What Was and What Will Be

Think of what you were when you were called (1 Cor. 1:26).

At first it sounded like thunder. After a few seconds I realized it wasn’t thunder at all, but the Wheeler High School drum line.

If I could blaze a trail directly to Wheeler, cutting through my neighbors’ yards, I could walk there in less than five minutes. My house sits almost directly behind the school, and the sounds of the drum line mark the fall season as surely as the leaves that are now being scattered about on my lawn. September means high school football and high school football means marching bands and drum lines.

The sounds evoked memory. Those distant rumbling cadences on Friday morning became a bridge that took me back to my own days on the drum line – only it wasn’t called a drum line back then, at least not at my school. I loved the drums during football season, but I wasn’t so enthusiastic about being a “band geek.” It was far cooler to dress out for football even you never got on the field except to do pre-game stretching. Our band uniforms were, for lack of a better word, goofy. But I tolerated that for the sound and energy of the drums. To use current vocabulary, we rocked.

“I can’t do that anymore.”

At some point remembering my drumming days morphed into acknowledging present reality. My drumming days are done. Truthfully, I don’t think I ever played as well as what I heard coming from Wheeler High on Friday morning. The bar seems to have been raised a good bit higher. Other thoughts followed. “What if I could do that again? I’d work harder. I’d be better.” And almost as quickly – “I’m so glad to be done with high school.”

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In his letters to the Christians in Corinth Paul is continually holding up before them who they once were and who they are becoming.

“Remember who you were when you were called” (1 Cor. 1:26). In Christ they are a new creation. “The old has gone, the new has come” (2 Cor. 5:17). When Christ returns they will be “blameless” (1 Cor. 1:8).

Our thinking easily drifts in these same directions, looking back to what was or looking ahead to what will be. The looking back sometimes raises all the “what if” questions: what if we had chosen differently or tried harder or understood more. The looking ahead raises all the “what’s up” questions: what is God up to, where is this headed, what’s up next?

For Paul, and for us, the answer to the “what if” questions and the “what’s up” questions is found in Jesus. God is at work forming Christ in you and that redefines everything, past, present and future.

From time to time you may hear the rhythms of a distant cadence echoing from days long gone. You may look back with regret. You may look back with longing. But you are not who you once were. And sometimes you may feel a restlessness that pushes you to your future, the next thing out there that isn’t clear to you now. You are not yet who you will be.

And what holds it together – what holds us together – is grace: All that was, all that is today, all that yet will be is God’s relentless work to form the image of Jesus in you. As the familiar hymn says, “’tis grace hath brought me safe thus far and grace will lead me home.”

What is God using these days to shape the likeness of Jesus in you?

Prayer:
Our hearts are filled with thanks, O God, for what has been and what will be. Redeem our yesterdays as you prepare us for days yet to come. Use all that this day will bring to shape the likeness of your son in us, we pray. Amen.

Slow to Unlearn

Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives in you? (1 Cor. 3:16).

I learned at a very early age that God had a house and that God’s house was called “church.” And somehow I also came to love that house.

I know this isn’t true for everyone. Some people grow up in houses that they can’t wait to get out of. Once out of the house they return only on holidays, an obligatory visit that is more endured than enjoyed, more tolerated than treasured.

The same happens with God’s house. For whatever reason, there are many who know its rooms and corridors but are only too glad to be done with it. They make it back a couple of times a year, but it’s not home for them in any meaningful way.

For reasons I can’t explain, that’s not my story. I don’t make that claim as a boast – just a fact. The first house I ever lived in was on a small lot right next door to God’s house. The same is true of my daughter Anna. When she was born we brought her home to a house that sat across the street from the house of God. In days that lie beyond the reach of my memory and in days that I will never forget, God’s habitation and my own habitation have been closely connected.

I learned what kinds of behavior are fitting for God’s house, “don’t run in church” being at the top of the list. I grew comfortable with the furniture: little wooden chairs for children, metal folding chairs for grown ups, and pews for everyone. Even now I can detect a scent that seems to linger in churches all over the country. Yes, to me God’s house has a smell that evokes recognition, a recognition of home.

I learned all of that at a very early age. And now, quite a bit older, I am trying to unlearn it. This doesn’t mean that I’m rejecting my love for the place or practice of weekly worship. It doesn’t mean that I hold in derision that which I have always cherished. What I am having to unlearn is the connection between the presence of God and a building.

Of course, I’ve understood for a long time that God doesn’t live in a house the way I live in a house. But deeply ingrained in me is a way of thinking that connects the activity in the building with the activity of God. This means that God is confined to church programs, church services, church meetings. That’s what must be unlearned.

Paul told the Corinthians that they themselves were God’s temple. This is a staggering claim. God does not take up residence in a building or a shrine or a structure. God inhabits a people. God’s very life dwells in you.

This simple truth could revolutionize your life. The reality of God’s very life dwelling in yours changes this day without changing anything you’ve planned to do. Suddenly what you’ve planned to do takes on an entirely new meaning. You are God’s plan for loving and changing the world.

It’s a good thing to invite the world to God’s house. Some will come. Plenty of others will not. But God inhabits a people and every week those people take God to the world.

You are God’s temple, God’s habitation. The Spirit of God takes up residence in your life.

How might this change your day? How might it change you?

Prayer:
Gracious God, you loved the world so much that you sent your son. You continue to love the world by sending us. Empower us today by your Spirit that we may be your very presence in this world. Make your home in us, changing us and transforming our days, we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Unsightly Growth

“You are God’s field” (1 Cor. 3:9).

“All healthy things grow, but not all growth is healthy.”

I’d like to be able to take credit for those words, but I can’t. I’m not sure where I heard them or who said them. Something in my mind whispers to me that Reggie McNeal said that line in one of his keynote addresses at the Presbyterian Global Fellowship conference we hosted here back in February. Whoever said it, the words aren’t mine and a proper footnote needs to be inserted somewhere in this paragraph.

I didn’t craft the sentence but I know its truth well enough. I spent more than three hours in my yard this past Saturday removing growth. Around the right side of my house a small jungle had flourished. I had noticed it for several weeks, but I didn’t want to deal with it. When creeping vines had extended their tentacles as far as a second floor bedroom window, I knew it was time to take action.

My weapons of choice were an old-fashioned sling-blade and two different kinds of clippers. I didn’t need an axe or a chainsaw because not all of the growth was bad. Some of the healthier bushes simply needed trimming. But among the healthy growth I found all kinds of dead limbs and unruly branches. I went after them with the intensity of a personal vendetta.

“Not all growth is healthy.”

What I realize now is that I never should have let things get that out of hand. Looking at my house from the street you would have never seen that unsightly foliage creeping up the wall. You would have never noticed the brittle naked branches of dead plants and bushes. Typically my yard looks quite good. I won’t win any prizes from the homeowners association, but my yard holds its own.

The problem growth was hidden from sight and easily ignored. Quietly, insidiously, it took root and kept spreading until removing it required hours of unpleasant effort. I’ll be paying better attention from now on.

“You are God’s field,” wrote Paul. His point was that the Corinthians – and you – were the site of God’s master work in cultivating the life of the Spirit.

And yet, there are also some things in your life that probably don’t need to be there. Jesus used a similar word picture in his parable of the soils. Some soil allows the growth of weeds that choke the healthy growth of God’s word planted in the heart (Mark 4:1-8).

People may look at your life and never see what is out of control or lifeless in you. We do a pretty good job of ignoring those things and concealing them from others. The yard that is your life looks good, but just around the corner, out of sight from passers by, it’s a real mess.

Some of the most unsightly growth looks like this: anger that gets hidden in public and unleashed at home; envy that grows in the shadows of smiles and handshakes; greed that parades as hard work and commitment to a task; slander offered as a joke or sarcasm.

These are the kinds of things that need to be attacked and pulled up by the roots. Left alone, they’ll do nothing but spread. Eventually, they’ll kill the appetites of the soul that are necessary for spiritual growth (1 Peter 2:1-3).

What might have taken root in your life that needs to be uprooted today?

Prayer:
Show me, O God, that which has found a place in my heart and is not from you. Stir me from the sloth that keeps me from dealing with it and make me bold to remove the dead and lifeless things. Come by your Spirit and grant growth and life, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Field

You are God’s field (1 Corinthians 3:9).

Richard grew tobacco in a field across the street from our house.

It wasn’t the only thing he did. By the late 1990s the tobacco industry was changing. Thanks to multiple court decisions that reflected the realities of a changing culture, it was becoming harder and harder to make a living farming tobacco.

But in the community where I lived, and in the congregation I served, there were still a few people for whom the annual rite of planting, priming and putting in tobacco was as much a part of life as Christmas or the first day of school. A year without those things was unimaginable. Richard was, and as best I know still is, one of those people.

The field across the road from our house was nondescript. There were many fields just like it in Western Wake and Chatham counties. Given that the regular traffic of my life took me by this particular field over and over again, I paid more attention to what was happening across the street. I took notice of the activity there, the clouds of hot dust from a tractor, the healthy look of the lush broad-leafed plants, the threatening bleached brown that appeared when summer rains refused to fall.

And one year I noticed that none of that was happening. The field across the street looked scrappy and grown over, almost neglected or forgotten about.

I asked about it. I don’t remember, but I might have asked Richard himself. The answer was common sense, even for someone like me who can barely grow grass in the yard. To stay healthy, the soil needs a break from time to time. The same fields are not planted in every year.

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“You are God’s field.” So wrote Paul to the bickering believers in Corinth.

Paul was trying to counter the Corinthian tendency to make celebrities of their teachers. Their attachments to and allegiances with a particular teacher / preacher was causing division among them. So Paul seized upon a word picture: He and Apollos and Peter and anyone else who labored among them were only field hands, planting and watering.

God makes things grow. And “you are God’s field.”

What was true of the Corinthians is true of you as well. God is at work cultivating something beautiful in your life. Specifically, God causes the life of the Spirit to become increasingly evident in you. This is what growth looks like: we become more patient, more inclined to kindness, more self-controlled. Elsewhere Paul called these things “fruit” of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22-23). Think of it as what grows in a healthy field.

But like all fields, sometimes the soil that is your soul lies dormant. The field appears to be neglected, overgrown and unruly. The ground feels hard. Nothing is happening there, or so it seems.

God, however, is always cultivating his fields with purpose and intent. The dormant season is not a mistake. What looks like neglect is preparation. What seems to have been forgotten and set aside holds promise for days yet to come. You are God’s field. And God continually cultivates life, especially in the quiet and difficult days when it seems that nothing at all is happening.

Are these days of visible growth or is the field of your life dormant and waiting?

Prayer:
Gracious God we give you thanks for times of growth. And we also give you thanks for the dormant season, knowing that even then you are at work to bring life out of the hardened places in our lives. Do your work among us according to your purposes and in your time, we pray. Amen.

A Spirituality of Place

“I have many people in this city” (Acts 18:11).

I was two years old when Vince Dooley took the field as head coach at the University of Georgia. When he coached his last season I was in seminary. When Joe Paterno began his head coaching career at Penn State I was four. Paterno still holds that job.

Not long ago while grinding away on an elliptical machine, working hard at going nowhere, I plugged my earphones in to watch a show on ESPN that was surveying the coaching scene in college football. In the banter between the show’s two hosts the observation was made that we’ll never again see the likes of Dooley and Paterno.

It’s not their love of the game or their appetite for winning that seems to be disappearing. Gifted coaches will rise to prominence in every sport and in every era. What we’ll see far less of is the durability of a Dooley or Paterno. One commentator was blunt in saying that a coaching tenure that spans decades in one place is a thing of the past.

It’s not just college coaches who are constantly being uprooted. We are a displaced people breathing the air of impermanence. There’s a restlessness that pervades our culture. Constantly shifting realities are the norm for us, and after a while we grow antsy and bored. Sameness feels like stuckness.

That may just be the way it is. But the life of faith finds practical expression within the context of place – the home we inhabit, the cubicles or boardrooms we sit in for hours, the other people who sit in those places with us, the traffic we negotiate, the weather we plan around. Following Jesus is a way of life, and life is always shaped by a place.

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It would be nice if the Bible gave us a straightforward theology of place. You can look, but you won’t find it. In calling his first disciples Jesus asked life-long fishermen to leave their boats and nets and step away from the family business. Sometime later however, having healed a man of demon possession in the region of Decapolis, Jesus insisted that this man return home. Some are called to go, some are called to stay put.

Some of you woke up today in the same place you were when Ronald Reagan beat Jimmy Carter. You’ve claimed a home and you’ve stayed in it – but everything around you has changed. It hardly feels like your place anymore. Your children are gone, the neighbors are different, streets have been widened and new construction has crept closer to your door. You’ve not left your place, but at some point the place left you.

Some of you will leave your house and go spend the day in a place you resent. Your skills are underutilized and you’re convinced you’d make a bigger impact somewhere else. But professional transitions in this economy are tough to navigate, and the debts you owe don’t show the slightest sign of going anywhere. So you gut it out in the place where you are right now and you remind yourself every morning that you’re really lucky to be there.

Some of you are in a new place. Every day you discover new people and new possibilities. You’re on an adventure, and your place is full of mystery and promise.

Whatever your place is like today – and regardless of how you feel about it – God has something for you there. Paul’s example to us in the city of Corinth is one of being faithful in the place where you are right now. Jesus reminded Paul “I have many people in this city.” That is to say, “I am at work right here in ways that you cannot see right now. I am doing more than you know.”

The place where God would have you be is the place where you are right now. God is at work there – and God has a reason for you to be there too.

Prayer:
Send us into this day, O God, knowing that you have assigned us a place in this world. We are not stuck or forgotten or left to manage as best we can. We are your people in the places where we live and work. Grant to us a sense of being co-laborers with you, wherever we may be. Give us the grace we need to be faithful where you have us right now, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

What We Already Know

Do not be afraid . . . for I am with you (Acts 18:9-10).

“People need to be reminded more than they need to be instructed.” I have those words written in a small notebook, attributed to Samuel Johnson. Whoever said it, our life experience bears it out. Sometimes we simply need to be told what we already know. We don’t need to discover a new truth. We just need to be deeply convinced of the truths we already cherish. So it was with Paul when he came to Corinth

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By the time Corinth came up on the itinerary, Paul’s resume was thick. He had an impressive testimony, complete with blinding light accompanied by the voice of Jesus and temporary blindness. That’s hard to beat.

As far as his ministry was concerned he was seasoned and tested. In Paphos Paul had cast out a demon. In Iconium he had worked miraculous signs and wonders. In Lystra Paul had healed a lame man and in that same city Paul had been beaten with rocks, dragged outside the city and left for dead.

His mind was sharp and his theological arguments tightly honed. In Jerusalem Paul had gone head to head with Jewish disciples and insisted on the inclusion of Gentiles in the Christian community. In Athens he had stood boldly in the Areopagus and presented Jesus to would-be philosophers, scoffers and skeptics and intellectual snobs. Many dismissed him, but some of them had come to faith in Christ.

Well traveled, Paul arrived in Corinth with scars on his flesh and weariness in his bones. He came with tools in his pack and a burden on his heart. Reasoning in the synagogue was nothing new to him. Being rejected there was also nothing new. And making converts of Gentiles, again he had done that too.

He had seen it all before. But there was a moment when he needed to be reminded. He needed to be told what he already knew. And so God granted a vision to Paul, and Jesus spoke this message:

“Don’t be afraid. Keep on speaking, do not be silent. For I am with you . . .”

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Sometimes we need to be told what we already know. Maybe we’ve heard it a thousand times before. We need to hear it again. We need to be reminded.

There are time when our courage wanes. God shrinks as our fears and problems grow. Faith withers as our doubts put down deep roots. At such times we need to be told again. We need reminding. God is present. God can be trusted. God is actively involved in the place where you are and the life you’re living right now.

Even Paul, the mighty missionary apostle, needed such reminding. He needed to be told what he already knew. He needed fresh courage to keep on going. He needed a fresh awareness of the presence of Jesus. Perhaps you need the same thing today.

These words are offered to you as nothing more than a reminder. Bear with me while I tell you what you already know. You are not alone. Take heart and don’t be afraid. Jesus stands with you. Jesus left his followers with his presence and his power. Both are yours today.

Prayer:
By the work of your Spirit, O God, remind us today of what we know to be true: that you are with us; that you are at work in our lives and in the world around us. Give us courage to be your people, people sent into the world as a living reminder to others. Use us today to speak what others need to hear – the good news of your presence and love, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Closer than Julia

. . . because he was a tentmaker as they were, he stayed and worked with them (Acts 18: 3).

Over the weekend my wife and I, child-free on a Friday night and celebrating our thirteenth wedding anniversary, went to see Julie and Julia. This is probably where I ought to tell you how I really had no interest in a “chic-flick” about cooking, but being the great husband that I am I made a chivalrous concession to my wife’s choice of films. I could tell you that – but I’d be a liar. She suggested the movie but I was more than willing to see it and it did not disappoint.

Perhaps a brief synopsis would be helpful: The movie tells the true story of Julie Powell (Amy Adams), a would-be writer stuck in mind numbing government job. Powell gets the idea to cook her way through Julia Child’s magnum opus, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Along the way she blogs the entire experience. The challenge she sets for herself is to successfully execute all 536 recipes in 365 days. Powell’s story is skillfully blended with Julia Child’s story, portrayed with characteristic brilliance by Meryl Streep.

I like to think that Julie Powell had a kind of “daily devotional” for people who cook. That might be a stretch, but whatever it was it launched her writing career, and that part of the story interests me more than the cooking.

And this part was especially interesting: As Powell immerses herself in Julia Child’s world of cooking she begins to speak of Child as a living presence. When Powell is cooking she senses that somehow Julia Child is right there with her, in the kitchen, watching over her every move. Something spiritual was happening in the act of cooking.

Now, change the scene and change the story. Substitute your own kitchen or office or classroom or sales territory – wherever you spend the most ordinary hours of your most ordinary days. If Julie Powell sensed the presence of the master chef, shouldn’t we expect to the sense the presence of the Master?

Somehow – and I’m not sure how it happened – Jesus got sent to his room, grounded in the space beneath the steeple for six days of every week. This means that we speak of Jesus’ presence in church, but then go through the week without the slightest notion that Jesus is interested, much less involved, in the work we’re doing.

Jesus is present as depositions are being taken and motions filed. Jesus stands next to surgeons and sits bedside bus drivers. Jesus is behind the counter at Starbucks and has his head under the hood at Jiffy Lube. Whenever and wherever followers of Jesus go to work, Jesus is there.

Paul was a tentmaker. Acts 18 tells us that while in Corinth he did his theological work on the Sabbath when he “reasoned in the synagogue” (Acts 18:2-3). But during the week he worked in a tent-making partnership with Aquila and Priscilla – and you just have to know that in his tent-making Paul sensed that Jesus was present. The Master didn’t just hang out at the synagogue.

And one more thing. Julie Powell never met Julia Child. She wanted to meet her, dreamed of what it would be like, but it never happened. But Jesus knows you, knows every detail of your life and the number of hairs on your head. Jesus is closer to you than Julia ever was to Julie – and he delights in the work you do every day.

How will you attend to the presence of Jesus as you go through this day?

Prayer:
Gracious God, we give you thanks for your presence with us in all places and your careful attention to every aspect of our lives. You’re eyes are on us even when we are distracted. You hear our words, even when we don’t offer them as formal prayers. We would be attentive to you in all that this day brings to us, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

So, Who's Really Crazy?

. . . from now on I will go to the Gentiles (Acts 18:6).

Was he confident or crazy? My first guess: crazy. He’d have to be. He was standing on the corner of Peachtree and Piedmont, clutching a big Bible to his chest and shouting a message from God at people who sat at the red light with their windows rolled up, not even looking in his direction.

My curiosity got the best of me. I rolled my window down just enough to allow me to hear his sermon, not enough to encourage him to walk over and get in the passenger seat. After all, he’s nuts – right?

I didn’t hear much of the sermon before the light turned green and I made my way down Piedmont with the rest of his congregation.

Confident or crazy? He might be crazy, a poor soul who should have never been released from whatever facility it was that could no longer keep him. That might be it.

But he looked confident. That corner was his pulpit and he stood there like a man called, a prophet who, like Jeremiah, had a “fire shut up in his bones.” And part of me admired his reckless preaching.

From time to time I too have the chance to preach in the Buckhead community. But I know better than to take my stand at the corner of Peachtree and Piedmont. No, I wait until Sunday morning. I don the appropriate garment for one rightly ordained to speak God’s words. I stand on a wooden box in a beautiful room and speak to those who willingly made the decision to come and sit in that room for an hour or so.

If the point of preaching is to spread the message about Jesus, it’s worth asking: who’s really crazy? The bizarre character on the corner of Peachtree and Piedmont, or the guy in a robe waiting for an audience on a weekend morning?

I love the way the story of Jesus is told when God’s people gather for worship each week. I’ll never abandon that practice. I also know that I’ll probably never take my post on a street corner. But if the message of Jesus won’t be widely shared by a man on a street corner or a man in a pulpit, what does that leave us?

The answer to that is simple. It leaves us you.

The most effective way for the story of Jesus to penetrate the city of Atlanta, or any city for that matter, is for people to take that story to the ordinary places where they live life every day.

When Paul went to Corinth he had more than a message. He had a strategy. His intent was to make a major impact on a major city. Corinth was a difficult place and getting a hearing for the story of Jesus was no easy task. But Paul spent eighteen months in Corinth, and after that time he left something there that had not existed when he arrived: a Christian community.

This week we’re going to be thinking about what it takes to live the Jesus life in a difficult place. Some of you spend every day in an environment where a Christian presence is not warmly received or highly regarded. How will you make a difference in your place? We need a strategy that doesn’t ask you to stand on your desk and read the Bible aloud. We also need a strategy that understands that gathering you in a big room with other Christians every week will have a limited impact on the city.

Wherever that place may be, you are a key piece of the strategy. “Do not be afraid. Do not be silent” (Acts 18: 9).

What’s your strategy for making an impact on your place today?

Prayer:
Lord Jesus, you gave us a great command when you told to love people and love God. You also gave us a great commission when you invited us to do those things in a world that is indifferent to God and difficult to love. As we try to be obedient today, give us the wisdom we need to know how make an impact on our place, our homes, our cities, our schools. Amen.

Blame Less

He will also strengthen you to the end so that you may be blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Cor. 1:8 NRSV).

When things go wrong it is often said that there’s plenty of blame to go around. True enough. And most of us are pretty good at knowing exactly where it should go, who gets it and how much.

Two questions might be worth pondering and praying over today.

First, what is it in your life that isn’t working according to plan?

Second, who do you blame for that?

Sometimes we take the high road by answering that we blame no one but ourselves. But blame is still blame, even when you aim it at yourself. Blaming the self is no less violent than blaming another.

Blame is a form of self-defense, a way of distancing oneself from a problem. Blame avoids personal responsibility, shifting the focus to someone or something else. Blame often masks pride, an inflated regard for “me” and a disregard for “you.”

Placing blame on the Corinthians would have been so easy for Paul to do. They were in a mess and all of that had come about in Paul’s absence. Time for heads to roll. But Paul doesn’t do that. Instead, he sounds like a man in denial, as if he just can‘t bring himself to get real about what has happened in Corinth.

Paul calls the Corinthians “those sanctified in Christ Jesus.” He insists that they “lack no spiritual gift.” He maintains that they have been “enriched in every way.” He sees a time when they will stand before God “blameless.” The ESV translation uses the word “guiltless.”

Why does Paul talk this way?

Before getting all worked up over what the Corinthians have done, Paul seems most aware of what Jesus has done among the Corinthians. In Jesus Christ the Corinthians (and all believers) are indeed relieved of guilt. In Jesus the Corinthians are blessed, not blamed – and Paul will not presume to do what Jesus has not done. Paul is not in denial. Paul knows that there are problems in Corinth, and he’ll confront them head-on soon enough. But what matters most is what God has done in Jesus Christ. Because of this, and only because of this, Paul withholds accusation and blame.

The moment you begin to see others as blameless is the moment you become a person who blames less.

Jesus didn’t come into the world to condemn (John 3:17). God didn’t send his son to assign blame for the wrecked condition of the world. Why are we so quick to do what Jesus never did and never meant for us to do, even if we do it in his name?

For today, make it your aim to blame less. Sure, there will be a judgment, but that’s not something you’ve been invited to help out with. God will handle that when it’s time. What we need to know is that the people who make you miserable, who did you wrong and might have done you in, are people who may one day stand with you before Jesus blameless. See them blameless, maybe you’ll blame less.

When was the last time you blamed or received blame for something? Is there someone in your life whom you need to stop blaming?

Prayer:
We give you thanks, Lord Jesus, that your work among us was not a mission of assigning blame. We give you thanks for the grace that exposes our sin and then cleanses us from it. We thank you for the way you make us a new creation. Knowing that we are blameless in you, we ask for the grace to blame less and to love more, just as you called and commanded us to do. Amen.

All You Need

Therefore you do not lack any spiritual gift as you eagerly wait for our Lord Jesus Christ to be revealed (1 Cor. 1:7).

As of last night every member of my family has a laptop computer. Most parents fear that as their children approach adolescence meaningful conversation will cease. A fifth grader with a laptop virtually guarantees it.

Last year my son was issued a computer on the first day of school, and last night it was my daughter’s turn. Having lived her entire life watching her older brother do everything first, she’d been waiting for last night for the past twelve months.

Getting the laptop is a big deal that requires a parents meeting and a brief orientation session with the resident computer guru at the school. For the fifth graders it’s a social event in which the party favor as you leave is a 13 inch Mac Powerbook.

“Daddy, we’re going to be late.”

I reminded my daughter that I had done this last year and that I knew from experience that we wouldn’t miss anything that really mattered. My assurances fell on deaf ears. Maybe fifth grade is when a daughter begins suspecting that her Father is intent on ruining her life.

We sat through the orientation meeting, my daughter squirming beside me because we ran just late enough to make her miss the chance to sit with her friends. My son was slumped in his seat, trying to look cool because now he’s in middle-school and he’s a pro at having a laptop. And me, I slipped off into a private nostalgic reverie for just a few moments.

I tried to remember fifth grade. It’s really not that hard. My teacher at Highland Springs Elementary School was Mrs. Treadway. I was on the safety patrol. And there were no laptop computers.

I’m amazed at the resources my children have for their education. I’m blown away by what they can do and what they have access to. They have everything they need in order to learn. But the learning is not guaranteed. Having resources and getting an education are two different things.

In the opening lines of his letter to the Corinthians, Paul reminds them that they “do not lack any spiritual gift.” Again, as with his reminder of their call to holiness, Paul is seeing something that would not have been readily to evident to you and me had we been in Corinth. The Corinthian church looked spiritually bankrupt. But Paul saw abundance. They had everything they needed to be the people God had called them to be.
Knowing that, Paul was able to day “I always thank God for you.”

Genuine gratitude is rooted in what God does. Paul was convinced that grace was at work among the Corinthians. At the moment, however, they were not living out what grace had worked into them. It’s like having a laptop and getting an education. The mere possession of a machine won’t make learning happen.

Today you have exactly what you need to live the life God calls you to live. You’ve been given the gift of the Spirit and the Spirit empowers you to be the person God calls you to be. You lack nothing. You have all you need. But grace will never exempt you from growth and learning. That’s why we undertake daily practices like prayer and reading God’s word and pondering what God has said to us. Grace is there everyday, always adequate for the needs and demands of your life. And for that you can give thanks.

Is there some aspect of your life where you are most aware of needing grace today?

Prayer:
With every new day, O God, teach us to live by your grace. Grant to us an awareness and deep assurance that your Spirit lives within us and we are not left to make it through the day as best we can mange. You have given us all we need to live the life you call us to live, and we give you thanks through Christ our Lord. Amen.

The True You

. . . to those sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be holy (1 Cor. 1:2)

There was a moment when the parchment was blank.

There was a window of time, a long pause before taking up the pen, in which Paul had to determine where and how he would begin. A moment spent pacing the room. A moment spent rubbing the skin above his eyebrows trying to ignore the headache.

There were problems in Corinth. Paul had been thoroughly briefed on what was happening there. The news made him angry one moment and then broke his heart the next. Now it was time to respond. They had questions that needed answering. They were confused and needed counsel. Some of them were downright defiant and needed a firm rebuke.

New Testament scholars are not entirely clear as to whether Paul wrote the letter or spoke his thoughts as Sosthenes wrote them down. It really doesn’t matter how the letter was composed. At some point the parchment was blank, waiting for words, waiting to become the conduit of Paul’s heart and voice. The issues in Corinth formed a pile of debris in his mind. How would he sort through it all? Where would he begin?

We might expect Paul’s opening words to be a direct assault on their failures. That’s not what we get. Instead we read this surprising line, a tender address to a wayward but loved people: “To the church of God in Corinth, to those sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be holy.”

That’s how Paul saw them. That’s who they were. A people set apart and called to holiness. Their calling defined them more than their conduct did.

The morally confused and sexually promiscuous Corinthians were sanctified people called to holiness. The bickering factions of people who claimed to be followers of Jesus were sanctified people called to live holy lives. The socially elite and intellectually enlightened who acted arrogantly towards others in the church were sanctified and called to holiness. The teachers who confused error and truth were likewise called to holiness.

Paul began by speaking to the Corinthians based on who they were in Christ, not on how they were acting.

Every day we get to make decisions about how we will respond and relate to those around us. The golden rule tells us to treat others as we wish to be treated. That sounds nice - but after a while it becomes evident that no matter what we do people aren’t going to treat us as we wish to be treated. We begin to relate to them based on their behaviors and actions.

Their rudeness evokes our own rudeness. Their failures prompt our disdain. Their disregard for us makes us angry. We label them in our minds. The question we have to answer every day is this: will I relate to this person based on how they act or based on who they truly are – a person created and loved by God.

Paul managed to see the Corinthians in light of what Jesus had done for them. He did not speak to them based on their success in being like Jesus. He began his letter by reminding them of their true identity. Maybe he was also reminding himself. To truly believe that the most difficult people in my life are people made in God’s image will change how I deal with them. A difficult boss, a difficult child, a difficult client, all of them are something other than what they do. They are more than how they act.

And so are you. “Called to holiness” is the true you. That’s how God sees you.

How do you see those whom you deal with every day? How do you see yourself?

Prayer:
Merciful God, help me today to see others as you see them. Guard from quick judgments and knee-jerk responses based on how they act or how they behave. Forgive me when I dismiss those whom you died to save. Remind me that I too stand constantly in need of grace, and grant me the grace I need through Christ our Lord. Amen

Entropy

To the church of God in Corinth . . . sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be holy (1 Cor. 1:2).

Today we begin a series of reflections from Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth.

Day one of 1 Corinthians causes me to imagine what’s it’s like to be in base camp the night before your begin to climb Everest. After a restless night, I’m waking up this morning, pulling my pack on while I look at this imposing mountain of a book, wishing I could just curl up in my own familiar bed and climb nothing more demanding than the stairs in my house.

As with any climb or any journey there’s a first step to be taken. Once taken, the next step is right there. Steps accumulate and after a while you’re amazed at the ground you’ve covered. That’s what I’m praying for as we ascend the heights of Paul’s letter to the Corinthians. Today is step one.

Oddly enough we begin with a principle from physics. That’s a little surprising to me since I never actually took physics. Somehow 1 Corinthians keeps bringing this word to mind. The word is “entropy.” My Webster’s dictionary tells me that “entropy” is the “measure of the degree of disorder in a substance or system: entropy always increases and the amount of available energy diminishes in a closed system.”

I have no idea how that works in the world of physics, but I know how it works in my house. Occasionally, usually on a Saturday, we will literally get our house in order. Hosting a party is always a great motivator for this kind of work. When we’re done the house smells fresh and the floors shine, the countertops are cleared and the sink is empty and fresh sheets are on the bed. On a good week that fresh just-been-cleaned look lasts for about twenty-four hours.

What happens? Entropy. Disorder inevitably creeps back into the system called “house.” A dish or two is left in the sink, a bath towel doesn’t get placed back on the towel rack, clothes are thrown toward the hamper but not in it. The system gravitates toward disorder. Apart from intervention it soon becomes a full blown wreck.

Entropy is also at work in the life of faith. If you want to get a picture of how that works, read 1 Corinthians. Paul had spent about eighteen months in Corinth sharing the story of Jesus, bringing people to faith. Living the Christian faith in Corinth was a form of urban warfare. But Paul managed to pull together a church, helped them get on their feet and then he moved on, as missionary church planters are prone to do.

Some time after he had left, he received a letter and a visit from some friends from Corinth. The house was in disarray. They were bickering with each other, they were confused about moral issues, they were buying into some whacky doctrine, they were suing each other and going to court instead of working out their own problems. The Christian community there was falling apart like a wet tortilla. Entropy.

It was time for Paul to intervene and he did so with a written masterpiece of encouragement and correction we know as 1 Corinthians.

In the weeks ahead we’re going to think about the life of faith and how our spiritual well being is not perpetually self-sustaining. Entropy is at work. It is often slow, so slow that we barely notice it. But apart form careful attention and a measure of discipline our walk with Jesus will go off the rails. We’ll be watching how it happened in Corinth – and hopefully we start noticing how it happens to us.

When and how have you experienced spiritual entropy?

Prayer:
Gracious God, I don’t want my life to be a closed system. Disorder gradually seeps into my soul, even as I’m trying to follow you faithfully. Use these coming weeks to help me detect those places where my spiritual energy has diminished. Let Paul’s words to the people of Corinth be your word to me. Amen.

Seafood Tonight, Drive Home Tomorrow

This is Marnie and John across the table, waiting on seafood. It's been a good week. We'll make the drive home tomorrow. Time to pull the curtain on summer '09. Back in the office on Monday and then school starts on the 25th.

Back on the Porch at Watercolor

A good and generous friend has allowed us to use his beach house in Watercolor, Fla. We've enjoyed coming here for the past four years or so. This is my favorite part of the house. Once the sun has been up a while the porch is unbearably hot. But mornings are pleasant and coffee is especially good in one of those chairs.

This year on the porch I'm reading Robert Benson's The Echo Within: Finding Your True Calling.

Benson's basic premise is that when God created, God did so by speaking. What was true of sun and sky, land and sea, is also true of each of us. God spoke us into being. Vocation is discovered by listening for echos of that voice.

Of that voice, Benson writes:

We worry that we are just talking to ourselves. If it sounds like me, it cannot be God, we think. And so we are afraid to trust what we hear, afraid to trust that voice that has been within us all along. The fact that the voice that calls to us often sounds like our own is not something to be mistrusted or feared. It is a sign of how close God is to us (p. 17).

"This Ain't Happen'in"

Today's readings:
Morning Prayer: Psalm 119:1-24
Acts 16:6-15
Mark 6:30-46

At some point our relentless commitment to a goal can become a stubborn refusal to be led by the Spirit. I wonder how often I've prayed for guidance that I really didn't want? Two of the lectionary readings this morning had this idea as a subtext, a drama working quietly beneath the real action of the story.

Paul wanted to go back and visit churches that he had planted on an earlier missionary journey. A good idea, sensible and right, worthy of faithful church planter. You can read Acts 16:6-10 and get the story of how that plan was tanked.

In Mark 6, Jesus had sent out the twelve to preach and heal and cast out demans - and they did it. They had stories to tell and experiences to reflect on and learn from. They needed time away, and that's exactly what Jesus suggested. The only problem was that people wouldn't leave them alone. The planned retreat was ruined - but in the midst of that, a miracle took place (Mark 6:30-44).

At what point do you stop pushing the plan? It's an admirable thing to be commited to a task and to not be easily discouraged. Remember the movie Rudy? Have you heard how John Grisham's first novel was rejected by more than 30 publishers? They didn't quit. They didn't stop after two or three polite "no thank-yous." But at some point it seems that you just have to come clean with yourself and with God and step back and say "this ain't happn'in."

Sometimes we push the plan in ways that are aggressive and driven. We will make it happen. All the while we're doing this prayerfully, looking to God for the strength we need to do what we know God has called us to do. The resistance we encounter is nothing more than God's way of testing us and in so doing making us stronger.

Sometimes we push the plan quietly. We take to heart the frequent biblical admonitions to "wait upon the Lord." We preach to ourselves a familiar sugar-stick sermon, remembering that our timing is not God's timing. We resolve to wait on God to act, taking as our model Abraham and other giants of the faith who persevered in hope. We wait and wait and wait.

This is not a theoretical question. It is real and painful for many today: for applicants seeking a job, for couples trying to conceive, for patients going for yet one more round of chemo, for single people who always planned to be married, for writers who dream of being published and students whose career plans depend on acceptacnce to a school.

There's no formula that answers this. There's no magic eight-ball to shake that will tell you to "hang on a little longer" or "hang it up now."

When Jesus taught us to pray, he gave the words "thy will be done." He did not teach us to pray "thy will be known." Maybe the best answer is nothing more than prayer - prayer for what we want and for guidance and all the usual standard requests, but also prayer as Jesus taught us to pray. And then we trust God to do what God wills to do.

We pray with confidence because we know that with God there's always "somethin' happen'in." And we will not be left out.

Lighters and Cell Phones

Hallelujah . . . (Psalm 150:1).

It used to be cigarette lighters. Back when “The Omni” was still the primary concert venue in Atlanta that’s how people called for an encore. Little flames appeared all over the auditorium and the crowd would be going nuts, and once enough little flames popped up and the volume was sustained long enough, the band would come back for an encore.

I always felt left out of that moment. I never had a cigarette lighter. My personal habits were such that a lighter was not something I just happened to have in my pocket. Stopping to get one just for a concert never occurred to me, so I just stood there and made noise while others speckled the blackness with their little lights.

But today things are a little different. The light of choice at the end of a concert is a cell phone, and that I have. While the source of light has changed the experience is still the same. Lots of noise, a galaxy of cellular light spread across the darkness – and then the encore.

The final five Psalms are an on-your-feet celebration. The entire Psalter ends with succession of five exuberant “Hallelujah” Psalms, five different ways of saying “Praise the Lord.” When we pray these Psalms we’re standing up, holding our cell phones high, voicing light that shatters darkness with the Praise of God. We’re calling for an encore; we’re yearning for more of the music of heaven and the works that God accomplishes day after day.

Praise is not only the end of the Psalms. Praise is the end of all things. This is where everything is headed. And that includes you and me. We see a picture of it whenever we sing the old hymn “Amazing Grace.” The hymn ends with a picture of eternal praise, as fresh after ten thousand years as if it had just begun five minutes ago. All things end in praise. This is what we were made to do; it what “everything that has breath” was made to do.

Borrowing words from a familiar friend, we are helped by this explanation:

This crafted conclusion for the Psalms tells us that our prayers are going to end in praise, but that it is also going to take a while. Don’t rush it. It may take years, decades even, before certain prayers arrive at the “hallelujahs” . . . Not every prayer is capped off with praise. In fact most prayers, if the Psalter is true guide, are not. But prayer, a praying life, finally becomes praise. Prayer is always reaching toward praise and will finally arrive there. If we persist in prayer, laugh and cry, doubt and believe, struggle and dance and then struggle again, we will surely end up at Psalm 150, on our feet, applauding “Encore! Encore!” (Eugene H. Peterson, Answering God, p. 127).

This Sunday the Tour de France ends in Paris. The final stage is an exuberant triumphant ride into the city, crowds lining the streets. If the number one spot is not being contested, you’ll see some of the riders sipping champagne as they pedal the closing kilometers. It’s a party on the streets. It’s even a party on wheels.

It is fitting that today we conclude the Tour de Psalms. We come to the final reflection and give our attention to a single word: “Hallelujah.” The very last Psalm, Psalm 150, begins and ends with this word. And this word is where our lives are headed. This is the trajectory, the destination, of the ride of your life.

It may take a while to reach that destination. This ride is a long one. But there’s no doubt as to where we’re headed. You can begin today. Even in a dark place you can raise your cell phone. Break open the champagne if you wish. But get on your feet and find a way to give God praise.

“Hallelujah.”

Prayer: Psalm 150
Praise the LORD.
Praise God in his sanctuary;
praise him in his mighty heavens.
2 Praise him for his acts of power;
praise him for his surpassing greatness.
3 Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet,
praise him with the harp and lyre,
4 praise him with tambourine and dancing,
praise him with the strings and flute,
5 praise him with the clash of cymbals,
praise him with resounding cymbals.
6 Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD.

One Way or the Other

Let everything that has breath praise the Lord (Psalm 150:6).

Something odd happened in one of our church services this past Sunday. Nothing weird or offensive, just odd: as in peculiar and unfamiliar, slightly out of place but by no means inappropriate.

We had sung three verses of the opening hymn, a glorious text that extols God as “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise.” This hymn text, composed in 1876, is based on 1 Timothy 1:17. “Now to the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever. Amen.”

I love this hymn. It’s a standard piece of our worship repertoire. The tune is familiar. The words are familiar. What was less familiar this past Sunday is what happened on the front pew as we started singing that last verse.

Someone raised their hand.

That’s right. They lifted their hand straight up in the air like they had a question. They extended the arm heavenward as if reaching for a jar on a high shelf, as if beaming their words to the Almighty with what some have referred to as the “Holy Spirit antennae.”

There are many churches where this kind of thing is as common as passing the offering plate. Ours is not one of them. Presbyterians in general are not given to bodily expressions of praise. We stand and sit, and occasionally push the envelope with measured applause, but hands being raised to organ music? As I said, that’s a little odd.

When that hand went up in the air, a couple of thoughts went through my mind.

The first was simply “Yes . . . that’s right . . . that’s fitting for what we are doing in this moment. It is so right for what we are saying with our mouths: ‘Great Father of glory, pure Father of light, thine angels adore thee all veiling their sight.’ Mere singing hardly seems to do this justice. Our hearts will not be lifted by singing only. Raise the hand with the voice. It is right.”

And then came the questions: “If it seems right, why do I not do that myself? Is it fear? Is it my upbringing? How is God to be praised?”

When Jesus made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, exuberant disciples greeted him with words of praise. Apparently the celebration bordered on raucous. Some of the more dignified religious leaders tried to maintain order. They urged Jesus, “Teacher rebuke your disciples.” Jesus basically told them that containment of praise was a waste of time and effort. “If they keep quiet the stones will cry out.” (Luke 19:39-40).

I have long resisted the notion that those who truly know how to praise God in fullness and freedom will do so with physical acts of worship. God is certainly praised in that way – but that’s not the only way. Episcopalians are just as capable of praise as the “holy rollers.” The restrained are to praise God as well as the expressive.

But whether restrained or expressive, what we all need to know is that God will be praised one way or the other. Praise isn’t optional. Jesus had it right. Either we’ll do it, or the rocks will take up the song. But God will be praised. Presbyterians are not exempt from praise. And the Pentecostals are not the only ones who know how it’s done. God will be praised and that praise is to come from everything that has breath. That includes you.

How do you praise God?

Prayer:
“Praise Ye the Lord! O let all that is in me adore Him! All that hath life and breath, come now with praises before Him! Let the Amen sound from His people again: Gladly for aye we adore him” (Praise Ye the Lord, the Almighty, The Hymnbook, 1).

Seeking Stability

I will praise you, O Lord, with all my heart (Psalm 138:1)

I’m not stable.

That’s not a psychological assessment or medical diagnosis, it’s a biblical truth. The Bible is quite clear that a double-minded man is unstable in all that he does (James 1:8). I’m afraid that’s me: Double-minded and thus unstable, at least for this week.

This week I’m trying to live with the story of Job, mining the opening chapter of that perplexing story for a singular clear message to speak on Sunday. The story of Job is unnerving and dark. This man is plunged into the deepest kind of suffering: the loss of his family, financial ruin and the loss of his business, and eventually the loss of his health. He ends up sitting in the dirt, scraping his flesh with a shard of pottery. That’s too much for us and we don’t know what to do with it. We turn our faces.

At the same time, every morning this week I have the opportunity to rummage the book of Psalms and pull together a few words about praise. The Psalms end with a crescendo of praise, reveling in God’s creative power and redemptive love. Since the Psalms end with praise it seems only right that a series of reflections on the Psalms end the same way. So praise it is for the remainder of the week.

It should be fairly obvious why my mind is divided, pulled one way by the words of praise and then another by pictures of suffering. It’s hard to get our minds around the praise of God and the anguish of people. Majestic chords reverberate above while melancholy strains echo here below. The dissonance is unbearable.

The bible, especially the Psalms, don’t merely encourage us to praise God. Praise is commanded. Do it. Praise the Lord. We’re willing, but pain makes it hard. We see the story of Job lived out again and again in so many ways. There’s a good chance you’ve lived that story yourself. How do we hold praise and suffering together – not simply in our thinking, but in our living? How do we live honestly in this world and still respond to God with praises?

The answer – or at least an important clue - to that question is found not in philosophical speculation, but in the text of the book of Psalms itself. As we spend time with these prayers we begin to notice that praise is possible in the midst of suffering.

It’s not unusual for a Psalm to give voice to deep distress and disturbing questions in one moment and then blurt out a word of praise to God in the next. It’s sounds a little strange to us, but it’s common in the Psalms. Psalm 13 is an example: five blunt questions are followed by three calls for help – and then a final sentence of praise. Where did that come from?

Dr. Steve Hayner, the newly appointed President of Columbia Theological Seminary, maintains that the essence of praise in the Psalms is found in the way those who suffer keep moving toward God, taking steps toward God in every circumstance. The Psalmists insist on dealing with God in all things, even their suffering. That’s why all of the Psalms, even the complaints, are called “Praises.”

This is a powerful and important insight. Praise is not an emotion. Praise is not even a type of happy language or God-talk. Praise is about the direction of your life, even in experiences of great affliction. To praise is to keep dealing with God, living life God-ward in all things.

How have suffering and praise mingled in your life experience?

Prayer:
I want to praise you with my whole heart and my whole life, O Lord. I want to move toward you with all that I am and all that I experience: when my cup is filled to overflowing and when it’s empty, when I’m at my best and when I’m at my worst, in the pleasures you give to me and in the pains as well. I will praise you with my whole heart, stable and steadfast by the help of your Spirit. Amen.

Learning Our Lines

. . . a song of praise is fitting (Psalm 147:1)

During the summer months it seems like a new movies hit the theaters every week. In recent days I’ve seen two of them: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince followed a couple of days later by Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.

In most ways, these two movies couldn’t be more different.

Though not requiring it, the Harry Potter movie assumes a literate audience in that the movie is based on a series of novels. There is an implied history to the movie and one’s capacity to follow and enjoy the drama is enhanced by knowing about the earlier books and / or films.

Transformers, by contrast, merely requires that the audience have a pulse. Yes, this recent installment is a sequel, but plot takes a back seat to stunning high-tech special effects and frequent explosions. One’s capacity to enjoy the drama is predetermined to some extent by the amount of testosterone coursing through one’s body. Watching a tractor trailer truck “unfold” into an enormous robot is great fun, especially when you’re at the movies with your son who thinks you’re just as cool as Optimus Prime for taking him to the show, leaving the women in the family to find some other form of entertainment.

As different as these two movies were, there is one thing they share in common. Both of these movies are about a very ordinary person caught up in an epic story of conflict between the forces of good and the forces of evil, between light and dark, between life and death, between blessing and curse. Harry moves closer to an inevitable confrontation with the Dark Lord. Sam is once again the human ally of Optimus and the hunted foe of Megatron and his ilk.

These huge sweeping stories are what draw us to the movies to begin with. And while it may be a stretch, that kind of thing may be what draws us to the Psalms. The Psalms give us language for entering into the epic drama of what God is doing in the world. Beneath the specific petitions and laments and praises of each individual Psalm there is one abiding conviction that undergirds every one of these 150 poems. God is present and active in the world and we are involved in what God is doing.

When it comes to perceiving the drama of God’s work around us, we are too often crusty-eyed and thick-lidded. Failing to see the action, we live from day without the slightest sense of our role in what’s taking place. We feel plain. Our days are defined by expectations and obligations. We may not dislike the story we’re living, but it hardly seems epic and large; nothing of great significance hangs in the balance. And it hardly qualifies as sacred.

Perhaps one of the most basic ways we find our place in the large story of God’s activity in our world is by learning our lines. This makes sense for those who have a role in a drama. The lines we speak are what the Psalms call “praise.” As we enter into this final week of the Tour de Psalms, praise will be our focus. We’re going to work on learning our lines.

Praise is what we do when we become aware of God around us. It’s what we speak and sing and tell as we get a feel for the divine drama unfolding around us. More than that, it’s how we live into that story. We see that we are in fact caught up in something huge, something far more than obligations and habits. To praise God is to play our part, to speak our lines, to take our place in the epic story.

What do you think it means to “praise God?”

Prayer:
I want to find my place in your story, O God. As the drama unfolds around me today, help me to see it – and help me to answer you, to speak back as you do your work in this world. Teach me how to praise you with my life today. Amen.

Even in Our Wandering

He guided them with the cloud by day and with light from the fire all night (Psalm 78:14).

It seems crazy, but it happens all the time.

We pray for guidance. We ask God to show us the way, to lead us in his truth, to direct our steps according to his will. And then we decline to accept it. Thanks, but no thanks.

Sometimes this is a failure of discernment. We simply get it wrong. We choose a way that seems blessed, marked with all the characteristics of divine approval. But having set out on that way our certainty begins to evaporate. Questions take root in the mind, eventually growing like kudzu. Maybe God had something else in mind for us?

But sometimes we are hindered by a lack of will. We sense God’s leading. What we sense is confirmed by others that we trust. But it’s a hard way. We had rather move in a different direction. So we refuse the guidance given to us. We’re good at spiritualizing such choices, sparing ourselves the discomfort of outright disobedience.

********

That’s what God’s people did at a place called Kadesh Barnea. God had delivered the Israelites from slavery in Egypt and promised to take them to a good land. Poised on the threshold of the land God had promised, a twelve member scouting party was sent out to explore the terrain. When they returned, ten of the spies gave a report that discouraged and frightened the people. “We cannot take the land.” Only two chose to believe what God had promised. The majority won – and 40 years of wandering followed (Numbers 13:26-33).

God had made a promise and then guided them to that promised place. They refused to enter. That promise was placed on hold until a generation passed away. Until then, Israel’s story would be a story of wandering, learning to trust, learning to worship, learning to obey.

And even in their wandering, God would guide them. Psalm 78:14 reminds us of the story. A cloud guided them by day, a pillar of fire by night.

********

God is faithful in guiding us. God is far more faithful in guiding than we are in following. That means that the guidance you chose to ignore yesterday will never keep you from finding the guidance you seek today. You do not need to live your life looking back, wondering “what if” and “if only.”

So much of modern life is characterized by wandering. Some wander from job to job, never making the connection between daily work and divine purpose. Some wander from marriage to marriage, convinced that the next person will be the one they’ve sought all along. Others wander through a wasteland of credit cards and debt, intent on buying joy and peace. And some even wander from church to church, never quite satisfied that what they’ve found is “spiritual” enough.

In all our wandering, God still manages to guide us. The harsh elements of our modern deserts are blunted by the daytime cloud and the nighttime fire. God still guides us, even in our wandering.

What kinds of deserts have you wandered through? How did God lead you?

Prayer:
“Guide me, O thou great Jehovah, pilgrim through this barren land. I am weak, but thou art mighty; hold me with thy powerful hand. Bread of Heaven, Bread of Heaven, feed me till I want no more; feed me till I want no more” (Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah, The Hymnbook, 339).

A Dangerous Prayer

He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them his way (Psalm 25:9).

To any and all who, like me, often pray for guidance, a word of caution is in order. Let the pray-er beware: Prayers for guidance are dangerous prayers. The writer to the Hebrews assures us that we can approach the “throne of grace” with confidence. But when it comes to your quest for guidance, don’t let your confidence make you careless. Tread lightly before God when you seek God’s guidance.

The reason: God will likely answer your prayer.

As I’ve thought about this I’ve had to admit that my prayers for guidance are often no more than a series of multiple choice questions that I’ve placed before the Almighty. In other words, I’ve identified the acceptable options and what I’m really seeking is the divine cheat-sheet, thus insuring the right answer among the various options I’ve already envisioned for my life.

Without editing for pastoral correctness, my prayer goes something like this:

Lord . . . I don’t know what to do here . . . I could do this, and then that will happen . . . I could do that and then live with the implications for thus and such. But surely, you will guide me to this or that. Please let me know which. Amen.

Of course, there may be more than two options on the table. The point is, we often pray for guidance having already determined the acceptable destinations. The reason prayers for guidance are dangerous is that God is perfectly free to answer in ways we never imagined. We offer such prayers cautiously because to ask for God’s guidance also means that we’re ready to follow it, wherever it might lead us.

There’s Peter, going to the rooftop to pray, observing the liturgical prayer hours like a good and faithful Jew. As Peter prays (surprise, surprise) God answers. God asks Peter to eat forbidden slimy things. God tells Peter to go with strangers to the home of a Gentile soldier. Was this the kind of guidance Peter sought as he faithfully observed the afternoon hour of prayer? (See Acts 10:9-48).

There’s Paul, packing his duffle bag and setting off to check up on all those little congregations he had helped to start years earlier. When he tries get back to the province of Asia the Spirit stops him. Paul then tries to enter Bithynia only to be stonewalled yet again by the Spirit of Jesus. And then, trying to grab some sleep in the midst of this frustrating journey, Paul dreams a dream in which he is being summoned to Macedonia. Macedonia was not on the itinerary. But guidance doesn’t always show up on the AAA trip-tic (Acts 16:6-10).

God wants to answer your prayers for guidance, but be ready. God may take you to a place you never would have chosen to go. God may lead you to do something you never thought you’d do. God may have someone in mind that, as of today, you’ve never laid eyes upon. Be ready and be warned. God answers prayers for guidance.

Psalm 25 provides the language we need when asking for guidance. Verses 4-5 ask God to “show me your ways” and “teach me your paths.” The request is repeated as the Psalmist says, “Guide me in your truth and teach me.” A key to how God answers that request is found a few verses later. “He guides the humble in what is right and teaches them his way.”

God guides the humble – those who don’t know the destination and know they don’t know, those who are most willing to go wherever God leads, those who have given up trying to determine the best possible outcomes and options. As we pray we will think through our options. We are free to ask for what we want. But true guidance comes to those who are humble, open to wherever God may lead. These are dangerous prayers – but worth the risk.

Are you really ready for God to guide you today?

Prayer:
Our prayers for guidance often limit you, O God. We confess to setting agendas and laying out the best options – then looking to you for help. Grant to us a humility that is willing to go wherever you lead and do whatever you ask, to the glory of your name above all else. Amen.

Directionally Challenged

He leadeth me beside the still waters (Psalm 23:2).

I love Microsoft Outlook. Maybe it’s because it fosters the illusion that I really can manage my own life. Maybe it’s because of the rectangular boxes that neatly contain each hour of the day. Perhaps it’s the fact that I can click on a button near the top of my screen and Outlook will show me my entire work week at a glance.

Take today for example: an 8:30 a.m. meeting followed by an open morning that will (hopefully) allow me to write Tuesday’s devotional reflection. Then a lunch appointment and an afternoon meeting to review and proof-read an early draft of the Sunday worship bulletin. Assuming I made some decent progress on the devotional earlier in the day, I’d like to get to the gym late in the afternoon.

Yes, I do love Microsoft Outlook. It’s all right there: God’s will for my life arranged vertically.

There is one thing, however, that Outlook does not do for me and never has been able to do. It does not stop me from praying for guidance. The crisp neat boxes for every hour and the easy access to a week of plans and appointments do not relieve me of the sense that I need some kind of direction from beyond myself. I pray for guidance all the time. Maybe you do too.

We carefully schedule the meetings that we must attend in order to do our jobs well. But perhaps deep down we’re sensing the need for some guidance when it comes to the direction of our vocation. “Is this what I’m supposed to be doing?”

We make plans to go out on the weekend, but we crave guidance when it comes to the relationships we’re forming. Maybe one particular relationship requires so much energy. “Is this what it takes to be close to someone? Am I investing too much energy in something that isn’t right?”

Whether you use Outlook or a plain old-fashioned monthly calendar that hangs on your kitchen wall, you can have plenty of plans but still feel the need for guidance. Sometimes guidance has to do with the daily decisions we make. Just as often, guidance has to do with the direction of our life.

Guidance is what we pray for when we’re trying to see the connections between what we do with our days and what our days are doing with us. We may be good with plans, but directionally challenged. The good news: God is patient and merciful to the directionally challenged.

The Psalms remind us repeatedly that God loves to give guidance. God leads us beside still waters (Psalm 23). God guides us with his counsel (Psalm 73:24). God’s word is a lamp to our feet and a light to our path (Psalm 119:105). God will be our guide to the end (Psalm 48:14).

This week we’ll spend a few days thinking and praying about God’s guidance. Even if you’re at a place in life where you’ve got your bearings and you know where you’re headed, God’s guidance is something we need constantly. Maybe you need to be reminded to seek it. Maybe you’ve been seeking it desperately for some time. Either way, these prayers can be prayed with confidence. God is a faithful guide.

Where do you need guidance today?

Prayer:
“He leadeth me: O blessed thought! O words with heavenly comfort fraught! What e’re I do, where e’re I be, still ‘tis God’s hand that leadeth me. He leadeth me, he leadeth, by his own hand he leadeth me. His faithful follower I would be, for by his hand he leadeth me” (He Leadeth Me, The Hymnal, 338).

"One Thing I Ask"

One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple (Psalm 27: 4).

You will fill me with joy in your presence (Psalm 16: 11).

If you were to ask one thing of God, what would it be?

Take your time. You’ve got one shot. We’ve all played some version of the three wishes game, but the stakes are much higher here. With God we don’t make wishes, we make petitions. And following the example of the Psalmist, we’re tying to determine the one thing we’re seeking most from God.

“One thing I ask . . . this is what I seek.”

Are you aching for answers to things you simply can’t understand? Would faith come easier if you could just get some kind of explanation for the tragedy that took someone you loved . . . a short list of reasons why some people are starving while others are glutted on affluence . . . some sliver of insight into God’s will and purposes and why the life you have looks nothing like the one you used to dream of?

We’ve observed this week that the Psalms are full of questions. Hard questions. Sometimes a few answers would be nice. But is that really what we seek above all else?

Maybe you don’t want to ask about something, you want to ask God for something. Not something silly like a new car – but something that could profoundly change your life. Maybe you would ask God for a mate. You might ask God to stop the pain in your body that persists day after day and keeps you awake most nights. In these days, it might be a job – not for the money, but for the sense of waking up and having something to do that makes a difference in the world.

All of these could easily be the “one thing” we ask of the Lord. But none of those things are what we hear in Psalm 27:4. The Psalmist isn’t looking for answers and explanations and insights. The Psalmist isn’t asking for some thing that life is lacking.

The one thing that places at the top of the list, above anything and everything else, is more of God: Dwelling in God’s presence, beholding God’s beauty. The Psalmist’s greatest desire is nothing less than God’s presence.

Psalm 16:11 helps us understand that request. In God’s presence is fullness of joy and eternal pleasures. In other words, when you have God, you’ve got it all.

To seek God more than anything else doesn’t do away with our hard questions. But in our struggles to understand how life works we will be satisfied in the holy presence.

To seek God above all else doesn’t mean we no longer think about having meaningful work or getting married or being free of illness – but we know that those things can never really satisfy our souls like God can. There’s no substitute for God.

Now back to where we started. Back to the most important question we’ve considered all week long. What one thing are you asking of God today?

Prayer:
The Psalmist prayed, “Whom have I in heaven but you, and earth has nothing I desire besides you” (Psalm 73:25). I struggle to pray those words, O Lord. My desires are pulled in so many directions and I am too often dissatisfied when I get what I think I want. Heal the desires of my heart so that my one great desire is to know you better and live fully in your presence. Amen.

"Whom Shall I Fear?"

The Lord is my light and my salvation – whom shall I fear? (Psalm 27:1)

Now it was their turn. What they had seen Jesus do, they were being told to do.

Jesus’ instructions must have been daunting to those disciples; they would heal all kinds of sickness; they would preach the good news of the kingdom; they would cast out demons; they would restore leprous skin to wholeness.

Along with the instructions, Jesus gave authority. He didn’t tell them to do something they couldn’t possibly do. He told them what to do and promised them the power to do it.

Their effectiveness would be closely connected to their faith, their willingness to trust and to risk. They were not to pack a bag or take money with them. No last minute ATM withdrawals. No backpacks with peanut butter and saltines and Vienna sausages. They would live in complete dependence, claiming nothing for themselves but the grace of God.

Authority to make a difference in the world thrives in a trusting heart.

And, according to Jesus, that same authority becomes a shriveled empty husk when fear is present. Jesus made this plain to those whom he called to whom he gave authority. Be on your guard. You will meet resistance. But don’t be afraid. Don’t fear those who can do nothing more than kill the body. They have no real power.

Fear will quench your power. Trust will feed it. (See Matthew 10:5-30).

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Ours is a fearful age. We are eaten up with anxieties. In recent months our fears have been rooted in the economic crisis. These fears are not entirely unsubstantiated. People are really losing jobs and homes, and when this happens some measure of concern is perfectly understandable.

Nevertheless, the pervasive dis-ease in our land is hard to deny. We’re afraid for our children and the would be abductors and abusers that lurk in the most benign places.
We’re afraid of illnesses and words like “pandemic.” We know all too well now that we’re not immune from terrorists.

Psalm 27 asks a question that’s critical for our time. “Whom shall I fear?” The answer is implied: “I will fear no one.” Psalm 56 asks the same question with different words. “What can mortal man do to me?” Again: the answer is “nothing.”

Questions like these are intended to help us re-vision the realities around us. It’s not that the Psalmists never felt fear or anxiety, and is certainly not true that the Psalmists had no reason to be afraid. They felt fear and they had good reasons for being fearful.

But fear did not define reality for them. These words of prayer are a way of claiming that God stands at the center of all things, every threatening circumstance, every unnerving piece of news.

We need to pray these words because now it is our turn. Jesus sends us into this anxious world to do what he did and live as he lived. Don’t be afraid to love people. Don’t be afraid to offer blessing. Don’t be afraid to help. Don’t be afraid to speak of your faith. Fearful, anxious people are too busy stockpiling resources and building bomb-shelters to go into the world and change it.

What do you fear today? How does it hinder your walk with Jesus?

Prayer:
“Lo! The hosts of evil round us scorn thy Christ, assail his ways! From the fears that long have bound us, free our hearts to faith and praise. Grant us wisdom, grant us courage for the living of these days, for the living of these days.” (God of Grace and God of Glory, The Hymnbook, 358).

"How Long?"

Lord . . . if you had been here my brother would not have died (John 11:21).

How long, O Lord? (Psalm 13:1)

People of faith are not people who have stopped asking questions, sleeping soundly at night with every riddle answered, every doubt removed, every tension eased. If deep faith means the end of hard questions, then faithful people are hard to find, even in the Bible.

The Psalms are full of questions. “No questions asked” may reflect something of the way God’s mercies are offered to us. But questions frequently characterize the way our prayers are offered to God.

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Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days. When Jesus finally arrived in Bethany his presence seemed an empty gesture to those who grieved, especially Lazarus’ sisters. Martha, not one to mince words, spoke what everyone else was probably thinking. “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died.”

Her words sound partly like a rebuke, partly like a statement of faith. But beneath the words there’s a question: Where were you when we needed you?

It’s a fair question. Earlier in the story John tells us that when Jesus had learned of Lazarus’ illness “he stayed where he was two more days” (John 11:6). That’s troubling to us. We’d like to see some urgency. We’d like to see some miracle working power being released on behalf of Jesus’ dying friend. Apparently Jesus healed someone he didn’t know from a distance by simply speaking a word. And yet, upon learning of his friend’s illness, Jesus lingers.

Why did Jesus linger? Where was the power, the life giving word? When Jesus finally shows up, four days of rot have been at work in the tomb’s darkness. “Where were you?” Martha’s asking what we all want to know. She’s asking what many of us have asked at some point in our lives.

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A repeated question on the lips of the Psalmist is “how long?” That’s a familiar question to many people of faith because those who take God seriously often struggle to understand God’s timing. In Psalm 13 the question is asked four times in a psalm that is only six verses long.

The question reflects faith in that it assumes that God is present and doing something. The question eats at faith because it wonders exactly what God is doing and when it will make a difference. How long will it take me to find a job? How long will it take us to get pregnant? How long will I need chemo treatments? How long will this war last?

It seems to us that God lingers, and in some cases lingers long. And the lingering raises questions for us. But hard questions do not mean lack of faith. As Peter reminds us, God’s timing isn’t like ours. With God a day is a thousand years and a thousand years are a day. To ask “how long?” isn’t sin. In the Psalms, it’s prayer.

Is there something in your life that has caused you to pray “How long?”

Prayer:
Remind us today, O God, that what feels like neglect and delay is actually a divine plan. This is hard for us to understand – and so we are bold to offer our prayers and bring our questions before you. As we pray “how long?” make us strong in faith and grant us patient endurance until you arrive and bring new life, through Christ our Lord. Amen.

No Questions Asked

As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him, for he knows how we are formed . . . (Psalm 103:13).

Last week I took my kids and two of their friends northward to experience the seething energies of the town of Cherry Log Georgia. Actually we were just north of Ellijay, not quite to Cherry Log. “What,” you might ask, “is in Cherry Log Georgia?” Not much. But there is a treasure up there, known to a few.

For years Fred Craddock taught preaching at the Candler School of Theology at Emory University. When he retired he went north and began a ministry that does many different things under the umbrella of “The Craddock Center,” now headquartered in the booming metropolis of Cherry Log.

One of those things is the Story Express, a van full of books that makes forays into the mountain counties and gives books to children. That’s why I took my own kids, plus two, to Cherry Log. We had books for the Story Express. We also had the chance to receive visitors to the Express at the Gilmer County Food Bank. Kids could browse for books while their parents received groceries.

On the door of the Gilmer County Food bank I saw a small poster advertising free lunches during the week at a place called “Bread and Bowl.” The language of the poster caught my attention and evoked some thinking. It read something like this.

Lost your Job? Can’t pay bills? Worried about keeping your home?

We want to help during these difficult times.

We will be serving a FREE LUNCH every day from 12:00 noon to 1:30 pm

NO QUESTIONS ASKED

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Psalm 103 rehearses the many ways that God is merciful to us. Those mercies come to us because of God’s compassion. The word compassion shows up three times in the NIV Bible, anchoring the center of the Psalm at verses 8 and 13.

The very word compassion carries the meaning of “suffering with” someone else, knowing what they are going through, entering into their experience and being moved to mercy.

I heard compassion in the words of the poster: “no questions asked.” When the Psalmist says that God forgives our sins and puts them as far from us as east is from west, I can almost see the words “no questions asked.” Of course, those words don’t appear in the Psalm, but they wouldn’t be out of place if they did.

There is an invitation in the words of Psalm. Our compassionate God receives us in our imperfect, flawed state. No questions asked; no need to offer explanations, no need to come up with excuses, no defense necessary.

This is strange to us. Silently, we do raise questions of others. Our own compassions fall far short of God’s. What’s more, many of us spend plenty of time explaining ourselves, making excuses, defending our actions or ideas. We expect to be grilled and questioned. But God doesn’t deal with us in that way.

God says, “No questions asked.” How does that impact how you will live today? And how would you be different if you were to say the same thing to others around you?

Prayer:
We give you thanks today, O God, for your great compassion; for the way you put our sins far from us. You know exactly what we are like and the weaknesses to which we are prone. Put them away from us, we pray, and make us bold to come to you freely, trusting in your great mercy. Amen.

A Meditation on Psalm 19 and Jennifer Aniston

The precepts of the Lord are right, giving joy to the heart (Psalm 19:8).

Lately she has smiled at me nearly every Sunday morning as I ride the Peachtree express from the Cates parking lot to the church welcome center.

She’s not actually smiling at me – but she’s definitely smiling in my direction and it sure looks like she’s smiling at me. Jennifer Aniston’s face is magnified and majestic on a billboard on Roswell Road just south of East Andrews. Every Sunday morning our bus sits for few moments at the red light where Roswell and East Andrews meet. Look to the right, and there’s Jennifer.

The actual message of the billboard is very short and somewhat vague. The product is some kind of bottled water. The water part of the billboard is eclipsed by Jennifer’s hard to ignore face. Maybe that’s the intent. Create a connection in the mind between the compelling image and the product.

The thing about a billboard is that it’s out there for everyone to see. The billboard is aimed at the entire city of Atlanta, or at least that significant part of the population that drives south on Roswell Road. To see the billboard and enjoy the face of Jennifer, all you have to do is look up. If you’re driving you may need to look quickly and perhaps several times – but it’s there for free. Just glance up and there it is.

As is obvious by now, my attention is often drawn to the billboard while sitting at the red light. And while it’s nice to see Jennifer smiling in my general direction I have no expectation that I will ever have a conversation with Jennifer Aniston. I’m not hoping that someday she’ll actually talk to me about bottled water or anything else.

On the billboard there’s a message for me and anyone who will pay attention. But a message is not a conversation. The conversation will never happen. I can live with that.

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The first six verses of Psalm 19 are like a billboard that God has placed in the heavens. The skies are proclaiming a message that goes out to the ends of the world, day and night. This message is for everyone. All we have to do is look up, pay attention, take it in.

But Psalm 19 does not end at verse six. The Psalm continues and makes a dramatic shift. The same God of whom the heavens speak also wants to speak personally to you. That kind of speaking comes to us through a different medium. God’s ways and will are revealed most clearly in the written text of God’s word. The Psalmist speaks of God’s law, statutes and precepts.

Plenty of people enjoy Jennifer Aniston on a billboard but never plan to actually hear her voice or speak directly to her. Sadly, plenty of people deal with God in the same way. They enjoy the heavens, especially when they see those heavens spanning the ocean’s horizon or forming mist over mountain peaks. It’s not hard to stand and gaze at the skies and be moved in some kid of vague way that feels good. Some describe this as a “spiritual” experience.

But the God revealed in the heavens and skies very much wants to say something to you. God has a message for your life, a word of hope for your struggles, a word of forgiveness for your failures, a word of acceptance for the person you are right now. To hear this message will require something more than a walk on the beach. These words are in God’s book. When you pick up a bible, do so with the expectation that God has a word for you. That’s a conversation we can’t live without.

Have you heard God speak personally to you through the written words of the Bible?

Prayer:
It staggers our minds, O God, that you wish to speak with us in ways that are personal and direct, not vague and abstract. Forgive our neglect of your written words. Give us an appetite for your scripture. May the words written on the page become for us a living voice, we pray. Amen.

Good Heavens

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands (Psalm 19:1).

My wife occasionally accuses me of selective hearing, screening out messages that might be inconvenient or unpleasant or otherwise disrupt important endeavors like reading and napping. She may be right, but I maintain that most men are thus afflicted. This isn’t a deliberate inattentiveness. I never consciously choose to ignore my wife. But I’ll admit that there are times when I’m just not dialed in.

What is true of my domestic life seems to be equally true spiritually. The heavens are declaring the glory of God. The skies are making proclamation, pouring forth speech. This happens every day, all day long. And too often I’m not dialed in. As best I can tell I don’t deliberately ignore God or God’s voice. But for whatever reasons, I too easily miss what the heavens are declaring.

This wasn’t true two weeks ago. There’s a beach on the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica called “Playa Bonita.” There I found it very easy to pay attention that what the heavens are always declaring. In Costa Rica this time of year the sun goes down between 6:00 and 6:30 p.m. Sunsets at Playa Bonita are astonishing. Large outcroppings of rock in the ocean collide with breaking waves and send curtains of sea spray into the air against the canvass of a distant sky that mingles hues of orange and blue.

The skies proclaim the work of his hands. No doubt about it. And at Playa Bonita I can actually hear what they are saying. The skies make proclamation, and we speak back in prayer. The conversation comes naturally at places like that.

But this week I’m back in Marietta, Georgia. The heavens are still declaring and the skies are on broadcast as well, but my selective hearing issues are showing up again. Why is that?

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Psalm 19 says that the heavens are like a tent for the sun, a massive canopy in which the sun makes a daily course from one end of the earth to the other. I think we all recognize that the Psalmist didn’t write these words as an essay in astronomy. What we’re reading is more poetry than lecture. But it seems plain enough that the skies that cover the Pacific Ocean at Playa Bonita and the skies that hover over Marietta are part of something singular and whole.

Every day the heavens make their declaration, and far too often I move through my days deaf to their words. I heard them loud and clear a couple of weeks ago on a beach far away – but most of my days are lived here, bordered by Roswell Road and the 120 loop. Why is it harder to listen to God in this place?

The heavens declare and the skies proclaim. But the skies around us here are cluttered, interrupted by massive towers that speak to the glory of corporate America. Added to that, the skies around this place are so familiar. What they proclaim starts sound like blah blah blah. And maybe we need to admit that we rarely look at these skies anyway. Our gaze is held by computer screens, the traffic bearing down on us in the rear view mirror, the pile of post-camp laundry or the grass that needs mowing.

For the rest of this week we’ll spend some time with Psalm 19 and let it tutor us in effective listening skills. God is never at a loss for words; every day “pours forth speech.” Don’t miss a word.

Where are you best able to hear what the heavens declare and the skies proclaim?

Prayer:
Gracious God, we want to be attentive to your voice in all places. We want to see your glory in the skies over beaches and mountains and distant places, as well as in the heavens that cover our own backyards. Teach us to listen. Help us to pay attention to the message being proclaimed all around us every day, we pray. Amen.