When Jesus saw her he called her forward and said to her, “Woman, you are set free from your infirmity.” (Luke 13:12).
In the first year it felt like stiffness, the kind of stiffness that greets you first thing in the morning, making it hard to turn your head or get out of bed. After twelve years her stooped posture was simply a fact of life. Standing up straight had become a memory. By the eighteenth year her stoop had become a full-blown bend in her spine. She was doubled over.
Of course, this is far more than Luke actually tells us. Our imaginations are prone to supply many details when we read about a woman who had been afflicted for eighteen years, now folded in half, unable to watch birds fly. What Luke does provide for us is the drama of a true Sabbath: A burdened and bent over woman makers her way to a place of worship, and there she finds grace.
Jesus was teaching in a synagogue one Sabbath when this woman showed up, her presence barely noticed. After eighteen years, the synagogue regulars knew her story pretty well. But on this day her story changed. The woman who had entered the synagogue looking at the floor left the synagogue praising God, her face and hands lifted up. Jesus had set her free from her infirmity.
Luke makes use of a particular Greek word three different times in this story. Twice it is rendered “set free” and once as “untie.” That’s what Jesus did for this woman on the Sabbath. That’s what Jesus wants to do for us. That’s why God gave us the Sabbath to begin with.
The Sabbath isn’t defined by a religious activity. Going to the church (synagogue) and sitting through the service does not constitute a Sabbath day. A true Sabbath involves taking the burdens that shackle both body and soul and bringing them before God – and then anchoring them in what God is doing.
All the action words belong to Jesus. A series of four active verbs speak to what Jesus is doing: He sees the afflicted woman, he calls her forward, he speaks to her, and he lays his hands on her (vv. 12-13). The woman’s actions come after all this. She stands up straight and praises God.
Sabbath is for all of us who can’t quite straighten out our own lives. It’s has little to do with what we do for God and much to do God’s activity in and around us. Sabbath anchors us in the grace of Jesus, reminding us that the most important actions in our life, and even in the world, are Jesus’ actions.
God is at work all the time – and that means that we, for a period of time, don’t have to be. We are loosed, set free. Sabbath.
Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, for the grace that sets us free. We easily reverse the Sabbath, making it our work for you, keeping rules, doing religious things. Anchor our lives in your grace, reminding us daily that your actions are at the center of all things, even our very lives. We will respond in praise, through Jesus our Lord. Amen.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Missed a Spot
Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work . . . (Exodus 20:9-10)
A few summers ago marked a significant milestone in my son’s education in matters financial. At the age of twelve he bore upon his own shoulders the curse of Adam’s sin and toiled in the heat of the day with a push-mower and a blower. Worn out and sweaty after two hours, he knocked on our neighbor’s door and received the fruit of his labor: a check.
I had watched from a distance while John mowed our next-door neighbor’s yard. I wanted to be able to give practical assistance with our aged and occasionally non-cooperative mower. I was careful to let him do the work, right up until the very end. When he had finished mowing I sent him around to the front door to let our neighbor know he was done with the job – and then I spotted a tuft of grass up under the deck in a hard-to-get-to spot. I knew I could get at it in matter of seconds while John wrapped things up at the door. I cranked the mower and cut the grass.
Big mistake. I knew it when I saw the anger in my son’s face. I thought I was helping, but my over-functioning didn’t help at all.
The true learning experience that day was mine. I was wrong to cut that grass. My inability to stay out of the way sent two messages to my son that I never wanted to send. Message 1: You didn’t do it right. Message 2: I can do it better.
At a deep level our difficulties with Sabbath keeping reflect our inability or refusal to stay out of God’s way for one day each week. Our over-functioning betrays a belief. Our relentless pursuit of productivity betrays a fear. We might have learned to sing “He’s got the whole world in his hand” but we don’t think it’s true when it comes to our world.
Ignoring the Sabbath tells God that we can do things better or we’re not sure God will do them like they ought to be done. But there’s not a corner of your life, neither nook nor cranny, where God has missed a spot. You need not do his work for him just to be sure it’s done right. You can get out of the way – at least for one full day every week.
Where does it seem to you that God has “missed a spot?” Open your hands and prayerfully give that place to the one whose hands hold all things. Receive into your empty hands the gift of a true Sabbath rest.
Prayer:
How easy it is, O God, to say and sing one thing with our lips and then betray those words with our living. We fear that if we truly step aside – from the demands of the week and the demands of others – then things will fall apart. Teach us to trust you, and in that trust lead us to rest. We ask this in the name of the one who trusted completely and perfectly, Jesus our Lord. Amen.
A few summers ago marked a significant milestone in my son’s education in matters financial. At the age of twelve he bore upon his own shoulders the curse of Adam’s sin and toiled in the heat of the day with a push-mower and a blower. Worn out and sweaty after two hours, he knocked on our neighbor’s door and received the fruit of his labor: a check.
I had watched from a distance while John mowed our next-door neighbor’s yard. I wanted to be able to give practical assistance with our aged and occasionally non-cooperative mower. I was careful to let him do the work, right up until the very end. When he had finished mowing I sent him around to the front door to let our neighbor know he was done with the job – and then I spotted a tuft of grass up under the deck in a hard-to-get-to spot. I knew I could get at it in matter of seconds while John wrapped things up at the door. I cranked the mower and cut the grass.
Big mistake. I knew it when I saw the anger in my son’s face. I thought I was helping, but my over-functioning didn’t help at all.
The true learning experience that day was mine. I was wrong to cut that grass. My inability to stay out of the way sent two messages to my son that I never wanted to send. Message 1: You didn’t do it right. Message 2: I can do it better.
At a deep level our difficulties with Sabbath keeping reflect our inability or refusal to stay out of God’s way for one day each week. Our over-functioning betrays a belief. Our relentless pursuit of productivity betrays a fear. We might have learned to sing “He’s got the whole world in his hand” but we don’t think it’s true when it comes to our world.
Ignoring the Sabbath tells God that we can do things better or we’re not sure God will do them like they ought to be done. But there’s not a corner of your life, neither nook nor cranny, where God has missed a spot. You need not do his work for him just to be sure it’s done right. You can get out of the way – at least for one full day every week.
Where does it seem to you that God has “missed a spot?” Open your hands and prayerfully give that place to the one whose hands hold all things. Receive into your empty hands the gift of a true Sabbath rest.
Prayer:
How easy it is, O God, to say and sing one thing with our lips and then betray those words with our living. We fear that if we truly step aside – from the demands of the week and the demands of others – then things will fall apart. Teach us to trust you, and in that trust lead us to rest. We ask this in the name of the one who trusted completely and perfectly, Jesus our Lord. Amen.
Monday, February 18, 2013
Counting Rests
. . . so on the seventh day he rested from all his work (Genesis 2:2).
The drums that thundered during football season fell strangely silent in mid-November.
Upbeat arrangements of popular songs were replaced by slower pieces featuring lyrical woodwinds and sounding like something you’d hear on public radio. As seasons changed the music changed with them.
In September and October drummers stood up all the time, constantly pounding the daylights out of anything we could hit with a stick. In November, when the music changed, drummers became “percussionists” and took a seat. Those high-brow arrangements seemed to provide plenty of work for drummers who could navigate the keys of the xylophone or hear pitch and tune the timpani mid-piece. That wasn’t me.
Most often I found myself waiting on the occasional line that called for snare drum. And from time to time my sole contribution was to wait for one note - a singular moment when the music would crescendo, culminating in the crash of cymbals. Then back to my seat.
According to Psalm 150 God is well praised with the sound of crashing cymbals. I believe that. I love the sound of the cymbals. What I’ve never loved quite as much was counting measure after resting measure so that I’d know when to let loose with the climactic crash. Praise is sweeter when the cymbals crash at the right time and on the right beat.
In other words, knowing when and how to make a contribution means giving careful attention to bar after bar of rests. The rests require just as much intentionality as the moment of sound. What looks and feels like standing around doing nothing is in fact disciplined musicianship.
Counting rests, resting well, is critical for knowing when an how to stand up and do your job.
As with percussionists and concert band, just so with you and the Sabbath. Sabbath keeping requires intentionality. Effort. Sabbath does not happen simply because the weekend rolls around. We jokingly speak of our work week as a welcomed respite from the exhausting demands of our weekend. Quite often, we’re not joking.
Within few days you’ll be facing another weekend. Chances are you’ve already made some plans. Now might be a good time to ask what it will mean for you to keep the Sabbath. If it is indeed a holy day, the Lord’s Day, it is worthy of some focused energy. What things would be life-giving and restorative on your Sabbath? What things have you planned to do that can wait?
Dallas Willard has said that “grace is the opposite of earning; it is not the opposite of effort.” This is true of the Sabbath. Sabbath keeping is rooted in grace, not rules. But like a good musician, we have to be attentive and intentional about the resting. Those who rest well will play and work well.
Prayer:
Your call on our lives, O God, invites us to both work and rest. You give us work to do and ask us to participate in your work in this world. And you also invite us to rest, knowing that our work is never ultimate. Grant that we might be as intentional in our rest as we are in our labor, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
The drums that thundered during football season fell strangely silent in mid-November.
Upbeat arrangements of popular songs were replaced by slower pieces featuring lyrical woodwinds and sounding like something you’d hear on public radio. As seasons changed the music changed with them.
In September and October drummers stood up all the time, constantly pounding the daylights out of anything we could hit with a stick. In November, when the music changed, drummers became “percussionists” and took a seat. Those high-brow arrangements seemed to provide plenty of work for drummers who could navigate the keys of the xylophone or hear pitch and tune the timpani mid-piece. That wasn’t me.
Most often I found myself waiting on the occasional line that called for snare drum. And from time to time my sole contribution was to wait for one note - a singular moment when the music would crescendo, culminating in the crash of cymbals. Then back to my seat.
According to Psalm 150 God is well praised with the sound of crashing cymbals. I believe that. I love the sound of the cymbals. What I’ve never loved quite as much was counting measure after resting measure so that I’d know when to let loose with the climactic crash. Praise is sweeter when the cymbals crash at the right time and on the right beat.
In other words, knowing when and how to make a contribution means giving careful attention to bar after bar of rests. The rests require just as much intentionality as the moment of sound. What looks and feels like standing around doing nothing is in fact disciplined musicianship.
Counting rests, resting well, is critical for knowing when an how to stand up and do your job.
As with percussionists and concert band, just so with you and the Sabbath. Sabbath keeping requires intentionality. Effort. Sabbath does not happen simply because the weekend rolls around. We jokingly speak of our work week as a welcomed respite from the exhausting demands of our weekend. Quite often, we’re not joking.
Within few days you’ll be facing another weekend. Chances are you’ve already made some plans. Now might be a good time to ask what it will mean for you to keep the Sabbath. If it is indeed a holy day, the Lord’s Day, it is worthy of some focused energy. What things would be life-giving and restorative on your Sabbath? What things have you planned to do that can wait?
Dallas Willard has said that “grace is the opposite of earning; it is not the opposite of effort.” This is true of the Sabbath. Sabbath keeping is rooted in grace, not rules. But like a good musician, we have to be attentive and intentional about the resting. Those who rest well will play and work well.
Prayer:
Your call on our lives, O God, invites us to both work and rest. You give us work to do and ask us to participate in your work in this world. And you also invite us to rest, knowing that our work is never ultimate. Grant that we might be as intentional in our rest as we are in our labor, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Those Old-Fashioned Sundays
Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy . . . (Exodus 20:8-11).
I learned at an early age that Sunday was a special day. It was different. “Sunday” was far more than a day of the week. It was a modifier used to denote an entire way of life.
I had Sunday clothes – usually uncomfortable and scratchy. The shirts choked me. The fabric of the slacks mysteriously inhibited me like iron shackles. Nothing remotely fun would happen in those clothes. What I especially disliked were my stiff and shiny Sunday shoes.
We had Sunday dinner. Now this part I usually liked. To this day there are certain foods that evoke within me a sense of ‘Sunday.’ Pot roast is a Sunday food, as is that timeless delicacy fried chicken. On certain occasions we went the cafeteria after morning worship. And Sunday nights will forever be connected in my mind to grilled cheese sandwiches and Campbell’s tomato soup.
And then of course there was church. Sunday was church day and this was not simply true in the morning. My church laid claim to the entire day. We had Sunday school and church in the morning, followed by the mandatory nap, and then we went back to church for ‘training union’ and another evening worship service. (My kids have no clue).
Throughout my young life I learned that Sunday was different, and for that I can honestly say I am thankful. But for all that I learned about Sunday, I didn’t truly learn about the Sabbath.
You’ve probably caught on by now that our reflections this week will deal with God’s command to keep the Sabbath. The path God has invited us to walk is best traveled if we regularly sit down to rest. But before we go any further I want to say very clearly we will not spend the week pining for yesterday.
The ‘blue laws’ are not coming back – and when we had them we were just as prone to violate the Sabbath as we are right now. Sunday night church is probably a thing of the past, even in traditions where it was once strong. The Sunday ball games are not going to stop, and if your child is on a team you will very likely play on Sunday.
But here’s the truth of the matter: in freeing ourselves from the old restrictions of Sunday we threw away the gift of Sabbath. And what we lost is far more precious than what we think we gained.
Even for the devout, with the exception of one hour in church, our Sundays look exactly like our Saturdays. We go to church, preferably getting out well before noon and then anxiously using the remainder of the day to ‘get things done. We don’t know much about keeping the Sabbath.
God intends the Sabbath as a blessing, not a burden. It is a gift given to you. It was never meant to take something from you. Maybe, by God’s grace, we can rediscover that gift and reclaim what we inadvertently threw away with those ‘narrow’ habits of our ancestors. Let’s pray so.
For today: What does your current “Sabbath keeping” practice look like?
Prayer:
Lead us, O God, back to the good gift of the Sabbath. Grant us grace to slow down, to rest, and to trust you with our lives, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
I learned at an early age that Sunday was a special day. It was different. “Sunday” was far more than a day of the week. It was a modifier used to denote an entire way of life.
I had Sunday clothes – usually uncomfortable and scratchy. The shirts choked me. The fabric of the slacks mysteriously inhibited me like iron shackles. Nothing remotely fun would happen in those clothes. What I especially disliked were my stiff and shiny Sunday shoes.
We had Sunday dinner. Now this part I usually liked. To this day there are certain foods that evoke within me a sense of ‘Sunday.’ Pot roast is a Sunday food, as is that timeless delicacy fried chicken. On certain occasions we went the cafeteria after morning worship. And Sunday nights will forever be connected in my mind to grilled cheese sandwiches and Campbell’s tomato soup.
And then of course there was church. Sunday was church day and this was not simply true in the morning. My church laid claim to the entire day. We had Sunday school and church in the morning, followed by the mandatory nap, and then we went back to church for ‘training union’ and another evening worship service. (My kids have no clue).
Throughout my young life I learned that Sunday was different, and for that I can honestly say I am thankful. But for all that I learned about Sunday, I didn’t truly learn about the Sabbath.
You’ve probably caught on by now that our reflections this week will deal with God’s command to keep the Sabbath. The path God has invited us to walk is best traveled if we regularly sit down to rest. But before we go any further I want to say very clearly we will not spend the week pining for yesterday.
The ‘blue laws’ are not coming back – and when we had them we were just as prone to violate the Sabbath as we are right now. Sunday night church is probably a thing of the past, even in traditions where it was once strong. The Sunday ball games are not going to stop, and if your child is on a team you will very likely play on Sunday.
But here’s the truth of the matter: in freeing ourselves from the old restrictions of Sunday we threw away the gift of Sabbath. And what we lost is far more precious than what we think we gained.
Even for the devout, with the exception of one hour in church, our Sundays look exactly like our Saturdays. We go to church, preferably getting out well before noon and then anxiously using the remainder of the day to ‘get things done. We don’t know much about keeping the Sabbath.
God intends the Sabbath as a blessing, not a burden. It is a gift given to you. It was never meant to take something from you. Maybe, by God’s grace, we can rediscover that gift and reclaim what we inadvertently threw away with those ‘narrow’ habits of our ancestors. Let’s pray so.
For today: What does your current “Sabbath keeping” practice look like?
Prayer:
Lead us, O God, back to the good gift of the Sabbath. Grant us grace to slow down, to rest, and to trust you with our lives, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Friday, February 15, 2013
The Fahrenheit of Language
Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths . . . (Ephesians 4:29)
In his fine memoir, Reflections on My Call to Preach, Fred Craddock uses a phrase that I had not heard before. He places quotation marks around the words, as if quoting a proverb, a piece of folk wisdom which he has long known and frequently used.
At two unrelated points in the book Craddock writes, “He tempered the wind to the shorn lamb.”
The only common thread connecting his use of this phrase is the context of dialog or conversation. At one point Craddock applies the words to his mother and the way she spoke with her children. “She knew children could ask questions beyond their ability to deal with a full answer.” In another place Craddock applies the same phrase to God’s call and the mystery with which God deals with us in varied ways as he reveals his will.
The saying is picturesque. Our gracious God “tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.” God will not unleash bitter winds when the lamb is exposed and unprotected. Neither should we.
We would do well to temper our words, to gage carefully the Fahrenheit of our language. Our words have the power to scald and burn. Our words can also chill to the bone. Either way, words that are not tempered tend to leave a trail of wreckage.
In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians there is a singular verse that gives practical biblical definition to this folk wisdom. Paul wrote, “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.”
This verse merits careful and leisurely meditation. The negative command – let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths – is followed by three positive phrases that tell us how to “temper the wind to the shorn lamb.” Read it one more time, slowly, and notice what Paul is saying about the Fahrenheit of our language.
First, we should say only those things that are “good for building up.” Seldom are our words neutral in their impact. What we say will either build up or tear down, strengthen or undermine, bless or curse. As you speak to people today consider the overall impact of your words and speak what is “good for building up.”
Second, speak words that “fit the occasion.” Sometimes a hard truth needs to be spoken. But whether it has the impact of building up or not might be determined by timing. Consider more than the accuracy or truth of your words. Consider the timing as well and speak as “fits the occasion.”
Finally, God intends that our words “give grace to all who hear.” This one phrase reminds us that language is a means of grace. God uses your words to pour his goodness into the lives of others. Consider everyone who will hear your words and be a channel of grace in their midst.
Don’t take lightly the power of your words. “Temper the wind to the shorn lamb.”
Prayer:
Grant us grace, O God, that the words we speak today might be edifying, timely, and grace filled. You have dealt tenderly with us. Empower us to do the same with others, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
In his fine memoir, Reflections on My Call to Preach, Fred Craddock uses a phrase that I had not heard before. He places quotation marks around the words, as if quoting a proverb, a piece of folk wisdom which he has long known and frequently used.
At two unrelated points in the book Craddock writes, “He tempered the wind to the shorn lamb.”
The only common thread connecting his use of this phrase is the context of dialog or conversation. At one point Craddock applies the words to his mother and the way she spoke with her children. “She knew children could ask questions beyond their ability to deal with a full answer.” In another place Craddock applies the same phrase to God’s call and the mystery with which God deals with us in varied ways as he reveals his will.
The saying is picturesque. Our gracious God “tempers the wind to the shorn lamb.” God will not unleash bitter winds when the lamb is exposed and unprotected. Neither should we.
We would do well to temper our words, to gage carefully the Fahrenheit of our language. Our words have the power to scald and burn. Our words can also chill to the bone. Either way, words that are not tempered tend to leave a trail of wreckage.
In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians there is a singular verse that gives practical biblical definition to this folk wisdom. Paul wrote, “Let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths, but only such as is good for building up, as fits the occasion, that it may give grace to those who hear.”
This verse merits careful and leisurely meditation. The negative command – let no corrupting talk come out of your mouths – is followed by three positive phrases that tell us how to “temper the wind to the shorn lamb.” Read it one more time, slowly, and notice what Paul is saying about the Fahrenheit of our language.
First, we should say only those things that are “good for building up.” Seldom are our words neutral in their impact. What we say will either build up or tear down, strengthen or undermine, bless or curse. As you speak to people today consider the overall impact of your words and speak what is “good for building up.”
Second, speak words that “fit the occasion.” Sometimes a hard truth needs to be spoken. But whether it has the impact of building up or not might be determined by timing. Consider more than the accuracy or truth of your words. Consider the timing as well and speak as “fits the occasion.”
Finally, God intends that our words “give grace to all who hear.” This one phrase reminds us that language is a means of grace. God uses your words to pour his goodness into the lives of others. Consider everyone who will hear your words and be a channel of grace in their midst.
Don’t take lightly the power of your words. “Temper the wind to the shorn lamb.”
Prayer:
Grant us grace, O God, that the words we speak today might be edifying, timely, and grace filled. You have dealt tenderly with us. Empower us to do the same with others, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Your Silence Speaks
You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain . . . (Exodus 20:7)
This year marks the 450th anniversary of the Heidelberg Catechism.
I was raised in the Baptist tradition, and it has only been within the past decade that I have been awakened to the Heidelberg. The fault for that, if there is any, is my own – not the Baptists’.
Keep in mind, the Heidelberg was written to be a teaching tool, a means of training the young in the basics of the faith. In the 16th century it was taught over a period of one year, the 129 questions and answers divided over 52 Sundays. Its content is basically a commentary on the Apostles’ Creed, the Ten Commandments, and the Lord’s Prayer.
Of particular interest to us this week is question 99: “What is God’s will for us in the third commandment?” The answer is stated as follows:
"That we neither blaspheme nor misuse the name of God by cursing, perjury, or unnecessary oaths, nor share in such horrible sins by being silent bystanders. In a word, it requires that we use the holy name of God only with reverence and awe, so that we may properly confess him, pray to him, and praise him in everything we do and say."
In his fine book on the Heidelberg Catechism, The Good News We Almost Forgot, pastor Kevin DeYoung explains that in the reformed tradition the third commandment has had broad and varied applications. Cursing . . . well, we all know quite well what that is. We are hardly surprised by that cursing violates God’s will for us in our speaking. Perjury . . . again, to swear “so help me God” and then ignore God is clearly wrong. Needless oaths say too much when the simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would suffice, just as Jesus taught (Matt. 5:37).
What is striking about the answer to Q99 is the culpability of silence.
The Heidelberg teaches us that to be silent in the face of false, damaging, and debased use of words is to somehow be complicit in what is being said. This is not to mean that you obey the third commandment by becoming the self-appointed censor of everyone’s words. It does mean that at some point silence can be acceptance or even approval.
Is there a place in your life where you have been silent for too long? Maybe you need to speak a word of truth to a friend or someone in your family. Perhaps there’s something that needs to be confronted in your work place. Maybe there’s an opinion or piece of counsel that you’ve been afraid to share.
And there’s a positive side to this. Don’t hold back with your words of encouragement, a compliment for work well done, an expression of pride in your child, a phone call to someone with whom you’ve lost touch. On this Valentine’s Day don’t miss the chance to say “I love you.”
Perhaps today you will obey the third commandment not by holding your tongue, but by speaking up. Restraint is admirable, but it needs to be coupled with courage. Restraint minus courage equals fear.
Prayer:
Merciful God, forgive us when we’ve allowed silence to mask fear, making us complicit in words that dishonor you and your name. We need your wisdom in knowing when to refrain from words. Just as often, we need the gift of boldness in knowing when to break our silence. Grant us grace in speaking and in silence, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
This year marks the 450th anniversary of the Heidelberg Catechism.
I was raised in the Baptist tradition, and it has only been within the past decade that I have been awakened to the Heidelberg. The fault for that, if there is any, is my own – not the Baptists’.
Keep in mind, the Heidelberg was written to be a teaching tool, a means of training the young in the basics of the faith. In the 16th century it was taught over a period of one year, the 129 questions and answers divided over 52 Sundays. Its content is basically a commentary on the Apostles’ Creed, the Ten Commandments, and the Lord’s Prayer.
Of particular interest to us this week is question 99: “What is God’s will for us in the third commandment?” The answer is stated as follows:
"That we neither blaspheme nor misuse the name of God by cursing, perjury, or unnecessary oaths, nor share in such horrible sins by being silent bystanders. In a word, it requires that we use the holy name of God only with reverence and awe, so that we may properly confess him, pray to him, and praise him in everything we do and say."
In his fine book on the Heidelberg Catechism, The Good News We Almost Forgot, pastor Kevin DeYoung explains that in the reformed tradition the third commandment has had broad and varied applications. Cursing . . . well, we all know quite well what that is. We are hardly surprised by that cursing violates God’s will for us in our speaking. Perjury . . . again, to swear “so help me God” and then ignore God is clearly wrong. Needless oaths say too much when the simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would suffice, just as Jesus taught (Matt. 5:37).
What is striking about the answer to Q99 is the culpability of silence.
The Heidelberg teaches us that to be silent in the face of false, damaging, and debased use of words is to somehow be complicit in what is being said. This is not to mean that you obey the third commandment by becoming the self-appointed censor of everyone’s words. It does mean that at some point silence can be acceptance or even approval.
Is there a place in your life where you have been silent for too long? Maybe you need to speak a word of truth to a friend or someone in your family. Perhaps there’s something that needs to be confronted in your work place. Maybe there’s an opinion or piece of counsel that you’ve been afraid to share.
And there’s a positive side to this. Don’t hold back with your words of encouragement, a compliment for work well done, an expression of pride in your child, a phone call to someone with whom you’ve lost touch. On this Valentine’s Day don’t miss the chance to say “I love you.”
Perhaps today you will obey the third commandment not by holding your tongue, but by speaking up. Restraint is admirable, but it needs to be coupled with courage. Restraint minus courage equals fear.
Prayer:
Merciful God, forgive us when we’ve allowed silence to mask fear, making us complicit in words that dishonor you and your name. We need your wisdom in knowing when to refrain from words. Just as often, we need the gift of boldness in knowing when to break our silence. Grant us grace in speaking and in silence, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Top of the List
Hallowed be your name . . . (Matt. 6:9).
Where are you focusing your praying energy these days?
For me it’s my children. I’m sensing an urgency there that hasn’t always been true of my prayers. These days I find myself praying for them all the time - and not just pious petitions for their wellbeing. What I feel is more like a holy ferocity, waging war on their behalf.
For you it may be something different. Health issues often top the list. Marriages rank fairly high as well, so many of them fragile and others damaged beyond recognition. Employment pressures are constant: jobs we can’t find, jobs we have but hate, as well as jobs that we used to love but find are driving us into the ground.
Whenever we make lists we usually begin with what is most pressing. The things that cannot wait are named first. We pray the same way: the most threatening circumstance, the people closest to our heart, the decision with no good option, the illness that won’t go away, these top the list. No surprise there.
When Jesus taught us to pray, the name of God was at the top of the list. We begin by praying for the hallowing of God’s name. We move from there to the coming of God’s kingdom and the doing of God’s will. After that we offer our prayers for daily provision (bread), for forgiveness (both getting it and giving it) and for protection from what is evil and pulls us away from God.
What Moses gave us as a command, Jesus taught us as a prayer.
Moses used the negative ‘do not.’ Do not take the name of God carelessly or ‘in vain.’ Jesus stated the law positively in telling us to ask for the ‘hallowing’ of God’s name. We call on God to work in such a way that his name will be highly esteemed and loved and honored.
But what we feel when we pray usually has to do with more urgent and practical matters, the latter three petitions. We sense urgency over meeting our basic material needs (bread), the wholeness of relationships (forgiveness), and protection from moral temptations and the larger evils in this world. That’s what gets our energy.
The beauty of the Lord’s Prayer is that as God answers our prayers regarding those last three petitions he also answers the very first petition at the very same time. In giving us bread, in restoring relationships with God and others, in protecting us and guiding us through this broken world God’s name is honored or hallowed.
So pray whatever sits heavily on your heart and mind right now: Job, marriage, children, health, guidance in a decision, protection on a long flight, a fresh zeal for your faith.
And at some point in your prayer come back to the top of the list. God blesses us and answers ordinary prayers for the purpose of hallowing his name. The great large prayer is answered in small and mundane things. Thanks be to God.
Prayer:
Merciful God, I do not always ask for the hallowing of your name. I say the words – but what I want has more to do with bread and protection and relationships that are whole. Take the prayers I offer today – the yearning for your blessing and grace and favor – and hallow your name. I ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Where are you focusing your praying energy these days?
For me it’s my children. I’m sensing an urgency there that hasn’t always been true of my prayers. These days I find myself praying for them all the time - and not just pious petitions for their wellbeing. What I feel is more like a holy ferocity, waging war on their behalf.
For you it may be something different. Health issues often top the list. Marriages rank fairly high as well, so many of them fragile and others damaged beyond recognition. Employment pressures are constant: jobs we can’t find, jobs we have but hate, as well as jobs that we used to love but find are driving us into the ground.
Whenever we make lists we usually begin with what is most pressing. The things that cannot wait are named first. We pray the same way: the most threatening circumstance, the people closest to our heart, the decision with no good option, the illness that won’t go away, these top the list. No surprise there.
When Jesus taught us to pray, the name of God was at the top of the list. We begin by praying for the hallowing of God’s name. We move from there to the coming of God’s kingdom and the doing of God’s will. After that we offer our prayers for daily provision (bread), for forgiveness (both getting it and giving it) and for protection from what is evil and pulls us away from God.
What Moses gave us as a command, Jesus taught us as a prayer.
Moses used the negative ‘do not.’ Do not take the name of God carelessly or ‘in vain.’ Jesus stated the law positively in telling us to ask for the ‘hallowing’ of God’s name. We call on God to work in such a way that his name will be highly esteemed and loved and honored.
But what we feel when we pray usually has to do with more urgent and practical matters, the latter three petitions. We sense urgency over meeting our basic material needs (bread), the wholeness of relationships (forgiveness), and protection from moral temptations and the larger evils in this world. That’s what gets our energy.
The beauty of the Lord’s Prayer is that as God answers our prayers regarding those last three petitions he also answers the very first petition at the very same time. In giving us bread, in restoring relationships with God and others, in protecting us and guiding us through this broken world God’s name is honored or hallowed.
So pray whatever sits heavily on your heart and mind right now: Job, marriage, children, health, guidance in a decision, protection on a long flight, a fresh zeal for your faith.
And at some point in your prayer come back to the top of the list. God blesses us and answers ordinary prayers for the purpose of hallowing his name. The great large prayer is answered in small and mundane things. Thanks be to God.
Prayer:
Merciful God, I do not always ask for the hallowing of your name. I say the words – but what I want has more to do with bread and protection and relationships that are whole. Take the prayers I offer today – the yearning for your blessing and grace and favor – and hallow your name. I ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Our Silent Profanities
And I will vindicate the holiness of my great name, which has been profaned among the nations, and which you have profaned among them (Ezekiel 36:23)
Years ago comedian George Carlin built one of his routines around the seven words you can’t say on television. As it turns out, Carlin’s seven words you can’t say on television are identical to the seven words that should not be included in a daily devotional. As for what those might be I’ll have to leave you to your own imagination and well-stocked vocabulary.
For most people, the word ‘profanity’ is the larger category that encompasses Carlin’s seven words as well as long list of others. Indeed, the American Heritage Dictionary defines profanity as “obscene or irreverent language.”
But there’s more to it. The noun ‘profanity’ has a verb form, ‘to profane.’ So we’re not simply talking about words we use, but something we do or a way we act. Again, the dictionary helps us out here: “to treat with irreverence” or “contempt for what is sacred.” While a dictionary provides a helpful definition, the Bible gives us a story.
In Ezekiel 36 God’s people had profaned his name by worshipping idols. They had made God look small and trivial, one god among many. God responded to their idolatry with judgment and sent them into exile. What is interesting about Ezekiel 36 is that God is promising to restore his people. There will be a return, a gathering together of a people who have been battered and scattered.
But God makes it clear: he is not doing this for their sake; this isn’t an act of compassion born of God’s aching heart. God will do this for the sake of his name. “I will show the holiness of my great name.” The command regarding God’s name is given to us as a means of witness in the world.
Our most offensive profanities are often silent. They are a way of life that treats God as small and impotent. I can think of two very common ways that we silently profane God’s name.
We profane God’s name with our worry. Constant anxiety says that we are facing something that God either cannot or will not handle. Fear marks a life that is void of a faithful, good and powerful God. Our worries seem to make God small. Sure, we all worry at times – but to feed on the worries is to profane God’s name.
We also profane God’s name with our anger. Often our anger is provoked when something doesn’t go our way or when people don’t do what we want them to do. Our anger is born of our lack of control and our need for control is an affront to God who rules all things for our good and his glory. Sure, we all get angry. But to live angry profanes God’s name.
A confident life glorifies God’s name. A life lived at peace magnifies God’s name. So watch your life as well as your language. What has you worried or angry today? Be bold. Bless others. And hallow the name of God.
Prayer:
Magnify your name in my life, O God. Grant me grace to live in such a way that you are shown to be great and good in all that concerns me. Forgive my silent profanity, my worry and anger, and glorify your name in my life, I pray through Jesus our Lord. Amen.
Years ago comedian George Carlin built one of his routines around the seven words you can’t say on television. As it turns out, Carlin’s seven words you can’t say on television are identical to the seven words that should not be included in a daily devotional. As for what those might be I’ll have to leave you to your own imagination and well-stocked vocabulary.
For most people, the word ‘profanity’ is the larger category that encompasses Carlin’s seven words as well as long list of others. Indeed, the American Heritage Dictionary defines profanity as “obscene or irreverent language.”
But there’s more to it. The noun ‘profanity’ has a verb form, ‘to profane.’ So we’re not simply talking about words we use, but something we do or a way we act. Again, the dictionary helps us out here: “to treat with irreverence” or “contempt for what is sacred.” While a dictionary provides a helpful definition, the Bible gives us a story.
In Ezekiel 36 God’s people had profaned his name by worshipping idols. They had made God look small and trivial, one god among many. God responded to their idolatry with judgment and sent them into exile. What is interesting about Ezekiel 36 is that God is promising to restore his people. There will be a return, a gathering together of a people who have been battered and scattered.
But God makes it clear: he is not doing this for their sake; this isn’t an act of compassion born of God’s aching heart. God will do this for the sake of his name. “I will show the holiness of my great name.” The command regarding God’s name is given to us as a means of witness in the world.
Our most offensive profanities are often silent. They are a way of life that treats God as small and impotent. I can think of two very common ways that we silently profane God’s name.
We profane God’s name with our worry. Constant anxiety says that we are facing something that God either cannot or will not handle. Fear marks a life that is void of a faithful, good and powerful God. Our worries seem to make God small. Sure, we all worry at times – but to feed on the worries is to profane God’s name.
We also profane God’s name with our anger. Often our anger is provoked when something doesn’t go our way or when people don’t do what we want them to do. Our anger is born of our lack of control and our need for control is an affront to God who rules all things for our good and his glory. Sure, we all get angry. But to live angry profanes God’s name.
A confident life glorifies God’s name. A life lived at peace magnifies God’s name. So watch your life as well as your language. What has you worried or angry today? Be bold. Bless others. And hallow the name of God.
Prayer:
Magnify your name in my life, O God. Grant me grace to live in such a way that you are shown to be great and good in all that concerns me. Forgive my silent profanity, my worry and anger, and glorify your name in my life, I pray through Jesus our Lord. Amen.
Thursday, February 07, 2013
A Path is not a Road
You shall not make for yourself an idol . . . (Exodus 20:4).
Hwy 64 was under construction. From the look of things, it had been for a long time.
It didn’t take much imagination to see that this ‘highway’ had long been a two lane country road. But western Wake County was changing and the two lanes that connected Apex to Raleigh were no longer adequate for the burgeoning population of the area. Marnie and I, along with our infant son, added three people to that population. Soon after we moved to North Carolina the two new lanes opened.
Roads evolve because of the numbers of people that use them. The volume of traffic creates the need to turn two lanes to four. Further, roads seem designed to for speed. Even if left unpaved, roads are wide enough to accommodate vehicles. But a path is for walking. Paths invite and even demand a slower pace. Roads are things that we build. Paths emerge. Roads are constructed. Paths are discovered.
Admittedly, a path exists because someone else has walked there. It is right that we consider God’s Law as a path. It shows us where God’s people have walked, a way of life that has been practiced and traveled for millennia. But while many have walked this way, the traffic growing through the ages and across the nations, the path has not become a road. This trail has not become a highway.
There are still rocks and roots, rough terrain and demanding climbs. All who set out to follow God’s way face the same challenges and dangers and joys. Previous travelers have not paved the path, making it easier, setting up rest areas and hotels. As of 2011 roughly 3200 people had climbed Mt. Everest. Not one of them attempted to make the endeavor ‘user friendly.’ You won’t find any tourists at the top of Mt. Everest.
Too often we grow impatient with the path. It’s too inefficient. It’s much work. It’s too slow. And so we set out to build a road. We throw ourselves in to the work of making our own way in this world. This is what God told us not to do.
The language of the commandment speaks of making idols. Few of us actually carve little deities and give them our worship, but we do love the work of our own hands. We love the roads we build, the way of life that we create on our own. The roads we construct may allow us to move fast, they may seem easier to travel. But the destination is either unknown or – once we get there - we are disappointed upon arrival. Sometimes the road is ‘out.’ We just don’t see it.
Here’s the good news: it’s never too late to turn back on the road we’ve made for ourselves and begin walking God’s path. The biblical word for this turning is ‘repentance.’
What way are you traveling these days? God invites you to be done with the work of building your own road. He invites you to be done with life as a race, or life as a commute. Leave the highway and discover the adventure of the path.
Prayer:
Free us, O God, from our attachment to the roads we’ve made and the way of life we’ve created for ourselves apart from you. Move us to repentance and make us bold to walk your path, knowing that Jesus has called us to ‘follow’ and he will faithfully guide our steps. We ask this in his name, Amen.
Hwy 64 was under construction. From the look of things, it had been for a long time.
It didn’t take much imagination to see that this ‘highway’ had long been a two lane country road. But western Wake County was changing and the two lanes that connected Apex to Raleigh were no longer adequate for the burgeoning population of the area. Marnie and I, along with our infant son, added three people to that population. Soon after we moved to North Carolina the two new lanes opened.
Roads evolve because of the numbers of people that use them. The volume of traffic creates the need to turn two lanes to four. Further, roads seem designed to for speed. Even if left unpaved, roads are wide enough to accommodate vehicles. But a path is for walking. Paths invite and even demand a slower pace. Roads are things that we build. Paths emerge. Roads are constructed. Paths are discovered.
Admittedly, a path exists because someone else has walked there. It is right that we consider God’s Law as a path. It shows us where God’s people have walked, a way of life that has been practiced and traveled for millennia. But while many have walked this way, the traffic growing through the ages and across the nations, the path has not become a road. This trail has not become a highway.
There are still rocks and roots, rough terrain and demanding climbs. All who set out to follow God’s way face the same challenges and dangers and joys. Previous travelers have not paved the path, making it easier, setting up rest areas and hotels. As of 2011 roughly 3200 people had climbed Mt. Everest. Not one of them attempted to make the endeavor ‘user friendly.’ You won’t find any tourists at the top of Mt. Everest.
Too often we grow impatient with the path. It’s too inefficient. It’s much work. It’s too slow. And so we set out to build a road. We throw ourselves in to the work of making our own way in this world. This is what God told us not to do.
The language of the commandment speaks of making idols. Few of us actually carve little deities and give them our worship, but we do love the work of our own hands. We love the roads we build, the way of life that we create on our own. The roads we construct may allow us to move fast, they may seem easier to travel. But the destination is either unknown or – once we get there - we are disappointed upon arrival. Sometimes the road is ‘out.’ We just don’t see it.
Here’s the good news: it’s never too late to turn back on the road we’ve made for ourselves and begin walking God’s path. The biblical word for this turning is ‘repentance.’
What way are you traveling these days? God invites you to be done with the work of building your own road. He invites you to be done with life as a race, or life as a commute. Leave the highway and discover the adventure of the path.
Prayer:
Free us, O God, from our attachment to the roads we’ve made and the way of life we’ve created for ourselves apart from you. Move us to repentance and make us bold to walk your path, knowing that Jesus has called us to ‘follow’ and he will faithfully guide our steps. We ask this in his name, Amen.
Still in Pursuit
I am the Lord your God who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery . . . (Exodus 20:2).
On September 11, 2001 Nick Lerangis was eleven days away from his fourteenth birthday. That beautiful Tuesday morning marked his fourth day of school at the Stuyvesant High School in Manhattan – a mere eight blocks from the World Trade Center.
In a 2011 article titled "I Knew You’d Come" Lerangis recounts his personal experience of that day. His narrative captures the initial curiosity that spread throughout the school, students running to windows on the schools upper floors to get a look at the dramatic sight of smoke billowing from one of the towers. The story turns sharply from curiosity to fear as the reality of what was happening gradually dawned on his school and the nation.
Eventually all 3200 students evacuated the building and Lerangis found himself among the mass of humanity walking up the West Side Highway. “I was a speck in a crowd of tens of thousands of people, all of us walking away from the towers and toward something unknown.” And then Lerangis shares this remarkable moment:
I fell away from my friends and began walking alone, looking out at the river and losing myself in thought about the weather and the upcoming Mets season. Then a hand landed on top of my head. Someone was palming my head. I panicked for a moment, not knowing who was tall enough to do that, figuring maybe one of the Varsity guys was picking on me. And then I turned. It was my dad.
The first words out of my mouth were “I knew you’d come.” Because somehow I did. I had known all along that my father would come find me. Out of the 13,000 streaming uptown, out of the 3,200 Stuyvesant kids, I knew I would be found. Because he was my dad. That’s just how it was. He had talked his way past the police barricades on the West Side Highway in a cab, and when the cab was finally stopped by the cops he had gotten out and run against the flow of foot traffic. It didn’t matter that he was one man running toward the disaster, toward his confused 13-year-old son. It didn’t matter that I was just one puny and rattled prepubescent teen in a crowd of thousands. I knew he’d come. And of course he did.
Like Nick Lerangis’ Dad, God the father pursues his children. In the wilderness God pursued them with bread from heaven and water from the rock, with cloud by day and fire by night, with the parting of waters and the gift of deliverance. The pursuit had been happening long before they arrived at Sinai, long before the Law. Grace always comes first.
The Ten Commandments were never meant to be a way for us to find God. These instructions do not tell us what to do so that God will love us. Rather, these ten words tell us how to live once we realize that God has been in pursuit of us. Over and over again – before we ever gave a moment’s thought to ‘seeking’ God – God sought us.
Today God the Father comes alongside you; he finds you and invites you home. God has long been in pursuit of you. Do you see this? What gifts of grace do you see as you look back over your shoulder?
Prayer:
We give you thanks today, O God, for your faithful pursuit of us: For making a way when we didn’t know what was next; for meeting our needs we were completely spent. Remind us today of your faithful pursuit and move our hearts to respond in obedient love, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
On September 11, 2001 Nick Lerangis was eleven days away from his fourteenth birthday. That beautiful Tuesday morning marked his fourth day of school at the Stuyvesant High School in Manhattan – a mere eight blocks from the World Trade Center.
In a 2011 article titled "I Knew You’d Come" Lerangis recounts his personal experience of that day. His narrative captures the initial curiosity that spread throughout the school, students running to windows on the schools upper floors to get a look at the dramatic sight of smoke billowing from one of the towers. The story turns sharply from curiosity to fear as the reality of what was happening gradually dawned on his school and the nation.
Eventually all 3200 students evacuated the building and Lerangis found himself among the mass of humanity walking up the West Side Highway. “I was a speck in a crowd of tens of thousands of people, all of us walking away from the towers and toward something unknown.” And then Lerangis shares this remarkable moment:
I fell away from my friends and began walking alone, looking out at the river and losing myself in thought about the weather and the upcoming Mets season. Then a hand landed on top of my head. Someone was palming my head. I panicked for a moment, not knowing who was tall enough to do that, figuring maybe one of the Varsity guys was picking on me. And then I turned. It was my dad.
The first words out of my mouth were “I knew you’d come.” Because somehow I did. I had known all along that my father would come find me. Out of the 13,000 streaming uptown, out of the 3,200 Stuyvesant kids, I knew I would be found. Because he was my dad. That’s just how it was. He had talked his way past the police barricades on the West Side Highway in a cab, and when the cab was finally stopped by the cops he had gotten out and run against the flow of foot traffic. It didn’t matter that he was one man running toward the disaster, toward his confused 13-year-old son. It didn’t matter that I was just one puny and rattled prepubescent teen in a crowd of thousands. I knew he’d come. And of course he did.
Like Nick Lerangis’ Dad, God the father pursues his children. In the wilderness God pursued them with bread from heaven and water from the rock, with cloud by day and fire by night, with the parting of waters and the gift of deliverance. The pursuit had been happening long before they arrived at Sinai, long before the Law. Grace always comes first.
The Ten Commandments were never meant to be a way for us to find God. These instructions do not tell us what to do so that God will love us. Rather, these ten words tell us how to live once we realize that God has been in pursuit of us. Over and over again – before we ever gave a moment’s thought to ‘seeking’ God – God sought us.
Today God the Father comes alongside you; he finds you and invites you home. God has long been in pursuit of you. Do you see this? What gifts of grace do you see as you look back over your shoulder?
Prayer:
We give you thanks today, O God, for your faithful pursuit of us: For making a way when we didn’t know what was next; for meeting our needs we were completely spent. Remind us today of your faithful pursuit and move our hearts to respond in obedient love, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Tuesday, February 05, 2013
The Commandments and Costco
And God spoke all these words . . . (Exodus 20:1).
“Can you make the Costco run today?”
I paused to be sure I had heard her correctly. The trip to Costco is no small matter in our world. Costco is the central supply station for much of what sustains life in our home. Being asked to do this was a bit like a minor league player being called up to the big leagues. I wanted to get it right. Better make a list.
I find satisfaction in making lists. Lists allow me to plan my day; lists are a tangible indicator of progress and accomplishment; lists bring order to chaos; lists allow reflection on priorities, what comes first and what can wait.
But lists are static and inanimate things. When I went to Costco the list was important. It told me exactly what to do. But it was only important because before there was a list there was a voice. My wife’s speaking came first. She knew what we needed. I didn’t have clue. Her words were primary. The list was secondary.
Listening precedes listing. It was true for me at Costco. And it was true for Moses at Mount Sinai.
A couple of days we noted that for many of us the Ten commandments have been reduced to a list, inscribed tablets of stone, silent and foreboding. Fair enough. Exodus 32:16 says plainly that the tablets were “the work of God; the writing was the writing of God, engraved on the tablets.” So yes, we have a written list of commandments.
But God did not give his instruction by writing, at least not at first. First, God spoke. This is how Exodus 20 begins: “And God spoke all these words.” The commandments are not a lifeless list; they are a living voice. Our primary task is to listen for this voice. If we refuse to listen to the voice, we will never be moved to pay attention to the list.
In C. S. Lewis’ Narnia story titled The Magician’s Nephew there is a scene in which Aslan the Lion is singing Narnia into being. A character in that story, Uncle Andrew, is convinced that Lions cannot sing. Lewis writes,
The longer and more beautiful the Lion sang, the harder Uncle Andrew tried to make himself believe that he could hear nothing but roaring. Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed. Uncle Andrew did. He soon did hear nothing but roaring in Aslan’s song. Soon he couldn’t have heard anything else even if he had wanted to. And when at last the Lion spoke and said “Narnia awake,” he didn’t hear any words; he heard only a snarl.
There are many who hear the Ten Commandments as a snarl, a harping list of demands or rules. But these words are God’s voice; they are a song. The list is important, but listening precedes listing. If you have not done so already, take a few moments to sit down and read the Ten Commandments. Read them slowly. As you read, listen.
What do you hear in the Ten Commandments?
Prayer:
Before we act in obedience, O God, help us to listen in devotion to you. Tune our hearts to the sound of your voce in your Law. Help us to live in loving response, we ask in Jesus’ name, Amen.
“Can you make the Costco run today?”
I paused to be sure I had heard her correctly. The trip to Costco is no small matter in our world. Costco is the central supply station for much of what sustains life in our home. Being asked to do this was a bit like a minor league player being called up to the big leagues. I wanted to get it right. Better make a list.
I find satisfaction in making lists. Lists allow me to plan my day; lists are a tangible indicator of progress and accomplishment; lists bring order to chaos; lists allow reflection on priorities, what comes first and what can wait.
But lists are static and inanimate things. When I went to Costco the list was important. It told me exactly what to do. But it was only important because before there was a list there was a voice. My wife’s speaking came first. She knew what we needed. I didn’t have clue. Her words were primary. The list was secondary.
Listening precedes listing. It was true for me at Costco. And it was true for Moses at Mount Sinai.
A couple of days we noted that for many of us the Ten commandments have been reduced to a list, inscribed tablets of stone, silent and foreboding. Fair enough. Exodus 32:16 says plainly that the tablets were “the work of God; the writing was the writing of God, engraved on the tablets.” So yes, we have a written list of commandments.
But God did not give his instruction by writing, at least not at first. First, God spoke. This is how Exodus 20 begins: “And God spoke all these words.” The commandments are not a lifeless list; they are a living voice. Our primary task is to listen for this voice. If we refuse to listen to the voice, we will never be moved to pay attention to the list.
In C. S. Lewis’ Narnia story titled The Magician’s Nephew there is a scene in which Aslan the Lion is singing Narnia into being. A character in that story, Uncle Andrew, is convinced that Lions cannot sing. Lewis writes,
The longer and more beautiful the Lion sang, the harder Uncle Andrew tried to make himself believe that he could hear nothing but roaring. Now the trouble about trying to make yourself stupider than you really are is that you very often succeed. Uncle Andrew did. He soon did hear nothing but roaring in Aslan’s song. Soon he couldn’t have heard anything else even if he had wanted to. And when at last the Lion spoke and said “Narnia awake,” he didn’t hear any words; he heard only a snarl.
There are many who hear the Ten Commandments as a snarl, a harping list of demands or rules. But these words are God’s voice; they are a song. The list is important, but listening precedes listing. If you have not done so already, take a few moments to sit down and read the Ten Commandments. Read them slowly. As you read, listen.
What do you hear in the Ten Commandments?
Prayer:
Before we act in obedience, O God, help us to listen in devotion to you. Tune our hearts to the sound of your voce in your Law. Help us to live in loving response, we ask in Jesus’ name, Amen.
Monday, February 04, 2013
"Stay with Me"
You shall have no other gods before me (Exodus 20:3).
Years ago when my children were small I took them out for an afternoon hike on the trails of the Chattahoochee National Park. This park system has a number of locations along the Chattahoochee and this particular site features some beautiful wooded paths that snake along large outcroppings of rock. The main attraction to which all trails lead is the stone-speckled creek that feeds the Chattahoochee River.
Having tossed a water bottle and a pack of saltines into a small backpack, we set out for what I thought would be a pleasant stroll through the woods, an easy and wholesome way to get my suburbanite kids outdoors. Once we had parked and made our way to the trailhead I had to do a reality check.
Turns out our simple stroll wasn’t going to be so simple. And we would not merely be strolling. We would be hiking – leaning into some healthy climbs and digging in our heels on some sharp descents here and there. All of this was complicated further by the fact that the park is made up of a network of trails, multiple paths of varying length. If you wished, you could be gone for the better part of the day. Did I mention that my children were small?
I chose a path that would allow us to have adventure, start to finish, within a two hour block of time. As we set out I gave my kids one simple word of instruction: “Stay with me.”
The entire experience would depend upon their willingness to heed that one simple instruction. “Stay with me: do not go running off; do not deviate to other interesting trails; do not rush ahead out of my sight; do not linger behind in isolation. Sometimes I’ll walk in front leading the way; at other times I’ll behind you urging you on. Just stay with me.”
I did not say to them, “Study the map and meet me back at the car in two hours.”
When God gave his ‘ten words’ of command to his people he started with this very instruction: Stay with me. “I am the Lord your God . . . you shall have no other gods.” If we rush past this in our hurry to find out what God wants us to do, we will never truly understand the Ten Commandments.
Most of us think that the Ten Commandments are about behavior, doing what God wants us to do. But before God speaks about behavior he speaks of belonging. We are God’s people. God does not simply want us to be good. God wants us to be his. “Stay with me.”
Until we know to whom we belong, we will not know how to behave.
Allow this simple truth to rest gently on your mind throughout the day: you belong to God. Stay with him. Don’t rush ahead where has not led you. Don’t linger behind or turn aside to another path that seems appealing. In his Law God offers a lamp for your feet and a light for your path. But first he offers his love.
“I am the Lord your God . . . stay with me.”
Prayer:
Whatever this day brings, wherever this day leads, we will stay with you O God. Thank you for your faithfulness: going before us making a way, ever behind us urging us on. Thank you for claiming us and making us yours in your son Jesus, in whose name we pray. Amen.
Years ago when my children were small I took them out for an afternoon hike on the trails of the Chattahoochee National Park. This park system has a number of locations along the Chattahoochee and this particular site features some beautiful wooded paths that snake along large outcroppings of rock. The main attraction to which all trails lead is the stone-speckled creek that feeds the Chattahoochee River.
Having tossed a water bottle and a pack of saltines into a small backpack, we set out for what I thought would be a pleasant stroll through the woods, an easy and wholesome way to get my suburbanite kids outdoors. Once we had parked and made our way to the trailhead I had to do a reality check.
Turns out our simple stroll wasn’t going to be so simple. And we would not merely be strolling. We would be hiking – leaning into some healthy climbs and digging in our heels on some sharp descents here and there. All of this was complicated further by the fact that the park is made up of a network of trails, multiple paths of varying length. If you wished, you could be gone for the better part of the day. Did I mention that my children were small?
I chose a path that would allow us to have adventure, start to finish, within a two hour block of time. As we set out I gave my kids one simple word of instruction: “Stay with me.”
The entire experience would depend upon their willingness to heed that one simple instruction. “Stay with me: do not go running off; do not deviate to other interesting trails; do not rush ahead out of my sight; do not linger behind in isolation. Sometimes I’ll walk in front leading the way; at other times I’ll behind you urging you on. Just stay with me.”
I did not say to them, “Study the map and meet me back at the car in two hours.”
When God gave his ‘ten words’ of command to his people he started with this very instruction: Stay with me. “I am the Lord your God . . . you shall have no other gods.” If we rush past this in our hurry to find out what God wants us to do, we will never truly understand the Ten Commandments.
Most of us think that the Ten Commandments are about behavior, doing what God wants us to do. But before God speaks about behavior he speaks of belonging. We are God’s people. God does not simply want us to be good. God wants us to be his. “Stay with me.”
Until we know to whom we belong, we will not know how to behave.
Allow this simple truth to rest gently on your mind throughout the day: you belong to God. Stay with him. Don’t rush ahead where has not led you. Don’t linger behind or turn aside to another path that seems appealing. In his Law God offers a lamp for your feet and a light for your path. But first he offers his love.
“I am the Lord your God . . . stay with me.”
Prayer:
Whatever this day brings, wherever this day leads, we will stay with you O God. Thank you for your faithfulness: going before us making a way, ever behind us urging us on. Thank you for claiming us and making us yours in your son Jesus, in whose name we pray. Amen.
Sunday, February 03, 2013
The Path
I run in the path of your commands for you have set my heart free (Psalm 119:32).
As I sit down to write this I’ve just spent the past hour watching my daughter throw a Lacrosse ball against a concrete wall. Her coach gave her a series of exercises that amounted to 325 throws. The point of the exercises: to master the basics by means of repetition.
Today we begin a series of reflections that will lead us over some familiar ground. In the weeks to come we will linger with that body of material from the Hebrew Scriptures known as the Ten Commandments. Our aim differs little from that of my daughter’s Lacrosse exercises. We will be getting back to basics, mastering fundamentals by means of repetition.
Sounds simple enough. There’s plenty to be said for getting back to basics. There is much good to be derived from repetition.
But if the repetitions are somehow flawed all we do is grow increasingly comfortable with our errors. Doing 325 throws against the wall is good, unless the form of the throw is defective. Then the only thing learned is how to do a poor throw. The same risk confronts us as we turn our attention to the Ten Commandments.
It’s no simple task to untangle the knot of misconceptions wrapped around the Ten Commandments. These ten statements - often called the ‘Decalogue’ or ‘ten words’ – have accumulated a thick crust of faulty associations. If nothing else, common portrayals of the tablets have shaped our imaginations. Two matching pieces of stone, thick and heavy, domed at the top, typically showing parallel lists designated with large Roman numerals.
Somewhere along the way, between Mount Sinai and wherever you are right now, the Law became a list. And then the list became a load. The list told us what to do, a means by which we could measure our moral aptitude. To the extent that we fell short of what the list required it became a burdensome load.
So for the weeks to come we will work with a different image. We will explore God’s law as a path.
There’s nothing new about this. In fact, to speak of God’s law as a path is to return to what the Hebrews understood from the get-go. For proof take a look at Psalm 119. This Psalm is the longest single chapter of the Bible, 176 verses of leisurely meditation on the Law of God. Over and over again the Law is spoken of as a path. “I run in the path of your commands for you have set my heart free.”
We begin with an invitation. You are being invited to run in the path of his commands, and in doing so you are being called to a truly free life. What kind of path are you on today? How did you come to find it – and where is it taking you?
God’s law was meant to be a gift, not a burden. Tomorrow we’ll take our first steps on the path that leads to the life we were meant to have.
Prayer:
Grant us grace, O God, as we begin these days of exploration. Your word “is a lamp to our feet and a light unto our path.” Lead us by your law to the life you for which you made us, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
As I sit down to write this I’ve just spent the past hour watching my daughter throw a Lacrosse ball against a concrete wall. Her coach gave her a series of exercises that amounted to 325 throws. The point of the exercises: to master the basics by means of repetition.
Today we begin a series of reflections that will lead us over some familiar ground. In the weeks to come we will linger with that body of material from the Hebrew Scriptures known as the Ten Commandments. Our aim differs little from that of my daughter’s Lacrosse exercises. We will be getting back to basics, mastering fundamentals by means of repetition.
Sounds simple enough. There’s plenty to be said for getting back to basics. There is much good to be derived from repetition.
But if the repetitions are somehow flawed all we do is grow increasingly comfortable with our errors. Doing 325 throws against the wall is good, unless the form of the throw is defective. Then the only thing learned is how to do a poor throw. The same risk confronts us as we turn our attention to the Ten Commandments.
It’s no simple task to untangle the knot of misconceptions wrapped around the Ten Commandments. These ten statements - often called the ‘Decalogue’ or ‘ten words’ – have accumulated a thick crust of faulty associations. If nothing else, common portrayals of the tablets have shaped our imaginations. Two matching pieces of stone, thick and heavy, domed at the top, typically showing parallel lists designated with large Roman numerals.
Somewhere along the way, between Mount Sinai and wherever you are right now, the Law became a list. And then the list became a load. The list told us what to do, a means by which we could measure our moral aptitude. To the extent that we fell short of what the list required it became a burdensome load.
So for the weeks to come we will work with a different image. We will explore God’s law as a path.
There’s nothing new about this. In fact, to speak of God’s law as a path is to return to what the Hebrews understood from the get-go. For proof take a look at Psalm 119. This Psalm is the longest single chapter of the Bible, 176 verses of leisurely meditation on the Law of God. Over and over again the Law is spoken of as a path. “I run in the path of your commands for you have set my heart free.”
We begin with an invitation. You are being invited to run in the path of his commands, and in doing so you are being called to a truly free life. What kind of path are you on today? How did you come to find it – and where is it taking you?
God’s law was meant to be a gift, not a burden. Tomorrow we’ll take our first steps on the path that leads to the life we were meant to have.
Prayer:
Grant us grace, O God, as we begin these days of exploration. Your word “is a lamp to our feet and a light unto our path.” Lead us by your law to the life you for which you made us, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Unbroken and Unchained
We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed . . . (2 Cor. 4:7-12).
What the jailers might have noticed first was his back.
The scars crisscrossed, some seeming older than others. Over the years his skin had been shredded and healed only to be shredded again. Guards who recognized what those scars meant might have marveled that this man was still alive. We too should marvel at what the apostle Paul endured as a servant of Jesus Christ.
In one of his letters Paul gave an account of what following Jesus had meant for him. He didn’t like talking about these things; it sounded like boasting. Nevertheless, in a defense of his ministry, Paul reluctantly shared that serving Christ had meant great labor, imprisonment, countless beatings, and had nearly cost him his life more than once. He continued:
Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea . . . I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked (2 Cor. 11:24-27).
If the Roman guards responsible for Paul had taken note of his scars and marveled in his survival, their deeper amazement would have been in the man himself. Given what Paul endured one might have expected to find a man broken and bitter. Such was not the case. What was most noticeable about Paul – far more noticeable than his back – was his life. The man was in chains, but remarkably free. He had been beaten, but he was not broken.
How is this possible? This question will occupy our thinking for next three weeks. Our primary text will be Paul’s letter from prison written to the Philippians. Alongside Paul’s letter we will place the story of another prisoner. Louis Zamperini enlisted in the Air Force in September 1941. He was held in a Japanese prison camp from 1942-1945, enduring repeated brutalities. His story is told in the best-seller by Laura Hillenbrand, Unbroken. Again, that this man is still alive is a marvel.
Both Paul and Zamperini have incredible stories to tell – but so do you. Every life eventually involves something that pushes us to the point of breaking. Apart from our own choosing we find ourselves living through something and wondering how long we can last or how much more we can take.
Paul said, “We are hard pressed but not crushed.” How are you hard pressed these days? What has pushed you to almost breaking, giving in or giving up, accepting despair as reality and joy as a foolish expectation?
The message you’ll read over and over again in the coming weeks is that to live by grace is to live unbroken. And you can begin to live that way today.
Prayer:
Merciful God, we do not ask for lives marked by ease but for lives marked by grace. Grant that in every hardship and affliction we might discover more of you and thus live as ‘unbroken’ people. By your Spirit, give us peace and joy in every circumstance, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
What the jailers might have noticed first was his back.
The scars crisscrossed, some seeming older than others. Over the years his skin had been shredded and healed only to be shredded again. Guards who recognized what those scars meant might have marveled that this man was still alive. We too should marvel at what the apostle Paul endured as a servant of Jesus Christ.
In one of his letters Paul gave an account of what following Jesus had meant for him. He didn’t like talking about these things; it sounded like boasting. Nevertheless, in a defense of his ministry, Paul reluctantly shared that serving Christ had meant great labor, imprisonment, countless beatings, and had nearly cost him his life more than once. He continued:
Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea . . . I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked (2 Cor. 11:24-27).
If the Roman guards responsible for Paul had taken note of his scars and marveled in his survival, their deeper amazement would have been in the man himself. Given what Paul endured one might have expected to find a man broken and bitter. Such was not the case. What was most noticeable about Paul – far more noticeable than his back – was his life. The man was in chains, but remarkably free. He had been beaten, but he was not broken.
How is this possible? This question will occupy our thinking for next three weeks. Our primary text will be Paul’s letter from prison written to the Philippians. Alongside Paul’s letter we will place the story of another prisoner. Louis Zamperini enlisted in the Air Force in September 1941. He was held in a Japanese prison camp from 1942-1945, enduring repeated brutalities. His story is told in the best-seller by Laura Hillenbrand, Unbroken. Again, that this man is still alive is a marvel.
Both Paul and Zamperini have incredible stories to tell – but so do you. Every life eventually involves something that pushes us to the point of breaking. Apart from our own choosing we find ourselves living through something and wondering how long we can last or how much more we can take.
Paul said, “We are hard pressed but not crushed.” How are you hard pressed these days? What has pushed you to almost breaking, giving in or giving up, accepting despair as reality and joy as a foolish expectation?
The message you’ll read over and over again in the coming weeks is that to live by grace is to live unbroken. And you can begin to live that way today.
Prayer:
Merciful God, we do not ask for lives marked by ease but for lives marked by grace. Grant that in every hardship and affliction we might discover more of you and thus live as ‘unbroken’ people. By your Spirit, give us peace and joy in every circumstance, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Next Move
Magi from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born King of the Jews?” (Matthew 2:2).
Years ago when Tiger Woods was still busy doing commercials and endorsements, I saw a print ad that caught my attention. The photo showed Tiger standing on the edge of a water hazard, calculating. Hands on his hips, eyes on the lie of the ball, he’s clearly assessing the trouble and how to get out of it.
And then at the bottom of the photo, this caption: “It’s what you do next that counts.” What a fitting tag-line for Christmas Eve.
At Christmas we tell a very particular story. We’ve been telling it for weeks through the season of Advent. We will gather tonight and tell it as part of our Christmas Eve worship. This story is Israel’s story. It’s the story of a people and a hope, and in that sense it is our story too.
At Christmas the hope finds fulfillment in a very specific place, among very specific people. Christmas is the story of God entering this world in Jesus. But, it’s what you do next that counts. This particular story calls for a personal response.
Consider Matthew’s account of the Magi from the East. All of the characters in the story of the Magi have access, at some point, to the same information. The question at the heart of the drama is “Where is the Christ to be born?”
Herod wants to know this. The Magi who have come from the east want to know this. The scholars whom Herod consults provide the answer from their knowledge of the scriptures: “Bethlehem in Judea.” There is a moment in the drama when all the players have the same piece of information. The Christ is in Bethlehem. But it’s what you do next that counts.
Herod sets himself in hostile opposition to what he knows. The information presented to him represents an obstacle to be removed, a threat to his power and sense of identity.
For the scholars the information never becomes more than a book report. They issue a written response to Herod, properly footnoted, complete with bibliography. And that’s it. We never see or hear from them again.
And then there are the Magi. They are the only ones who take the information they have and move with it. They persevere in finding what they had sought all along. The information takes them from one place to another – and when they arrive, they worship.
On this Christmas Eve most of us have all the information we need. The information is simple and widely known. Jesus is born in Bethlehem. To use Eugene Peterson’s phrase, God has ‘moved into the neighborhood.’ We conclude our Advent reflections with a question: What will you do with what you know? You can resist it. You can read about it. But maybe you’ll find yourself moved and changed. Maybe you will worship.
It’s what you do next that counts.
Prayer:
These stories are so familiar to us, O God. We acknowledge that they don’t always move us. Sometimes we listen without ever intending to do anything about what we’ve heard. Send your Spirit this Christmas and move us to respond to the good news of your presence among us, we ask in Jesus name. Amen
Years ago when Tiger Woods was still busy doing commercials and endorsements, I saw a print ad that caught my attention. The photo showed Tiger standing on the edge of a water hazard, calculating. Hands on his hips, eyes on the lie of the ball, he’s clearly assessing the trouble and how to get out of it.
And then at the bottom of the photo, this caption: “It’s what you do next that counts.” What a fitting tag-line for Christmas Eve.
At Christmas we tell a very particular story. We’ve been telling it for weeks through the season of Advent. We will gather tonight and tell it as part of our Christmas Eve worship. This story is Israel’s story. It’s the story of a people and a hope, and in that sense it is our story too.
At Christmas the hope finds fulfillment in a very specific place, among very specific people. Christmas is the story of God entering this world in Jesus. But, it’s what you do next that counts. This particular story calls for a personal response.
Consider Matthew’s account of the Magi from the East. All of the characters in the story of the Magi have access, at some point, to the same information. The question at the heart of the drama is “Where is the Christ to be born?”
Herod wants to know this. The Magi who have come from the east want to know this. The scholars whom Herod consults provide the answer from their knowledge of the scriptures: “Bethlehem in Judea.” There is a moment in the drama when all the players have the same piece of information. The Christ is in Bethlehem. But it’s what you do next that counts.
Herod sets himself in hostile opposition to what he knows. The information presented to him represents an obstacle to be removed, a threat to his power and sense of identity.
For the scholars the information never becomes more than a book report. They issue a written response to Herod, properly footnoted, complete with bibliography. And that’s it. We never see or hear from them again.
And then there are the Magi. They are the only ones who take the information they have and move with it. They persevere in finding what they had sought all along. The information takes them from one place to another – and when they arrive, they worship.
On this Christmas Eve most of us have all the information we need. The information is simple and widely known. Jesus is born in Bethlehem. To use Eugene Peterson’s phrase, God has ‘moved into the neighborhood.’ We conclude our Advent reflections with a question: What will you do with what you know? You can resist it. You can read about it. But maybe you’ll find yourself moved and changed. Maybe you will worship.
It’s what you do next that counts.
Prayer:
These stories are so familiar to us, O God. We acknowledge that they don’t always move us. Sometimes we listen without ever intending to do anything about what we’ve heard. Send your Spirit this Christmas and move us to respond to the good news of your presence among us, we ask in Jesus name. Amen
Thursday, December 20, 2012
The Gift of a Good Book
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son . . . (John 3:16)
There’s an irony in the fact that the man who wrote A Christmas Carol, giving us the tight-fisted Ebenezer Scrooge, lost money on the publication of his story.
In the fall of 1843 Charles Dickens and his wife Kate were expecting their fifth child. The writing he was doing at the time was not selling well. He was saddled with a large mortgage and family members were adding to his financial pressures with their own requests for money. In October Dickens began work on A Christmas Carol. The book was finished just before Christmas 1843.
The story is rooted in the soil of social problems that plagued England in the mid 19th century. Dickens was especially troubled by the hardships suffered by the children of London’s poor. The ‘Ghost of Christmas Present’ shows Scrooge the sight of two destitute children, named “ignorance and want.” Dickens’ intent in writing A Christmas Carol was to wage war on ignorance and want, and he labored to advance the cause of education for the poor.
As for publication of the book itself, Dickens and his publishers had different ideas about how the book should be produced. Dickens was determined that A Christmas Carol would be a lavish volume. He ended up using his own money to produce a book with an attractive binding, gilt edged pages, and hand colored illustrations. In addition to this he then set the price of the book low so that everyone could afford it.
One of the most beloved Christmas stories of all time came to us at a great personal cost, born of a heart for the poor. And the first Christmas story came to us in much the same way. In the words of the apostle John, “God so loved the world that he gave his only son” (Jn 3:16).
Charles Dickens gave the world the gift of a good book. God gave the gift of his very life in human form, the love and presence of God embodied. This is what we are called to be as God’s people. This involves both heart and hands.
A Christmas Carol came to us because Dickens’ heart was moved to act on behalf of the poor; the heart wanted to change the lives of real people. His hand possessed a particular skill and he worked at his craft, producing art that would touch the hearts of others.
In some way God has gifted you and calls you to use that gift in a way that is congruent with God’s own heart and his purposes in this world. You need not be a politician or a philanthropist or an artist. Somehow, by God’s grace, you have the capacity to make a difference in another person’s life. After 169 years our hearts are still moved because Charles Dickens gave us the gift of a good book.
How will you do this? What resonates in your heart and what will you attempt in order to make a difference?
Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, for the gift of your son. Grant that we might discover the gift you’ve placed in us and make us eager to share it for the good of others and the glory of your name. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
There’s an irony in the fact that the man who wrote A Christmas Carol, giving us the tight-fisted Ebenezer Scrooge, lost money on the publication of his story.
In the fall of 1843 Charles Dickens and his wife Kate were expecting their fifth child. The writing he was doing at the time was not selling well. He was saddled with a large mortgage and family members were adding to his financial pressures with their own requests for money. In October Dickens began work on A Christmas Carol. The book was finished just before Christmas 1843.
The story is rooted in the soil of social problems that plagued England in the mid 19th century. Dickens was especially troubled by the hardships suffered by the children of London’s poor. The ‘Ghost of Christmas Present’ shows Scrooge the sight of two destitute children, named “ignorance and want.” Dickens’ intent in writing A Christmas Carol was to wage war on ignorance and want, and he labored to advance the cause of education for the poor.
As for publication of the book itself, Dickens and his publishers had different ideas about how the book should be produced. Dickens was determined that A Christmas Carol would be a lavish volume. He ended up using his own money to produce a book with an attractive binding, gilt edged pages, and hand colored illustrations. In addition to this he then set the price of the book low so that everyone could afford it.
One of the most beloved Christmas stories of all time came to us at a great personal cost, born of a heart for the poor. And the first Christmas story came to us in much the same way. In the words of the apostle John, “God so loved the world that he gave his only son” (Jn 3:16).
Charles Dickens gave the world the gift of a good book. God gave the gift of his very life in human form, the love and presence of God embodied. This is what we are called to be as God’s people. This involves both heart and hands.
A Christmas Carol came to us because Dickens’ heart was moved to act on behalf of the poor; the heart wanted to change the lives of real people. His hand possessed a particular skill and he worked at his craft, producing art that would touch the hearts of others.
In some way God has gifted you and calls you to use that gift in a way that is congruent with God’s own heart and his purposes in this world. You need not be a politician or a philanthropist or an artist. Somehow, by God’s grace, you have the capacity to make a difference in another person’s life. After 169 years our hearts are still moved because Charles Dickens gave us the gift of a good book.
How will you do this? What resonates in your heart and what will you attempt in order to make a difference?
Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, for the gift of your son. Grant that we might discover the gift you’ve placed in us and make us eager to share it for the good of others and the glory of your name. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Do the Math
Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth (1 Cor. 1:26).
My children stopped asking me for help with their math years ago.
Back then I was still capable of tutoring them as they worked through whatever it was that had them stumped. However, the effort it required of me was a clue to my kids that math was never my academic strength. They take their math questions to Marnie.
As lacking as I may be in math skills, I can follow Paul’s mathematical reasoning with the Christians in Corinth. This is basic arithmetic, made simpler by the fact that Paul doesn’t actually use numbers. He speaks in generalities. Three times Paul makes his point by use of the phrase ‘not many.’
If you take away the ‘not many’ that leaves a few. A few were wise. A few were influential. A few were of noble birth. But most of them were not. ‘All’ minus ‘a few’ leaves ‘most.’ Most were lacking in wisdom, lacking in social standing, lacking in pedigree. It’s basic math.
For some reason, our minds often do not function according to Paul’s mathematical formula. When we look around a room we are prone to think that most of the people we see have it all together. Along with this we silently carry the weight of being the ‘only one.’
If we’re struggling with a financial crisis we think that most are managing fine while we worry about getting through the month. If our children won’t talk to us we think that everyone else’s families are perfect while wonder what we did wrong. If we’re suffocating in loneliness we look around and think every person we see is surrounded by friends.
Paul would tell us to do the math differently. Yes, in any place where crowds gather you’ll find a few who have it all together. There may even be several. But it is not ‘all.’ You are never the only one in the room struggling with something in your life that you’d rather keep quiet about.
Let’s go one step further. Every person you see has a story, even if they are among the wise and influential and well connected. Even the most well put-together lives have a place where things aren’t tightly nailed down. Again, do the math. You are never the only one on the room covering a wound.
Paul explains why this is so. God is not glorified in our boasting. When we live as if we are sufficient for whatever life brings to us, God remains small and marginal. There is always a point of need. Our boasting is silenced and God’s grace is large and real to us. In what area of your life do you sense your deepest need? In what way are you most dependent on God today?
This is how God works in every story. Look around the room . . . and do the math.
Prayer:
Meet us today, O God, in the place of our deep need. Glorify yourself in our limitations and weakness. And make us mindful of every soul that surrounds us, knowing that all of us have a story. Extend your grace through us, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
My children stopped asking me for help with their math years ago.
Back then I was still capable of tutoring them as they worked through whatever it was that had them stumped. However, the effort it required of me was a clue to my kids that math was never my academic strength. They take their math questions to Marnie.
As lacking as I may be in math skills, I can follow Paul’s mathematical reasoning with the Christians in Corinth. This is basic arithmetic, made simpler by the fact that Paul doesn’t actually use numbers. He speaks in generalities. Three times Paul makes his point by use of the phrase ‘not many.’
If you take away the ‘not many’ that leaves a few. A few were wise. A few were influential. A few were of noble birth. But most of them were not. ‘All’ minus ‘a few’ leaves ‘most.’ Most were lacking in wisdom, lacking in social standing, lacking in pedigree. It’s basic math.
For some reason, our minds often do not function according to Paul’s mathematical formula. When we look around a room we are prone to think that most of the people we see have it all together. Along with this we silently carry the weight of being the ‘only one.’
If we’re struggling with a financial crisis we think that most are managing fine while we worry about getting through the month. If our children won’t talk to us we think that everyone else’s families are perfect while wonder what we did wrong. If we’re suffocating in loneliness we look around and think every person we see is surrounded by friends.
Paul would tell us to do the math differently. Yes, in any place where crowds gather you’ll find a few who have it all together. There may even be several. But it is not ‘all.’ You are never the only one in the room struggling with something in your life that you’d rather keep quiet about.
Let’s go one step further. Every person you see has a story, even if they are among the wise and influential and well connected. Even the most well put-together lives have a place where things aren’t tightly nailed down. Again, do the math. You are never the only one on the room covering a wound.
Paul explains why this is so. God is not glorified in our boasting. When we live as if we are sufficient for whatever life brings to us, God remains small and marginal. There is always a point of need. Our boasting is silenced and God’s grace is large and real to us. In what area of your life do you sense your deepest need? In what way are you most dependent on God today?
This is how God works in every story. Look around the room . . . and do the math.
Prayer:
Meet us today, O God, in the place of our deep need. Glorify yourself in our limitations and weakness. And make us mindful of every soul that surrounds us, knowing that all of us have a story. Extend your grace through us, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Sunday, December 09, 2012
The Scorecard
. . . not many of you were wise according to worldly standards (1 Corinthians 1:26).
Over the weekend the winner of the 2012 Heisman Trophy was announced.
There is usually an element of drama or ‘hype’ surrounding this event. The Heisman is awarded annually to the most outstanding college football player in the country, a selection made by 928 votes: 870 journalists, 57 former Heisman winners, and 1 vote representing ‘the fans.’
This year the award went to Texas A&M quarterback Johnny Manziel, nicknamed ‘Johnny Football.’ This is a historic selection in that Manziel is the first freshman to win the Heisman.
On Saturday evening before the announcement was made, my son and I were in the car listening to ESPN radio as a panel of commentators debated the merits of this year’s contenders for the Heisman. What criteria should be considered and how much weight should each factor receive in determining the most fitting recipient of the award? How do age, overall record, and position played factor into the decision?
In other words, what is the scorecard for determining the best college football player in the country? Apparently, it’s not a precise science. The process is hardly free of bias and subjectivity. But the scorecard exists and this year a freshman quarterback met the standards.
Scorecards are not restricted to the world of sports. The world we live in has a scorecard and we live with it every day.
We will receive no trophy. We are not the focus of frenzied media coverage. But in some way or another we’re continually asking ourselves if we measure up. We spend our energies every day proving to others that we do. The scorecard might be as simple as what we possess, what we’ve achieved, and who we know. The game is exhausting.
In Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth he reminded them that God’s scorecard differed greatly from the scorecard of the culture in which they lived: noble birth, wisdom, power and all the trappings of success – none of these things mattered when it came to God’s grace. God’s scorecard is not at all like ours.
At this season of the year we need to hear Paul’s words again. We need to hear them because Christmas is a clear reminder of God’s disregard for the world’s scorecard. Whenever we tell the story about a young virgin, shepherds in the field, and a baby in a manger we see the truth set forth plainly: God chooses the weak and foolish to silence the arrogant boasting the powerful and wise. We’ll spend this week reflecting on the Christmas story in light of Paul’s surprising words.
What’s the scorecard that you’ve been using as you live your life? What are the criteria by which you determine that you’re doing ok?
Prayer:
Too many of us, O God, know the Christmas story but know little about your grace. We live our days using a scorecard that you’ve not given us, striving to prove our worth. Bring this familiar story to life in us that we might know your power and love through the gift of your son, in whose name we pray. Amen.
Over the weekend the winner of the 2012 Heisman Trophy was announced.
There is usually an element of drama or ‘hype’ surrounding this event. The Heisman is awarded annually to the most outstanding college football player in the country, a selection made by 928 votes: 870 journalists, 57 former Heisman winners, and 1 vote representing ‘the fans.’
This year the award went to Texas A&M quarterback Johnny Manziel, nicknamed ‘Johnny Football.’ This is a historic selection in that Manziel is the first freshman to win the Heisman.
On Saturday evening before the announcement was made, my son and I were in the car listening to ESPN radio as a panel of commentators debated the merits of this year’s contenders for the Heisman. What criteria should be considered and how much weight should each factor receive in determining the most fitting recipient of the award? How do age, overall record, and position played factor into the decision?
In other words, what is the scorecard for determining the best college football player in the country? Apparently, it’s not a precise science. The process is hardly free of bias and subjectivity. But the scorecard exists and this year a freshman quarterback met the standards.
Scorecards are not restricted to the world of sports. The world we live in has a scorecard and we live with it every day.
We will receive no trophy. We are not the focus of frenzied media coverage. But in some way or another we’re continually asking ourselves if we measure up. We spend our energies every day proving to others that we do. The scorecard might be as simple as what we possess, what we’ve achieved, and who we know. The game is exhausting.
In Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth he reminded them that God’s scorecard differed greatly from the scorecard of the culture in which they lived: noble birth, wisdom, power and all the trappings of success – none of these things mattered when it came to God’s grace. God’s scorecard is not at all like ours.
At this season of the year we need to hear Paul’s words again. We need to hear them because Christmas is a clear reminder of God’s disregard for the world’s scorecard. Whenever we tell the story about a young virgin, shepherds in the field, and a baby in a manger we see the truth set forth plainly: God chooses the weak and foolish to silence the arrogant boasting the powerful and wise. We’ll spend this week reflecting on the Christmas story in light of Paul’s surprising words.
What’s the scorecard that you’ve been using as you live your life? What are the criteria by which you determine that you’re doing ok?
Prayer:
Too many of us, O God, know the Christmas story but know little about your grace. We live our days using a scorecard that you’ve not given us, striving to prove our worth. Bring this familiar story to life in us that we might know your power and love through the gift of your son, in whose name we pray. Amen.
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
"O Little Town . . . "
"Sola Scriptura"
Sunday mornings @ 9:00 a.m.
Peachtree Presbyterian Church
Rm. 4303
The Advent 2012 Series:
Dec. 2 – Bethlehem: A Place of Surprises (1 Sam 16:1-13)
Dec. 9 – Bethlehem: A Place of Hope (Micah 5:1-6 and Matt. 2:1-16)
Dec. 16 – Bethlehem: A Place of Suffering and Grief (Matt. 2:16-18)
Dec. 23 – Bethlehem: A Place of Worship (Luke 2:15-20)
The origin of this much loved Christmas hymn is not specific. The author of the text was the renowned preacher and pulpiteer Phillips Brooks (1835-93). Brooks made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 1865, traveling in Bethlehem on Christmas Eve. Stories vary here, some saying that Brooks was inspired by Christmas Eve worship in the Church of the Nativity; others mention a ride by horseback to the Shepherds Field. Brooks records both events in writing – but never attributes the hymn directly to a specific moment. It was three years later that Brooks penned the words we sing today, very likely inspired by his memories of the 1865 pilgrimage. He wrote the words for the children’s choir of the Sunday school, entrusting the text to the church organist, Lewis H. Redner, for a suitable tune. Redner is reported to have struggled with the task until the last hours before Sunday worship. The hymn was first sung on December 27, 1868 and published in 1874.
Tuesday, December 04, 2012
December's Demands
But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his son . . . (Galatians 4:4-7)
The fullness of time. We know all about that, don’t we?
After all, it is December. With the passing of each day we feel time getting full. Soon we’ll pass a threshold into the back half of the month and time will be crammed. Many of us, remembering our catatonic exhaustion following Christmases past, have promised that it won’t happen again this year. We’re fooling ourselves.
December comes bringing the same relentless roll call of parties and programs and practices. Stores are crowded, traffic is thick. We want to be polite, but we’re easily perturbed. Some are on edge, harried and hurried. The big kids have exams and the little kids have expectations. Honestly, we’ve all got expectations.
I’ve got a calendar on my office wall. The pages of the year are held together by a spiral binding, a different piece of artwork adorning each month. As one might expect, the wall calendar has been turned to show the month of December. The days of the month are represented by nice crisp squares. Every square is blank. The days are wide open. This calendar is lying to me.
The calendar I actually use is on my computer and my phone. Unlike my wall calendar, the lines that border each day are cluttered. And it’s getting more that way. This is December, the fullness of time indeed.
Of course, what I’m describing is not quite what Paul had in mind when he wrote about the ‘fullness of time.’ Scholars and commentators have much to say when they try to unpack the theological significance of Paul’s phrase. The basic idea seems to be that God sent Jesus into the world at just the right time. Jesus came to us according to God’s plan, accomplishing God’s purposes, all in God’s timing.
My definition lacks exegetical precision, but it retains that basic idea. Christmas comes according to God’s plans and purposes. It comes whether we’re ready or not. The fullness of time has little to do with our crowded calendars. This is about God’s timing. I like John Calvin’s comment on Paul’s words.
At what time it was expedient that the Son of God should be revealed to the world, it belonged to God alone to judge and determine. This consideration ought to restrain all curiosity. Let no man presume to be dissatisfied with the secret purposes of God, and raise a dispute why Christ did not appear sooner (Calvin, Commentary on Galatians)
With December’s demands we easily forget that Christmas is God’s project. God comes to us in the fullness of time. God comes to us when our time is full, crammed and committed. God comes to us at the right moment, according to God’s own plan. As Calvin said, let none of us presume to be dissatisfied with God’s timing and purposes. We’re going to spend the remainder of the week thinking about God’s timing.
The month is still young. What kinds of demands is December making on you?
Prayer:
Find us, O God, in the fullness of time. In the midst of December’s demands grant us your presence yet again. In all our striving, grant us grace and make us graceful, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
The fullness of time. We know all about that, don’t we?
After all, it is December. With the passing of each day we feel time getting full. Soon we’ll pass a threshold into the back half of the month and time will be crammed. Many of us, remembering our catatonic exhaustion following Christmases past, have promised that it won’t happen again this year. We’re fooling ourselves.
December comes bringing the same relentless roll call of parties and programs and practices. Stores are crowded, traffic is thick. We want to be polite, but we’re easily perturbed. Some are on edge, harried and hurried. The big kids have exams and the little kids have expectations. Honestly, we’ve all got expectations.
I’ve got a calendar on my office wall. The pages of the year are held together by a spiral binding, a different piece of artwork adorning each month. As one might expect, the wall calendar has been turned to show the month of December. The days of the month are represented by nice crisp squares. Every square is blank. The days are wide open. This calendar is lying to me.
The calendar I actually use is on my computer and my phone. Unlike my wall calendar, the lines that border each day are cluttered. And it’s getting more that way. This is December, the fullness of time indeed.
Of course, what I’m describing is not quite what Paul had in mind when he wrote about the ‘fullness of time.’ Scholars and commentators have much to say when they try to unpack the theological significance of Paul’s phrase. The basic idea seems to be that God sent Jesus into the world at just the right time. Jesus came to us according to God’s plan, accomplishing God’s purposes, all in God’s timing.
My definition lacks exegetical precision, but it retains that basic idea. Christmas comes according to God’s plans and purposes. It comes whether we’re ready or not. The fullness of time has little to do with our crowded calendars. This is about God’s timing. I like John Calvin’s comment on Paul’s words.
At what time it was expedient that the Son of God should be revealed to the world, it belonged to God alone to judge and determine. This consideration ought to restrain all curiosity. Let no man presume to be dissatisfied with the secret purposes of God, and raise a dispute why Christ did not appear sooner (Calvin, Commentary on Galatians)
With December’s demands we easily forget that Christmas is God’s project. God comes to us in the fullness of time. God comes to us when our time is full, crammed and committed. God comes to us at the right moment, according to God’s own plan. As Calvin said, let none of us presume to be dissatisfied with God’s timing and purposes. We’re going to spend the remainder of the week thinking about God’s timing.
The month is still young. What kinds of demands is December making on you?
Prayer:
Find us, O God, in the fullness of time. In the midst of December’s demands grant us your presence yet again. In all our striving, grant us grace and make us graceful, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
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