Today's readings: Ps 5, 147:1-11; Gen 37:25-36; 1 Cor 2:1-13; Mk 1:29-45
A few days ago, we entertained the idea of Christ as the ambassador of God’s realm in this world. No embassy is a one-person operation. Usually the ambassador is supported by a staff of cultural, legal, press, military and other diplomatic attachés. If we are citizens of heaven traveling in a foreign land, we need to determine whether we are tourists or representatives of a higher authority. If we are public about our faith, we have chosen to serve as representatives. Is that thought intimidating? It doesn’t need to be, if we are observant of those who have served successfully before us.
One of the most important diplomatic skills – arguably the most important – is the ability to listen. When Paul first visited the Corinthians, he did not pretend to have all the answers to their problems. Instead he “decided to know nothing among [them] except Jesus Christ, and him crucified” (1 Cor 2:2). Paul knew that the mission of diplomacy is not to dominate and to impose, but to understand and relate. He didn’t even attempt to impress the Corinthians, but approached them “in weakness and in fear and in much trembling.” This may not sound like an auspicious beginning, but in the end he delivered his message successfully and established the church in Corinth.
Paul succeeded because he lived his core mission with integrity. People perceived no difference between his words and his life. Because Paul’s message was one of salvation through redemption rather than perfection, his flaws did not undermine that message. As Christian “attachés”, we should find two important lessons here. First, we should never present ourselves as perfected or somehow better than non-Christians. Otherwise, the first time we cut someone off in traffic while sporting a Jesus-fish bumper sticker, our message becomes one of hypocrisy. Second, we need to be serious about living lives that reflect the Spirit within us. Again this doesn’t mean unattainable perfection, but a heart full of the love, peace, mercy and humility of Christ. An humble example is worth more than a million lofty instructions.
Comfort: Perfection is the enemy of progress.
Challenge: Each day, reflect on how your example could be better.
Prayer: God of the journey, give me ears to hear and words of love.
Evening readings: Ps 27, 51
Discussion question:
How have you been successful sharing your faith?
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
The Lenten Journey: Avoiding the Primrose Path
Today's readings: Ps 34, 146; Gen 37:12-24; 1 Cor 1:20-31; Mark 1:14-28
We spend a lot of time and effort training children not to trust strangers, especially ones promising treats. That training endures well into adulthood. We don’t believe offers that sound “too good to be true.” Most of us don’t hitchhike or pick up hitchhikers. We lock up our homes, cars and birth certificates. Given the nature of the world, all these precautions are wise.
On the other hand, we are a people who like quick fixes and easy assurances. Proof lies in the bank accounts and hypocrisy of televangelists, politicians, Wall Street executives, and home shopping gurus. Headline after headline tells us we entrust them with far too much of our faith and money.
Then what are we to make of fishermen who “immediately” dropped what they were doing to follow Jesus, as Mark tell us, simply because he asked them to? In hindsight we support the decision, but what about someone who abandoned her or his life today to follow someone promising to make them “day traders of men?” Would the words “cult” or “deprogram” come to mind? Were the first disciples wise people or lucky fools?
The difference between wisdom and foolishness is a tough call. Because God’s values are upside down compared to the world’s values, we are constantly called to evaluate our decisions, and sometimes to act in ways others would consider foolish. For example, how many of use are willing to decrease our standard of living – move into a smaller house, drive a cheaper car, or take a lower paying job – to spend more money or time on the poor? Very few, and they are often judged with humor at best and suspicion at worst. The world tells us this is foolishness, yet it is freedom.
In 1 Corinthians, Paul tells us God makes the foolish wise and the wise foolish. Let’s not get cocky about which side of that equation we land on. Determining whether a path is right or merely attractive can take serious discernment. We want to follow Jesus quickly, but we want to be sure the path we choose truly leads to him. Let’s choose our guides with Godly wisdom and worldly foolishness.
Comfort: Your choices are between you and God.
Challenge: “Foolishly” critique your own opinion on a controversial issue.
Prayer: God of the journey, make your paths clear to me.
Evening readings: Ps 25, 91
We spend a lot of time and effort training children not to trust strangers, especially ones promising treats. That training endures well into adulthood. We don’t believe offers that sound “too good to be true.” Most of us don’t hitchhike or pick up hitchhikers. We lock up our homes, cars and birth certificates. Given the nature of the world, all these precautions are wise.
On the other hand, we are a people who like quick fixes and easy assurances. Proof lies in the bank accounts and hypocrisy of televangelists, politicians, Wall Street executives, and home shopping gurus. Headline after headline tells us we entrust them with far too much of our faith and money.
Then what are we to make of fishermen who “immediately” dropped what they were doing to follow Jesus, as Mark tell us, simply because he asked them to? In hindsight we support the decision, but what about someone who abandoned her or his life today to follow someone promising to make them “day traders of men?” Would the words “cult” or “deprogram” come to mind? Were the first disciples wise people or lucky fools?
The difference between wisdom and foolishness is a tough call. Because God’s values are upside down compared to the world’s values, we are constantly called to evaluate our decisions, and sometimes to act in ways others would consider foolish. For example, how many of use are willing to decrease our standard of living – move into a smaller house, drive a cheaper car, or take a lower paying job – to spend more money or time on the poor? Very few, and they are often judged with humor at best and suspicion at worst. The world tells us this is foolishness, yet it is freedom.
In 1 Corinthians, Paul tells us God makes the foolish wise and the wise foolish. Let’s not get cocky about which side of that equation we land on. Determining whether a path is right or merely attractive can take serious discernment. We want to follow Jesus quickly, but we want to be sure the path we choose truly leads to him. Let’s choose our guides with Godly wisdom and worldly foolishness.
Comfort: Your choices are between you and God.
Challenge: “Foolishly” critique your own opinion on a controversial issue.
Prayer: God of the journey, make your paths clear to me.
Evening readings: Ps 25, 91
Discussion Question:
Have you ever thought you were doing something right and it turned out wrong?
Monday, February 27, 2012
The Lenten Journey: A Well Lit Path
Today's readings: Ps 119:73-80, 145; Gen 37:1-11; 1 Cor 1:1-19; Mark 1:1-13
I remember watching a television documentary about newly discovered caves in Russia. The only entrance to them was deep underwater. The narrator made great fanfare of how the divers we watched would be the first humans to ever see the sights within. I couldn’t help thinking: “Except for the lighting and camera crew that set up this shot...”
When we plumb the depths of faith, there’s a good chance someone has prepared the way ahead of us. The “spontaneous” civil disobedience of Rosa Parks was no accident, but is no less important for being deliberate. The latest “overnight sensation” in the entertainment industry almost always has a hero or mentor. Even Jesus had John the Baptist to “make his paths straight” (Mark 1:3) and warm up the crowds.
So who has prepared our way? Christ has. As the incarnation of the divine (whatever that may mean to you), Christ lived out the full human experience, full of love and pain and death and triumph, without straying from the path God had laid out for him. Our path is never exactly his, but Christ has gone before us and set the lights and markers for us to follow. Because of Christ’s example, we have faith the journey of a human life is more than the thorny path of mere existence.
Like the lighting crew in the caves, it is Christ who has done the truly dangerous work, stepping into the darkness without certainty about what lay ahead. Because he was fully human, he was susceptible to doubt and fear. As his death approached, even he felt God had forsaken him (Mk 15:34, Matt 27:46). But because he has gone before us, we can trust God’s light will be present to greet us in the darkest places.
Are we preparing the way for anyone? Do we know who might be searching for a light we could provide or a bridge we could build? Every so often, as we progress on our Lenten and life journeys, let’s take a look behind us to see whether we add to or extinguish the light in our wake.
Comfort: Wherever you go, Christ was there first.
Challenge: Thank someone whose has helped guide you, especially if they may not be aware of it..
Prayer: God of the journey, you are my light in dark places.
Evening readings: Ps 121, 6
Discussion Question:
Other than Jesus, who has been a light on your faith journey?
I remember watching a television documentary about newly discovered caves in Russia. The only entrance to them was deep underwater. The narrator made great fanfare of how the divers we watched would be the first humans to ever see the sights within. I couldn’t help thinking: “Except for the lighting and camera crew that set up this shot...”
When we plumb the depths of faith, there’s a good chance someone has prepared the way ahead of us. The “spontaneous” civil disobedience of Rosa Parks was no accident, but is no less important for being deliberate. The latest “overnight sensation” in the entertainment industry almost always has a hero or mentor. Even Jesus had John the Baptist to “make his paths straight” (Mark 1:3) and warm up the crowds.
So who has prepared our way? Christ has. As the incarnation of the divine (whatever that may mean to you), Christ lived out the full human experience, full of love and pain and death and triumph, without straying from the path God had laid out for him. Our path is never exactly his, but Christ has gone before us and set the lights and markers for us to follow. Because of Christ’s example, we have faith the journey of a human life is more than the thorny path of mere existence.
Like the lighting crew in the caves, it is Christ who has done the truly dangerous work, stepping into the darkness without certainty about what lay ahead. Because he was fully human, he was susceptible to doubt and fear. As his death approached, even he felt God had forsaken him (Mk 15:34, Matt 27:46). But because he has gone before us, we can trust God’s light will be present to greet us in the darkest places.
Are we preparing the way for anyone? Do we know who might be searching for a light we could provide or a bridge we could build? Every so often, as we progress on our Lenten and life journeys, let’s take a look behind us to see whether we add to or extinguish the light in our wake.
Comfort: Wherever you go, Christ was there first.
Challenge: Thank someone whose has helped guide you, especially if they may not be aware of it..
Prayer: God of the journey, you are my light in dark places.
Evening readings: Ps 121, 6
Discussion Question:
Other than Jesus, who has been a light on your faith journey?
Saturday, February 25, 2012
The Lenten Journey: V Formation
Today's readings: Ps 43, 149; Ez 39:21-29; Phil 4:10-20; John 17:20-26
When geese and other migratory birds travel long distances together, they do it in what is called a “V Formation.” Each bird relies on the updraft created by the bird in front of it to travel more easily and for further distances. As the lead bird – the tip of the “V” – tires, others rotate into the lead position. No one is in the front or the back for too long. Pilots flying in groups imitate this behavior not just for the increased efficiency, but also because it allows them to keep other members of the group in sight.
During our own Lenten journey - and our entire life journey – we can’t be Christians while flying solo. Any single goose can fly, but staying safe and ahead of the encroaching winter requires a group effort. Any single Christian can believe all the “right” things, but justice, love and mercy require meaningful interaction with others. Can one person address the needs of the hungry or the poor? A little maybe. But the synergy of a group food pantry can accomplish far more than the self-contained efforts of individual kitchens. And a group speaking in unison to change the injustices that create hunger in the first place has a louder impact than a cacophony of disjointed if well-intended messages. And a community of people preparing meals for a person or family in crisis provides not just food, but the invaluable assurance of a community in solidarity with the suffering.
Many such efforts may begin with the idea or drive of a single person. If we are that leader, we need to recognize when it is time to rest and let someone else lead the “V” for a while, or risk tumbling from the sky in exhaustion. If we are on the tips or in the middle of the effort, we must be prepared to step up when our time comes, knowing we will not be called to lead forever. Giving and receiving are both part of the faith experience.
When Jesus prayed to prepare his disciples for his death, he asked God that they would be made as one (John 17:22), knowing how much of their strength and grace resided in their ability to act together to bring about God’s realm. Let’s find the formation that helps us lift and be lifted.
Comfort: Dependence on community is a strength, not a weakness.
Challenge: Before Lent is over, ask someone for help.
Prayer: God of the journey, connect me to the people on my path.
Evening readings: Ps 31, 143
Discussion Question:
Do you find it more to difficult to offer help, or to ask for it? Why?
When geese and other migratory birds travel long distances together, they do it in what is called a “V Formation.” Each bird relies on the updraft created by the bird in front of it to travel more easily and for further distances. As the lead bird – the tip of the “V” – tires, others rotate into the lead position. No one is in the front or the back for too long. Pilots flying in groups imitate this behavior not just for the increased efficiency, but also because it allows them to keep other members of the group in sight.
During our own Lenten journey - and our entire life journey – we can’t be Christians while flying solo. Any single goose can fly, but staying safe and ahead of the encroaching winter requires a group effort. Any single Christian can believe all the “right” things, but justice, love and mercy require meaningful interaction with others. Can one person address the needs of the hungry or the poor? A little maybe. But the synergy of a group food pantry can accomplish far more than the self-contained efforts of individual kitchens. And a group speaking in unison to change the injustices that create hunger in the first place has a louder impact than a cacophony of disjointed if well-intended messages. And a community of people preparing meals for a person or family in crisis provides not just food, but the invaluable assurance of a community in solidarity with the suffering.
Many such efforts may begin with the idea or drive of a single person. If we are that leader, we need to recognize when it is time to rest and let someone else lead the “V” for a while, or risk tumbling from the sky in exhaustion. If we are on the tips or in the middle of the effort, we must be prepared to step up when our time comes, knowing we will not be called to lead forever. Giving and receiving are both part of the faith experience.
When Jesus prayed to prepare his disciples for his death, he asked God that they would be made as one (John 17:22), knowing how much of their strength and grace resided in their ability to act together to bring about God’s realm. Let’s find the formation that helps us lift and be lifted.
Comfort: Dependence on community is a strength, not a weakness.
Challenge: Before Lent is over, ask someone for help.
Prayer: God of the journey, connect me to the people on my path.
Evening readings: Ps 31, 143
Discussion Question:
Do you find it more to difficult to offer help, or to ask for it? Why?
Friday, February 24, 2012
The Lenten Journey: Choose Your Own Adventure
Today's readings: Ps 22, 148; Ez 18:1-4, 25-32; Phil 4:1-9; John 17:9-19
In the days before GPS and MapQuest, it was common for people embarking on a long car trip to visit AAA or another travel agent to get customized route maps (AAA still calls them TripTiks). An atlas could only get you so far before you needed additional city and street maps for the local details. Today we just click on “zoom.” But past or present, we need to know the end point of our journey to get directions. Our Lenten journey doesn’t work quite that way.
Our Lenten journey ends with resurrection – Easter – and we know the annual stories and readings that act as signposts throughout the season. But if our end point is a living, contemporary, present Christ, simply retracing 2000 year old steps – no matter how sacred – won’t get us there. Plenty of us are intimately familiar with Christ’s journey, yet stuck spinning our wheels. Without knowing direction resurrection may take in our own lives, how can we know in what direction to start our journey?
Ezekiel knows. The prophet advises his listeners the way forward is to repent – literally, to “turn around” their lives. A journey can begin because we have somewhere to go to – or somewhere to leave from. Even if we don’t know where we will end up, we generally know what in our lives we need to walk away from. Of course knowing is much easier than doing. Abuse, addiction, anger – if these things were easy to leave, Ezekiel could have kept his day job. It’s easier to stay in a bad or even dangerous yet familiar situation than to walk the unknown road. Rather than following a prescribed map, we find ourselves in a “Choose Your Own Adventure” scenario, where each choice leads us down an unknown path. We hope for a happy ending, but if things don’t work out, we can retrace our steps and begin again. And God will travel with us every time.
No matter how much we might like it to be so, faith is not a matter of following someone else’s maps, no matter how beautifully they’ve been drawn. God calls us to the uncharted territory of broken places – our own and others – and to the kingdom of wholeness waiting beyond.
Comfort: All steps taken in faith are in the right direction.
Challenge: Start a “travel journal” to map your Lenten adventures.
Prayer: God of the journey, thank you for trusting me to go new places.
Evening readings: Ps 105, 130
Discussion question:
Is there anywhere you both desire and fear to go?
In the days before GPS and MapQuest, it was common for people embarking on a long car trip to visit AAA or another travel agent to get customized route maps (AAA still calls them TripTiks). An atlas could only get you so far before you needed additional city and street maps for the local details. Today we just click on “zoom.” But past or present, we need to know the end point of our journey to get directions. Our Lenten journey doesn’t work quite that way.
Our Lenten journey ends with resurrection – Easter – and we know the annual stories and readings that act as signposts throughout the season. But if our end point is a living, contemporary, present Christ, simply retracing 2000 year old steps – no matter how sacred – won’t get us there. Plenty of us are intimately familiar with Christ’s journey, yet stuck spinning our wheels. Without knowing direction resurrection may take in our own lives, how can we know in what direction to start our journey?
Ezekiel knows. The prophet advises his listeners the way forward is to repent – literally, to “turn around” their lives. A journey can begin because we have somewhere to go to – or somewhere to leave from. Even if we don’t know where we will end up, we generally know what in our lives we need to walk away from. Of course knowing is much easier than doing. Abuse, addiction, anger – if these things were easy to leave, Ezekiel could have kept his day job. It’s easier to stay in a bad or even dangerous yet familiar situation than to walk the unknown road. Rather than following a prescribed map, we find ourselves in a “Choose Your Own Adventure” scenario, where each choice leads us down an unknown path. We hope for a happy ending, but if things don’t work out, we can retrace our steps and begin again. And God will travel with us every time.
No matter how much we might like it to be so, faith is not a matter of following someone else’s maps, no matter how beautifully they’ve been drawn. God calls us to the uncharted territory of broken places – our own and others – and to the kingdom of wholeness waiting beyond.
Comfort: All steps taken in faith are in the right direction.
Challenge: Start a “travel journal” to map your Lenten adventures.
Prayer: God of the journey, thank you for trusting me to go new places.
Evening readings: Ps 105, 130
Discussion question:
Is there anywhere you both desire and fear to go?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
The Lenten Journey: Citizenship in Heaven
Today's readings: Ps 27; 147:12-20, Hab 3:1-18, Phil 3:12-21; John 17:1-8
Have you ever heard someone described as a “citizen of the world?” Such people are usually considered well-traveled, sophisticated and fluent in diverse cultures. We perceive them as feeling at home in almost any setting. Though we may sense in them a bit of restlessness, we generally admire their ease and poise.
In Paul’s letter to the Phillipians, he claims their citizenship is in heaven. What does it mean to be a citizen of a place you can’t physically visit? First, we must recognize that in Paul’s Roman Empire, where slaves outnumbered citizens, the term “citizen” carried significant meaning. When Paul told people – regardless of legal class – they were citizens of heaven, he was telling them they had full rights and protections bestowed by God. Today’s strife over illegal immigration gives us only a small taste of the feelings that must have arisen - in citizens and non-citizens alike – when Paul announced all people were on equal footing under God.
As we progress in our Lenten journey, what will be the implications of our citizenship? Certainly it adds perspective to any form of nationalism; the borders of heaven are limitless, after all. How will we conduct ourselves in non-native lands, among people of different or no belief? How can we avoid becoming the Christian equivalent of the “ugly American” who treats other cultures with disregard? In many physical countries, we might rely on an ambassador or embassy to coach us in diplomacy and respect. Fortunately, we have Christ as our ambassador. His example of moving among all peoples with a strength born of peace and love is our example.
One last component of citizenship is responsibility. While citizens of the world have a responsibility to comply with local laws and customs, citizens of heaven are responsible to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly (Micah 6:8), even when doing so conflicts with expectations. Simultaneously loving and confounding is quite the balancing act. We can expect that not everyone will admire or even like us. We may even be outright rejected. But our true home and Lord will never abandon us.
Comfort: No one can revoke the citizenship God grants us.
Challenge: Try composing a Christian “Bill of Rights.”
Prayer: God of the journey, thank you for my rights and responsibilities.
Evening readings: Ps 126, 102
Discussion question:
Has there ever been a conflict between your national and heavenly citizenships?
Have you ever heard someone described as a “citizen of the world?” Such people are usually considered well-traveled, sophisticated and fluent in diverse cultures. We perceive them as feeling at home in almost any setting. Though we may sense in them a bit of restlessness, we generally admire their ease and poise.
In Paul’s letter to the Phillipians, he claims their citizenship is in heaven. What does it mean to be a citizen of a place you can’t physically visit? First, we must recognize that in Paul’s Roman Empire, where slaves outnumbered citizens, the term “citizen” carried significant meaning. When Paul told people – regardless of legal class – they were citizens of heaven, he was telling them they had full rights and protections bestowed by God. Today’s strife over illegal immigration gives us only a small taste of the feelings that must have arisen - in citizens and non-citizens alike – when Paul announced all people were on equal footing under God.
As we progress in our Lenten journey, what will be the implications of our citizenship? Certainly it adds perspective to any form of nationalism; the borders of heaven are limitless, after all. How will we conduct ourselves in non-native lands, among people of different or no belief? How can we avoid becoming the Christian equivalent of the “ugly American” who treats other cultures with disregard? In many physical countries, we might rely on an ambassador or embassy to coach us in diplomacy and respect. Fortunately, we have Christ as our ambassador. His example of moving among all peoples with a strength born of peace and love is our example.
One last component of citizenship is responsibility. While citizens of the world have a responsibility to comply with local laws and customs, citizens of heaven are responsible to act justly, love mercy and walk humbly (Micah 6:8), even when doing so conflicts with expectations. Simultaneously loving and confounding is quite the balancing act. We can expect that not everyone will admire or even like us. We may even be outright rejected. But our true home and Lord will never abandon us.
Comfort: No one can revoke the citizenship God grants us.
Challenge: Try composing a Christian “Bill of Rights.”
Prayer: God of the journey, thank you for my rights and responsibilities.
Evening readings: Ps 126, 102
Discussion question:
Has there ever been a conflict between your national and heavenly citizenships?
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?
Monday, December 5, 2011
Advent, Week 2: The Plumb-Line
Today's readings: Ps 122, 145, Amos 7:1-9, Rev 1:1-8, Matt 22:23-33
When we read Old Testament prophets like Amos, God may seem pretty keen on destroying Israel. Seven or so major prophets (depending on which version of the Bible you read) and a dozen minor ones are dedicated to spreading the message of possible destruction. Since Israel actually was destroyed more than once, to us these prophets may seem to be preaching a foregone conclusion. But each of these prophets – and God – were actually focusing on a message of repentance. Today’s passage from Amos tells us God was not only willing to forgive Israel, but that they willfully ignored the opportunity for God to save them.
In Amos’ vision, God responds to Amos’ pleas for mercy by relenting not once but twice from destroying Israel, first by famine (via locust) and second by fire. Prophetic visions are like dreams: packed with symbolism. So when God appears a third time and hangs a plumb-line from the city wall, it is not a judgment on their masonry skills. God wants Amos to remind Israel there is a standard against which their lives are measured. If they don’t meet the standard – if the foundations and walls of their lives are unbalanced, crooked and ready to topple – God doesn’t need to send natural disasters to crush them. They will implode thanks to their own carelessness. And Amos has been telling us they have been “careless” in every sense of the word, neither building their own lives in accordance with God’s blueprint, nor caring for the poor and needy as God requires.
If we held God’s plumb-line up to our own lives, would our construction be straight and true, or would the work be shoddy? God doesn’t present us with a standard for the purpose of harsh judgment, but to protect us from ourselves and our own tendencies toward carelessness. Conscience is the plumb-line God has instilled in each of us. When faced with difficulty or desire, we can be very skilled at ignoring that plumb-line, but we do so at risk of eventual self-destruction. When we use a plumb-line, we need to give it time to settle before it is accurate. If we use our consciences in the same way, not making snap decisions but waiting to be pointed in the most reliable direction, our walls will be strong and true.
Comfort: God provides all the tools we need.
Challenge: When making hard decisions, wait to hear your conscience.
Prayer: God of Peace, make my path straight and true.
Evening reading: Ps 40, 67
Discussion question:
When have you found it hard to follow your conscience?
When we read Old Testament prophets like Amos, God may seem pretty keen on destroying Israel. Seven or so major prophets (depending on which version of the Bible you read) and a dozen minor ones are dedicated to spreading the message of possible destruction. Since Israel actually was destroyed more than once, to us these prophets may seem to be preaching a foregone conclusion. But each of these prophets – and God – were actually focusing on a message of repentance. Today’s passage from Amos tells us God was not only willing to forgive Israel, but that they willfully ignored the opportunity for God to save them.
In Amos’ vision, God responds to Amos’ pleas for mercy by relenting not once but twice from destroying Israel, first by famine (via locust) and second by fire. Prophetic visions are like dreams: packed with symbolism. So when God appears a third time and hangs a plumb-line from the city wall, it is not a judgment on their masonry skills. God wants Amos to remind Israel there is a standard against which their lives are measured. If they don’t meet the standard – if the foundations and walls of their lives are unbalanced, crooked and ready to topple – God doesn’t need to send natural disasters to crush them. They will implode thanks to their own carelessness. And Amos has been telling us they have been “careless” in every sense of the word, neither building their own lives in accordance with God’s blueprint, nor caring for the poor and needy as God requires.
If we held God’s plumb-line up to our own lives, would our construction be straight and true, or would the work be shoddy? God doesn’t present us with a standard for the purpose of harsh judgment, but to protect us from ourselves and our own tendencies toward carelessness. Conscience is the plumb-line God has instilled in each of us. When faced with difficulty or desire, we can be very skilled at ignoring that plumb-line, but we do so at risk of eventual self-destruction. When we use a plumb-line, we need to give it time to settle before it is accurate. If we use our consciences in the same way, not making snap decisions but waiting to be pointed in the most reliable direction, our walls will be strong and true.
Comfort: God provides all the tools we need.
Challenge: When making hard decisions, wait to hear your conscience.
Prayer: God of Peace, make my path straight and true.
Evening reading: Ps 40, 67
Discussion question:
When have you found it hard to follow your conscience?
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Naming Our Faith
Today's readings: Ps 24, 150, Amos 6:1-14, 2 Thess 1:5-12, Luke 1:57-68
Many cultures believe names – and knowledge of names – contains power. In some cultures a person has two names: one for public use, and a private, secret name known to a few or maybe only the one who bestowed it. In other cultures, a person acquires a new name upon completion of a rite of passage into adulthood. As Christians we don’t revere names as magical, but we do recognize the importance of identity. Christenings and confirmations are powerful examples.
In today’s reading from Luke, Mary’s cousin Elizabeth follows the instructions of an angel and gives her son the name “John” (or more accurately the Hebrew Yôḥanan meaning “God is gracious”). Doing so defies the Jewish tradition of naming the child for a family member. People are so upset about this break in tradition they consult the child’s mute father Zechariah, but he stuns them when he confirms his wife’s choice by writing it down. This act frees him from years of silence.
This act of naming – like John the Baptist himself – signifies a change in tradition. It shatters expectations. John defines his own wild, confusing, holy identity as the herald of the messiah. As Christians, we too are in the business of defying society to forge identities in Christ. That statement may seem dramatic in a predominantly Christian country like the U.S., but cultural Christianity and life in Christ are separate issues. Jesus fish magnets, Christian radio stations, and Christian dating websites are a sign that in some ways Christianity has become identified more with a consumer brand than a faith identity. Some Christians avoid calling themselves “Christian” because of negative associations with scandal and hypocrisy. Even within the Christian community, we struggle against deeply ingrained tradition and expectation to seek the true heart of Christ, and we are met with resistance and outright hostility from fellow Christians. When we have the courage to defy expectation and define our own names, our new voices – like Zechariah’s newly found voice – can redefine “Christian” in positive, meaningful, grace-filled ways.
Comfort: God does not name you as the world names you.
Challenge: With a small group, read and discuss The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne.
Prayer: God of Peace, name me as your servant.
Evening reading: Ps 25, 110
Discussion question:
If you could choose your own name (or have chosen it), what would it be?
(please comment)
Many cultures believe names – and knowledge of names – contains power. In some cultures a person has two names: one for public use, and a private, secret name known to a few or maybe only the one who bestowed it. In other cultures, a person acquires a new name upon completion of a rite of passage into adulthood. As Christians we don’t revere names as magical, but we do recognize the importance of identity. Christenings and confirmations are powerful examples.
In today’s reading from Luke, Mary’s cousin Elizabeth follows the instructions of an angel and gives her son the name “John” (or more accurately the Hebrew Yôḥanan meaning “God is gracious”). Doing so defies the Jewish tradition of naming the child for a family member. People are so upset about this break in tradition they consult the child’s mute father Zechariah, but he stuns them when he confirms his wife’s choice by writing it down. This act frees him from years of silence.
This act of naming – like John the Baptist himself – signifies a change in tradition. It shatters expectations. John defines his own wild, confusing, holy identity as the herald of the messiah. As Christians, we too are in the business of defying society to forge identities in Christ. That statement may seem dramatic in a predominantly Christian country like the U.S., but cultural Christianity and life in Christ are separate issues. Jesus fish magnets, Christian radio stations, and Christian dating websites are a sign that in some ways Christianity has become identified more with a consumer brand than a faith identity. Some Christians avoid calling themselves “Christian” because of negative associations with scandal and hypocrisy. Even within the Christian community, we struggle against deeply ingrained tradition and expectation to seek the true heart of Christ, and we are met with resistance and outright hostility from fellow Christians. When we have the courage to defy expectation and define our own names, our new voices – like Zechariah’s newly found voice – can redefine “Christian” in positive, meaningful, grace-filled ways.
Comfort: God does not name you as the world names you.
Challenge: With a small group, read and discuss The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne.
Prayer: God of Peace, name me as your servant.
Evening reading: Ps 25, 110
Discussion question:
If you could choose your own name (or have chosen it), what would it be?
(please comment)
Friday, December 2, 2011
Advent, Week 1: Dusting Off The Hope Diamond
Today's readings: Ps 102, 148, Amos 5:1-17, Jude 1-16, Matt 22:1-14
The first week of Advent is traditionally the week of Hope. That being the case, today’s scriptures may leave us thinking: “… Really?” The psalmist is so distraught he is feasting on ashes and slaking his thirst with tears. Amos addresses the many injustices experienced by the poor and the nearly invisible status of the hungry. Jude warns the recipients of his epistle they are surrounded by false teachers and Christians who pervert the Gospel to serve their own appetites. And Jesus’ parable about a wedding banquet? The guests not only don’t show up, but they murder the bearers of the invitations. And the poor guy pulled in off the street is tossed into the outer darkness for not wearing the right outfit. These readings seem to offer little if anything to inspire us.
Suffering. Injustice. Hunger. Bad religion. The collapse of civil society. Sound familiar? If these and other problems still dog us two thousand years after the messiah showed up, what cause is their for hope?
Plenty, it turns out. These things are addressed in the scriptures because God weeps and rages with us that the world is so broken. We can have hope because God doesn’t want us to remain in this brokenness. Our own dissatisfaction with the present world, mirrored in these scriptures, tells us God is bursting through in our own hearts and hopes for a better tomorrow. Who doesn’t appreciate a good inspirational story? Hearing how someone has transformed her life by refusing to let go of hope connects with us on a deep level because the God at our center promises the same for all of us. Jesus is not the savior of the never-been-broken, but of those needing resurrection. Jesus comes back for the one lost sheep.
Hope is a precious resource, but like diamonds it may require a lot of time, pressure and digging to emerge. Unlike diamonds, it can be found by anyone. When we dust off hope and polish it up, it shines not just for our own enjoyment but as a light to the world.
Comfort: Even buried hope can be recovered.
Challenge: Pick an inspirational movie to watch and discuss with family and/or friends.
Prayer: God of Hope, may others find hope in my example.
Evening reading: Ps 130, 16
Discussion Question:When and how has hope carried you through difficult times? Please comment.
The first week of Advent is traditionally the week of Hope. That being the case, today’s scriptures may leave us thinking: “… Really?” The psalmist is so distraught he is feasting on ashes and slaking his thirst with tears. Amos addresses the many injustices experienced by the poor and the nearly invisible status of the hungry. Jude warns the recipients of his epistle they are surrounded by false teachers and Christians who pervert the Gospel to serve their own appetites. And Jesus’ parable about a wedding banquet? The guests not only don’t show up, but they murder the bearers of the invitations. And the poor guy pulled in off the street is tossed into the outer darkness for not wearing the right outfit. These readings seem to offer little if anything to inspire us.
Suffering. Injustice. Hunger. Bad religion. The collapse of civil society. Sound familiar? If these and other problems still dog us two thousand years after the messiah showed up, what cause is their for hope?
Plenty, it turns out. These things are addressed in the scriptures because God weeps and rages with us that the world is so broken. We can have hope because God doesn’t want us to remain in this brokenness. Our own dissatisfaction with the present world, mirrored in these scriptures, tells us God is bursting through in our own hearts and hopes for a better tomorrow. Who doesn’t appreciate a good inspirational story? Hearing how someone has transformed her life by refusing to let go of hope connects with us on a deep level because the God at our center promises the same for all of us. Jesus is not the savior of the never-been-broken, but of those needing resurrection. Jesus comes back for the one lost sheep.
Hope is a precious resource, but like diamonds it may require a lot of time, pressure and digging to emerge. Unlike diamonds, it can be found by anyone. When we dust off hope and polish it up, it shines not just for our own enjoyment but as a light to the world.
Comfort: Even buried hope can be recovered.
Challenge: Pick an inspirational movie to watch and discuss with family and/or friends.
Prayer: God of Hope, may others find hope in my example.
Evening reading: Ps 130, 16
Discussion Question:When and how has hope carried you through difficult times? Please comment.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Advent, Week 1: Past Due Returns
Today's readings: Ps 18:1-20, 147:12-20, Amos 4:6-13, 2 Peter 3:11-18, Matt 21:33-46
Attend church regularly for a sufficient length of time, and you will undoubtedly encounter the following scenario: a regular attendee will disappear for an extended period of time; when this person returns he or she will explain the absence by claiming life had become difficult, or complicated, or troubled . Does it really make sense for us to abandon what is often the center of our spiritual life as a response to tough times?
Church is not the only place we might find peace or solace, but what does it say about our relationship to that community if we actively avoid it when we struggle? Perhaps our community is not really a place where we can bring our authentic selves. If everyone in church appears to be happy all the time, that’s a bad sign. Christians often feel pressured to present themselves to each other as having shiny, carefree lives. To be pleasant rather than real. They often feel hardship is a sign their faith is lacking. They may feel these ways because their churches encourage these ideas. The truth is very different. God promises to be with us during difficult times, but not to save us from all difficulties. If the culture at your church is uncomfortable with personal adversity, or if every group decision results in a unanimous vote, it needs an injection of reality.
On the other hand, the problem may lie within ourselves. Amos recounts how the people of Israel failed to return to God, despite famine, drought and plagues. If we turn to God only when things are easy or going our way, it’s time to re-examine our faith. The author of Psalm 18 knew many hardships, and had no delusions the world was anything but difficult and dangerous, yet through it all he relied on God. Faith that evaporates because we struggle is no faith at all.
Whether the problem resides in our community, our hearts or both, each of us is responsible for returning to God and offering and accepting authentic lives: the pain, the joy, and everything in between. Is your return in any way past due?
Comfort: “The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer” - Ps 18:2
Challenge: Consciously expand your awareness of friends, family, co-workers and church members who are struggling. Be present for them.
Prayer: God of Hope, thank you for being with me even in difficulty.
Evening reading: Ps 126, 62
Discussion Question (reply in comments):
When times are tough, are you more or less likely to reach out to God and/or your community?
Attend church regularly for a sufficient length of time, and you will undoubtedly encounter the following scenario: a regular attendee will disappear for an extended period of time; when this person returns he or she will explain the absence by claiming life had become difficult, or complicated, or troubled . Does it really make sense for us to abandon what is often the center of our spiritual life as a response to tough times?
Church is not the only place we might find peace or solace, but what does it say about our relationship to that community if we actively avoid it when we struggle? Perhaps our community is not really a place where we can bring our authentic selves. If everyone in church appears to be happy all the time, that’s a bad sign. Christians often feel pressured to present themselves to each other as having shiny, carefree lives. To be pleasant rather than real. They often feel hardship is a sign their faith is lacking. They may feel these ways because their churches encourage these ideas. The truth is very different. God promises to be with us during difficult times, but not to save us from all difficulties. If the culture at your church is uncomfortable with personal adversity, or if every group decision results in a unanimous vote, it needs an injection of reality.
On the other hand, the problem may lie within ourselves. Amos recounts how the people of Israel failed to return to God, despite famine, drought and plagues. If we turn to God only when things are easy or going our way, it’s time to re-examine our faith. The author of Psalm 18 knew many hardships, and had no delusions the world was anything but difficult and dangerous, yet through it all he relied on God. Faith that evaporates because we struggle is no faith at all.
Whether the problem resides in our community, our hearts or both, each of us is responsible for returning to God and offering and accepting authentic lives: the pain, the joy, and everything in between. Is your return in any way past due?
Comfort: “The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer” - Ps 18:2
Challenge: Consciously expand your awareness of friends, family, co-workers and church members who are struggling. Be present for them.
Prayer: God of Hope, thank you for being with me even in difficulty.
Evening reading: Ps 126, 62
Discussion Question (reply in comments):
When times are tough, are you more or less likely to reach out to God and/or your community?
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Advent, Week 1: Wholly Holy
Today's readings: Ps 50, 147:1-11, Amos 3:12-4:5, 2 Peter 3:1-10, Matt 21:23-32
What do we think Amos might have to say about the sexual abuse scandal at Penn State? How might he respond to involved parties who claim they acted responsibly by fulfilling the minimum policy or legal requirements? Today’s reading from chapter 4 gives us a pretty good idea. Amos tells the Israelites God is tired of hearing them brag about their burnt offerings and tithes while they “oppress the poor and crush the needy” (Amos 4:1). It seems the tendency to confuse meeting a legal obligation with meeting a moral obligation is a timeless human trait.
That’s the problem with trying to be “holy” - we can check off a list of do’s and don'ts without truly encountering God or even other human beings. In the parable of the two sons found in Matthew, one child is rebellious but eventually does the right thing, and another pays lip service but is ultimately disobedient. Since parables are open to multiple interpretations, perhaps one interpretation is that attempting to appease God when our hearts are insincere is less acceptable than a messy struggle to find our way to God’s true calling. Amos and Christ both make it clear God does not desire for us to be holy humans, so much as for us to be wholly human, following God’s call beyond the realm of minimum requirements to a kingdom where the law is love.
We’re all tempted to be satisfied with the minimum. It’s difficult, confusing work to determine how to act in the absence of specific instruction. Sometimes it’s risky in very real ways, and we can always find excuses to avoid the risk. We may tell ourselves inviting a homeless person to stay with us—or simply welcoming them into our home for a hot meal—is dangerous, impractical, and disruptive. We may decide reporting suspected abuse, even in our own families, will expose us to embarrassment or retaliation. We can pray for the needy on Sunday and pass a beggar on the same street corner all week long without ever considering it might not be a scam. What good does it do us in the eyes of God to be holy, if we do not accept the wholeness God offers us?
Comfort: Life is only messy when you live it.
Challenge: For one day, love extravagantly rather than practically.
Prayer: God of Hope, write on my heart the law of love.
Evening reading: Ps 53, 17
Discussion Question: When have you settled for the minimum (at work, in a relationship, spiritually, etc) insteading of taking a risk?
What do we think Amos might have to say about the sexual abuse scandal at Penn State? How might he respond to involved parties who claim they acted responsibly by fulfilling the minimum policy or legal requirements? Today’s reading from chapter 4 gives us a pretty good idea. Amos tells the Israelites God is tired of hearing them brag about their burnt offerings and tithes while they “oppress the poor and crush the needy” (Amos 4:1). It seems the tendency to confuse meeting a legal obligation with meeting a moral obligation is a timeless human trait.
That’s the problem with trying to be “holy” - we can check off a list of do’s and don'ts without truly encountering God or even other human beings. In the parable of the two sons found in Matthew, one child is rebellious but eventually does the right thing, and another pays lip service but is ultimately disobedient. Since parables are open to multiple interpretations, perhaps one interpretation is that attempting to appease God when our hearts are insincere is less acceptable than a messy struggle to find our way to God’s true calling. Amos and Christ both make it clear God does not desire for us to be holy humans, so much as for us to be wholly human, following God’s call beyond the realm of minimum requirements to a kingdom where the law is love.
We’re all tempted to be satisfied with the minimum. It’s difficult, confusing work to determine how to act in the absence of specific instruction. Sometimes it’s risky in very real ways, and we can always find excuses to avoid the risk. We may tell ourselves inviting a homeless person to stay with us—or simply welcoming them into our home for a hot meal—is dangerous, impractical, and disruptive. We may decide reporting suspected abuse, even in our own families, will expose us to embarrassment or retaliation. We can pray for the needy on Sunday and pass a beggar on the same street corner all week long without ever considering it might not be a scam. What good does it do us in the eyes of God to be holy, if we do not accept the wholeness God offers us?
Comfort: Life is only messy when you live it.
Challenge: For one day, love extravagantly rather than practically.
Prayer: God of Hope, write on my heart the law of love.
Evening reading: Ps 53, 17
Discussion Question: When have you settled for the minimum (at work, in a relationship, spiritually, etc) insteading of taking a risk?
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Hoping without Expecting
Today's readings: Ps 33, 146, Amos 3:1-11, 2 Peter 1:12-21, Matt 21:12-22
One of the great comforts of Advent is knowing that it will culminate in Christmas. This conclusion is such a given that most of us spend what is really the Advent season surrounded by Christmas trappings. But what if we weren’t so sure? What if we, like the Jews waiting for the Messiah, had no idea what was coming or how it would look when it got here?
Today’s psalms remind us we are foolish to place our hope in anyone or anything but God. The subsequent readings make it clear we would be wise not to wrap that hope in too many assumptions. Amos’ harsh word to the Israelites is that the hard times they are about to experience are a result of God’s love (Amos 3:2). Who saw that one coming? And Jesus confounds both contemporary and historical expectations when he curses a fig tree for failing to bear fruit. This action doesn’t fit comfortably with our present-day notion of a loving and forgiving Christ, and it was no less confusing for the disciples. (Matt 21:18-21).
Again and again, the God we trust defies our expectations and pre-definitions. To paraphrase John Lennon, “God is what happens while you are making other plans.” When we pray “Thy will be done,” are we really abandoning attachment to our own wills, or do we usually have a pretty good idea of what God’s will might be?
This Advent, can we hope without expecting? Can we, like Peter, admit God’s will is not defined by our interpretation, but by a love and spirit that is beyond definition (2 Peter 1:19-20)? Can we be open to the possibility that God’s will may take us places we don’t want to go with people we don’t want to know? The familiar manger scene that completes the Advent journey is only comforting because it has grown familiar. For Mary and Joseph, it was the terror of giving birth in a barn. Neither of them wanted to be there. Yet despite dashed expectations, their hope was rewarded. This Advent season, let’s commit to an unknown path instead of a well-worn rut, and find out where Hope can lead us.
Comfort: We wait in hope for the Lord; He is our help and our shield (Ps 33:20).
Challenge: Change one thing about your Christmas traditions.
Prayer: God of Hope, Thy will be done.
Evening reading: Ps 85, 94
Discussion Question: Have you ever experienced a blessing when your expectations were overturned?
One of the great comforts of Advent is knowing that it will culminate in Christmas. This conclusion is such a given that most of us spend what is really the Advent season surrounded by Christmas trappings. But what if we weren’t so sure? What if we, like the Jews waiting for the Messiah, had no idea what was coming or how it would look when it got here?
Today’s psalms remind us we are foolish to place our hope in anyone or anything but God. The subsequent readings make it clear we would be wise not to wrap that hope in too many assumptions. Amos’ harsh word to the Israelites is that the hard times they are about to experience are a result of God’s love (Amos 3:2). Who saw that one coming? And Jesus confounds both contemporary and historical expectations when he curses a fig tree for failing to bear fruit. This action doesn’t fit comfortably with our present-day notion of a loving and forgiving Christ, and it was no less confusing for the disciples. (Matt 21:18-21).
Again and again, the God we trust defies our expectations and pre-definitions. To paraphrase John Lennon, “God is what happens while you are making other plans.” When we pray “Thy will be done,” are we really abandoning attachment to our own wills, or do we usually have a pretty good idea of what God’s will might be?
This Advent, can we hope without expecting? Can we, like Peter, admit God’s will is not defined by our interpretation, but by a love and spirit that is beyond definition (2 Peter 1:19-20)? Can we be open to the possibility that God’s will may take us places we don’t want to go with people we don’t want to know? The familiar manger scene that completes the Advent journey is only comforting because it has grown familiar. For Mary and Joseph, it was the terror of giving birth in a barn. Neither of them wanted to be there. Yet despite dashed expectations, their hope was rewarded. This Advent season, let’s commit to an unknown path instead of a well-worn rut, and find out where Hope can lead us.
Comfort: We wait in hope for the Lord; He is our help and our shield (Ps 33:20).
Challenge: Change one thing about your Christmas traditions.
Prayer: God of Hope, Thy will be done.
Evening reading: Ps 85, 94
Discussion Question: Have you ever experienced a blessing when your expectations were overturned?
Monday, November 28, 2011
Advent, Week 1: Training Days
Today’s readings: Ps 122, 145; Amos 2:6-16; 2 Pet 1:1-11; Matt 21:1-11
Musicians. Athletes. Surgeons. Anyone truly dedicated to a craft, skill or study knows the process of growth and improvement never ends. Reaching the next level of performance requires dedication and practice. Each new level reveals previously unimagined possibilities. But every level contains echoes of the ones before it. When the quest for improvement seems stalled, performers often find revisiting the basics unlocks a breakthrough. Some early disciples were ineffective and unproductive - coasting on salvation and “forgetting they had been cleansed” (2 Pet 1:8-9). Effective disciples – like high-level performers – are humble enough to re-visit their roots and keep up the basics. Peter reminded his readers that goodness, knowledge, self-control and other Godly traits are not one-time achievements, but more like muscles in need of constant training.
The world certainly does not teach us excellence should result in increased humility, but then the world’s standards for success are not God’s standards. Christ was humble until death – the ultimate failure by worldly standards. So training our spiritual muscles may sting a little when the world judges us. Sometimes we have to sacrifice things like material goods and popularity in order to pack on the spiritual muscle. We may be uncomfortable defying the common perception of success. In the end we are stronger for it, and we learn that these pains are temporary and negligible in light of the rewards of the next plateau.
In his book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell suggests outstanding excellence in a skill requires 10,000 dedicated hours of practice. Subjecting yourself to the same thing for 10,000 hours? That requires both humility and a high tolerance for repetition (including failures). How many of us can say we’ve dedicated the equivalent of five years at a full time job to honing our spiritual lives? Even at a rate of a solid hour a day, we’re talking more than 27 years.
The good news is we don’t need a special hour of prayer or meditation (though they can only help); with a little effort and intent we can incorporate our spiritual practice into most (if not all) of our waking hours. It’s no accident that Amos accuses Israel of selling the innocent for silver (Amos 2:6) and that we know the same will happen to Christ. The cyclical nature of creation permeates everything, including our spiritual practices. Refraining from gossip today makes it easier to refrain from slander tomorrow. As abuse follows a cycle, so does virtue. Be open to practicing perseverance, godliness and love in even the smallest situations today, and you’ll be a muscularly spiritual genius when the world needs it!
Comfort: It’s never too late to build your Christian muscles.
Challenge: Start tracking your spiritual progress like a training program.
Prayer: God of Hope, strengthen me.
Evening reading: Ps 40, 67
Musicians. Athletes. Surgeons. Anyone truly dedicated to a craft, skill or study knows the process of growth and improvement never ends. Reaching the next level of performance requires dedication and practice. Each new level reveals previously unimagined possibilities. But every level contains echoes of the ones before it. When the quest for improvement seems stalled, performers often find revisiting the basics unlocks a breakthrough. Some early disciples were ineffective and unproductive - coasting on salvation and “forgetting they had been cleansed” (2 Pet 1:8-9). Effective disciples – like high-level performers – are humble enough to re-visit their roots and keep up the basics. Peter reminded his readers that goodness, knowledge, self-control and other Godly traits are not one-time achievements, but more like muscles in need of constant training.
The world certainly does not teach us excellence should result in increased humility, but then the world’s standards for success are not God’s standards. Christ was humble until death – the ultimate failure by worldly standards. So training our spiritual muscles may sting a little when the world judges us. Sometimes we have to sacrifice things like material goods and popularity in order to pack on the spiritual muscle. We may be uncomfortable defying the common perception of success. In the end we are stronger for it, and we learn that these pains are temporary and negligible in light of the rewards of the next plateau.
In his book Outliers, Malcolm Gladwell suggests outstanding excellence in a skill requires 10,000 dedicated hours of practice. Subjecting yourself to the same thing for 10,000 hours? That requires both humility and a high tolerance for repetition (including failures). How many of us can say we’ve dedicated the equivalent of five years at a full time job to honing our spiritual lives? Even at a rate of a solid hour a day, we’re talking more than 27 years.
The good news is we don’t need a special hour of prayer or meditation (though they can only help); with a little effort and intent we can incorporate our spiritual practice into most (if not all) of our waking hours. It’s no accident that Amos accuses Israel of selling the innocent for silver (Amos 2:6) and that we know the same will happen to Christ. The cyclical nature of creation permeates everything, including our spiritual practices. Refraining from gossip today makes it easier to refrain from slander tomorrow. As abuse follows a cycle, so does virtue. Be open to practicing perseverance, godliness and love in even the smallest situations today, and you’ll be a muscularly spiritual genius when the world needs it!
Comfort: It’s never too late to build your Christian muscles.
Challenge: Start tracking your spiritual progress like a training program.
Prayer: God of Hope, strengthen me.
Evening reading: Ps 40, 67
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Advent, Week 1: Keeping House
Today’s readings: Ps 24,150; Amos 1:1-2:8; 1 Thess 5:1-11; Luke 21:5-19
Today, the first Sunday of Advent, marks the beginning of the Christian year and the beginning of our journey toward Christmas, when we celebrate the arrival of Christ in the world. So why do our readings focus on endings?
During Advent we focus on preparing our hearts for the arrival of Christ. Even though we just did the same thing a year ago, our preparation is an ongoing effort, because Christ and God can always find new and broader doors into our hearts – if we have swept he way clear. Like the Thessalonians, we may need reminding that Christians live in a constant state of preparedness. Most of us may no longer be expecting Christ to return to Earth at any minute, but he may appear in our hearts at any time. We don’t want to respond like an embarrassed homeowner, crying “Come back later when I’ve tidied up!” Like a seasonal cleaning, Advent is a time to take stock and rid ourselves of the obstructions we may have accumulated so we can start fresh. Our lives and hearts don’t need to be in perfect order, but we should at least be able to let Christ through the door.
“But wait,” we may say, “I have been right with the Lord for a long time.” Tell it to Israel, or Judah, or any of the kingdoms that Amos says have fallen out of God’s favor. When these once-oppressed people rose to power, they grew as corrupt as the captors they had overcome. They assumed because God had delivered them once, they were in the right. Amos let them know they would have to be brought low again before they could return to acting like God’s people. Human justice is flawed, and when justice or righteousness begins to stink of corruption, it’s time to clean house. When we become certain of our own righteousness, we too are prone to spiritual corruption. If we become complacent about our spiritual growth - if we start to think we’ve grown as much as we need to – we aren’t extending new invitations to Christ, but hoarding photographs of old visits. Our commitment to Christ is more than a photo of an old friend in a dusty album. It is an open invitation for Christ to drop in unannounced, and a promise to respond to his strange, new requests.
This cycle of endings is not a cause for despair – it is an offer of hope. God gives us endless opportunity to embrace an increasingly abundant life. Advent formally reminds us once a year, but the opportunity to step into that embrace exists always because God loves us always. Sometimes we just need to clear the doorway to fall into it.
Comfort: God enters our hearts anew every time we offer an invitation!
Challenge: Dedicate yourself this Advent season to preparing your heart for Christ’s arrival. Set aside a little time every day to clean your spiritual house.
Prayer: God of Hope, I am yours: renew me as you will.
Evening reading: Ps 25, 110
Today, the first Sunday of Advent, marks the beginning of the Christian year and the beginning of our journey toward Christmas, when we celebrate the arrival of Christ in the world. So why do our readings focus on endings?
During Advent we focus on preparing our hearts for the arrival of Christ. Even though we just did the same thing a year ago, our preparation is an ongoing effort, because Christ and God can always find new and broader doors into our hearts – if we have swept he way clear. Like the Thessalonians, we may need reminding that Christians live in a constant state of preparedness. Most of us may no longer be expecting Christ to return to Earth at any minute, but he may appear in our hearts at any time. We don’t want to respond like an embarrassed homeowner, crying “Come back later when I’ve tidied up!” Like a seasonal cleaning, Advent is a time to take stock and rid ourselves of the obstructions we may have accumulated so we can start fresh. Our lives and hearts don’t need to be in perfect order, but we should at least be able to let Christ through the door.
“But wait,” we may say, “I have been right with the Lord for a long time.” Tell it to Israel, or Judah, or any of the kingdoms that Amos says have fallen out of God’s favor. When these once-oppressed people rose to power, they grew as corrupt as the captors they had overcome. They assumed because God had delivered them once, they were in the right. Amos let them know they would have to be brought low again before they could return to acting like God’s people. Human justice is flawed, and when justice or righteousness begins to stink of corruption, it’s time to clean house. When we become certain of our own righteousness, we too are prone to spiritual corruption. If we become complacent about our spiritual growth - if we start to think we’ve grown as much as we need to – we aren’t extending new invitations to Christ, but hoarding photographs of old visits. Our commitment to Christ is more than a photo of an old friend in a dusty album. It is an open invitation for Christ to drop in unannounced, and a promise to respond to his strange, new requests.
This cycle of endings is not a cause for despair – it is an offer of hope. God gives us endless opportunity to embrace an increasingly abundant life. Advent formally reminds us once a year, but the opportunity to step into that embrace exists always because God loves us always. Sometimes we just need to clear the doorway to fall into it.
Comfort: God enters our hearts anew every time we offer an invitation!
Challenge: Dedicate yourself this Advent season to preparing your heart for Christ’s arrival. Set aside a little time every day to clean your spiritual house.
Prayer: God of Hope, I am yours: renew me as you will.
Evening reading: Ps 25, 110
Friday, June 3, 2011
Eat it: it's good for you!
Today's readings: Ps 96, 148; Ezek 1:28-3:3; Heb 4:14-5:6; Luke 9:28-36
Ezekiel’s vision of four-faced heavenly beings was vivid, but not something we can really relate to. On the other hand, the image he presents in today’s reading, while less fantastic, may pack more punch because we can actually picture it. God commissions Ezekiel as a prophet by presenting him a scroll and telling him to eat it. The scroll was covered with words of lament and mourning, and Ezekiel was commanded to share those words with the rebellious nation of Israel.
The image of consuming a scroll is simple, but it is rich with meaning. When God tells Ezekiel “eat what is before you,” (Ezek 3:1) he is confirming Ezekiel’s obedience, in direct contrast to the rebelliousness of the people. Scrolls in Ezekiel’s time were not made of paper, but either papyrus (the same basic material as sandals and baskets) or parchment (the skin of a kosher animal); neither would have been an appetizing proposition. Yet the scroll was sweet as honey in his mouth (v 3). Like Ezekiel, we may find the tasks to which God calls us less than appealing, but in the end we may find they provide us with a sweet fulfillment only discovered when following God. A popular riddle asks: “How do you eat an elephant?” Answer: one bite at a time. The stumbling block for most efforts is motivating ourselves to take the first step. If we can bring ourselves into obedience and choke down that first bite of scroll, who knows how sweet the rewards might be!
Wouldn’t it have been easier for Ezekiel to hold onto the scroll and read it to people? Probably. Yet as a prophet, Ezekiel was called to literally internalize the word of God, to let it nourish and become part of his very being. Do we consume scripture and let it become part of us, or are our scrolls lying around collecting dust? The answer is the difference between a living relationship with God and scripture that we can’t help but share because it’s part of us, and devotion to an eternally external text that is an object of study but not sustenance.
God does not offer us a mere recipe, but the bread of life itself. Let’s devour it with gusto!
Comfort: Faith is lived, not just studied and kept to ourselves.
Challenge: At each meal, offer a prayer of thanks.
Prayer: Holy God, let others see your spirit filling me up!
Evening readings: Ps 49, 138
Discussion question: Have you ever been reluctant to "eat" a task God has handed you? (please comment)
Ezekiel’s vision of four-faced heavenly beings was vivid, but not something we can really relate to. On the other hand, the image he presents in today’s reading, while less fantastic, may pack more punch because we can actually picture it. God commissions Ezekiel as a prophet by presenting him a scroll and telling him to eat it. The scroll was covered with words of lament and mourning, and Ezekiel was commanded to share those words with the rebellious nation of Israel.
The image of consuming a scroll is simple, but it is rich with meaning. When God tells Ezekiel “eat what is before you,” (Ezek 3:1) he is confirming Ezekiel’s obedience, in direct contrast to the rebelliousness of the people. Scrolls in Ezekiel’s time were not made of paper, but either papyrus (the same basic material as sandals and baskets) or parchment (the skin of a kosher animal); neither would have been an appetizing proposition. Yet the scroll was sweet as honey in his mouth (v 3). Like Ezekiel, we may find the tasks to which God calls us less than appealing, but in the end we may find they provide us with a sweet fulfillment only discovered when following God. A popular riddle asks: “How do you eat an elephant?” Answer: one bite at a time. The stumbling block for most efforts is motivating ourselves to take the first step. If we can bring ourselves into obedience and choke down that first bite of scroll, who knows how sweet the rewards might be!
Wouldn’t it have been easier for Ezekiel to hold onto the scroll and read it to people? Probably. Yet as a prophet, Ezekiel was called to literally internalize the word of God, to let it nourish and become part of his very being. Do we consume scripture and let it become part of us, or are our scrolls lying around collecting dust? The answer is the difference between a living relationship with God and scripture that we can’t help but share because it’s part of us, and devotion to an eternally external text that is an object of study but not sustenance.
God does not offer us a mere recipe, but the bread of life itself. Let’s devour it with gusto!
Comfort: Faith is lived, not just studied and kept to ourselves.
Challenge: At each meal, offer a prayer of thanks.
Prayer: Holy God, let others see your spirit filling me up!
Evening readings: Ps 49, 138
Discussion question: Have you ever been reluctant to "eat" a task God has handed you? (please comment)
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Miaphysitism? YOU a physitism!
Today's readings: Ps 47, 147:12-20; Ezek 1:1-14, 24-28; Heb 2:5-18; Matt 28:16-20
This Thursday many churches celebrate the Ascension of the Lord, or the bodily ascent of the risen Christ into heaven. This story challenges the modern and scientific mind. Its accompanying readings are no less difficult. Ezekiel’s vision of four-faced beings and a god of fiery metal are highly symbolic and almost incomprehensible to anyone who’s not a dedicated Bible scholar. Paul’s letter to the Hebrews explains the human and divine interplay in the person of Jesus, part of the study called Christology. Heady material that for many of us is simply inaccessible.
In contrast, the Matthew reading is short and clear: Jesus asserts his authority and commissions the disciples to spread his commands and teachings to make and baptize more disciples. We should note his teachings did not include theories like hypostatic union or Miaphysitism: Christ’s nature in both the human and the divine, versus a nature which is of both. Clearly different… right? Yet centuries ago these semantics, which matter not one iota to loving as Christ instructed, caused schisms that last to this day. Passages like the one in Hebrews fueled the debate. What do we imagine Christ – who brought together Jews, Samaritans and Gentiles – might say about his followers dividing over such distinctions?
Such discussions have their place; after all, why follow Christ if we do not believe he is a unique confluence of the human and the divine? But sometimes we get so wrapped up thinking or talking about faith we become like people who believe reading a child psychology book equips them to be parents; being able to quote theories does not help us touch a human life in a loving way. Maybe we don’t denounce Monophysitism (don’t ask) on a daily basis, but based on mere opinion we do make “religious” distinctions of the kind Christ worked to overcome. Even our choice of Biblical translation may decide whether we are “in” or “out” with a specific clique, congregation or denomination.
Christ’s nature – human or divine – was radically inclusive. Any effort spent separating us from others, rather than loving them, betrays that nature. Christ tells us to love God and our neighbor. Why add more?
Comfort: Christ’s commands are simple.
Challenge: Look up “Christology” on Wikipedia or another reference.
Prayer: Holy God, may your love live in my heart and not just my head.
Evening readings: Ps 68, 113
Discussion Question: Does your head ever get in the way of your heart? (please comment)
This Thursday many churches celebrate the Ascension of the Lord, or the bodily ascent of the risen Christ into heaven. This story challenges the modern and scientific mind. Its accompanying readings are no less difficult. Ezekiel’s vision of four-faced beings and a god of fiery metal are highly symbolic and almost incomprehensible to anyone who’s not a dedicated Bible scholar. Paul’s letter to the Hebrews explains the human and divine interplay in the person of Jesus, part of the study called Christology. Heady material that for many of us is simply inaccessible.
In contrast, the Matthew reading is short and clear: Jesus asserts his authority and commissions the disciples to spread his commands and teachings to make and baptize more disciples. We should note his teachings did not include theories like hypostatic union or Miaphysitism: Christ’s nature in both the human and the divine, versus a nature which is of both. Clearly different… right? Yet centuries ago these semantics, which matter not one iota to loving as Christ instructed, caused schisms that last to this day. Passages like the one in Hebrews fueled the debate. What do we imagine Christ – who brought together Jews, Samaritans and Gentiles – might say about his followers dividing over such distinctions?
Such discussions have their place; after all, why follow Christ if we do not believe he is a unique confluence of the human and the divine? But sometimes we get so wrapped up thinking or talking about faith we become like people who believe reading a child psychology book equips them to be parents; being able to quote theories does not help us touch a human life in a loving way. Maybe we don’t denounce Monophysitism (don’t ask) on a daily basis, but based on mere opinion we do make “religious” distinctions of the kind Christ worked to overcome. Even our choice of Biblical translation may decide whether we are “in” or “out” with a specific clique, congregation or denomination.
Christ’s nature – human or divine – was radically inclusive. Any effort spent separating us from others, rather than loving them, betrays that nature. Christ tells us to love God and our neighbor. Why add more?
Comfort: Christ’s commands are simple.
Challenge: Look up “Christology” on Wikipedia or another reference.
Prayer: Holy God, may your love live in my heart and not just my head.
Evening readings: Ps 68, 113
Discussion Question: Does your head ever get in the way of your heart? (please comment)
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)
Monday, May 30, 2011
The Long Game
Today's readings: Ps 97, 145; Deut 8:1-10; James 1:1-15; Luke 9:18-27
Great coaches do not hang their hopes or reputation on any single game, tournament, or season. They focus on long-term goals for the team and the program. Many fans and players who prefer the gratification of short-term results can quickly become disgruntled. No one likes to see their team lose. No player likes to sit the bench, especially a former star in high school, college or the minors. Despite complaints, good coaches stick to the strategy, put in players who won’t put their own egos ahead of the team’s needs, and patiently mold a team into its optimal form,
God also plays a long game – the longest. As the Israelites entered the Promised Land after forty years of wandering the wilderness, Moses explained how their trials had prepared them. Their faith was tested, and refined when found lacking. As their endurance was pushed to its limits, they became a people who could face adversity and come out the other side. No matter how much they complained during the process, God forcefully but lovingly stuck to the program for the benefit of the people as a whole. In the end they learned the problem was not the program, but their ability to accept and live it.
Under the best circumstances, people appreciate great coaches. Under the worst, they replace them with someone who promises more immediate results. Like the golden calf worshipped by the Israelites while Moses was on the mountain, cheap substitutes satisfy the present urge, but fail to build character that sustains the team for the long haul.
Jesus certainly understood the importance of long range planning. When Peter admitted he thought Jesus was the Christ (Luke 9:20), Jesus told him to keep that information under wraps until all that needed to happen had happened. Events might have unfolded very differently if the Jewish authorities had believed Jesus was the messiah – different in ways that could have been easier on him – but he chose to stick with the program.
A good program adapts to the needs of the team, while simultaneously moving each team member closer to the goal. God can work similarly in our lives – if we are open to the program. Let’s come ready to play.
Comfort: Waiting is not the same as doing nothing.
Challenge: Write down some long range goals. Revisit them regularly.
Prayer: God, thank you for your patience and guidance when I wander.
Evening readings: Ps 124, 115
Discussion question: When are you tempted to take shortcuts in life? (please comment)
Great coaches do not hang their hopes or reputation on any single game, tournament, or season. They focus on long-term goals for the team and the program. Many fans and players who prefer the gratification of short-term results can quickly become disgruntled. No one likes to see their team lose. No player likes to sit the bench, especially a former star in high school, college or the minors. Despite complaints, good coaches stick to the strategy, put in players who won’t put their own egos ahead of the team’s needs, and patiently mold a team into its optimal form,
God also plays a long game – the longest. As the Israelites entered the Promised Land after forty years of wandering the wilderness, Moses explained how their trials had prepared them. Their faith was tested, and refined when found lacking. As their endurance was pushed to its limits, they became a people who could face adversity and come out the other side. No matter how much they complained during the process, God forcefully but lovingly stuck to the program for the benefit of the people as a whole. In the end they learned the problem was not the program, but their ability to accept and live it.
Under the best circumstances, people appreciate great coaches. Under the worst, they replace them with someone who promises more immediate results. Like the golden calf worshipped by the Israelites while Moses was on the mountain, cheap substitutes satisfy the present urge, but fail to build character that sustains the team for the long haul.
Jesus certainly understood the importance of long range planning. When Peter admitted he thought Jesus was the Christ (Luke 9:20), Jesus told him to keep that information under wraps until all that needed to happen had happened. Events might have unfolded very differently if the Jewish authorities had believed Jesus was the messiah – different in ways that could have been easier on him – but he chose to stick with the program.
A good program adapts to the needs of the team, while simultaneously moving each team member closer to the goal. God can work similarly in our lives – if we are open to the program. Let’s come ready to play.
Comfort: Waiting is not the same as doing nothing.
Challenge: Write down some long range goals. Revisit them regularly.
Prayer: God, thank you for your patience and guidance when I wander.
Evening readings: Ps 124, 115
Discussion question: When are you tempted to take shortcuts in life? (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)
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