Hearing Our Shepherd

Today's readings: Psalms 111; 149, Genesis 28:10-22, Hebrews 11:13-22, John 10:7-17

One of the most popular images of Jesus is that of The Good Shepherd. Sheep were an integral part of his culture and the traits and importance of shepherds would have been familiar to his audience. He contrasts the role of the shepherd – who would lay down his life for his sheep – to the role of hired hand, someone who was likely to flee when things got dangerous. He also speaks of the thief and the wolf, who scatter and harm the sheep out of greed and selfishness. Jesus is confident his own flock will hear and know him and be led to safety.

Sheep are not especially bright, but they know their own shepherd because he or she lives among them as a constant companion, protector and guide. They don’t have much choice but to become familiar. We, on the other hand, are free to follow our shepherd or not, to listen for or to ignore him. How can we come to know the call of our shepherd and to discern it from the hired hands and thieves who may be wolves in shepherd’s clothing?

We can know his words. Reading the Gospels for ourselves is very different from trusting others to interpret scripture for us. Many a thief has used it to bilk well-meaning sheep from their money and eventually their faith. Sitting down regularly with the Gospels and reliable sources of commentary to help us understand them in context will teach us to recognize the voice of our shepherd.

Our shepherd’s voice will lead us to abundant life. Any message that leaves us feeling diminished or unloved by God is being delivered by an inept hired hand. Of course our shepherd will challenge us and correct our path for our own good, but only in loving ways. Christ is always calling us out of the wilderness onto the path of life, not tangling us up in thorny condemnation.

We can pray. Not necessarily long, bleating prayers to fill up the silence, but quiet prayers that leave room for us to hear the divine voice always present to us. If we are out of practice it may take us a while to hear that voice, but we’ll know it when we do.

We may be smarter than sheep, but we still need our Good Shepherd.

Evening reading: Psalms 107; 15

Mavis Staples - Have a little Faith (Conan)

I've decided for the new year to add more to the blog than just my own musings, particularly things that are uplifting or tie into the theme of the day. Here's a video of one of my favorites from Mavis Staples.

Reasonable Faith

Today's readings: Psalms 48; 148, Genesis 12:1-7, Hebrews 11:1-12, John 6:35-42, 48-51

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” – Hebrews 11:1

“Faith” is a loaded term. We can’t quite agree on its meaning, not like we can agree on the definitions of “waffle” or “goldfish.” Even when we use it in the sense of “Christian faith” or “Muslim faith” we can disagree on the very foundations of those phrases. Instead we tend to pack it with our own assumptions and experiences, often so much so that conversation about it becomes practically impossible.

If we are comfortable with our own understanding of faith, is there any pressing need to define it per se? Perhaps not in a manner that we would use to persuade someone, but there is benefit to at least giving it some thought. If we don’t, we run the risk of letting others define it for us, possibly to the point of undermining it. Seminary pushes quite a few people from blind faith to abandonment of faith altogether. One reason is because they’ve allowed others to define their faith in terms of Biblical literalism, unexamined mythologies, or other beliefs that simply refute reality. When those beliefs are challenged, faith in them crumbles.

Critics of religious faith have used Hebrews 11:1 (“the conviction of things not seen”) to portray Christians as deniers of fact and believers in fairy tales. In some cases this may be true, but these are not the qualities and essence of faith. Faith is a surrender, not of reason, but of the need to build a sense of purpose on nothing but what we can prove. Even the scientific method requires faith that the laws of the universe are, on some level, reliable and predictable. This is not an argument for the existence of God, but for the truth that human beings can not function without faith in something.

Think about what your faith means to you. Does it hinge on something that could be disproved? Then it is not faith. Does it require you to deny reality? Then it is not faith. Does it provide you with the assurance that –  no matter what evidence you must accept, nor hardship you must endure – your life and all lives have meaning as part of a greater reality beyond immediate comprehension? Then it is faith. But don’t take my word for it.

Evening reading: Psalms 9; 29

What's In A Name?

Today's readings: Psalms 98; 147:12-20, Genesis 17:1-12a, 15-16, 1 Colossians 2:6-12, John 16:23b-30

Have you ever done something in someone else's name? Perhaps you've held power of attorney for someone. If you're a parent maybe you've signed official documents for a minor. Maybe you've forged love notes to Roxanne on behalf of your more attractive but less eloquent competition.

Has anyone ever done anything in your name? In cases of identity fraud, such an event can be disruptive and disastrous. Even in situations where we willingly hand this authority to someone, we know we are taking a risk with our reputation and possibly our livelihood.

Yet Jesus trusts us to beseech God in his name. In John 16 he tells the disciples anything they ask in his name will be granted. Some people interpret this as a magical formula, like children who think tacking "please" onto a request means it will automatically be fulfilled. It ends up on the end of every quick prayer for an open parking space.

The privilege of asking for something in Jesus' name is an honor we must treat with dignity. None of us would want someone to throw our name around in demeaning or disrespectful ways. When we use Jesus' name it should never be tacked on as an afterthought; rather, we should have already considered whether what we about to ask is worthy of the honor.

That goes double for any claims we make about acting in Jesus' name. It's tempting to invoke Jesus in unexamined support of our own behaviors and biases, so we need to be cautious about attaching his name to them. We should be particularly wary of using his name to condemn or exclude – would you be comfortable accounting to him personally for someone you rejected in his name? The gift he makes of his name to us is a responsibility to use wisely, not a blank check.

Jesus wants us to approach God in his name. He trusts us to understand that means representing him in thought and deed. How much would you have to love and trust someone to allow them to speak to God in your name? That's how much Jesus loves you.

Evening reading: Psalms 99; 8

Jesus Wept

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

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

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

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

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

Evening reading: Evening Psalms 28; 99

Recycled

Today's readings: Psalms 97, 147:12-20; Genesis 27:30-45, Romans 12:9-21, John 8:21-32

When Esau discovered his brother Jacob had tricked their father into giving Jacob the blessing that rightfully belonged to Esau, he was overcome with rage. This "blessing" was not a religious one, but a method of passing on rights to the land and possessions of a patriarch to his heir. The lands, wealth, and armies that Esau was sure he would inherit instead would go to the younger brother who had plagued him all his life. Esau would get the leftovers and move to a foreign land. Jacob would continue the line that would lead from Abraham to Jesus.

History unfolds in unexpected, often unwelcome ways. We might expect Jesus would come from a long line of noble, respectable, gracious ancestors. While they included royalty and priests, his family tree was shaky from the roots up. Abraham lied and tried to do an end run around God's plan for him, fathering the Ishmaelites. Isaac, like his father Abraham, lied about his relationship to his wife in order to secure business arraangements. Jacob stole his brother's inheritance and lived in hiding for years. His son Judah sold his own brother into slavery and impregnated a woman he thought was a prostitute. And on, and on, and on ...

The history of Jesus' ancestors isn't just a little suspect - it's out-and-out tawdry.  From one perspective it could undermine his authority and credibility; people are judged by their families all the time. But from another point of view, it could be considered encouraging or even liberating. If God could work through families like these, imagine the potential in boring old us? So many of us waste that potential because we are waiting to feel worthy. We talk about what we could or will do if and when we were better, more organized, more stable, healthier, or "holier" people. We look at others who do the things we wish we could do and assume they are smarter, better connected, and generally "have it together." After considering where Jesus came from ... still think so?

God meets us where we are, warts and all, and offers to lead us beyond where we hoped to be. No one is ever "ready" for that.

Evening readings: Psalms 16, 62

Trick Or Treat?

Today's readings: Psalms 89:1-18; 147:1-11, Genesis 27:1-29, Romans 12:1-8, John 8:12-20

Sometimes the Bible reads like a soap opera. In Genesis 27, Rebekah convinces her son Jacob to wear goat skin to fool his blind father into thinking he is his older, hairier twin brother Esau. He does this to secure his father Isaac's blessing, which will mean he inherits leadership of his clan. Isaac does indeed (and improbably) grant his blessing to the "wrong" son, in an apparently irrevocable act. When the real Esau demands things be made right, all Isaac has left to offer is a meager consolation prize of a blessing that basically promises Esau the things Jacob didn't already get.

To our modern sensibilities, developed in a culture of upward mobility, it seems unfair that deception is rewarded thusly. In Jacob's time, though, people couldn't earn authority based on merit; authority was inherited or taken by force. If Jacob (or his mother on his behalf) wanted equal opportunity without resorting to outright violence, he had no other choices but to scheme his way to it.

Many cultures have a "trickster" figure: Loki in Norse mythology; Raven in Native American lore; Anansi in West African folk tales. Jacob is a similar figure who outwits his brother multiple times, and even outwrestles an angel physically and mentally. Trickster figures, despite having questionable ethics, often bring benefits to mankind despite the will of the gods. This is where Jacob differs: God had already chosen him to continue Isaac's lineage, and the tricks seem to support that.

For the most part we want and expect people to play by the rules. Deception rubs us the wrong way and leads to chaos. But what if the rules are not the same for everyone (as they almost never are, especially the unspoken ones)? The Bible has many stories of oppressed people who use the methods available to them to overcome. Deception is not a virtuous act, but sometimes it takes a trickster to turn oppression around. Someone who, say, subverts Roman and Jewish expectations and leads us to eternal life by sacrificing his own. The difference between a hero and a villain often depends on who writes the history book.

Evening readings: Psalms 1; 33

Dropping Our Stones

Today's readings: Psalms 42; 146, Genesis 26:1-6, 12-33, Hebrews 13:17-25, John 7:53-8:11

Today’s story from John about a woman caught in adultery is the source of the saying: “Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” One of the best known stories about Jesus, it is ironically considered one of the least authenticated. Early manuscripts of John don’t include it, and in later ones it varies slightly. Perhaps the story persists because its message is so essentially Christ-like.

Under Mosaic law, punishment for women committing adultery was death by stoning. The scribes and Pharisees brought such a woman before Jesus and tested his observance of the law by asking what should be done with her. Jesus initially responded by stooping and writing on the ground. Some apocryphal versions of the text say he was writing the sins of everyone present. Others have theorized it was a stalling tactic. Either way, this action teaches us a valuable lesson: Christ has little interest in hearing us recount the shortcomings of other people.

When he instructed the person without sin to cast the first stone, the crowd of course dispersed. Christ knew an honest examination of our own lives generates humility and mercy. When he and the woman were left alone, he declined to condemn her and instructed her to “go and sin no more” (John 8:11). Whether this event is historical or not, it illuminates truth that transcends fact: Christ is more interested in freeing us for the future than in chaining us to the past.

“Sin no more” does not excuse past actions – it is a call to repentance. True repentance doesn’t mean feeling guilty and sorry, but going in a new direction. Punishing others through guilt only hitches them to the past, and prevents them from moving in any direction. Allowing ourselves to be punished by guilt – even self-inflicted – is just as counter-productive. Following Jesus’ example means trusting others and ourselves to acknowledge mistakes, change direction, and do our best not to make them again. Jesus loves everyone enough to leave the past in the past, and to let everyone move toward a future of endless possibility. First, everyone needs to put down the stones.

Evening readings: Psalms 102; 133

Childlike Wealth

Today's readings: Psalms 103; 150, Genesis 24:50-67, 2 Timothy 2:14-21, Mark 10:13-22

The two stories in today’s passage from Mark can be read independently, but taken together they provide a greater lesson. In the first, Jesus rebukes the disciples for preventing children from coming to him. He welcomes and blesses the children, and tells his disciples “whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it” (v 15). In the second, a rich young man who believes himself virtuous because he keeps the law asks Jesus what he lacks to inherit eternal life. Jesus tells the man he needs to sell all his possessions, give the money to the poor, and follow him. The young man leaves in shock and grief.

When Jesus speaks about being like little children, he does not mean we should be naïve or even innocent. Children own nothing, and depend on their parents for everything. To receive as children, we must realize that all we have is from God, and that our lives apart from God are empty. This takes us to the young man, who has many possessions. To abandon them all is unthinkable to him. His body and actions conform to the law, but his heart belongs first to his possessions. Not only does he fail to recognize all he has does not truly belong to him, he has allowed his attachment to wealth to become a barrier between him and God.

Idealism is associated with youth for a reason: as we grow older and establish our lives, it becomes ever more difficult to stand up for principles that may cost us everything, because we have so much more to lose. As we mature, it’s easy to claim experience has made us practical about matters that threaten our livelihoods. Is it possible we are rationalizing a bit? It’s a lot easier to stand up for principles at your job when all you have to lose is a 1998 Ford Fiesta than when your new house and Lexus are on the line. Must we, like the young man, sell everything? At the very least, we must be willing to part with anything in our lives – wealth, reputation, pride – that stands between us and God. Only then will we have room to receive the kingdom of God, and all the gifts which lift us up instead of weigh us down.

Evening readings: Psalms 117; 139

Win/Win

Today's readings: Psalms 63, 149; Genesis 24:28-38, 49-51; Hebrews 12:12-29; John 7:14-36

Psalm 63 speaks passionately of the psalmist's longing for God's presence: "my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you" (v 1). It celebrates the fulfillment he finds in the Lord: "My soul is satisfied as with a rich feast" (v 5). It expresses his glad and utter dependence on God: "in the shadows of your wings I sing for you [...] ; your right hand upholds me (vv 7,8). Roughly two thirds of the way through, starting at verse 11, it turns in a completely different direction. The psalmist begins cursing his enemies, calling them "prey for jackals" who "shall go down into the depths of the earth" (vv 10, 9). This pattern of longing, praise, and gratitude followed by curses cast upon one's enemies is common to many psalms. Why might this be?

Sometimes we have trouble understanding the difference between rejoicing in our own triumphs and reveling in the misfortune of our enemies. "Enemies" is a concept we can apply in many ways. Sometimes it's as seemingly innocent as a rival team. Many a pre-game prayer has been for victory - and by extension for loss by the opposing team. There are no heroes or villains in this situation, yet such a prayer presumes God will favor one side over the other. On a larger scale, we hear much rhetoric about America being a nation enjoying special favor from God. This belief in our own righteousness can cloud our perception of the morality of our actions as a nation. At its ugliest, it encourages us to think of our enemies as God's enemies.

When Jesus tells us to pray for our enemies, it isn't only to change them - it's also to change our hearts toward them. Competition can be good, and global conflicts can be unavoidable, but our attitudes about them can change. Jesus famously interacted with Samaritans and other "enemies" of his people because his vision was not limited by the tribalism which afflicts so many of us. When we follow his example and understand God's love includes our enemies, we can break free from the false win/lose thinking that creates nothing but division. Praying for the welfare of our enemies makes them our neighbors.

Evening readings: Psalms 125, 90

Bread of Life

Today's readings: Psalms 62; 145, Genesis 19:1-17 (18-23) 24-29, Hebrews 11:1-12, John 6:27-40

When Jesus refers to himself as "the Bread of Life" he promises that anyone who eats of his body and drinks of his blood will never hunger or thirst (John 6:35). Of course this is a metaphor, but legendary saints like Therese of Lisieux claimed to need no nourishment but the Eucharist. The unperishing, completely filling food Jesus speaks of is that which satisfies our souls. Physical food sustains our existence but spiritual food transforms existence into eternal life.

Recognizing our mortality often leads to acknowledging a terrifying void in the core of our beings. Typical mid-life crises can involve the panicked acquisition of perishable things in an attempt to fill that void - things like fast vehicles, younger romantic partners, and one more promotion. However, the mid-life crisis is just regular life writ large. Who hasn't spent a sleepless night wondering if they've done enough with their lives, or regretting actions taken and untaken? We like to think there is something on the horizon we can do or have that will satisfy the unnamable longing within us. Advertisers know how to manipulate this spiritual hunger - after all they refer to us as "consumers." Spiritual junk food is much like actual junk food, which burdens us with extra weight to carry while leaving us malnourished.

Paradoxically, the food Jesus offers us is ... nothing. It is freedom from worldly concerns that comes with trusting we are beloved children of God. It is freedom from guilt and shame. It is freedom from feeling an unhealthy need for control. In the absence of all the things and attitudes we do and acquire to fill the void, the Spirit finds room to fill us with peace and love.

Not that contentment leaves us lazy! Food is fuel, after all, and the Bread of Life fuels us into joyous and fulfilling action. We don't serve our brothers and sisters in the hopes of finding joy - we serve them because we are already stuffed to the gills with joy. Our praise does not spring from a sense of obligation, but from a sense of gratitude. We work best - physically and spiritually - with a balanced diet.

Evening readings: Psalms 73; 9

Test Everything

Today's readings: Psalms 65; 147:1-11, Genesis 16:1-14, Hebrews 9:15-28, John 5:19-29

Some days the biggest stumbling block to faith is scripture itself. Amid its inspiration, today’s passage from Genesis contains some truly horrifying ideas. God promised Abram he would father a nation, but he and his wife Sarai did not conceive a child. An impatient Sarai suggested Abram impregnate her servant Hagar. Under the laws of the time, Sarai could have claimed legal possession of the child. The law also claimed that if Hagar started acting “uppity” after conceiving, her mistress could punish her – so naturally that’s exactly what happened. When Hagar ran away, God advised her to return with the promise her child would also beget a nation.

Forced surrogacy. Abuse. Slavery endorsed by God. Is it any wonder many people find it so easy to reject the Bible wholesale?

Many Biblical literalists and militant atheists approach the Bible in the same way: either it’s true or it isn’t. They simply come to opposite conclusions. Moderate and progressive Christians can find themselves caught up in defending why they bother with the Bible at all, if they don’t find scripture inerrant. Convoluted excuses and justifications for stories like this one (and worse) erode faith rather than strengthen it.

The Bible is not God. Treating it like it is might be the most acceptable form of idolatry going today. God can withstand our questions and criticisms of Bronze Age culture. Just because Jesus didn’t speak out against slavery doesn’t mean our attitude toward it remains unchanged over 2000 years. 1 Thessalonians 5:21 advises: “Test all things; hold fast what is good.” God has given us the ability to discern what is moral and what is immoral, though in cases like slavery it takes us far longer than it should to make the right call. Acceptable practices become unacceptable, and “abominable” practices such as short hair on women grow inoffensive.

The fact that people have used the Bible both to justify and condemn slavery tells us the truth it contains needs more thought than the popular “The Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it.” Trust that truth is Godly, wherever it is found.

Evening readings: Psalms 125; 91

Cry, Shout, Pray

Today's readings: Psalms 130; 148, Genesis 11:27-12:8, Hebrews 7:1-17, John 4:16-26

No matter how strong our faith, we eventually have a day - or maybe an achingly long series of days - when God seems far away. We don't talk about those much in church. Rather, church often seems to have an unspoken rule that we are always supposed to put on a brave face: anything else might cause others to question the sincerity of our faith. Expressions of doubt during a Bible study prompt others to offer arguments for belief so they don't have to feel uncomfortable. A minor breakdown during prayer time is viewed as unseemly and inappropriate, maybe even a topic for gossip in the parking lot. Loss and weakness are celebrated if we've already overcome them, but no one likes to watch the sausage being made. A story of overcoming a gambling addiction? Testify! A confession about how your ongoing blackout drinking leads to promiscuity? Save it for the 12-step meeting. We talk a good game about brokenness, vulnerability and healing but we really want to skip right to the "after" photo because the "before" is too upsetting.

The Psalms tell a different story. Many of them describe how we can be simultaneously faithful and in a wretched state. The author of Psalm 130 is crying out to to God from the depths of despair (v 1). He recognizes his own failings and shortcomings (v 3). He finds himself unable to do anything but wait for the Lord (v 6) and hope for the best. He still puts his trust in God but he's not putting up a brave front.

Questions, moments of weakness, despair: these do not demonstrate a lack of faith. They are the times that tell us whether we had any faith in the first place. Like the psalmist, sometimes the best we can do is beg God to get us through the darkness while we hunker down and hang on until daylight (v 6). A healthy faith community will offer safe space to rail against injustice, our struggles, and the seeming distance of God. It will face darkness head on but bring a light into it. Since communities are made of people, the responsibility of creating such space then falls on each of us. We can be ourselves when we allow others to do the same.

Evening readings: Psalms 32; 139

Hurrah! Now what?

Today's readings: Psalms 135, 145; Genesis 8:6-22; Hebrews 4:14-5:6; John 2:23-3:1

Imagine you are a member of Noah's family. You've been inside the ark for 150 days. What once seemed like an enormous structure has shrunk to feel cramped and confining. The smell of animals and their trappings permeates your clothes and hair. After 5 months maybe you have begun to wonder if you will live to see the waters recede or if you are really in a floating tomb. But the day you've been hoping for has finally arrived: a dove has returned with evidence of dry land. Today is the day you get out.

As the cover is pulled back and the door opens you are giddy with excitement, but before long that feeling fades and others replace it. After months at sea, your legs are unsteady on land. Sunlight you haven't seen in months feels good on your face, but is blinding and disorienting. The family you love but desperately want some time away from insists on gathering together to praise God and plan the next steps. The world is bright and new, yet it's a little ... disappointing.

Reaching a goal can raise us to an emotional high, but afterward it may also leave us feeling empty. Ready for renewal and transformation, we discover we need to take a little time to steady ourselves and gain our bearings. We are satisfied to complete our project, to graduate, to retire, to give up that bad habit, or to start that new routine. The Bible is full of stories of abrupt transformations, so we may be disappointed to learn that even the biggest events of our own lives are made of ... baby steps.

When we are reborn in Christ - however many times that may happen - we learn to crawl again before we learn to run again. Freedom from an addiction happens one day at a time. Forgiving others is a gradual release. Commitments to daily prayer are often a series of initial setbacks. Healing is followed by the tedium of rebuilding a life one block at a time.

A little emotional letdown is not a sign of failure or insignificance, but part of the process. One day we will remember back to the moment the ground became solid under our feet, and appreciate each step it made possible to take afterward.

Evening readings Psalms 97, 112

In God We Trust

Today's readings: Psalms 104; 149, Genesis 6:9-22, Hebrews 4:1-13, John 2:13-22

In Jesus’ time, monetary offerings made to the Jewish temple needed to be in Jewish currency. Since the standard currency was Roman, money changers set up shop inside the temple and exchanged currency for high fees. They also sold sacrificial animals at high prices. The money changers knew they had a captive audience of faithful Jews who had access to neither of these things on their own. Jesus reacted to their presence in the holy temple by overturning their tables and driving them out with a corded whip – his only violent reaction to people in any of the Gospels.

Jesus and the Money Changers by Balage Balogh

In the Middle Ages, some clergy traded indulgences (the reduction of penance) for alms (charitable gifts). Abuse of this practice – basically selling forgiveness for cash donations – was one of the major issues that drove Martin Luther to launch the reformation. Today televangelists find ever more sophisticated ways of parting the faithful from their money by selling them goods, services and empty promises. Many churches offer enlightenment, access, or authority only to those who can afford to pay dearly for it.

Charity is an important part of a Christian life, but never trust anyone who attempts to use your desire for a closer relationship with God for monetary gain. And be wary of anyone who believes large offerings should buy them special privileges in church – the flip side of the same counterfeit coin. If you believe Jesus died for our sins, then the price has been paid in full. If you aren’t convinced of atonement theology, remember Jesus’ reaction to those who profited off the faithful. Drive the modern day money changers out of your life and don’t feel a need to be gentle about it. Your relationship with God depends on you and God and no one else.

Anyone truly interested in helping you grow your faith won’t charge you. Of course preachers need to eat and churches need to keep the lights on, but how much you are able or willing to contribute financially should not influence their willingness to be Christ’s hands when you need them.  God’s love and forgiveness is free. You can take that to the bank.

Evening readings: Psalms 138; 98

The (Not So) Good Old Days

Today's readings: Psalms 97; 147:12-20, Genesis 4:17-26, Hebrews 3:1-11, John 1:43-51

The good old days, according to Biblical history, don’t get any older than the time of Adam and Eve. Rather than a simpler time when people were decent, the first generations of humans dabbled in murder. Adam and Eve may be the model for traditional marriage, but their descendants practiced polygamy while the original couple was still alive (Gen 4:19-26). Whether these stories are factual or not, they tell us human society has not degraded, but has always had issues.

What about the more recent good old days? The era of Leave It To Beaver might have been great for white, Christian men, but for people of color, women, and religious minorities it was a time of oppression. Most of us, especially those who grew up enjoying a privilege we didn’t realize we had, do not understand what a complicated and dangerous world it is until we live in it as adults. We are nostalgic for a time that never actually existed, but which seems better because we were not fully capable of comprehending and despairing of its complexities.

The writer of Ecclesiastes claimed that even in his time, there was nothing new under the sun. He surely didn’t anticipate the iPhone, but as far as human nature goes, he remains correct. We are capable of the same atrocities and acts of kindness as we have always been. However, despite the hype of the 24-hour news cycle, statistics show that violence in the world has been steadily decreasing for decades. The good old days were simply … not.

When we feel overwhelmed by the world, let’s not pine for a past that never was. Instead, let’s focus on introducing God’s realm into the troubles of the present. It is by facing the world head on, while relying on the assurances of Christ, that we create a better future.

Evening readings: Psalms 16; 62

The Devil Did Not Make You Do It

Today's readings: Psalms 42; 146; Genesis 3:1-24; Hebrews 2:1-10; John 1:19-28

Temptation is a tricky devil. We tend to speak about it as though it lives outside of us. Though most people are speaking metaphorically when they say "The Devil made me do it!" the sentiment behind the phrase is fairly common. We don't like admitting our darker desires might originate in our own minds and hearts. It's convenient to shift blame to external forces. And if we act on those impulses … guilt is a powerful incentive to duck responsibility.

Today's reading from Genesis is well-known even outside religious circles. The serpent tempting Eve to eat the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil is such a recognizable image that ad campaigns often reference it.  Gender studies examine how Eve's role in offering the fruit to Adam has been exploited to paint women as seductresses who lead men to sin. The story influences many cultures, and illustrates how we think about temptation.

While the serpent is traditionally the villain of the tale, note that no one remains blameless– God punishes the serpent, the man, and the woman. "She made me do it!" is not an acceptable excuse. Do we suppose Eve spent the rest of her days cursing the serpent? Or that Adam couldn't stop mumbling about her under his breath? We never learn whether anyone took ownership of his or her own actions.

Do we claim responsibility for our actions? As a society of armchair therapists, we have become adept at rationalizing and identifying (correctly or not) the roots of our own temptations and unhealthy behaviors. Too often this is where we stop, and a diagnosis becomes an excuse. Everyone has heard (or said) some variation on "I was mistreated so I behave badly." Explanations are only a start – real healing moves us beyond them. Certainly people can tempt us with opportunities, but we make the choices. Until we admit we knowingly and willingly ate the fruit, we aren't equipped to resist the next bite. We also aren't able to forgive ourselves or – more importantly – know God has forgiven us.

Temptation is inevitable. Our response to it is not, as long as we don't blame the serpent.

Evening Psalms 102; 133

Letting Go

Today's readings: Psalms 104; 150; Genesis 1:1-2:3; Ephesians 1:3-14; Reading John 1:29-34

Artists will often say a work of art is never perfected, but eventually it has to be finished enough for public consumption. According to Genesis, God created the world in six days. At the end of each day, he looked upon what he had created and pronounced it good. Conceivably God could have kept on creating indefinitely and brought into existence things we can’t even imagine, but on the seventh day he rested. Whether or not we believe a literal creation account, at least one thing remains true: after the foundation of the universe was laid, God handed over the reins and let human history unfold on its own.

When Jesus showed up at the River Jordan to be baptized by his cousin, John knew his job was finished. He acknowledged the superior rank of Jesus and gracefully stepped aside, saying: “I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” (John 1:31). Someone else might have tried to hold onto the influence John exerted over his own disciples, but John willingly let them follow Jesus instead. John trusted Jesus to carry on the faithful work he had begun.

How good are we at recognizing when our work is finished? If God and John the Baptist could trust others to carry on and tend to their creations, why do we sometimes have trouble letting go? Maybe it’s a ministry we started at church, or a project at work, or even our children: at some point we must admit we have done all we can do – all we should do – and relinquish control. This can be a scary thing to do, but if we do not the fruit of our labor is more likely to strangle on the vine than ripen in the sun.

Conviction is good. Perseverance is good. Stubbornness is not so good.  Stubbornness is a cage that holds us only because we refuse to unlock it. When we can’t recognize our leg of the race is done and pass the torch to the next person, both we and the torch are likely to burn out before the finish line is reached. Better to pass it along, celebrate the joy of sharing the burden with the next runner, and enjoy a day of rest. Who knows what me might pick up next?

Evening readings:  Psalm 29

Servant Leaders

Today's readings: Psalms 46 or 47; 149; Isaiah 65:13-16; Revelation 3:7-13; John 6:15-27

What would you do if the public wanted to crown you king or queen? Would you embrace it? Would you run away? Jesus chose the latter. After he fed thousands of people with just a few loaves and fishes, they wanted to make him king – by force if necessary. He escaped to the mountain to be alone.

When God told Isaiah he was to be a prophet, Isaiah resisted. He declared to God all the ways he felt unworthy of being God’s voice. Many (most?) of the prophets chronicled in the Bible resisted God’s call. As far back as Moses, who blamed his speech impediment and tried to push the job off on his brother Aaron – the people God has chosen to lead have shown reluctance.

When God knocks on the door, even to tell us we are fit to lead, we should be a little hesitant, maybe even fearful. The call is rarely easy. In his wisdom, God does not tend to choose leaders who are eager to embrace authority and power. Contrast this to our present-day system of secular leadership, where candidates spend millions of dollars telling you why they are unquestionably qualified for leadership, and their opponents barely deserve to participate in civil society. And religious leaders who seek power? We should always keep a critical eye on them.

Of course there are differences between people who seek power, and people who rise naturally to positions of leadership. For starters, the latter is much less common. The ability to acquire power is nothing like the ability to wield it wisely and justly. In hierarchical organizations, someone has to be at the top. The person who is the most eager, or eloquent, or assertive is not necessarily the best choice. The true sign of faithful leaders is a desire to serve not a term of office but the people who depend on them.

In God’s kingdom the last are first and the first are last. A true leader does not fear other leaders, but encourages them. A true leader does not control subjects, but empowers people. When we are called to leadership -  by God, people, or circumstance  - let us consider it humbly and prayerfully. When God calls us to lead, he calls us to serve.

Evening Psalms 27; 93 or 114

Humble Piety

Today's readings:  Psalms 46 or 47; 148; Isaiah 65:1-9; Revelation 3:1-6; John 6:1-14

The Gospels may be "The Good News," but a lot of Jesus' message is old hat. Centuries before Jesus taught people of his day that true obedience to God means embodying a spirit of mercy and justice - rather than mercilessly following the letter of the law - Old Testament prophets had tried to deliver the same message. Isaiah told the exiled nation of Israel she had lost God's favor because of her "holier than thou" attitude (not even paraphrasing - see Isaiah 65:5). Their burnt offerings, once a pleasing fragrance, became a stench in God's nostrils as they substituted outward piety for love and mercy.

Flash forward 800 years, and no one seems to have learned anything. The occupying force may have changed from Babylon to Rome, but the Jewish people still needed to hear they were like whitewashed tombs - dressed up on the outside, but decaying inside (Matt 23:27). Flash forward another millenium or two and - no surprise - followers of Jesus need to hear we might be a little too focused on displays of piety and not enough on mercy. Who are the prophets of the message this time? Certainly many voices from within the church, but more telling are the voices of outsiders looking in. Surveys consistently reveal that non-Christians perceive Christians as hypocritical and judgmental. When non-believers are filling in for Isaiah and Jesus, it's time to take note.

Misplaced piety seems to be a chronic condition of the faithful. And lest we begin to feel too superior for reigning in our own pious impulses ... that's a form of it also. The good (old) news is that prophets speak because there is always hope we will listen and change our ways. Sowing mercy and justice is challenging work. It's much more comfortable to check off lists and to follow familiar rules than to listen to the voices telling us we need to reevaluate what we think God wants from us - especially when that might mean others will look down on us. When we feel challenged, "Let anyone who has an ear listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches" (Rev 3:6).

Evening readings: Psalms 27; 93 or 114