Pay Attention

Jacob became angry with [Rachel] and said, “Am I in the place of God, who has kept you from having children?” (Genesis 30:1)

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows (James 1:17).

Since the day of his birth Jacob had been a trickster. The name Jacob means something like “heel grabber,” suggesting one who trips up or supplants another. Indeed, that was the story of Jacob’s life.

He had opportunistically swindled his brother Esau out of the birthright that belonged to the first born. Jacob cut a shrewd deal over a bowl of stew and walked away with what rightly belonged to Esau.

Later, posing as his brother, Jacob took advantage of his father’s old age and blindness. Jacob played the imposter and received the blessing from Isaac. Esau’s anguished plea to Isaac went unheeded. “Bless me too Father!” Too late. Crafty Jacob had received what could only be given once.

In Laban it seems that Jacob met his match: A deal for seven years of labor in return for Rachel, Leah slipped into the mix on the night of the wedding, seven more years of work for the younger good-looking Rachel. Jacob got what was coming to him.

But in the midst of his deceptive, scheming life and his dysfunctional marriage to two jealous sisters there is a moment when Jacob gets it right. A brief interlude of honest clarity is glimpsed in the middle of Jacob’s conflicted story.

In his anger over Rachel’s demand for a child Jacob confesses that he is not God. “Am I in the place God?” he shoots back at his whining wife. Implied answer: “No, I am not God.” There are things that only God can do. Creating life is one of them. Jacob knew his limitations.

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We will never find God in the everyday while we’re trying to be God in the everyday. Our efforts to exercise sovereignty over our own lives blind us to the true Sovereign. Our inclination to manage and manipulate people and circumstances squeezes God to corners of our days. God is eclipsed by our unruly self.

In the New Testament, there is a variation on the name “Jacob” that shows up as “James.” In a short letter written by James we are reminded that every good and perfect gift comes from above. God is the giver of all that is decent and good and cherished in this life.

So we have Jacob: Acknowledging that he is not God, reminding us that we cannot be God. And we have James: Inviting us to pay attention and receive thankfully every good gift that God places in our lives.

This is a fair description of what it means to wake up every day and live a life of faith. Recognize that whatever this day brings, God is sovereign. As the clichéd wisdom puts it, “there is a God, and it’s not you.” You don’t have to play God today.

But you are asked to pay attention. Ultimately this is what it means to find God in the everyday. Stay out of the way, look carefully and listen closely. You are surrounded by good gifts – all of them coming from above.

Prayer:
With every new day, O Lord, teach me more of who you are and what you are doing. I relinquish my claim to your role in my life. Help me to trust you, to follow you obediently, to notice your presence in the everyday – today and always, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Authority

They arrived again in Jerusalem, and while Jesus was walking in the temple courts, the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders came to him. “By what authority are you doing these things?” they asked. “And who gave you authority to do this?” (Mark 11:28)

Jesus had made a mess in the temple. He had overturned tables of money, sending coins rolling and bouncing, causing every head to turn at the raucous sound of his indignation. The vendors of sacrificial animals had also been sent packing. Jesus had disturbed the cozy industry that had cropped up around the traffic of pilgrims who needed an animal to give to the priest or currency exchanged for the offering plate.

So the next day, as Jesus walked in the temple courts he was confronted by those who regarded themselves as caretakers of the place. They raised the question of authority. “What gives you the right?”

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We are rarely confronted with that question in such a blunt manner, but we wear ourselves out answering it anyway. Every day is another day to prove ourselves, to show that we belong, that we really are capable, that we are worthy of trust and confidence and admiration.

There are two kinds of authority. One kind is the kind of authority that is placed upon us by a title or a job or a role. A police officer has authority when he or she wears the badge; the lifeguard has authority when perched in the lifeguard chair.

But there’s a different kind of authority that comes from some deep place within us. The Greek word for authority used in Mark 11:28 (exousia) can be literally rendered ‘out of being.’ It’s a kind of rooted strength that you possess when you know who you are.

The first kind of authority allows us to accomplish tasks: negotiate contracts, hire employees, make decisions, give direction. This is a legitimate authority and the world would be thrown into chaos without it.

But the second kind of authority is what allows us to love people, to give a blessing, to listen to another’s pain, to sit quietly with someone and be present without trying to fix things, to tell the truth in love. This is possible only when we know that we have been loved and blessed by God. We know who we are.

Many of you have authority – the kind that allows you tell your client how to plead or your children to get in the car. But you’ve also been given a deeper authority in Jesus. This day is much more than another chance for you to prove yourself. You will be the presence of Christ in the world today. You are loved by God the Father and filled with his Spirit. You are sent. Let that flow out of your being.

Prayer:
Remind me today, Lord Jesus, who I am and who you’ve called me to be. By your spirit empower me to be that person and live that life, carrying your presence into the world with quiet authority. Amen.

Taming a Ravenous Heart

When Rachel saw that she was not bearing Jacob any children, she became jealous of her sister. So she said to Jacob, “Give me children or I’ll die!” (Genesis 30:1).

When I was in the sixth or seventh grade I wanted a mini-bike. Not just any mini-bike. I wanted a Honda mini-trail 50. A friend of mine had a Honda mini-trail 50. I had ridden his and was convinced that my life would not be complete until I had one just like it.

Christmas approached. I spoke to my parents using the scriptural words of Rachel in Genesis 30:1. “Give me a Honda mini-trail 50 or I’ll die!” I wasn’t quite that demanding, but I made sure my parents saw the glossy color brochures from Honda that had pictures of the gleaming Honda mini-trail 50 and images of people who looked supremely happy as they sat astride the blessed bike.

Christmas came. My parents did indeed get me a mini-bike. It was not a Honda mini-trail 50. I later learned that it was a refurbished mini-bike that had belonged to my cousin Ben. It was a decent mini-bike, and I enjoyed it. But by next Christmas my interest in mini-bikes had diminished significantly. The mini-bike sat neglected in a shed in the back yard. And I know now that the same thing would have probably happened even if I’d gotten the Honda mini-trail 50.

The things we believe we simply must have will never make us right. We transfer the “must” to something else. Something within us is always craving something outside of us, hoping to finally be fulfilled. The Bible calls this idolatry.

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Idolatry is an insidious thing, and it never goes away. A sixth grader’s conviction that life depends upon a mini-bike becomes a high-schooler’s conviction that life depends upon a car, a certain kind of car. For my kids and their peers it’s a cell phone or ‘ipod touch.’ Later it becomes a career or a spouse or, like Rachel, a family.

These are not bad things, and nothing in scripture prohibits praying for things we want, especially things like relationships and children. But the belief that we’ll die without those things, that fullness of life cannot be had apart from those things, this is desire gone awry.

Rachel’s demand, “Give me . . . or I’ll die” makes it nearly impossible to live with a sense of gratitude. Ravenous demands and humble thanks rarely inhabit the same soul. And apart from gratitude it is impossible to find God in the everyday. The everyday is often something we didn’t ask for, and sometimes something we’d be glad to do without. But to receive what’s in front of us with thanksgiving opens windows to the presence of God that are tightly closed when we live a “give-me-or-I’ll-die” kind of life.

Is there something that you ache to have today? Know that your desire may be perfectly legitimate. Feel free to pray for whatever it might be right now. But after you’ve been honest with God about what you want, speak your gratitude for what you have in front of you – and know that God, God and nothing else, is enough.

Prayer:
At times, O God, my desires are unruly. I believe I must have something or someone to be complete. Forgive me, and make me thankful for the everyday that this day will bring. Turn my ravenous heart into a thankful heart by the power of your Spirit. Amen.

The Second Seven Years

Jacob . . . loved Rachel more than Leah. And he worked for Laban another seven years (Genesis 29:30)

To read how they first met is to get a picture of awkwardness. Jacob saw Rachel at a distance and was immediately smitten. Did he ask around, get her address, learn who her friends were, finagle an introduction? No. None of that. We’re told that Jacob simply walked right up to her and kissed her and then . . . he wept. I think he could have done without the weeping, but the ancient world had its own ways of wooing women.

The bottom line is stated crisply in Genesis 29:18. “Jacob was in love with Rachel.” He was so in love that he agreed to work for Rachel’s father for seven years so that he could marry her.

The seven years flew by (Gen. 29:20). Jacob’s love for Rachel burned hot and the years melted. The wedding day arrived. A week of feasting and celebrating and apparently a liberal amount of imbibing. Laban, Jacob’s father-in-law managed to give his other daughter to Jacob on the wedding night. Jacob woke up, rubbed his eyes and saw Leah next to him. Leah was the plain older girl. Rachel couldn’t marry before Leah did.

Jacob was told he could also have Rachel – but it would cost him. Laban wanted seven more years of work. Jacob agreed. I’ve always thought Jacob had to work the extra seven years before he could have Rachel. The Bible doesn’t say that. After the first week of marriage to Leah, Jacob also took Rachel as his wife – but he owed Laban. Seven more years.

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Sometimes you get what you’ve always wanted, but it costs you more than you ever imagined. Sometimes you get what you’ve longed for, and in the process get more than you bargained on.

For Jacob it was seven more years of servitude to Laban – and Leah thrown into the household. He had Rachel, yes. But at a cost.

You get the promotion and the trappings that go with it – but it costs you at home and places more problems on our desk during the day and they stay on your mind at night. The job is your Rachel.

After years of trying, a baby is on the way. There is joy – even though the pregnancy becomes dangerous and you’re on bed rest for months. The baby is your Rachel.

The first seven years are sustained by passion and dreams and deep longing. They fly by in anticipation and hope. The second seven years are different. In the second seven you have what you wanted – and now you’re keeping a promise; living a commitment.

Many of you are living the second seven years today. You’re up and at it because someone is depending on you. You’re doing what you said you would do, doing what you have to do. This isn’t bad, but it is ordinary. It’s what we’ve been calling the “everyday.”

God is at work in the second seven years. The story of Jacob’s marriage to his dream girl isn’t a very pleasant story, but it is a story that God authors. God is actively accomplishing his purposes in Jacob’s difficult life. God does the same in your life, even in the second seven years.

Prayer:
Gracious God, you are true to you word, faithful in all things, loving us with a steadfast love. Give us the grace we need to be like you in the details of this day, we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Love Abounding

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight . . . (Philippians 1:9).

I’ve been gaining insight into my wife for almost thirteen years. I’ve learned much. I have much to learn. But from time to time I realize that what I’m learning is a variation on a lesson I glimpsed early in our relationship, the Christmas before we married.

Marnie had gotten a Christmas tree for her apartment. I’m not exaggerating when I say that this thing could have gone on the White House lawn or in front of Rockefeller Plaza. It was massive, consuming most of the floor space and forcing her to move furniture in her apartment. The size of the tree got my attention. But what I found most revealing about it was the fact that she had purchased it, brought it home, and put it up all by herself.

She was on a mission. She put her mind to it and made it happen. I’ve seen that same story played out over and over again. My insight deepens, and so does my gratitude. God knew exactly who I needed in my life.

As Paul prays for the church in Philippi he prays that their love will abound more and more. I like that. This isn’t a prayer that asks for help putting up with each other; it’s not a prayer for strength to gut it out and hang on. Paul isn’t settling for that, and neither should we. The language he uses suggests abundance, an overflow.

But this abounding love has shape and definition. This love abounds in knowledge and depth of insight. Knowledge and insight can do funny things to love. Sometimes the more we know about a person, the harder it is to love them. Sometimes knowledge deepens love. Most of the time, the kind of love that truly grows and abounds is the kind that gains knowledge and depth of insight, and loves anyway.

Paul likely meant that as knowledge of Christ and insight into who Christ is increases, our love will abound accordingly. That makes sense. You can’t grow in your knowledge of Jesus and be stingy with love. If that’s happening there’s probably no true knowledge and insight into who Jesus is to begin with.

But more than the abounding love, more than the increasing knowledge and depth of insight, I am struck by the sheer fact that Paul prays.

Apart from prayer we won’t love as we should. Love isn’t something we conjure up by trying hard; love isn’t something that comes naturally to us when another person is lovable. Good intentions aren’t much help.

Love is a gift. God gives the gift to us and teaches us how to love. Our role is to ask. We pray. Try it this weekend. Pray for the one you love and pray for the love you share – that it might overflow in abundance; that you’ll have knowledge and insight into who that person is, and who Jesus is. Pray that the Holy Spirit would create the kind of love God wants you to experience: Love abounding more and more.

Prayer:
Loving God, we pray Paul’s words as our own. Give us love that abounds more and more, love that grows with increasing knowledge and depth of insight into who you are. Help us to know you better that we might love as we should, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Rebuked

People were bringing little children to Jesus to have him touch them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this he was indignant . . . (Mark 10:13).

Have you been rebuked lately? I have, and I probably deserved it. I took a book to my daughter’s basketball game. I received a gentle but firm rebuke for this from Anna. In my defense let me say that I saw every minute that she played. She knew this, but it didn’t matter. “You don’t take a book to a basketball game,” she said. Fair enough.

The Greek word for “rebuke” keeps showing up in Mark’s gospel, and there’s a connection between what is being rebuked and the ways we find God at work in the world.

In Mark 8:32 Peter rebukes Jesus for talking plainly to the disciples about death and suffering. This isn’t good for morale, so Peter pulls Jesus aside for a little talking to.

In response Jesus rebukes Peter – and with a scathing line: “Get behind me Satan” (Mark 8:33). Peter has an agenda that directly opposes what Jesus is trying to do. There’s not much God in his thinking and Jesus will have none of it.

A little later the disciples rebuke those who are bringing children to Jesus (Mark 10:13). This rebuke causes Jesus to become indignant. Jesus welcomes the children and even holds them up as exemplary of those who will have a place in God’s kingdom.

The journey to Jerusalem continues and as Jesus and the disciples pass through Jericho a blind man begins to shout out, hoping to get Jesus’ attention. There’s the word again; those around Jesus “rebuke” the blind man (Mark 10:48). But what others rebuke, Jesus hears and takes notice of. The blind man is healed.

As we journey with Jesus through the everyday aspects of our lives we might be surprised to learn that the things that annoy us or irritate us are actually the places where God is most likely to show up. What inconveniences us may glorify God.

The disciples were annoyed by children; they had no social or political clout. They felt like a distraction, a bother. But what the disciples rebuked, Jesus received and touched and blessed.

The people around Jesus rebuked the whining blind man. What they rebuked and told to be quiet, Jesus heard and invited to conversation. “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51).

Interestingly, what Jesus rebuked were pretensions to self-importance, power, upward mobility and busy-ness that can’t be interrupted by children and blind people.

What annoys you or irritates you? Where do you find yourself spewing a word of rebuke in the course of a typical week? Take another look. What you rebuke may well be the place where God is at work in ways you haven’t dreamed of.

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, help me to see things the way you see them. Keep me from living my days reacting to what annoys me, distancing myself from what is inconvenient. Redeem my tendency to rebuke and help me to find you in those very people and places. Amen.

Monday . . . Again

So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place. But many who saw them leaving recognized them . . . and got there ahead of them. When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd he had compassion on them . . . (Mark 6:32-33).

Reality returned with a vengeance Sunday night. Marnie and I had spent the weekend at a couples’ retreat. As is clearly implied in the phrase “couples’ retreat,” we were kid-free for nearly 48 hours. But by Sunday night, less than twelve hours back at home, the leisure and pace of the weekend felt like something that had happened a long time ago.

We safeguard our Sunday nights, but we can still feel the week ahead breathing down our necks. Laundry comes down from the hampers in bedrooms; trash needs to be taken to the street for Monday pick-up. Papers sent home on Friday have to be reviewed and signed by a parent. The everyday makes its presence felt even on Sunday.

Getting away for a weekend marriage retreat is always a good thing, but the value of a marriage retreat isn’t fully understood until you get home and have to sign school papers and take the trash to the street and empty the hampers. This is where marriage is lived out; this is where we practice loving each other.

We step away from the everyday in order to better live the everyday. We focus on our relationships so that we can live and love in the routines of daily life.

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Jesus gave his disciples authority to preach and cast out demons, and then he sent them out to get after it. When they returned they were elated with their success, full of stories to tell. Jesus invited them to come away by themselves to get some rest (Mark 6:31).

No sooner had they found that quiet place than the needy crowds found them. Their escape was short lived. The many manifestations of human brokenness never take time off. God’s mercies may be new every morning, but so are details of our need.

What is noteworthy is Jesus’ response. No resentment, no complaining, no lamentations about relentless demands. Jesus has compassion.

There is a rhythm to life that Jesus modeled for us; we move between seasons of rest and retreat and seasons of intense engagement. We may discover God in the place of retreat, but God doesn’t intend for us to live there. What happens in the solitary place prepares us to engage the world.

A weekend away is good for a marriage (very good in fact). But marriage isn’t truly lived in the place of escape. The benefit of the escape is finding what we need to go back to the laundry and the school papers.

We sometimes escape to find God: retreats and conferences are available in abundance and offer much that is spiritually helpful. But the benefit of the escape is finding what we need to discover God in the everyday. Don’t resent the mundane tasks that confront you today or the needy people that seek you out. In such places, in the everyday, miracles happen. Don’t miss out.

Prayer:
Gracious God, I don’t want to grow weary of the places or people in whom you often reveal yourself. I don’t want to waste this day dreaming of an escape plan. Fill me with compassion for others and passion for my tasks. Use me today, and lead me to places of rest and refreshing that allow me to find you in the everyday. Amen.

Destinations

They left that place and passed through Galilee. Jesus did not want anyone to know where they were, because he was teaching his disciples. He said to them, "The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men. They will kill him, and after three days he will rise." But they did not understand what he meant and were afraid to ask him about it. They came to Capernaum. When he was in the house, he asked them, "What were you arguing about on the road?" But they kept quiet because on the way they had argued about who was the greatest. (Mark 9:30-34)

Jesus is on his way to Jerusalem. The closer he gets the greater the urgency to teach his followers about where all of this is headed. Thus, passing through Galilee, Jesus avoids the public eye; he opts for anonymity so that he can teach his disciples. In Mark 10 he does the same thing, taking “the twelve aside” (Mark 10:32). In both Mark 9 and 10 the lesson is the same: suffering, death, resurrection.

The disciples don’t understand this. What’s more, they don’t bother to ask questions. They don’t seek clarification. It's not for lackof interest. Fear keeps them reticent. Sometimes there are things we’d prefer not to know.

Rather than seeking further instruction on what it means for them to follow Jesus to the place of suffering and death, they argue with each other about the nature of their rank and position. The twelve are competing for the highest spots on the roster.

Jesus wants to talk about laying down his life. The disciples want to argue about climbing the ladder. The road Jesus walks has two-lane traffic; it’s difficult to find Jesus in the everyday when every day is consumed with moving in a direction other than the one Jesus is trying to take us.

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Of course, few are called to martyrdom. Not many of us will be on the receiving end of hostile persecution. Jesus isn’t modeling for us a life of intentional misery that postures as holy. But Jesus is certainly moving in a direction that feels odd to us; the way he walks is a narrow way that lives life by giving life away. Jesus refuses to feed our ambitious appetites.

Like the disciples, we don’t always want to know this. We don’t eagerly inquire into the way of suffering and death, service and sacrifice. We like being on the Jesus team. We don’t always like running his plays. We walk the road he walks, but to a different destination.

How would you define the destination of your life today? What would it mean for you to work hard, to give your best to this day – but step off the ladder and simply go where Jesus is going? Sometimes the destination that Jesus chooses is not one we would have chosen for ourselves.

Be well warned: once we actually find Jesus in the everyday, we are not allowed to simply observe where he goes. We do not find Jesus in order to talk about what he does. Once we find him, we are called to follow. Where might Jesus be leading you today?

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, how easily we give our energy and attention to our standing in the world rather than our walk with you. Teach us what it means to follow you, allowing you to determine the way and the destination of our living, today and always. Amen.

Faith, Fear and Peanut Butter

He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” (Mark 4:40)

I’m sitting down to write this just having eaten peanut butter. According to Saturday’s New York Times, that makes me a brave man.

Seems there’s a widespread avoidance of peanut butter these days. The salmonella poisoning that is blamed for nearly 600 illnesses and eight deaths and has prompted massive recalls of peanut buttery type products. People are scared. The fear isn’t directed at the recalled product lines only. It has morphed into a general fear of peanut butter, driving sales down 25% and creating a public relations nightmare for the entire industry. Jif is launching an ad campaign and offering coupons to reassure the public that their peanut butter is just fine.

They won’t have to do a hard sell at the Crumpler house. I’ve got a big jar of Jif that I’m into right now and when that one’s empty there’s another just like it in the pantry ready to be called to duty.

Some might say that’s reckless or foolish, that a measure of caution is called for right now. Of course the makers of Jif will disagree and insist I have nothing to fear and urge me to continue to stock up on those big jars of creamy goodness.

I make no claim to courage in the matter of peanut butter. Truthfully, it’s a bad habit. I’ll put peanut butter on just about anything. For some reason I’m just not afraid of the peanut butter in my house.

Maybe it’s just stubbornness. We’re eaten up with fear these days. We receive relentless daily reminders of reasons why we should worry and fret. Perhaps eating peanut butter can be a form of protest, a refusal to be afraid of one more thing. That’s a stretch – but our fears are out of control. They are disordered and misdirected. Our disordered fears keep us from seeing God in the everyday.

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One of the most familiar stories in the gospels is about a storm that swept down on Jesus and his disciples as they made their way across the Sea of Galilee. Jesus was asleep in the boat; he must have gone down like a brick because this storm didn’t disturb him in the least. Meanwhile the disciples are nearly undone with fear (Mark 4:35-41).

The story is simple. In their panic they wake Jesus. Jesus speaks to the elements and restores calm to the waters. The telling piece of the story is what happens after the threat has been dealt with. Jesus asks his disciples “why are you so afraid?” The implication is that they should have been secure in his presence and that their faith in him should have strengthened them in the storm.

But in response to what Jesus did, we read that the disciples were “terrified.” This is a different kind of fear: Awe at the power of Jesus; a healthy fear that senses something holy and divine in Jesus. That’s a fear we ought to have.

Our fears are skewed these days. God seems small and impotent, not really able to handle international tensions and global recession. All the while, as God is dwarfed by the cares of the world, those cares grow more ominous with every day. They keep us from finding God in the everyday.

What are your fears today? Maybe it’s time for a quiet protest. Something more than eating peanut butter. Maybe it’s time to let God be God – ruler of all things, large than economies and wars. When God is large we are more likely to see him in everything every day.

Prayer:
Grant us the grace today, Lord Jesus, to see you as you are – Master of all that is, of all that happens. Expand our vision of your place and your power in this world and in our lives. With that vision, increase our faith and make us bold, we pray. Amen.

There Are Days

Now when I went to Troas to preach the gospel of Christ and found that the Lord had opened a door for me, I still had no peace of mind . . . so I said good-by to them and went on to Macedonia (2 Corinthians 2:12-13).

There are days you’d do over again if you could; days when you didn’t get it quite right, when the distance between who you want to be and you are is as wide as a galaxy.

There are days when you slacked off and simply got it done because you were tired and wanted to go home; you told yourself that no one would know the difference and your best efforts could wait for another day, the next task.

There are days when you took refuge in the sound of the radio because the silence in the car was too uncomfortable; the ride to school didn’t go well and you glared threat into the rear view mirror and watched your children climb out with a silent “good riddance” in your mind; the welcoming smile of the teacher on the curb mocking you in your frustration.

There are days when you wake up having barely slept, regretting the night before. The sun went down on your wrath and rises on your shame.

There are days when you thought you’d moved on only to discover that you haven’t; an old memory stokes a fresh grief that feels like it will never go away. There are days you have to try hard not to cry and days when you couldn’t cry if you wanted to.

There are days you swear you’ll quit, you’ll walk if it happens again and if something around that place doesn’t change; on that same day you remember you really can’t do that.

There are days when God’s grace opened a door and you couldn’t walk through it. You barely noticed it because something was restless in you. You kept moving, no peace of mind. How blessed we are that grace follows us and comes our way over and over whether we look for it or not.

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Paul had such a day. He remembered it clearly, a specific time and place. Paul found himself in Troas, waiting to rejoin Titus who was bringing word to him about the state of the church in Corinth, particularly their relationship with and regard for Paul. Paul was at odds with this congregation and anxious to make things right.

In 2 Corinthians 11 when Paul lists his weaknesses, the weaknesses in which he boasts, he mentions his constant anxious concern for the churches. At Troas, Paul’s weakness got the better of him. He missed the open door, missed what God was doing right in front of him.

And there are days when our weaknesses will get the better of us. God is in the everyday, but we will not see it every day. Fatigue, distraction, regrets, grudges – any number of things can keep us from seeing it. But in our weaknesses God is faithful.

There are days, more than we care to admit, when the best that can be said about the day is just that: God is faithful. Maybe this is one of those days. Grace will follow you through it. Thanks be to our all sufficient God.

Prayer:
Gracious God, every one of our days comes to us as a gift. We do not always receive them that way. There are days we’d gladly forget, days when we ignore the door of opportunity, days when weakness gets the best of us. In every such day you walk with us. Great is your faithfulness and we give you thanks in Jesus’ name. Amen.

What Can't Be Fixed

Now Naaman . . . was a great man in the sight of his master and highly regarded . . . he was a valiant soldier but he had leprosy (2 Kings 5:1-2).

Our weaknesses are often masked by the trappings of power and influence. Such was true of Naaman. Commander of the army of the King of Aram, Naaman was accustomed to giving orders. People did what he said. He was a winner on the battlefield and his winning ways had earned him political clout. Naaman was a key player in Aram.

But there was something about Naaman that the troops never saw, something that most of the public would have never imagined. At the end of every day when Naaman removed the garments that spoke to his rank and laid aside the sword that spoke to his strength, the diseased condition of his skin was plain to see. Turns out Naaman the warrior was also Naaman the leper.

An Israelite girl who served Naaman’s wife mentioned a prophet in Samaria who could heal Naaman. Naaman wasted no time seeking the prophet out, but he used the means with which he was most familiar for getting something done. Naaman worked his political connections, securing a letter from the King of Aram to the King of Israel. Naaman backed up his diplomatic efforts with a handsome payoff – plenty of money and ten sets of clothing. He made his way to where the prophet was, accompanied by an impressive entourage.

It was all a disaster. The diplomacy backfired, causing the King of Israel to think that Aram was actually seeking to provoke a war. Once Naaman actually located the prophet Elisha, Elisha showed no interest in the clothes or the money – and barely any interest in Naaman himself. He didn’t come out to meet him. He simply sent a message telling Naaman to wash in the Jordan River seven times.

Naaman refused. He had a better plan. His plan was very similar to what the prophet had told him to do, but it allowed him to go home to cleaner rivers. Naaman was still trying his best to mange his life with his own resources. Giving direction came easier than trust.

With some gentle persuasion, Naaman finally submitted to the prophet’s word. And in that moment of obedient submission, Naaman was healed. “His flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy” (2 Kings 5:14).

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Most of us invest a great deal of energy trying to fix our weaknesses. We work hard to manage them in such a way that no one else will notice them. We compensate for them by playing to our strengths. We mask our inadequacies with other obvious gifts, whether a stellar resume, a network of influential connections, or access to wealth.

Centuries before Paul wrote to the Corinthians about boasting in weakness, a Syrian by the name of Naaman lived what Paul would later articulate. Naaman’s efforts to manage his weakness got him nowhere. What God’s prophet asked Naaman to do was simply to face his weakness and submit it before God in an act of humble trust. Not an easy thing to do. To wade into the Jordan was to expose his skin, the very thing he tried so hard to conceal.

Our weaknesses are not something God asks us to fix. We are not encouraged to hide them or disguise them. Nor are we urged to flaunt them. But we are invited to face them and entrust them to our all sufficient and all powerful God. In our obedience we wade into the river, fully aware of our inadequacies, and God makes us whole. So go ahead and get your feet wet.

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, I know my weaknesses. I work hard at fixing them, hiding them, concealing them, compensating for them. What I resist doing is facing them and giving them to you. Grant me the courage to wade into the river where grace flows. Meet me there today in my weaknesses and make me whole, I pray. Amen.

Every Day

Five times . . . three times . . . three times (2 Corinthians 11:24-25)

The assignment was due on Friday. As of Wednesday everything looked good. I was proud of my son for not waiting until Thursday to get started. And then it happened. I’m still not sure how or exactly what went wrong – but part of what had already been written was accidentally deleted. Gone. The gone-for-good-not-to-be-retrieved kind of gone.

There‘s a biblical phrase, “weeping and gnashing of teeth.” I saw it first-hand. Unlike the biblical weeping and gnashing which is divinely appointed and always just, this didn’t seem fair. My offers to help were rebuffed. My calm attempts at a reasoned solution to the problem were getting nowhere. My son would not be consoled. I finally had to give him space, leave him alone and let him do whatever he needed to do in order to come to terms with what had happened.

After a few moments he sent me a text message – a surprising but helpful means of parental communication. Five terse words. “No spirit to write it.” I understood. I’d have felt the same way. When you’ve worked hard and done it once, it’s hard to do it all over again.

What is true of lost work and deleted assignments is true of our days. Some days wear us out. The rhythm and demands of a week leave us depleted. Finding the spirit to do it all over again can be a challenge.

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When it comes to finding God in the everyday, the problem isn’t the everyday. The problem is that the everyday happens every day. Over and over. Same song second, third and tenth verses. We wake up on some days and sense that we don’t have the spirit to do it all over again. The every day makes it hard to find God in the everyday.

In 2 Corinthians 11 Paul rehearses a series of setbacks that have marked his ministry. What is noteworthy about these is their repetition. Paul keeps talking about Jesus, and his reward for that faithfulness is constant resistance. He was beaten five times with the whip. He was beaten three times with rods. He was shipwrecked three times. He was in danger on frequent journeys. He lives through many a sleepless night. He has often gone with out food. Over and over, time after time (2 Cor. 11:24-27).

The setbacks were relentless. But so was Paul. He wrote plenty of letters, masterpieces of spiritual counsel and encouragement. We might expect that after a while he would have sent a brief note, a text message: “No spirit to write it.”

But Paul’s spirit never wavers because the Spirit that drives him isn’t his own. Something more than noble ideas and good intentions and dogged determination sustain him. The Spirit that lives in Paul is the very life of Jesus. The Spirit of the living God. So Paul keeps at it, day after day, setback after set back, undaunted, unintimidated.

This Spirit is ours every day. God has promised to give it. Our first order of business with each new day is to pray and ask for it. What we see around us in the everyday may depend on what lives within us. God’s Spirit transforms both us and our days, each and every one of them. Every day becomes a gift, and we live it gladly (Psalm 118:24).

Prayer:
Gracious God, grant us the gift of your Holy Spirit that we might live every day to your glory, embracing both hardships and blessings with the strength and gratitude that come only from you, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Where Did He Go?

After leaving them he went up on a mountainside to pray (Mark 6:45).

Our failure to find God in the everyday isn’t for lack of trying. Jesus told us to seek and we shall find, but there are days when it doesn’t work that way. The seeking doesn’t lead to finding, or perhaps the seeking and finding are separated by long waiting.

Belief is not the problem. We readily affirm that God is at work every day in the everyday. We acknowledge that God is present with us. We give our “amen” to Paul’s assertion that the God who made heaven and earth does not live in temples made by human hands (Acts 17). But in the contour of our everyday living there are barren stretches where God is not found. We conclude that God has left us.

We wouldn’t be the first to come to such a conclusion. Many centuries ago this same kind of experience led the Psalmist to ask “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Psalm 22:1). In his dying anguish Jesus picked up the line and prayed it from the cross.

This week we’ve been looking at Mark’s gospel and observing the different ways that Jesus shows up, making appearances here and there, revealing God in the everyday. There are however at least two instances when Jesus absents himself from the scene of what is happening. He isn’t showing up – he’s taking off.

In one instance, Jesus gets up early and leaves the house where he and the disciples are staying and goes away to a solitary place to pray. Mark uses the same verb twice in the sentence. He tells us that Jesus “went out” and “went away” (Mark 1:35).

The second instance followed the feeding of the five thousand when the disciples were getting in a boat to head to Bethsaida. Jesus didn’t join them. Mark tells us that “after leaving them he went up on a mountain to pray” (Mark 6:45).

Both instances result in anxiety and fear for Jesus’ followers. In the first instance they are searching for Jesus because so many people have needs and want his attention. In the second instance they are caught in a storm and fighting the elements of nature. And in both instances, while the disciples are in angst, Jesus is at prayer.

To the followers of Jesus it seemed that Jesus had left them to themselves; he isn’t where he’s supposed to be; he isn’t there when they need him. But in both times Jesus is exactly where is supposed to be. He is praying. He was praying then – and he prays even now.

When it’s hard to find God in the everyday these stories are God’s gift to encourage us. Jesus has not abandoned us, even when it seems that he has. The writer to the Hebrews reminds us that even now Jesus prays for us. “He always lives to intercede for them.” That includes us and all who come to God through him. (Hebrews 7:25).

Our efforts to find God in the everyday sometimes leave us perplexed. “Where did he go?” He goes to God for you, intercedes for you. Jesus is praying for you right now – and that knowledge can change the everyday of any day.

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, we give you thanks that when we don’t know how to pray for ourselves you pray for us. You have promised never to leave us or forsake us, and we claim that promise today. When we struggle to find you in the midst of our days, strengthen us with the knowledge of your eternal intercession on our behalf. Amen.

Enter the Story

“These people honor me with their lips but their hearts are far from me” (Mark 7:6).

“I only have 26 more pages until I’m at the half-way point in this book.”

My daughter’s comment punctured the quiet of our ride home. Usually the radio in the car is on. But my kids occasionally read in the car, and when they do I gladly ride along with them in silence. Actually, it’s a nice change.

Once my daughter had made her announcement to me she went right back to her reading. A comment like that will typically get a response from me about just enjoying the book or something to that effect. This time I let it go with a short affirmation like “You’re doing great.”

But her assessment of her progress stayed with me a while. I’m glad my daughter is making her way through the book, but to read is to do more than count the pages. To truly read a book is to enter the story, to lose yourself in the world the author has created, to become a participant in the drama. That’s the kind of reading I want my kids to do. I didn’t say all that to Anna, but had I offered my wisdom in response to her announcement that’s what I would have said. Don’t miss the story for counting the pages.

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That’s the invitation Jesus was extending when he said “follow me.” To follow Jesus was to enter a story. A disciple is one who participates in what God is doing in the world. Followers of Jesus find God at work in the everyday, recognizing that God’s story is expansive and that everything is somehow included in the story.

While Jesus was inviting some to follow he was constantly confronted by those who preferred to simply count pages. These were the Pharisees. They measured their own progress in the story without fully entering it. They were always taking stock of how well they were doing. While they claimed to revere the author of the story, they had a hard time allowing themselves to take a role in the drama.

Case in point: hand washing. The Pharisees observed that the disciples of Jesus were not very careful about washing their hands before eating. They questioned Jesus about this, rebuking him for his failure to honor the tradition of the elders. Jesus replied by quoting Isaiah. “These people honor me with their lips but their hearts are far from me” (Mark 7:6). When our hearts are distant we start counting pages. We read the words, honoring with our lips, but never entering the story.

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Once again today we are invited to enter the story of what God is doing in the world. God is on a mission, loving the world, blessing all people and all nations. The comprehensive word for what God is doing is “salvation.” It is a large and exciting story – and we are included.

To find God in the everyday means that we will be ever vigilant against two mistakes: One is simply counting the pages, measuring performance, going through the motions of the story without letting the story move into us. The other error is our inclination to assume the role of author and craft a plot more to our own liking.

God works every day in the everyday. The drama includes you. How will you participate in that story today?

Prayer:
Gracious God, make us more than observers of what you are doing. Help us to shift the focus from ourselves to you. Keep us from simply counting pages and draw us into your story as it takes shape in the most ordinary parts of this day we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Good News

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God (Mark 1:1 NRSV).

Looking back, it seems that we needed to hear and see a story like the one that unfolded in the Hudson River a couple of weeks ago. After losing two engines to a random collision with airborne geese, pilot Chesley Sullenberger ditched US Airways flight 1549 into the river, doing so in such a way that every person on the plane survived. Who can forget the sight of that massive aircraft, floating intact, passengers lined up on the wing, ferry boats suddenly deployed as rescue vessels.

The entire event has been hailed as a combination of miracle and highly skilled piloting. Whatever it was, it was good news. And our appetite for the story and the telling of it over and over by news anchors and passengers reflects our affinity for good news. Perhaps these days we don’t simply like good news. We desperately need good news.

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As Mark tells the story of Jesus he wastes no time making it perfectly clear that this is good news. The Greek word for good news shows up quickly in chapter one. Good news is in the first line of the story, rendered as “gospel” in the NIV Bible. The same word shows up again in verse 14, this time as the “good news” that Jesus proclaims. For Mark the story about Jesus is good news, and the message that Jesus announces is good news. But like all news, good news about and from Jesus has a context, a backdrop that helps us understand exactly what kind of news we’re hearing.

Mark first tells us that the good news about Jesus is connected to the long tradition of the Hebrew prophets (Mark 1:2-3). Isaiah and Micah set the stage for this story, this gospel. This news has been in the making for centuries, long promised and long awaited.

And Mark also tells us that Jesus began announcing good news when John had been put in prison (Mark 1:14). John was eventually executed by Herod, and within a few years Jesus would be executed as well. The good news doesn’t mean the end of bad news. Jesus said God’s kingdom was at hand, that God was at work ruling all things. Herod’s execution of John would have made that hard to see and believe.

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To say that it is possible to find God in the everyday is to announce good news. Finding God in the everyday is another way of saying exactly what Jesus told people who were hungry for good news; God is at work ruling everything; nothing is beyond God’s care or attention; nothing escapes God’s reach or exceeds God’s power.

But believing this good news – seeing God in the everyday – will require us to be patient. Sometimes good news is unfolding in ways we can’t see, happening over time. It also requires us to believe the good news while hearing plenty of bad news. Unlike the ditched aircraft, plenty of things are going down around us and leaving no small amount of wreckage and loss: ditched relationships, ditched corporations, ditched dreams.

Sometimes the wreckage makes it hard to believe the good news, the gospel. We miss the kingdom, the presence God in the everyday. Believe the good news. God’s kingdom is at hand. God is in the everyday and that includes everything about this day.

Prayer:
Gracious God, help me to hear your good news today – the announcement of your presence in all things. And help me to believe what I hear, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Shadow Places

At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John ion the Jordan . . . at once the Spirit sent him out into the desert (Mark 1:9, 12).

Without fanfare or publicity or the work of an advance team, Jesus showed up at the Jordan to be baptized by John. This wasn’t so strange really. The entire region of Judea and most of the population of Jerusalem were going out to see the charismatic figure who dressed and preached like Elijah (Mark 1:5-7). That Jesus would also make his way there fits perfectly with what was happening at the time.

Except for this: all who went to be baptized by John were confessing their sin. In that regard Jesus had no business there. Matthew tells us that when Jesus came to be baptized John tried to deter him. John put him off and didn’t want to do it. But Jesus would not be deterred. He was baptized in the Jordan, a place of confession and repentance.

And then Jesus appeared in the wilderness. As Mark tells the story, he was scarcely dry from the Jordan’s waters. The sand is stained wet where Jesus walked with intent and urgency to the desert. There Satan would have at him for forty days – tempting him to indulge his appetites, exalt himself, take shortcuts, lay claim to power and wealth.

Jesus shows up in a scene of confession of sin. And Jesus shows up in a place of temptation to sin. And between the place of confession (Jordan) and the site of temptation (desert) there is the Father’s voice speaking the word that confirms Jesus’ identity. Between confession and temptation there is the descent of the Spirit.

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There is a well worn path between confession and temptation. The path is walked frequently and in both directions. We’re either confessing the sins we’ve done and regret, or we’re fighting temptations to sins we promised we’d never do. When we lose the desert struggle, we go back to the place of confession. And no sooner do we come from that place of confession and repentance than we find ourselves headed back to the place of temptation. Two-way traffic, all lanes open.

Sometimes finding God in the everyday means recognizing that Jesus stands with us in the shadow places of our living. He wades into the waters where confession is made and stands with us there, not out of his need but out of his grace. And Jesus walks with us to desert places where we fight the lure and power of sin. Jesus shows up at the river and in the desert.

The truly good news in all of this is that we are not defined by the things we’ve done and regret. And we are not defined by the things we try so hard to keep from doing. Between the river and the desert, between the confession and temptation, there is the voice of the one who loves us and claims us and gives us the gift of his very life.

Perhaps you’re on that path today. You’re in a shadow place: a place where you feel the weight of something that needs to be named and confessed, a place where you’re feeling the pull of something that you know you’ll need to confess later. Jesus stands with you there. Between confession and temptation, Jesus calls you the beloved. That is who you truly are.

Prayer:
We give you thanks, Lord Jesus, for the way you show up in the shadow places of our lives. Confession and temptation are not wedges that drive us from you, but windows to your presence with us. Remind us that you have claimed us, that we belong to you as your beloved children. Let that truth anchor us, removing regret over what has been done in the past and fear of what we might face in the future. Amen.

Showing Up

The word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood (John 1:14 The Message).

On a scale of 1 to 10 Dr. James Dobson’s name recognition is easily over 5 and probably somewhere around 8. Not everyone embraces his vision of the Christian family or a Christian society with enthusiasm, but most people know who he is. Imagine my surprise several years ago while visiting my parents’ church in Sarasota, Florida when my Dad called on Dr. James Dobson to conclude the morning worship service with prayer.

James Dobson? Are you serious? Everyone was immediately looking around with stunned delight, trying to get a visual on this person to see if it really was the James Dobson. A celebrity was at church. And the excitement seemed to be heightened by the fact that he just showed up. He wasn’t invited. His presence wasn’t announced in advance or published in the church newsletter. He didn’t expect to speak or be given platform time. He was just there on one of the back pews, attending church on Sunday morning as if he were, well . . . normal.

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God’s presence among us is often spoken of in such a way that the presence feels to us like a fog. It is misty and ethereal and it spreads all over the place and covers everything. But God’s blanketing presence is balanced by a manifest presence – a concrete instance of God’s appearing. We might say that in spite of our attentive seeking, sometimes God shows up in our day and catches us when we aren’t looking.

God’s presence in the everyday isn’t an abstraction. God shows up in the details of the day. The presence of the Holy is connected with crisp verbs and nouns, conversations with a named person, a phone call that evoked a strong emotion of relief or fear, a touch from someone that gave comfort at just the right moment.

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That God shows up this way is clear from the ministry of Jesus. To read the gospels is to follow Jesus from here to there as he shows up and reveals God. Jesus did not simply set up shop in Nazareth and wait to be sought out. He did not extend his healing hand only to those who were fortunate enough to make their way to where he was. He did not take the same seat day after day and teach only those who had made pilgrimage to hear him. No, Jesus walked and went.

Jesus reveals to us a God who seeks us out, a God who has taken the first step toward us. In fact, Jesus’ very life as God incarnate was God’s coming to us, moving toward us. There is no place we can be, no experience we can live through that is beyond this seeking, moving God. God finds us in quiet sanctuaries and frenetic offices. He finds us in our seasons of great joy when all is well, and he comes to us in our darkest sufferings. Nothing is off-limits.

Get ready. Finding God in the everyday doesn’t simply mean that God is out there somewhere. It means that in whatever you face today, God may well show up in a way that you don’t expect. Our God loves verbs and nouns. How will God show up in your life today?

Prayer:
Gracious God, I invite you to show up today in ways that I might not expect. Remind me that the voices I hear might be speaking your word to me; that what I feel might be your promptings within me; that what I see happening might be a window to something you are doing. Help today with nouns and verbs, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Abundance of Caution

Some Epicurean and Stoic philosophers debated with him. Some said “what does this babbler want to say?” (Acts 17:18).

Wednesday was President Obama’s first day at work. His first day at work in the White House, that is. Among the many items on the Presidential ‘to do’ list was one that we might have expected was checked-off on Tuesday. Chief Justice John Roberts came to the White House to re-administer the oath of office.

If you were watching on Tuesday you might have noted the somewhat awkward, bumbling exchange between Justice Roberts and our new President. Apparently, Justice Roberts attempted to administer the oath from memory. It didn’t go smoothly. Justice Roberts and President Obama had a “do-over” on Wednesday to be above reproach and to make sure that it was done flawlessly.

The White House explained that the oath was re-administered out of an “abundance of caution.” An interesting phrase.

An abundance of caution can be a good thing. If you pilot commercial aircraft or regularly perform brain surgery, an abundance of caution will serve you well. When you’re being sworn in as President of the United States, an abundance of caution is wise.

But sometimes an abundance of caution slips over the line and morphs into fear, the kind of fear that keeps us from taking risks, the kind of fear that keeps us from trusting God and living by faith. Caution is admirable in airline pilots and surgeons, but even pilots and surgeons need to take risks. Too much caution and the plane will never get off the ground. An abundance of caution could have been disastrous as US Airways flight 1549 was ditched in the Hudson River.

A life of faith doesn’t flourish well wrapped in an abundance of caution. The overly cautious have a hard time seeing God in the everyday. They’re too busy making sure nothing goes wrong, eliminating the need to trust something or someone beyond themselves.

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Paul in Athens is exemplary in his willingness to throw caution to the wind while at the same time being careful in his dealings with the Athenians and the audience at the Areopagus.

Speaking of the resurrected Jesus in Athens was risky. Paul was thought to be a “babbler.” An overly cautious Paul would have not spoken so plainly about Jesus. Paul went at the Epicureans and Stoics head on. He was bold and direct, reasoning in both synagogue and marketplace, taking the fight to his would be detractors. An abundance of courage.

But once he is asked to address the very same issues before the Areopagus, Paul is careful. His words to the Athenians are strategically chosen and nuanced. He compliments them, cites their poet laureate, and finds points of contact with their world view.

Seeing God in the everyday might mean placing ourselves at risk everyday, engaging situations and relationship where all we can do is trust God. We do well to take care, exercise caution that Jesus is presented well and truthfully. But when it comes to what others think of us or how they respond to us, take a chance. Don’t be burdened with an abundance of caution.

As you enter this day, where do you need to be careful in your life of faith? And where do you need to be bold?

Prayer:
Gracious God, make me careful in presenting you well to my world; careful to honor you in my speech and behavior. And relieve me of an abundance of caution that holds the world at arm’s length. Create in me a heart that holds courage and care together, in Jesus’ name. Amen.

He is not Far from You

The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands (Acts 17:24).

Church buildings have been a part of my life since day one. Even today I like churches that look like churches. The popular wisdom these days says that churchy architecture is off-putting and must be overcome in order to reach people who don’t know much about church or (most importantly) Jesus. I get that – but I’m not sure I buy it.

I like steeples and stained glass. I like the word “sanctuary.” There’s actually meaning in it, something rich and deep in the Latin root sanctus, “holy.” It is certainly true that windows and walls and furniture do not make a space sacred, but it feels right to me when our sacred spaces evoke a sense of quiet awe.

The challenge is keeping the awe of sacred spaces connected with a sense of joy. One of the first things I learned about church buildings when I was very young was that you don’t run in the church. Even now when my kids go full throttle down the runway length hall at Peachtree, I cringe. Some years ago, after singing with the children’s choir in Sunday morning worship, my son leaped from the chancel, vaulting over the stairs and landing with a thump on the sanctuary floor. I was laughing and horrified at the same time. You don’t run in church. You don’t jump in church. But that’s too bad. The sacred ought to move us to the kind of delight that runs and jumps, what Jesus might have had in mind when he urged us to become like children.

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In the earliest pages of scripture God commanded his people to construct a place of worship. The earliest structure was the Tabernacle. It was portable, but sacred nonetheless. Much later on the Tabernacle was replaced with a more permanent structure, the Temple. In each of these sacred structures a particular place was regarded as especially holy. The high priest was the only person who had access to this holy place, a place known as the Holy of Holies. A place closed off from the people, separated by a large heavy curtain. ‘Do not enter’ signs clearly posted.

And on the day Jesus died on the cross, that heavy curtain was torn in two, ripped from top to bottom. The barrier was broken, the ‘do not enter’ signs came down, and holiness spilled out all over the place on everyone and everything.

In Athens Paul was surrounded by sacred structures – temples and shrines to this god or that. In his eloquent introduction of the resurrected Jesus, Paul was clear on this point: God does not dwell in temples built by human hands (Acts 17:24). Shelters and shrines and domes and walls cannot contain the God who created the universe.

We are far more likely to see God in the everyday when we truly understand that God does not dwell in a building. God doesn’t camp out under a steeple and wait for us to show up. God does not hide behind stained glass. God isn’t roped off, contained behind a barrier or railing or under a high arched ceiling.

God dwells in the places you will inhabit today: Offices and malls, bedrooms and backyards, cars and conference rooms, warehouses and theaters. Paul summed it up nicely. “He is not far from each one of us” (Acts 17:27). Wherever you are today, God is there. It is for us to search, reach, and find.

Prayer:
We are thankful, O God, that you do not dwell in buildings and wait for us to show up. You have sought us out, coming to us in Jesus. Even now, your Spirit finds us wherever we may be. Teach us to be attentive to your presence, seeing signs of your work around us every day in the everyday. Amen.

Provoked

While Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols (Acts 17:16).

Several years ago my next door neighbor came over and asked if I would keep an eye on his house while he and his family were away for a while. I told him I’d be glad to do that and asked how long they would be gone. “One month,” he said. They were going home to India. It had been a long time since they had visited family there and it was the time of year for the Hindu celebration of Diwali, also known as the festival of lights.

About a year later we pulled into our driveway and saw them lighting sparklers in their front yard. Somehow I remembered that it was the time of year for Diwali, but on Old Orchard Drive there was no one else to celebrate the festival with them.

The kids and I walked over, inviting ourselves to their small celebration. We were warmly received. John and Anna lighted sparklers with their son. We made small talk and I asked some questions about the festival and what it meant. They knew we were Christians – they called me and Marnie “priests.” So walking over to join in their celebration of Diwali was meant to be a way of reaching out. At the time it seemed like something Jesus might have done. It seems that way now.

But I look back on it and I’m not sure what it accomplished. I did not get as far as reasoning with them about their beliefs and talking to them about Jesus. I was not Paul on Mars Hill. Honestly, I didn’t intend to be. And that’s what I wonder about. Did I do enough? Did I say enough?

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Yesterday we observed that Paul in Athens is not an angry man. That statement was not entirely true. We can say that Paul is not hostile to the Athenians – but we are told that as he looked around the city he was “greatly distressed” (Acts 17:16). This NIV rendering of the Greek word lacks intensity. The ESV bible does a better job by saying that Paul’s spirit was “provoked.” The Greek word suggests the idea of being grieved or angered over something. We might say that Paul was “fired up” by the idolatry he saw.

When I remember standing in my neighbor’s yard as they celebrated Diwali I am struck by my lack of distress. In a culture marked by religious diversity, to be provoked is not a good thing. In fact it is feared as radical. Had we been in Paul’s place the noble and enlightened response to Athenian idolatry would have been dialog but not debate. Let the Athenians be Athenians. Anything else betrays a lack of sophistication.

However, to be provoked does not mean to attack or demean someone else’s beliefs. It is not prelude to coercion. In Acts 17 it seems that Paul’s provoked spirit expressed itself in a tender but courageous kind of love. He loved the Athenians enough to tell them about Jesus and the resurrection.

If everyone finds God in their own way we gradually begin to believe that no one truly finds God at all. It’s a matter of taste and choice and background and upbringing. As you think about finding God in the everyday remember that others around you are looking for God as well. Their search may be very different from your own.

What does it take for your spirit to be provoked? What do you do in response?

Prayer:
Give me a burden for this world, O Lord. Let my spirit be provoked in a way that moves me to love others for your sake and in your name. Teach me how and when to speak a timely word of my own love for you, and then give me courage to speak it. Amen.