What Not to Resolve for 2011

As we are in the final days of 2010 many of us may be thinking about what resolution we want to make for 2011. Often these resolutions have to do with our health. Sometimes it is our physical well- being: losing weight, exercising more, eating healthier. Sometimes these resolutions are about our spiritual health: reading the Bible more often, spending more time in prayer, finding ways to serve others. We hope these resolutions will help train us to be healthier, better people.

But for those of you who have done any kind of sports training, you know that not all training is good training. As I've become involved in triathlon training I've found out how much I need to work on my swimming form. If I focus on swimming as hard or fast as I can without learning how to change my stroke, I will just reinforce poor form that will rob me of energy for the bike and the run. This kind of training will not be helpful to me. In fact it will hurt me by leaving me exhausted when I've only finished the first of three legs of the race. But if I focus on breaking down my swims into shorter distances where I focus on body position in the water while swimming more slowly I will train my body in proper form, allowing me to swim more quickly and efficiently. I need to unlearn bad habits so I can learn good ones.

The same holds true for our spiritual lives. Not all training is good training, even when our intentions are the best. Over the weeks to come I will be blogging through the book Good News for Anxious Christians by Phillip Cary. Concerned that Christians are becoming burdened with anxiety about techniques that allow us to give God control, find God's will, or hear God speak, Cary helps us see that these catchwords are not biblical, and that a truly biblical approach to the Christian life actually decreases our anxiety about being Christ's disciples. To give a taste of what is to come, here is Cary in his own words:

This book is about what we're getting wrong, why it's worrying us, and why we don't have to think and do what makes us so anxious. It's about seeing the invitations in God's word for what they are, so that our Christian life may be lived in cheerful obedience rather than in anxious efforts to get it right. On the negative side, it's about bad theology, the kind of theology that, when it is preached and taught and made a part of our lives, makes us worried and miserable. On the positive side, it's about why the things God has to tell us, even in his commandments, are good for us, how they free us from anxiety and strengthen our hearts to do is work with joy (p.xvi).

To whet your appetite some more, here are some of the chapter titles in Cary's book: Why You Don't Have to Hear God's Voice in Your Heart (Or, How God Really Speaks Today); Why You Don't Have to "Let God Take Control" (Or, How Obedience Is for Responsible Adults); Why You Don't have o "Find God's Will for Your Life" (Or, How Faith Seeks Wisdom). As we train in our lives of discipleship, may we train well. What resolutions regarding your Christian life would you like fulfill in 2011? What parts of your spiritual life make you anxious? Feel free to carry on the conversation by clicking the "comments" link below.

Around the Interwebs. . .

The internet's biggest blessing is that it opens to us an incredible diversity of knowledge, opinion and insight. The internet's biggest curse is that it opens to us such an incredible diversity of knowledge, opinion and insight that we can't sort through it all. Below are some postings online I've found worthwhile and/or provokative:
The Devil's Sermon

God Does Not Play Games with Us

Is the Church Like a Family?

The Church's Real Competition

The Problem with Leadership Today

Into Your Hand I Commit My Spirit

It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." When he had said this, he breathed his last.

Luke 23:44-46

The Heidelberg Catechism, part of the Presbyterian Church (USA)'s Book of Confessions, begins this way:

Q. 1. What is your only comfort, in life and in death?

A. That I belong—body and soul, in life and in death—not to myself but to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ, who at the cost of his own blood has fully paid for all my sins and has completely freed me from the dominion of the devil; that he protects me so well that without the will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; indeed, that everything must fit his purpose for my salvation. Therefore, by his Holy Spirit, he also assures me of eternal life, and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.

At his death, Jesus commends himself to God's care. He commends not just the moment of his death but the fullness of his life: the joy of raising his friend Lazarus from the dead, the sorrow of feeling abandoned at his own death; the joy of being surrounded by his disciples, the frustration he felt when they didn't understand him; the comfort and strength of being surrounded by God's presence and the grief and loneliness of feeling forsaken by God on the cross.

In our prayers we are tempted to bargain with God, especially in times of need and distress. "If I survive this illness, I promise I'll be a better person," "If this plane lands safely I'll go to church on Sunday," "If I get this promotion I'll be more charitable with my money." We think if we give God something he wants – a moral life, church attendance, money to church or charity – we can be assured of a safe and prosperous life. This is what we tend to think of when we commend our lives to God.

But the promise of the Gospel is not that if we give God something God values then God will give us what we value – often safety, health or prosperity, whether for us or for others. The promise is that we belong to God – body and soul, in life and in death – and that nothing in heaven or on earth can separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ. This is not a promise that we will never know suffering, hardship or grief. It is the promise that by the grace of God in Jesus Christ that none of these things, no matter how difficult, will be our undoing. The promise of the Gospel is not a successful life where tomorrow will be better than today. The promise is resurrection, that as we bear the cross and its sufferings we will be granted eternal life. The Gospel does not promise us freedom from suffering, but the strength to enter into suffering, both our own and that of others, because we are confident that suffering will not rob us of the life we have in Christ Jesus.

When we commend our life, our Spirit into God's hands we are not bargaining with God, but making ourselves available for God to work through us, even in the midst of hardship, fear and suffering, trusting that God does make everything fit God's purpose for our salvation and the salvation of the world.

What does it mean for us to commend our lives to God? You are invited to listen to these passages of Scripture as we commend our lives to God's hands:

Psalm 31

Psalm 139

Luke 14:25-33

Romans 8:26-39

It is Finished

Later, knowing that all was now completed, and so that the Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, "I am thirsty." A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus' lips. When he had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

John 19:28-30

It seems that every generation imagines itself at the turning point of history. World War I was the war to end all wars, until we fought World War II, which then led straight to the Cold War. When the Soviet Union collapsed some proclaimed "the end of history" because democracy and capitalism had triumphed over totalitarianism, believing this brought an end to the conflicts that fueled human history. In our times we are told the decisive struggle is with terrorism, but before the war on terror we waged war on poverty, drugs and cancer. Within the Church there are some who proclaim that the end is near, that many who are alive today will witness the return of Christ and be eyewitnesses to the most decisive event in all of time and eternity.

But part of the scandal of the cross is that the most decisive event in the history of the universe happened almost 2,000 years ago when Jesus Christ was "lifted up for all to see and glorified," which is John the gospel writer's way of speaking of Jesus' death on a cross. When Jesus said, "It is finished" he was not talking about his life nor about his earthly ministry. He was talking about the redemption and salvation of the world being completed in his death. By submitting to death Jesus shattered death's hold on us. By dying at the hands of sinners – both Jew and Gentile – Jesus broke the power of sin. In Jesus' death the old order of sin and death has come to an end, and the new creation has begun.

For those of us who live in the most powerful nation in history this can be hard for us to wrap our minds around. We enjoy being the leaders of the free world, of setting the tune that the rest of the world has to follow. We believe that when history turns the corner we will be in the driver's seat. But, in the words of Paul, what we experience now are not decisive turning points in history, but birth pangs and labor pains that remind us that the work accomplished in Jesus Christ will soon be fulfilled, and until this consummation we live in the tension of the now, when sin and death still have a foothold in the world, and the not-yet arrived kingdom of God, where sin and death will be no more.

In the words of Stanley Hauerwas, "It is finished, but its not over." While we believe that Jesus accomplished the salvation of the world in his death, this does not mean we wait quietly until God's kingdom comes in full. What we are called to do is live out the fullness of Christ's salvation in the present so the world can see that sin and death have been dethroned, that the emperor has no clothes. We demonstrate the forgiveness of sins by the way we forgive one another. We demonstrate the abundance of God by our generosity. We demonstrate the reality of Christ's reconciliation by including people of all nations, languages, races and social classes in the fellowship of the church. We, the church, are proof of Christ's salvation as we live lives shaped not by sin, but by God.

How do we live in this way? You are invited to listen to these passages from Scripture as we seek God's salvation in Jesus Christ:

Luke 12:22-34

Romans 6:1-14

Romans 8:12-25

II Corinthians 5:11-21

Colossians 3:5-17

My God, My God, Why Have You Forsaken Me?

From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, "Eloi, Eloi lama sabachthani?"—which means, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" When some of those standing there heard this, they said, "He's calling Elijah." Immediately one of them ran and got a sponge. He filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a stick, and offered it to Jesus to drink. The rest said, "Now leave him alone. Let's see if Elijah comes to save him." And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit. At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook and the rocks split. The tombs broke open and the bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. They came out of the tombs, and after Jesus' resurrection they went into the holy city and appeared to many people.

Matthew 27:45-53

We live in a culture where hope, or at least optimism, springs eternal. We believe in progress – given enough time, technology, good public policy and elbow grease will solve our problems and cure our ills. We don't like stories where the hero dies at the end – the thrill of James Bond and other action icons is not the suspense of whether the hero lives or dies, but how the hero manages to triumph when the deck is stacked against them.

But as those who believe that God's victory over sin, suffering, evil and death was won in the cross of Jesus Christ we are to reject such optimism. Matthew provides us with details that point to the dreadful reality of Jesus' death: darkness had come over the land, for the light of the world is about to be extinguished. The earth shook in grief and shock as the one through whom the earth was made breathed his last. The curtain in the Holy of Holies in the temple, where the very presence and glory of God was believed to dwell, was torn, a sign that this place had been abandoned by God. And there is Jesus' own cry of Godforsakeness: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Jesus Christ, Son of Man and Son of God, suffered and died. There was no last minute reprieve, no last minute plan that saved his life. In the words of the Apostles' Creed, Jesus was "crucified, dead and buried," all at the hands of the most technologically savvy and most efficiently governed empire of the time.

We know that Jesus' death is not the end of the story, for we know the resurrection will come. But the resurrection does not make Jesus' death any less real; the resurrection does not remove the scandal of the cross. We are tempted to make the resurrection the happy ending, the hero's narrow escape from and victory over the villain. While the Scriptures teach that Jesus' resurrection from the dead is proof of God's faithfulness and provides us with the reason to hope in our own resurrection and in the new heavens and the new earth, the Scriptures also teach that it is through the seeming foolishness and weakness of the cross that God's wisdom and power are revealed. It is the cross that is the ultimate display of God's power, not the resurrection.

This contradicts everything we believe about power. Many in the wider church are spending massive amounts of time, energy and resources to help the church regain its influence in society through electing Christians to high public office and by encouraging Christian young people to find careers in law, medicine, business and politics so we can shape the culture from the top down. We equate power with control. Listen to these words from Stanley Hauerwas:

These words from the cross, and the cross itself, mean that the Father is to be found when all traces of power, at least as we understand power, are absent; that the Spirit's authoritative witness is most clearly revealed when all forms of human authority are lost; and that our God's power and authority is to be found exemplified in this captive under the sentence of death. The silence of Jesus before Pilate can now be understood for what it was – namely, that Jesus refuses to accept the terms of how the world understands power and authority.

We believe true power will prevent us from suffering, from ever feeling forsaken. The Presbyterian theologian William Placher, in his book "Narratives of a Vulnerable God," writes,

Human beings seek power because they are afraid of weakness, afraid of what might happen should they be vulnerable, and so the drive for power that looks like the purest expression of freedom proves in significant degree inspired by an enslaving fear that dares not risk vulnerability. . . Christian faith teaches that God is not powerful like that. The God who loves in freedom is not afraid and therefore can risk vulnerability, absorb the full horror of another's pain without self-destruction. God has the power to be compassionate without fear; human beings now as in the time of Jesus tend to think of power as refusal to risk compassion. But God's power looks not like imperious Caesar but like Jesus on the cross.

How do we understand the cross as a sign not of human weakness, but of God's power? How does the cross shape the way we understand the right use of power? These are questions for us to ask as we listen to these Scripture passages.You are invited to listen to these passages of Scripture as we pray for Jesus to make us part of his community that understands the true nature of power, power shaped by the cross:

Psalm 22

Isaiah 53

I Corinthians 1:18-2:5

II Corinthians 4:7-15

Revelation 5

Here is your son, here is your mother

Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, "Dear woman, here is your son," and to the disciple, "Here is your mother." From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.

John 18:25-27

Jesus invites all who would follow him to become part of a cross-shaped community. Baptism, which marks our entry into the community of disciples, invites us to die with Christ, to be crucified with him, so we might be raised to new life. In the Lord's Supper we remember our cross-shaped identity by gathering around Christ's broken body. In the cross of Christ all that divides us – gender, ethnicity, social class – has been put to death, replaced by a new humanity shaped by Christ alone.

On the cross Jesus begins to form this new humanity. The beginning of John's Gospel John speaks those who are God's children not because of their blood relationship but because of God's Spirit and God's will (1:12-13). As Jesus is dying he entrusts his mother to his beloved disciple and his beloved disciple to his mother, forming a community based not on blood, but upon a shared relationship to Jesus.

When Jesus died on the cross and there was the rush to bury him before the Passover festival began, there was a strange mix gathered around Christ's body. Joseph of Arimathea was there, a wealthy man who by some accounts was a member of the Sanhedrin, the council that saw to Jesus' death. Nicodemus, a Pharisee and another likely member of the Sanhedrin was also there, but so were Mary, the mother of Jesus, Mary Magdalene and several other women who kept watch near the cross of Jesus. Joseph and Nicodemus, the ultimate insiders with wealth and status, found Jesus truer than riches and power. The women, distanced from God's presence at the temple, now offer their compassionate presence to the one in whom the fullness of God dwells. In Christ's death there is reconciliation. It is unlikely that anyone or anything other than Jesus would have brought Joseph, Nicodemus and these women together. When we gather as Christ's body, when we come to Christ's table to receive his broken body and shed blood we are invited to look around us and wonder at the reconciliation and unlikely fellowship God has gathered around his Son. In Christ's body there is reconciliation, hostilities have come to an end, and the new creation has been born.

We live in a world where the importance of biological kinship seems more important than ever. In the U.S many are lamenting the decline of the family due to divorce and out-of-wedlock births. Some are worried about this because it represents a breakdown in traditional morality, while others are concerned by the economic pressures and lack of opportunities faced by those in single-parent households. Around the globe we see all kinds of feuds and wars based on biology: Israelis versus Palestinians, Sunni's versus Shiites, Hutus versus Tutsis in Rwanda, Albanians versus Serbs in Kosovo, and the list could go on.

But on his cross Jesus brings these divisions, rivalries and enmities to an end. In the Lord's Supper we remember Jesus, but we are also "re-membered" by Jesus, joined into, made members of Jesus' body, of the Body of Christ, a fellowship based not on flesh and blood, but on the truth that "in Christ all things hold together, for God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross" (Colossians 1:17, 19-20).

Let us be attentive to how God calls us to reorder our notions of family and kinship because of our relationship with Jesus Christ. You are invited to listen to these passages of Scripture as we pray for Jesus to make us part of his cross-shaped community:

Mark 3:19b-21, 31-35

Matthew 10:34-39

Ephesians 2:11-22

Colossians 1:15-23

I Peter 2:4-10

 

 

Jesus, Remember Me

One of the criminals who hung there hurled insults at him: "Aren't you the Christ? Save yourself and us!" But the other criminal rebuked him. "Don't you fear God," he said, "since you are under the same sentence? We are punished justly, for we are getting what our deeds deserve. But this man has done nothing wrong." Then he said, "Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom." Jesus answered him, "I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise."
Luke 23:39-43

At the cross we find kingdoms in conflict. From the beginning of his ministry Jesus proclaimed, in word and deed, the presence and nearness of God's kingdom. At the end of his life Jesus was brought before the worldly powers – King Herod, the ruling council in Jerusalem and the Roman Governor, Pilate – and condemned to death, an event that embodies the conflict between the kingdom of God and the kingdoms of this world.

It is likely that the criminals crucified with Jesus were also caught in the conflict between kingdoms. The cross was a form of punishment reserved for those considered a threat to Roman rule. These criminals may have been more than burglars or armed robbers. They may have been deliberately trying to disrupt Roman rule because of their desire to see God's Holy Land and Holy People free from Gentile rule. The Romans wished to be remembered for their power and prosperity. The criminals crucified with Jesus wished to be remembered for preserving the purity of their people by forcing the Romans out. But one of the criminals crucified with Jesus had a change of heart. When his friend started to insult Jesus, he rebuked him because he knew Jesus did not deserve this punishment. Then this one who had fought for one worldly kingdom and against another asked to be a part of Jesus' kingdom.

What do we make of kingdoms today? We no longer live in a culture governed by kings and queens, barons and baronesses, with positions of authority handed down through bloodlines from one generation to the next without the voice of the people being heard. At their heart kingdoms are stories about our place and purpose in the world. Rome's story was one of expansion, power and prosperity. Israel's story was about a God who had chosen an unlikely people to be the revealer of God's will. We are shaped by "kingdom stories" that help us find our place in the world. For some this may be the story of America and the spread of democracy and the freedom and rights of the individual. For others it might be the story of their family, of traditions and values going back for generations and to faraway lands. Others may derive their story from their work – doctors battling disease, teachers preparing future generations for fruitful lives, executives providing leadership for an organization they care deeply about. The kingdom of God works like one of these stories, helping us find our place and purpose in God's world. Sometimes this story may go hand in hand with other stories, sometimes it will conflict with them.

What is the kingdom of God like? How does this story shape the way we live? How is it different from the stories of other kingdoms and empires and nations of the world? You are invited to listen to these passages from Scripture as we pray for Jesus to remember us and make us part of his kingdom.

JMark 10:32-45

Isaiah 58:1-12

Matthew 5:1-12

Luke 4:16-30

John 18:33-38

John 19:8-15

“Father, Forgive Them”

When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

Luke 23:33-34

When Jesus spoke these words, he spoke them as a prayer to the Father. They were not addressed to those who were torturing him, nor are these words about our need for forgiveness. These words are the intimate conversation between the beloved Son and his beloved Father. They reveal to us the heart of God, a heart shaped not by vengeance, punishment or retribution, but by love and mercy we cannot imagine. Jesus does not ask the Father to hunt down those who are killing him, to bring them to justice dead or alive. He asks that they be forgiven. Jesus does not use his power to strike down evildoers, but to forgive, to redeem those who sin, whether they are aware of their sin or not.

As we ponder this word from the cross this week, I invite you to be mindful of this story, shared by Stanley Hauerwas in his book Cross Shattered Christ: Meditations on the Seven Last Words. He tells the story of Christian de Cherge, a Catholic monk who was in charge of the Tibhrine monastery in Algeria. Hauerwas writes,

Christian and his fellow monks knew their refusal to leave Algeria after the rise of Islamic radicals in 1993 might result in their deaths. Anticipating his death – he was beheaded in 1996 by Muslim radicals – Christian left a testament with his family to be opened on his death. In that testament he asks that those who love him pray that he was worthy of such a sacrifice. He expresses the fear that his death will be used to accuse in general these people, these Islamic people, whom he has come to love.

He ends his testament observing:

Obviously, my death will justify the opinion of all those who dismissed me as naïve and idealistic: 'Let him tell us what he thinks now.' But such people should know that my death will satisfy my most burning curiosity. At last, I will be able – if God pleases – to see the children of Islam as He sees them, illuminated by the glory of Christ, sharing in the gift of God's Passion and of the Spirit, whose secret joy will always be to bring forth our common humanity amidst our differences. . . And to you, too, my friend of the last moment (a reference to his executioners), who will not know what you are doing. Yes, for you, too I wish this thank you, this 'A-Dieu,' whose image is in you also, that we may meet in heaven, happy like thieves, if it pleases God, our common Father."

We are invited to forgive not because it is good for our physical or emotional health, but because we are made in God's image and God has chosen mercy, grace and forgiveness instead of vengeance or retribution. Of course this does not mean forgiveness is easy. Imagine being Christian de Cherge's mother or father, brother or sister, reading his testament after his death. Imagine the overwhelming depths the Father felt as His beloved Son was crucified, then hearing, "Father, forgive them." To bear the cross, to follow Jesus is to forgive.

The last words of Jesus from the cross are words that only describe his death. Instead they reveal the fullness of his character, revealing a live lived in faithfulness to God and to us. As we listen to Jesus' prayer for forgiveness I invite you to listen to these passages of Scripture:

Matthew 5:21-26

Matthew 5:38-48

Mark 2:1-12

Luke 7:36-50

Matthew 18:21-35

Setting the Bar

Our readings for Sunday, February 28 speak of God's graciousness towards us: Abraham trusted that God would fulfill God's promise to him, and on the basis of this trust God reckoned Abraham to be righteous. As Jesus journeys to Jerusalem he knows what awaits him, yet still he longs to gather Jerusalem under his wings, offering mercy when he knows Jerusalem will literally be the death of him.

But throughout the Bible there is a tension that is difficult for us to hold together: God both offers us unconditional grace and makes claims upon us. The reading from Romans retells the story of Abraham, reminding us God claims us not because of our own goodness but because it is in God's gracious nature to do so. But most of the other readings reveal to us that God's grace is not to be taken lightly: the readings from Exodus and Numbers tell us that while Abraham's descendants shall indeed inherit the Promised Land, the generation of Israel that saw God's signs and wonders in the Exodus would not live to enter the land because of their lack of trust and their desire to return to Egypt, the land of slavery and bondage. In I Corinthians 10 Paul reminds us to take God's dealing with Israel in the wilderness into account in our relationship with God – Paul refuses to see a disconnect between a vengeful, primitive "Old Testament" God and a kind, loving mature "New Testament" God. The God of Israel is the Lord of the Church. And just prior to Jesus longing to embrace Jerusalem, the city that will kill him, Jesus speaks of the need to enter through the narrow door, of many not being able to enter this door and of the door being barred shut to many.

How do we hold together both God's unconditional grace and God's desire for us to be trusting and obedient towards God? How do these passages shape the way we understand what it is to be in relationship with God? May the readings below give us wisdom and encouragement as we seek God's presence.

Monday, March 1

Exodus 33:1-6
Romans 4:1-12

Tuesday, March 2

Numbers 14:10b-24
I Corinthians 10:1-13

Wednesday, March 3
II Chronicles 20:1-22
Luke 13:22-31

Read Psalm 105:1-15, 42 each of these three days.

Why Pray?

For many of us (myself included) prayer often falls into the same category of eating healthy, exercising, or flossing: something we know is good for us, yet is hard for us to do. Then when we don't pray we may feel guilty, and the guiltier we feel the harder it is for us to enjoy prayer because we are so weighed down by guilt. Because Lent is a time not only to give up what may be harmful, but also a time to embrace what is good, I'll be doing a series of postings on prayer, hoping they will encourage all of us to deepen our prayer lives and find fulfillment in doing so. Most of these posts will be drawn from Worshiping with the Church Fathers by Christopher Hall. Hall looks to the early leaders and teachers of the Church for wisdom in prayer and worship. One question many of us may wonder about but may be afraid or embarrassed to ask is this: If God knows everything, including what we need, why do we need to ask for these things in prayer since God already knows we need them? Quoting the contemporary author Richard Foster, Hall writes,

The answer could be as simple as this: love often likes to be asked something, even when it knows the answer. Such is the nature of love. "We like our children to ask us for things we know they already need because the very asking enhances and deepens the relationship. . . Love loves to be told what it knows already . . . It wants to be asked for what it longs to give."

At its root prayer is not a transaction, a kind of service contract between us and God. At its root prayer is a means of relationship where we open ourselves to God's love for us and presence with us. This is the same God Jesus described as a father who never stopped waiting and longing for the return of his child who ran off and wasted half the family fortune, desiring nothing more than to embrace his child and welcome them home. God is not like a frustrated lunch date, glancing at the clock and wondering why we haven't shown up yet. God longs for our fellowship and is delighted when we turn to God in prayer.

Pilgrimage

Here are the readings for Sunday, February 28 . A word about how the lectionary works: During the seasons of Advent (longing for Jesus' birth), Epiphany (seeing how Jesus is revealed as God's Son, Lord and Savior) Lent (journeying with Jesus to Jerusalem and the cross), Easter (hearing the news of Jesus' raised from the dead) and Pentecost (celebrating the gift of the Holy Spirit) the Old Testament and New Testament readings have some kind of link. Sometimes the New Testament reading refers to the Old Testament reading, sometimes there is a shared theme or another kind of connection. Combined, these seasons of the Church year last about six months. For the rest of the year (usually about June – November), called either "Ordinary Time" or "The Season After Pentecost," there is not necessarily a connection between the Old and New Testament readings. This is because, especially in our Reformed Tradition, the Old Testament stands on its own as the Word of God and it is therefore right that the Old Testament is preached on its own terms, with or without reference to the New Testament. But in this season in Lent I encourage you to look for the connections between Old Testament and New Testament readings.

One of the main themes of Scripture is that of Pilgrimage. In the words of last week's reading from Deuteronomy 26, our ancestors in the faith were "wandering Arameans." Abraham, Isaac and Jacob wandered around the Promised Land, waiting for God to grant the land to their descendants. Moses led Israel on a 40 year journey through the wilderness, and the climax of the Gospels is Jesus' journey to Jerusalem. Of course for Abraham, for Israel in the Wilderness and perhaps for some of us we do not feel like pilgrims with a set destination in mind, but like nomads who wander with no destination in mind or in view. In her book From Nomads to Pilgrims author Diana Butler Bass describes the difference between nomads and pilgrims: nomads are "spiritual tourists" who wander from experience to experience with no connection to other nomads or to any sense of purpose or destination. Pilgrims, on the other hand, connect to one another as they share a common journey towards a transformed life. Bass writes, "Being a tourist means experiencing something new; being a pilgrim means becoming someone new."

Sunday's Gospel reading tells the story of the beginning of Jesus' pilgrimage to Jerusalem. The readings below from Genesis tell the story of Abraham's journey. How do these scenes from his journey help us understand our own? In our readings from Philippians Paul offers some testimony about his spiritual pilgrimage, first as one who is rooted in Abraham's story and then as one who is defined by the story of Jesus Christ. In light of Christ how do we understand our own life differently? How are we nomads/tourists? What does it mean for us to become pilgrims? Please share your thoughts and stories by clicking on "comment" at the end of the post.

Thursday, Feb 25
Genesis 13:1-7, 14-18
Philippians 3:2-12

Friday, Feb 26
Genesis 14:17-24
Philippians 3:17-20

Saturday Feb 27
Psalm 118:26-29
Matthew 23:37-39

Read Psalm 27 each of these three days.

Long Memories

The word "Lent" literally means "to lengthen," coming from an old Anglo Saxon word for spring, the season when days begin to lengthen and grow longer. Lent is also a time to lengthen our memories, to be reminded of God's loving and saving acts on our behalf and on behalf of the world. For the Reformed Tradition gratitude for God's grace towards us is the primary motivator for Christian service. The brief reflection Trust Fund Christians, by Presbyterian pastor Kate Murphy, reminds us of our need for a long memory lest we squander the riches of grace God has given us.

Holding Fast

Here you can find the readings for Sunday, February 21 . A brief word about this website: On the upper right corner of the webpage you will see links to art that touch on the Scripture readings. Some art is centuries old, some art is more contemporary. Reflecting on the Scripture while viewing these images may help you see the readings in a new light. Below the link for art is a link for prayers that draw on the readings, helping us to see how Scripture reading shapes our prayer life.

Because the Gospel reading is the story of Jesus' temptation in the wilderness by the devil it is easy for us to think of this as a story of temptation. But when read with the other readings perhaps this is less a story of temptation than one of God's deliverance. After all, Jesus was filled with the Holy Spirit before being tempted, giving him strength as wisdom during his time of trial. The story of the Exodus, recounted in the "Hebrew Creed" in the Deuteronomy reading, is not primarily about the temptations Israel faced in the wilderness, but about how God delivered God's people. The Romans reading tells us that God's salvation is near to us, and while the devil does quote Psalm 91 for his own purpose it is nevertheless a prayer that reminds us God is our protector.

The readings below are not primarily about temptation or our tendency to succumb to it, but about God's patience with and nearness to us in the midst of our trials. Some of these readings easily fall into the "hard passages of the Bible" so I want to offer a word about them. The reading from I Chronicles may seem especially difficult: Why is God punishing Israelite citizens for what David did wrong? In the Bible's telling of the story of Israel the Bible refuses to believe that God is anything but intimately involved with the affairs and events of Israel. Is there a famine? Israel is receiving the just desserts for its sin. Is there a bumper crop? God is blessing us beyond our deserving! (One wonders what Noah would make of our global climate change theories!) Is there a plague or trouble in the house of David? We knew all along that the census was an affront to God! The census in I Chronicles was seen as infringing on God's leadership of Israel: The Lord is the shepherd, and the number of the sheep is important only for the shepherd and not a matter of concern for the sheep! So the plague that happened at this time must have been God's doing. The punishment David receives from his foes is likely the revolt his son Absalom led, which II Samuel tells us was the result of David's affair with Bathsheba and the murder of her husband, Uriah. Interestingly enough, the Chronicler makes no mention of David's affair with Bathsheba, the murder of Uriah or Absalom's rebellion, putting the best foot forward on David's life. Whether in joy or sorrow or struggle Israel refused to understand its life apart from the actions of God. How might we tell the story of our lives if we refused to distance God from what we have experienced?

Several of these readings mention Satan, who is not so much the embodiment of evil as much as a prosecuting attorney (of course, for many there is no clear distinction between pure evil and lawyers!). As a prosecutor Satan is simply bringing forward evidence or seeking evidence to build a case, as Satan does with Job. But while we are facing Satan, the toughest prosecutor/persecutor out there, we have a helluva (pun intended!) advocate: Jesus Christ, as the reading from Zechariah points to and John testifies to. How do we see God's presence with us in our trials? How do we see God's deliverance from these trials? How does being clothed with the righteousness of Christ help us to make Psalm 17 our prayer? For and interesting perspective on God's presence during our times of trials, see this short video by Rob Bell.

Monday, Feb 22
I Chronicles 21:1-17
I John 2:1-6

Tuesday, Feb 23
Zechariah 3:1-10
II Peter 2:4-21

Wednesday, Feb 24
Job 1:1-22
Luke 21:34-22:6

Read Psalm 17, a prayer for protection, each of these three days.

Fire in the Belly

Lent is a time for us to focus on following Christ to the cross, often by either ceasing habits that do not nurture our souls or by beginning new habits that do. We often associate spiritual growth with learning or ideas: learning more about what the Bible says, learning more about prayer, often assuming that having the right information at our disposal will lead to more faithful living. But is this the case? Are having the right ideas or beliefs the best or only way to grow in discipleship? In his book Desiring the Kingdom James K.A Smith calls this way of spiritual formation into question. He writes,

And so distinctively Christian education is understood to be about Christian ideas . . . [T]he goal of Christian education is the development of a Christian perspective, or more commonly now, a Christian worldview, which is taken to be a system of Christian beliefs, ideas, and doctrines.

But what if this line of thinking gets off on the wrong foot? What if education, including higher education, is not primarily about the absorption of ideas and information, but about the formation of hearts and desires? What if we began by appreciating how education not only gets into our head but also (and more fundamentally) grabs us by the gut – what the New Testament refers to as kardia, "the heart"? What if education was primarily concerned with shaping our hopes and passions – our visions of "the good life" – and not merely about the dissemination of data and information as inputs to our thinking? What if the primary work of education was the transforming of our imagination rather than the saturation of our intellect? And what if this had as much to do with our bodies as with our minds?

What if education wasn't first and foremost about what we know, but about what we love?

Especially in the almost five centuries since the Reformation, Christian formation has focused on the ideas and beliefs that set us apart from the Roman Church and the variety of Protestant denominations. Our beliefs - about the Lord's Supper, human free will, predestination and election, the atonement, how "our" understanding of justification by faith differs from "theirs" – became the focus of Christian education. But the book of James says, "You believe that God is one; you do well. Even the demons believe—and shudder" (James 2:19). The demons have good theology-they know exactly who God is (in Mark's Gospel only the demons and the Romans proclaim Jesus as the Son of God; the disciples do not yet understand Jesus as God's son), but they do not desire what God desires.

During Lent how can we seek not only to gain clarity in our beliefs, but also in our desires? Most of us believe/agree with the idea that we should (at least sometimes) put the needs of others above our own. But how often do we have the drive, desire and passion to do so? We believe prayer is a good thing, but do we desire to pray more than we desire to do other things? We all know that eating healthier is the best way to lose weight and stay healthy, but somehow our desire for chocolate is far more powerful than our desire to slim down!

I think Smith is on to something: training our mind is indeed important, but the best theology is for nothing if we do not have the desire to live by what the Scriptures teach. What are some things we can do to train our desires so that we truly do hunger for righteousness and desire God's kingdom above all else?

Entirely in Thy Service

From ancient times Christians, drawing on Jewish practices, have had set hours for prayer, including morning and evening prayer. Here is a morning prayer offered by John Calvin:

My God, my Father and my Savior, since it has pleased you to preserve me by your grace through the night just ended and until the present day, grant that I may use it entirely in your service and that I may think, say, and do nothing but to please you and to obey your holy will, so that all my actions may redound to the glory of your name and the edification of my neighbors. And just as in this earthly life you cause the sun to shine on the world to give physical light, let your Holy Spirit illumine my mind to guide me in the way of righteousness. Thus in everything I do, let my goal and intention always be to walk reverently and to honor and serve you, relying on your blessings for my well being, and undertaking only what is pleasing to you.

Grant also, O Lord, that as I labor for my physical needs and for this present life, I may lift up my soul to that heavenly and blessed life which you have promised to your children. And since to begin well means little unless one perseveres, I ask you to be my guide not only today but for all my life, daily continuing and increasing your grace in me until you have brought me into full union with your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who is the true Sun of our souls, shining day and night forever. Amen

Our Sleep and God's Glory

How to pray and what to pray for have always been questions. Luke tells us that Jesus gave the Lord's Prayer after a disciple asked Jesus to teach them to pray. Here is an prayer offered at the close of day by John Calvin, who did so much to articulate the unique theology of the Reformed Tradition:

Lord God, since you have made the night for man to rest as you have created the day for his work, I ask you to give my body a restful night and to grant that my soul may be lifted up to you and my heart always filled with your love.

Teach me, O God, to entrust all my cares to you and constantly to remember your mercy, so that my soul may also enjoy spiritual rest. Let not my sleep be excessive, but let it serve to renew my strength so I may be ore ready to serve you. May it please you also to keep me pure in body and in spirit, preserving me from all temptations and all danger, so that my very sleep may contribute to the glory of your name.

And since this day has not passed without my having offended you in several ways, I who am a poor sinner make this request. Grant, O God, that just as thou hast now hid all things in the shadows of night, you will also bury all my sins in your mercy, through Jesus Christ my Savior. Amen

Raw Desire

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent. Two interesting notes about Lent: "Lent" comes from the Old English word for spring, since Lent is usually observed in late winter and early spring. For those of you who pay careful attention to the calendar you may notice that while Lent has 40 days, there are actually 46 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday. This is because the six Sundays of Lent don't count as part of the season, since each and every Sunday is a "mini-Easter" when we celebrate Jesus' victory over sin and death in the resurrection. Does this mean that on Sundays one can indulge in chocolate or caffeine that has been given up for the 40 days of Lent? I'll let you decide.

Here are the readings for Sunday, February 21. The reading from Deuteronomy 26 is something like a Hebrew version of the Apostle's Creed, and brief statement that tells the core story of Israel: the story of how God delivered Israel from slavery in Egypt and led them to the Promised Land. Just as the Patriarchs of Israel – Abraham, Isaac and Jacob – wandered in the wilderness while waiting for God to establish their descendants in the Promised Land, so Israel spent forty years in the wilderness after God freed them from slavery waiting for God to lead them to the land of milk and honey. During these long years in the wilderness God sought to reshape Israel's desires: no longer were they to long for the "fleshpots of Egypt," for a brutal but familiar way of life that at least guaranteed food and shelter. Instead Israel was to long for the God who delivered them from the hand of Pharaoh and bore them on eagle's wings, who promised them life and goodness and freedom.

The Gospel reading for Lent is always an account of Jesus' temptations in the wilderness. As Israel spent 40 years in the wilderness while God prepared them to live well in the Promised Land, so Jesus spent 40 days being tempted as he prepared for his public ministry. If Israel was tempted to hunger more for Egypt than for God, what was Jesus tempted to desire more than God? How do we understand these temptations? In what ways are we still tempted by them? What do we desire more than God? The reading from Romans reminds us that God's salvation is near to us, that it is Jesus, and not Pharaoh or Caesar, who is Lord. How does this news encourage us? Our Psalm reminds us the devil can quote Scripture for his own purpose. What do you make of Jesus' response? How does this shape the way we read Scripture?

Lent has often been a time of fasting of some sort – giving up sweets, caffeine, eating simpler meals, refraining from eating, and, in our technological age, fasting from facebook, ipods or tv. Often we see fasting as a way to "mortify" or reign in the desires of the flesh. But what if the purpose of fasting is not to extinguish our desires, but to train ourselves to desire and hunger for the things of God? How can we use these 40 (well, 46) days not to extinguish our hunger, but to point it in the right direction? Below are readings that help shape our hunger and desire:

Thursday, Feb. 18

Exodus 5:10-23
Acts 7:30-34

Friday, Feb. 19
Exodus 6:1-13
Acts 7:35-42

Saturday, Feb. 20
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
John 12:27-36

Read this portion of Psalm 91 each of these three days.