
In the early church, Advent was a season for converts to prepare for baptism though penitence and fasting. Today it’s more a time for remembering Christ’s first coming into the world, but as an annual season it also reminds us Christ comes to us again and again. Every moment we have the potential to accept Christ yet more deeply into our hearts. Advent reminds us to be open to Christ’s arrival, and the change it brings.
Make no mistake: whether it’s a revolution of our inner landscape, the world, or the church, Christ’s coming is always a revolution. Why not a more gradual and less abrasive evolution? Because institutions of power, including the institution of the church, almost always perceive and resist the kind of change Christ represents as a threat. By definition, institutions function through clearly defined, long standing programs. In stark contrast, Christ’s radical, all-inclusive love thwarts exclusionary traditions.
While we challenge external institutions that impede the Realm of God, we must also examine whether we have established internal institutions that hinder our role in that realm – institutions such as job security or financial stability. For example, I know more than one minister who laments how the church treats gay and lesbian people, yet does not speak out on the issue because “the congregation just isn’t ready to hear it.” I question the real motives for such silence. Like the bad tenants who kill the son of the vineyard owner so they may gain his inheritance (Luke 20:9-18), could these people be selling out their convictions – and Christ – for a share of an inheritance they do not deserve? Christ did not pander to the masses at the expense of the oppressed.
Why does our desire to spark a Christ-like revolution seem to dwindle with age? We often point to increased wisdom, but what if it’s really because accumulated pension plans and social prominence mean we have more to lose? Perhaps Christ teaches us the Realm of God is more accessible to the poor, because – like they young – they don’t fear losing what they haven’t got. Our first allegiance is never to external or internal institutions, but to the Realm of God.
Comfort: There’s nothing we can lose that’s more valuable than God.
Challenge: Read the lyrics of or listen to “It Should Have Been Obvious” by The Choir.
Prayer: God of Hope, I seek to serve your kingdom first.
Evening readings: Ps 85, 94
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 50, 147:1-11; Isa 2:1-4; 1 Thes 2:13-20; Luke 20:19-26
In the early church, Advent was a season for converts to prepare for baptism though penitence and fasting. Today it’s more a time for remembering Christ’s first coming into the world, but as an annual season it also reminds us Christ comes to us again and again. Every moment we have the potential to accept Christ yet more deeply into our hearts. Advent reminds us to be open to Christ’s arrival, and the change it brings.
Make no mistake: whether it’s a revolution of our inner landscape, the world, or the church, Christ’s coming is always a revolution. Why not a more gradual and less abrasive evolution? Because institutions of power, including the institution of the church, almost always perceive and resist the kind of change Christ represents as a threat. By definition, institutions function through clearly defined, long standing programs. In stark contrast, Christ’s radical, all-inclusive love thwarts exclusionary traditions.
While we challenge external institutions that impede the Realm of God, we must also examine whether we have established internal institutions that hinder our role in that realm – institutions such as job security or financial stability. For example, I know more than one minister who laments how the church treats gay and lesbian people, yet does not speak out on the issue because “the congregation just isn’t ready to hear it.” I question the real motives for such silence. Like the bad tenants who kill the son of the vineyard owner so they may gain his inheritance (Luke 20:9-18), could these people be selling out their convictions – and Christ – for a share of an inheritance they do not deserve? Christ did not pander to the masses at the expense of the oppressed.
Why does our desire to spark a Christ-like revolution seem to dwindle with age? We often point to increased wisdom, but what if it’s really because accumulated pension plans and social prominence mean we have more to lose? Perhaps Christ teaches us the Realm of God is more accessible to the poor, because – like they young – they don’t fear losing what they haven’t got. Our first allegiance is never to external or internal institutions, but to the Realm of God.
Comfort: There’s nothing we can lose that’s more valuable than God.
Challenge: Read the lyrics of or listen to “It Should Have Been Obvious” by The Choir.
Prayer: God of Hope, I seek to serve your kingdom first.
Evening readings: Ps 85, 94
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 50, 147:1-11; Isa 2:1-4; 1 Thes 2:13-20; Luke 20:19-26
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Making Peace
Today's readings: Ps 140, 142; Mic 3:9-4:5; Acts 24:24-25:12; Luke 8:1-15
“The opposite of war isn’t peace; it’s creation.”
-- Jonathan Larson, Rent
It’s easy to think of peace as an end unto itself. In a world full of conflict, achieving true, lasting peace is a project humankind has never been able to complete. But if we ever did achieve peace… what then?
Then… everything. Peace is the environment we seek to establish in order to maximize our service to each other and to God. Peace is not an end, but a beginning. The prophet Micah offers many warnings to the nation of Israel, but he also offers them the hope of peace. He describes a day when conflict will end and people “shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks” (Mic 4:3). When this time comes, the people will walk in the name of the Lord forever (v. 5).
What about now? What do we do while we wait for that glorious time? Well, Jesus tells us “blessed are the peace makers” (Matt 5:9) - not the peace waiters. Like Micah’s soldiers-turned-farmers, we can turn our implements of destruction into tools of creation. Just as iron can be the material for either swords or plows, our own gifts and talents are raw stuff that can be channeled in many directions. A knack for leadership is a prime example of a gift that can be used for good or ill. The same might be said of almost any talent or skill, from engineering to baking to singing. Our talents are gifts from God, and we should employ them in the service of God’s creation. Like Micah’s farmers, we might need to examine and reshape them until they are put to their very best use.
Peace is not merely the absence of war; it is an ongoing, conscious effort to be in right relationship with everyone around us. Jesus is not known as the Prince of Peace because he passively avoided conflict. To the contrary, he actively transformed the destructive elements of this world until they served God. And he asks us to follow him.
Comfort: Peace is a project in which we can all participate.
Challenge: Make two lists: one for the skills and talents you are employing in service to creation, and another for those you are not. How can you get some of the items from the second list into the first?
Prayer: Teach me, O Lord, to make peace.
Evening readings: Ps 141, 143
“The opposite of war isn’t peace; it’s creation.”
-- Jonathan Larson, Rent
It’s easy to think of peace as an end unto itself. In a world full of conflict, achieving true, lasting peace is a project humankind has never been able to complete. But if we ever did achieve peace… what then?
Then… everything. Peace is the environment we seek to establish in order to maximize our service to each other and to God. Peace is not an end, but a beginning. The prophet Micah offers many warnings to the nation of Israel, but he also offers them the hope of peace. He describes a day when conflict will end and people “shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks” (Mic 4:3). When this time comes, the people will walk in the name of the Lord forever (v. 5).
What about now? What do we do while we wait for that glorious time? Well, Jesus tells us “blessed are the peace makers” (Matt 5:9) - not the peace waiters. Like Micah’s soldiers-turned-farmers, we can turn our implements of destruction into tools of creation. Just as iron can be the material for either swords or plows, our own gifts and talents are raw stuff that can be channeled in many directions. A knack for leadership is a prime example of a gift that can be used for good or ill. The same might be said of almost any talent or skill, from engineering to baking to singing. Our talents are gifts from God, and we should employ them in the service of God’s creation. Like Micah’s farmers, we might need to examine and reshape them until they are put to their very best use.
Peace is not merely the absence of war; it is an ongoing, conscious effort to be in right relationship with everyone around us. Jesus is not known as the Prince of Peace because he passively avoided conflict. To the contrary, he actively transformed the destructive elements of this world until they served God. And he asks us to follow him.
Comfort: Peace is a project in which we can all participate.
Challenge: Make two lists: one for the skills and talents you are employing in service to creation, and another for those you are not. How can you get some of the items from the second list into the first?
Prayer: Teach me, O Lord, to make peace.
Evening readings: Ps 141, 143
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 137, 144; Mic 5:1-4, 10-15; Acts 25:13-27; Luke 8:16-25
Thursday, September 23, 2010
People Are People
Today's readings: Ps 83; Est 7:1-10; Acts 19:11-20; Luke 4:14-30
Sometimes all it takes to be a prophet is an understanding of human nature and a keen sense of irony. When Jesus begins preaching in his home town of Nazareth, he knows the people in the synagogue will want the same signs he performed earlier in Capernaum. (You may remember from our reflection on Mark 6:1-6 that the people of Nazareth had so little faith, Jesus was unable to do more than lay hands on a few sick people.) Jesus tells them “no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown” (Luke 4:24) Five verses later, they are trying to throw him off a cliff.
They could have tried to be more accepting, if only to prove him wrong, right? But that’s not human nature. Who as an adolescent does not at least consider responding to a parent by saying something like “If you’re going to give me the third degree about drinking every time I leave the house, I might as well just do it!” One irony is a protective parent pushing a teenager toward exactly the behavior s/he wishes to avert, and a second is the immature person’s assertion of innocence via threat of guilt. In a more adult example, consider the spouse who blames infidelity on a partner’s insecurity about the spouse’s faithfulness. Or the faithful who want to throw their savior off a cliff.
Jesus saw it coming, and so should we. Across time, geography and culture certain truths about human nature persist. We tend to think we are more self-aware than other people, but in reality – not so much. When we’re not busy convincing ourselves we are better than we are, we may be looking at other cultures and communities as “noble savages” who are somehow exempt from the less desirable traits of humanity. Or worse, we may look at whole groups of people as more capable of corruption than we could ever be. As clichéd as it might sound, people are people.
The good new is, we can be better. First, we must abandon the mindset that we are exempt from basic human nature. Second, we must honestly examine ourselves as an outsider (Jesus, maybe?) might see us. Finally, we must consciously decide to act in ways consistent with our faith, even if that action goes against our nature. Let’s step back from the cliff.
Comfort: God knows our nature – and our potential.
Challenge: Ask yourself what you do, even though you know better.
Prayer: God of strength, I seek your nature before my own.
Evening readings: Ps 85, 86
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 88; Est 8:1-8, 15-17; Acts 19:21-41; Luke 4:31-37
Sometimes all it takes to be a prophet is an understanding of human nature and a keen sense of irony. When Jesus begins preaching in his home town of Nazareth, he knows the people in the synagogue will want the same signs he performed earlier in Capernaum. (You may remember from our reflection on Mark 6:1-6 that the people of Nazareth had so little faith, Jesus was unable to do more than lay hands on a few sick people.) Jesus tells them “no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown” (Luke 4:24) Five verses later, they are trying to throw him off a cliff.
They could have tried to be more accepting, if only to prove him wrong, right? But that’s not human nature. Who as an adolescent does not at least consider responding to a parent by saying something like “If you’re going to give me the third degree about drinking every time I leave the house, I might as well just do it!” One irony is a protective parent pushing a teenager toward exactly the behavior s/he wishes to avert, and a second is the immature person’s assertion of innocence via threat of guilt. In a more adult example, consider the spouse who blames infidelity on a partner’s insecurity about the spouse’s faithfulness. Or the faithful who want to throw their savior off a cliff.
Jesus saw it coming, and so should we. Across time, geography and culture certain truths about human nature persist. We tend to think we are more self-aware than other people, but in reality – not so much. When we’re not busy convincing ourselves we are better than we are, we may be looking at other cultures and communities as “noble savages” who are somehow exempt from the less desirable traits of humanity. Or worse, we may look at whole groups of people as more capable of corruption than we could ever be. As clichéd as it might sound, people are people.
The good new is, we can be better. First, we must abandon the mindset that we are exempt from basic human nature. Second, we must honestly examine ourselves as an outsider (Jesus, maybe?) might see us. Finally, we must consciously decide to act in ways consistent with our faith, even if that action goes against our nature. Let’s step back from the cliff.
Comfort: God knows our nature – and our potential.
Challenge: Ask yourself what you do, even though you know better.
Prayer: God of strength, I seek your nature before my own.
Evening readings: Ps 85, 86
Tomorrow's readings: Ps 88; Est 8:1-8, 15-17; Acts 19:21-41; Luke 4:31-37
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