Broken Rudders

Morning readings: Psalms 96; 147:1-11, 1 Kings 9:24-10:13, James 3:1-12, Mark 15:1-11

The Book of James teaches the tongue is small but capable of great feats. James compares this smallest of organs to a tiny rudder guiding large ships through strong winds (Jam 3:4). For this reason he warns religious teaching is a perilous pursuit, as our tongues are difficult to tame and when used carelessly cause great misdirection and harm to ourselves and others. Teachers, James says, are held to a higher standard because a spring cannot produce both brackish and fresh waters (v 11).

The chief priests and other leaders appearing in Mark 15 would have served as teachers. When Pilate, who realized Jesus had been brought to him because these leaders were jealous (Mk 15:10), offered to free a prisoner, these leaders used their tongues to convince the people to instead free Barabbas. Historically Jesus and Barabbas would both have been guilt of insurrection and similar crimes, but according to Mark Barabbas was also a murderer. The chief priests used their powerful tongues to steer the crowd to free a killer instead of a messiah.

Even today many a preacher grows a flock by appealing to people's baser nature and focusing on the "enemies" of the church. In the Western world, authentic persecution of Christians is almost unheard of, and systematic persecution is non-existent. Yet some preachers insist on targeting a group (when one group is not politically viable for attack they will move on to the next) and claiming specific people are the enemy we need to fight, all the while twisting the message to seem like love.

We do have real enemies, but Jesus taught us to love them. He also taught us what to fight: poverty, injustice, oppression, and the planks in our own eyes. The best teachers and preachers do not spend their time closing ranks and vilifying others falsely. They know binding Christ's message to hate crucifies undeserving victims. They open our eyes to how Christ's love transforms us, and through us transforms the world.

Evening readings: Psalms 132; 134

Broken Relationships

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

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

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

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

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

Evening readings: Psalms 1; 33

Beautifully Broken

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

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

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

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

Evening readings:  Psalms 25; 40

Worthy

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

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

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

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

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

Evening readings: Psalms 85; 47

Jesus Wept

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

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

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

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

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

Evening reading: Evening Psalms 28; 99

One Body to Heal

Today's readings: Psalms 51, 148; 2 Kings 23:36-24:17; 1 Corinthians 12:12-26; Matthew 9:27-34

If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it.

- 1 Corinthians 12:26

Today’s reading from 1 Corinthians can be read on many levels. It is often used to describe the importance of each person’s role in the body of Christ and to celebrate the many gifts they contribute. It also describes the importance of diversity within the church. Read in context with today’s healing story in Matthew, there is yet another meaning.

When one part of the body is sick, it depends on the others for healing. An ailing tooth does not walk itself into a dentist’s office, but relies on the feet. A foot with a splinter cannot remedy itself, but depends on the hands to remove it. Hands that tremble from hunger cannot feed themselves, but rely on the mouth and teeth to chew and swallow. Each part is not only equally important, it is equally interdependent.

As members of the body of Christ, we must rely on each other and be present for each other in times of illness and distress. None of us is completely self-sufficient. We receive care when we need it, and we offer care when it is needed. And as the feet don’t feel burdened by the tooth, and the hands don’t feel burdened by the feet, we do so not out of obligation nor to secure help for ourselves in the future, but because we are one. The well-being of one is inseparable from the well-being of others.

Christ was extravagant in his love was for all people. Christ was extravagant in his healing. As we are now his body, we are called to the same extravagance. Let us heal not out of duty, but out of extravagant love.

Evening readings: Psalms 142, 65

The Communion Equation

Today's readings: Psalms 89:1-18, 147:1-11; 2 Kings 22:14-23:3; 1 Corinthians 11:23-34; Matthew 9:9-17

The Lord’s Supper – communion – is the oldest of Christian traditions. It is breathtaking in its meaning and simplicity. Every time we partake of the bread and cup, we remember the meaning of Christ’s sacrifice for us, and strengthen the bonds of our faith community. It unites us not only with those at our particular table sharing our particular cup, but with Christians across time and distance.

Did you know the potluck is an equally longstanding tradition? When the early Christians of Corinth gathered for communion, they first shared an Agape Meal (or Love Feast). Everyone brought food to share and they ate in common. After a time, the original intent of the meal was diminished: some who contributed more food felt they should
have a larger portion; some began to get drunk; some were almost as hungry when they left as when they arrived. Divisions and resentments became part of the meal and – worse yet – these attitudes were carried to the communion table. The meal no longer strengthened bonds, but division. Have we seen this happen?

Disagreement is inevitable. An uncharitable attitude is not. At Christ’s table all are equal. Christ himself ate with tax collectors, sinners and all manner of “outcasts” from his community (Matt 9:10-13). When we gather as Christians, we should share our gifts freely and equally. Bringing more food (or money, or time, or a particular talent, or…) to the table does not entitle us to a larger share or more influence. Having less to bring does not mean we go away less satisfied or unheard. Giving and receiving are two sides of the same equation, and we can find ourselves on either side at any time. In this holy algebra, Christ is the sign of equality who unites and balances us.

Evening readings: Psalms 1, 33

Faith and Friction

Today's readings: Psalms 5, 145; 2 Kings 21:1-18; 1 Corinthians 10:14-11:1; Matthew8:28-34

Early followers of Christ lived in a culture where almost every corner had a temple or idol to one deity or another. This created complicated social situations where they had to balance being a loving neighbor (or business partner or customer) against upholding  their principles.   In today's reading from Corinthians, Paul writes about eating meat sacrificed to idols or demons – which would have been forbidden under Jewish law. Instead of declaring such actions sinful or not, he wrote: "'All things are lawful,' but not all things are beneficial. 'All things are lawful,' but not all things build up" (1 Cor 10:23). He advised them their actions should be chosen to strengthen their convictions, and to provide strong witness to people around them.

We face similar challenges. Every day we are called to follow our principles even when they run contrary to social pressures, politics, employers, friends, family, foreign cultures, and fellow people of faith. In some situations, particularly matters of personal ethics, we may simultaneously be judged by some people as too pious, while others see us as terrible sinners. If we remain loving, it don't matter. Christ didn't worry about being called a glutton or a drunkard, and John the Baptist was just fine being a holy freak (Matt 11:18-19). Isn't it liberating to know our allegiance is never to public opinion, but to God, "for why is [our] freedom being judged by another’s conscience?" (v 29).

We are not a people bound by laws and technicalities of action and thought (no matter how much some people might cling to that model). We are a people freed by love and meant to love freely. Our faith is in constant friction with the world. It is up to us to decide whether that friction is a source of irritation, or a source of warmth like two hands rubbing together as if in prayer.

Evening readings: Psalms 82, 29

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

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

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

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

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

Evening readings: Psalms 117; 139

(What Is) Love, Actually?

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

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

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

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

Evening readings: Psalms 80, 72

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

Oh, for the love of God...

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

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

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

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

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

Evening readings: Psalms 126, 62

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

Love Story

Today's readings: Psalms 122, 145; Isaiah 5:8-17; 1 Thessalonians 5:1-11; Luke 21:20-28

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

- Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act I, Scene I

Every classic love story involves obstacles the lovers must overcome before finally reuniting. Whether it's warring houses a la Romeo and Juliet, or Heath Ledger's bad boy reputation in 10 Things I Hate About You (a modern take on Taming of the Shrew), problems both tragic and comedic arise. The basic storyline has become cliched if not outright hackneyed, yet its appeal endures.

Maybe that's because history's ultimate love story, that between God and humanity, has repeated this pattern over and over. In this case though the obstacles are all one-sided. We repeatedly abandon God, but God never abandons us. It may feel that way when the fallout of our actions leaves us in an unGodly place - whether metaphorically or in the case of Isaiah's exiled audience quite literally - but God never initiates the "breakup."

If today's readings about destruction were part of a dramatic plot, we'd be squarely in the middle of Act IV: the lovers who thought they were destined to be together forever have been torn apart by [insert plot point here], while the party who seems more in control - in this story, God - is actually the one more wounded by the split. Our story is tragic in the sense that we are undone by our own pride and foolishness and must suffer terrible consequences we were warned to avoid. We know that in the end love triumphs in the person of Jesus Christ, but during Advent - and all the Advent-like seasons of our lives - we live into the uncertain waiting.

Advent helps us focus on what aspects of our love affair with God need tending so we might avoid or bridge that separation. We are called to ever deeper levels of communion with God, and this season encourages us to examine the personal and communal obstacles we need to address before that can happen. As the cycle of obstacles continues, so does the cycle of reunion - at Christmas, at Easter, at Pentecost and at various points in our lives when we reach Act V, and are reunited with God all over again. Be sure to stick around until the credits roll!

Evening readings: Psalms 40; 67

Our Neighbors, Ourselves

Today's readings: Ps 130, 148; Isa 65:17-25; 1 Tim 5:17-22; Mark 12:28-34

When the Jewish scribes asked Jesus which was the greatest commandment, he replied “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30). He also volunteered the second most important: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (v 31). The scribes hadn’t asked him for the top two, so he must have felt very strongly about how we love our neighbors. We should note that in this statement is an implicit assumption that we do indeed love ourselves. As Christians, we are not always comfortable expressing a healthy love of self.

When we proclaim “I love my neighbor!” most people approve that sentiment. However, if we proclaim just as boldly “I love myself!” we can expect considerably less enthusiasm. But if God wants us to love our neighbors extravagantly, and we are to love our neighbors as ourselves, doesn’t logic say God wants us to love ourselves just as extravagantly? God loves us as much as he loves our neighbors. Can we do less?

Sadly, overt love of self is often mistaken for pride. We are allowed to celebrate the gifts and talents of others, but we are expected to be demure – often unnecessarily so – about our own. Why wouldn’t we celebrate the gifts, talents and traits our Creator has bestowed upon us? Certainly we don’t want to boast or elevate ourselves above others, but neither do we want to engage in the kind of self-talk that tells us we are less worthy, less beautiful or less loved in our creator’s eyes than is anyone else. Quite the opposite: if we are to love others as God expects us to, we must understand what it is to be loved.

Sometimes loving ourselves means being honest about our own shortcomings, but doing so in a way that builds us up rather than tears us down. For instance, if we need to make changes to improve our health we don’t do it by telling ourselves how terrible we are, but by recognizing our bodies are beautiful gifts from God that deserve the proper care and maintenance. Loving ourselves means unashamedly appreciating the gifts we have, and doing our best to honor and tend them.

Comfort: God wants us to love ourselves, because God loves us.

Challenge: Make a list of qualities you like about yourself.

Prayer: God of Strength, thank you for all my gifts.

Evening readings: Ps 32, 139

Tomorrow's readings: Ps 56, 149; Isa 66:1-6; 1 Tim 6:6-21; Mark 12:35-44

Loving Our Enemies

Today's readings: Ps 107:33-43, 108; Hos 11:1-9; Acts 22:17-29; Luke 6:27-38

When Christ tell us to love our enemies, the underlying assumption is that we will have enemies. None of us gets through this life without having at least a few. How are we to love them? As usual, Jesus doesn’t tell us how to feel but how to behave: “Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you” (Luke 6:27b-28). This sounds like the epitome of selflessness, but the truth is we engage in these actions to transform ourselves and our relationships with the world.

Unless we are engaged in a war, referring to someone as an “enemy” can seem melodramatic. To put Christ’s words into action, we can think of our enemies as anyone we don’t feel like blessing, praying or doing good for. Maybe our enemies are social – the people who challenge us at work, school or other social groups. Maybe our enemies are political; few things can set us against each other so quickly, even when we share common goals. Maybe our enemies are inherited through longstanding cultural grudges, and we don’t have any firsthand reason to clash. In all these cases, society teaches us to distrust, outmaneuver or outright harm our enemies. The television reality show turns strangers into enemies for entertainment. Our hands may not be at war, but our hearts certainly are.

If we love our enemies only in an attempt to change them, we are missing the point. While we never want to discourage a move from enemy to friend, having any purpose for love other than love itself will eventually frustrate and disappoint us – and short-circuit the power of love to change our own hearts. How should we pray for our enemies, if not to change them? Just like we would pray for our loved ones. Make no mistake – such prayer sometimes takes an immense effort when we have been wronged or hurt. We can’t wait until we feel like praying for them, for that day may never come. Prayer for those who anger us isn’t hypocritical, it is a discipline crucial to re-shaping our hearts to better resemble Christ's heart.

Loving those who love us is nothing to brag about (v. 32), but loving those who despise us – while expecting nothing in return! – changes both our hearts and the world.

Comfort: Loving our enemies gets easier with practice.

Challenge: Pray for your enemies – and mean it.

Prayer: Teach me, Lord, to love my enemies as Christ loves me.

Evening readings: Ps 33

Tomorrow's readings: Ps 118; Hos 13:4-14; 1 Cor 2:6-16; Matt 14:1-12