Bread and Wine Reading: "The Common Criminal", Fleming Rutledge
Scripture Reading: Matthew 11: 2-6
When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”
“Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at Jesus.” Well, of course we wouldn’t. After all, isn’t that the same as offending God? And yet…I think that we Christians in trying to grow our faith, in trying to believe in this whole story that on many levels is unbelievable, in trying to come up with a version of the Gospel that makes sense often miss who Jesus was (and who God is). First of all, Jesus was human because if he wasn’t, that would mean that God was just walking around the earth like some spiritual figment of our imagination. Jesus was also divine, the very embodiment of God here on this earth. And yet this human Jesus, this Christ Divine, died the unthinkable death upon a cross—the death of but a common criminal.
In the big scheme of things, that could be a little embarrassing for us Christians. We identify with old John who was somewhat impatient with Jesus for not “showing his stuff”, for not claiming who he was with all the bells and whistles available. It is hard for us to think of Jesus hanging there. (In fact, we Protestants have “cleaned the act up” altogether, proudly displaying our “empty crosses”, laden with gold or brass or some other precious metal.) The truth is, we’d be more comfortable with the image of some sort of half-human, half-divine superhero that could leap tall Pharisees in a single bound, shower healing and comfort on the world, and later that week break the chains of prison, thereby saving himself from needless death at the last minute so that his work could continue and the next needy soul could be helped. But that is not who Jesus was. That is not who God is. And sadly, that IS who we are.
It was clearly we who hanged Jesus on a cross, a victim of our greed, and our fear, and our basic need to preserve life as we know it. It was clearly we who did not understand that Jesus offered something totally different. It is clearly we who are on some level still looking for a superhero. And yet, God, in God’s infinite and unfathomable love for us, loves us still. In fact, God loves us so much as to come into our world as the lowliest of “lowly’s”, endure rejection by those such as us, be tried and sentenced, hang there like a common criminal alone and in pain, and then raise US up to start again.
In her writing, Fleming Rutledge says that “when you reflect upon Jesus Christ hanging on the cross of shame, you understand the depth and weight of human sin…How do we measure the gravity of sin and the incomparable vastness of God’s love for us? By looking at the magnitude of what God has done for us in Jesus, who became like a common criminal for our sake…And at the very same moment you will come to know the true reality, the true joy and gladness, of the good news of salvation in Jesus Christ our Lord.”
Discussion Questions:
1.) What about the image of the cross is so hard for us to look at?
2.) What images of sin do you hold? How do those images reflect upon your faith in Christ?
3.) What images do you hold onto of Jesus Christ?
So go forth toward the cross, as hard as it might be, for there is true joy and gladness!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Keeping Watch
Bread and Wine Reading: "Keeping Watch", Philip Berrigan
Scripture Reading: Mark 13: 32-37
“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”
In this writing, Berrigan cites that “psychological studies reveal that Americans live at less than forty percent awareness, as though our minds and spirits cringe before the banality and ugliness of national life.” It’s as if, then, most of us are living our lives “asleep at the wheel.” I would submit that part of the reason is that we’re overworked and overwhelmed, emotionally forced to pick and choose that with which we can really deal. I think another contributor to the problem is that we’re just too comfortable. Our lives are lived in stupendous wealth compared with most of the world and we continually want more and hastily want to preserve what we have at all costs. We spend more time looking for what we can acquire rather than being attuned to the rest of the world. Lastly, we Western Christians live in a society where individualism rules. We are taught to take care of ourselves and that others should take care of themselves. And, with that, we are taught that it’s really sort of rude to even ask for something or to offer something, lest someone’s dignity might be offended. We live next to one another yet, for the most part, we live by ourselves and in the process we have forgotten what it means to cultivate an awareness of the world in which we live.
And now the world in which we live is shaking at its very foundations as wars continue and escalate, as financial giants fall victim to greed and the gross misconception that wealth and power is acceptable at any cost, and as our whole society struggles to redefine itself in the wake of unemployment, foreclosures, and a new class of the poor like we’ve never known before. How did we get here? Were we not paying attention?
Keep alert! Keep awake! Many read the Scripture passage as a warning to be ready in case Jesus returns, in case the Kingdom of God comes to be and we are not paying attention. Keep alert! Keep awake! Because, you see, this is not merely a call to be ready in case God comes; it is a reminder to open up our minds and our lives to the God that is already here, calling us to be co-creators of the fullness of the Reign of God. The Kingdom of God is all around us, wrenching and groaning as it grows toward fullness. Keep alert! Keep awake! The calling that we have is to an awareness of what is going on. Where are the injustices in the world? Where are the places where our understanding of the Gospel of Jesus Christ compels us to speak out, to speak on behalf, and to speak as an agent for justice and peace? And where are those places that we are called to listen? Keep alert! Keep awake! The Kingdom of God has already begun. Berrigan states: “Watch, learn, act—the formula for a faithful and sane life.” In this Lenten season, we are called to heighten our awareness—of ourselves, of the world around us, and of God’s interaction in our lives. This is the season to awake to what God is calling us to do and what God is calling us to be.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What are those areas where we fail to “watch”, where we are seemingly “asleep at the wheel”?
2.) What things in our lives affect our sense of awareness?
3.) In what ways does our sense of awareness affect the way we live out our faith?
So go forth and watch, learn, and act. Keep awake!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Mark 13: 32-37
“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”
In this writing, Berrigan cites that “psychological studies reveal that Americans live at less than forty percent awareness, as though our minds and spirits cringe before the banality and ugliness of national life.” It’s as if, then, most of us are living our lives “asleep at the wheel.” I would submit that part of the reason is that we’re overworked and overwhelmed, emotionally forced to pick and choose that with which we can really deal. I think another contributor to the problem is that we’re just too comfortable. Our lives are lived in stupendous wealth compared with most of the world and we continually want more and hastily want to preserve what we have at all costs. We spend more time looking for what we can acquire rather than being attuned to the rest of the world. Lastly, we Western Christians live in a society where individualism rules. We are taught to take care of ourselves and that others should take care of themselves. And, with that, we are taught that it’s really sort of rude to even ask for something or to offer something, lest someone’s dignity might be offended. We live next to one another yet, for the most part, we live by ourselves and in the process we have forgotten what it means to cultivate an awareness of the world in which we live.
And now the world in which we live is shaking at its very foundations as wars continue and escalate, as financial giants fall victim to greed and the gross misconception that wealth and power is acceptable at any cost, and as our whole society struggles to redefine itself in the wake of unemployment, foreclosures, and a new class of the poor like we’ve never known before. How did we get here? Were we not paying attention?
Keep alert! Keep awake! Many read the Scripture passage as a warning to be ready in case Jesus returns, in case the Kingdom of God comes to be and we are not paying attention. Keep alert! Keep awake! Because, you see, this is not merely a call to be ready in case God comes; it is a reminder to open up our minds and our lives to the God that is already here, calling us to be co-creators of the fullness of the Reign of God. The Kingdom of God is all around us, wrenching and groaning as it grows toward fullness. Keep alert! Keep awake! The calling that we have is to an awareness of what is going on. Where are the injustices in the world? Where are the places where our understanding of the Gospel of Jesus Christ compels us to speak out, to speak on behalf, and to speak as an agent for justice and peace? And where are those places that we are called to listen? Keep alert! Keep awake! The Kingdom of God has already begun. Berrigan states: “Watch, learn, act—the formula for a faithful and sane life.” In this Lenten season, we are called to heighten our awareness—of ourselves, of the world around us, and of God’s interaction in our lives. This is the season to awake to what God is calling us to do and what God is calling us to be.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What are those areas where we fail to “watch”, where we are seemingly “asleep at the wheel”?
2.) What things in our lives affect our sense of awareness?
3.) In what ways does our sense of awareness affect the way we live out our faith?
So go forth and watch, learn, and act. Keep awake!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
The Center
Bread and Wine Reading: "The Center", J. Heinrich Arnold
Scripture Reading: Malachi 3: 1-3
See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple. The messenger of the covenant in whom you delight—indeed, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts. But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness.
Arnold begins his writing by saying that “every believer knows that Christ went the way of the cross for our sakes. But it is not enough just to know this. Each of must find the cross.” But I’m wondering how many of us truly want to find the cross. We like our cross images that we place on our altars, wear as jewelry, or hang from the ceilings over the naves of our sanctuaries—those “cleaned-up” images that for us represent eternal life and salvation, the hallmark of our welcoming savior. But Arnold claims that those images are not enough, that they are only part of the story. As he says, “If we truly love [Christ], we will love everything in him; not only his compassion and mercy, but his sharpness too. It is his sharpness that prunes and purifies…Christ’s love is not the soft love of human emotion, but a burning fire that cleanses and sears.”
I am reminded of the movement early in Handel’s Messiah (Part I, Movement 6, usually), "And He Shall Purify the Sons of Levi". In it, the image of the “refiner’s fire” implies some pain and even, perhaps, despair that people must go through to be one with God. Now remember that refining requires intense heat to burn away the impurities and set free the pure metal. To work with the metal, you have to get close to the fire, dangerous as that may be. The image depicts God as a blazing fire at the center that impurities cannot withstand. But getting close means that we have to enter the danger and risk being changed. We have to endure our own impurities, our own sins, being burned away until we are made new.
What a great image for the cross! It’s not a “cleaned-up” accessory or object of adornment. The Cross in its truest and purest form is a white-hot fire burning its way into the center of our hearts by scorching all in its path. The cross is the center, the intersection, between who we are and who we are meant to be. And at the cross, with all that stands between us and God falling away as burned embers do, God takes us at our purest, at our most vulnerable, and raises us up. This is the place where all are reconciled to God.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does that say to you that each of us must find the cross?
2.) What images of Christ does this evoke for you? What images are uncomfortable for you?
3.) What keeps you from drawing near to this fire that is Christ? What is it that you are trying to save?
So go forth, walk into the fire that you might be made pure!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Malachi 3: 1-3
See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple. The messenger of the covenant in whom you delight—indeed, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts. But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness.
Arnold begins his writing by saying that “every believer knows that Christ went the way of the cross for our sakes. But it is not enough just to know this. Each of must find the cross.” But I’m wondering how many of us truly want to find the cross. We like our cross images that we place on our altars, wear as jewelry, or hang from the ceilings over the naves of our sanctuaries—those “cleaned-up” images that for us represent eternal life and salvation, the hallmark of our welcoming savior. But Arnold claims that those images are not enough, that they are only part of the story. As he says, “If we truly love [Christ], we will love everything in him; not only his compassion and mercy, but his sharpness too. It is his sharpness that prunes and purifies…Christ’s love is not the soft love of human emotion, but a burning fire that cleanses and sears.”
I am reminded of the movement early in Handel’s Messiah (Part I, Movement 6, usually), "And He Shall Purify the Sons of Levi". In it, the image of the “refiner’s fire” implies some pain and even, perhaps, despair that people must go through to be one with God. Now remember that refining requires intense heat to burn away the impurities and set free the pure metal. To work with the metal, you have to get close to the fire, dangerous as that may be. The image depicts God as a blazing fire at the center that impurities cannot withstand. But getting close means that we have to enter the danger and risk being changed. We have to endure our own impurities, our own sins, being burned away until we are made new.
What a great image for the cross! It’s not a “cleaned-up” accessory or object of adornment. The Cross in its truest and purest form is a white-hot fire burning its way into the center of our hearts by scorching all in its path. The cross is the center, the intersection, between who we are and who we are meant to be. And at the cross, with all that stands between us and God falling away as burned embers do, God takes us at our purest, at our most vulnerable, and raises us up. This is the place where all are reconciled to God.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does that say to you that each of us must find the cross?
2.) What images of Christ does this evoke for you? What images are uncomfortable for you?
3.) What keeps you from drawing near to this fire that is Christ? What is it that you are trying to save?
So go forth, walk into the fire that you might be made pure!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Monday, February 25, 2013
Followers, Not Admirers
Bread and Wine Reading: "Followers, Not Admirers", Soren Kierkegaard
Scripture Reading: Matthew 4: 18-22
As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.
We like this Scripture. It is the beginning of Jesus gathering together his disciples, those who would be with him through his ministry, and those who would accompany him as he began spreading the Good News. I’m wondering, though, how many truly understood what they were actually signing up to do. The rest of the Gospels usually depict these men following Jesus around, asking questions, and often-times looking like a somewhat bumbling group as they crawl on top of each other clamoring to be named first. But this was a big deal. They were changing their whole lives. There was no going back. And ahead of them lay a call to travel out of comfortable boundaries, stretch one’s mind and one’s faith beyond the usual grounds, encounter rejection and possibly even expulsion from “acceptable” society, and ultimately be left alone standing at the foot of the cross. This was not going to be a safe journey!
Kierkegaard reminds us that “Christ came into the world with the purpose of saving, not instructing it.” He goes on to lay out the difference between a follower of Christ, one who strives to be Christ and follows Christ’s lead beyond what is easily seen and planned, and an admirer, one who, though looking to Christ, chooses to keep oneself partially detached and at a safe distance. There are lots of admirers of Christ in the world. They are willing to follow Christ as long as the journey stays within the acceptable boundaries of doctrines and definitions, rules and regulations. They are willing to follow Christ and worship Christ as long as they can maintain their secure and stable lives. And they are willing to follow Christ as long as the blessings are plentiful and abundant and they are not drawn too far into social or physical peril. After all, God protects us, right? But admirable though that may be, that is not what Christ calls us to do.
We are not called to stand at a safe distance and admire what Christ does, even emulate Jesus’ very life when it is feasible and fits well into our own. We are, rather, called to follow God into the deepest mysteries of life. We are called to follow Christ all the way to the cross (and you’ll remember how that came out!) But there, at the foot of the cross, we are raised to new life. So, in this Lenten season, shift your focus beyond admiring Christ and become a true follower. It is hard, even risky, but the glory waiting for you within the mystery of God is beyond anything that you could even imagine.
Discussion Questions:1.) What reasons do you have for maintaining a “safe distance” from Christ?
2.) In what ways are you an “admirer” of Christ and in what ways do you think you are truly a follower?
3.) Kierkegaard contends that being a true follower requires sacrifice. What sacrifices do you think we are called to make in this 21st century society?
So go forth, and follow Christ to the Cross!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Matthew 4: 18-22
As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.
We like this Scripture. It is the beginning of Jesus gathering together his disciples, those who would be with him through his ministry, and those who would accompany him as he began spreading the Good News. I’m wondering, though, how many truly understood what they were actually signing up to do. The rest of the Gospels usually depict these men following Jesus around, asking questions, and often-times looking like a somewhat bumbling group as they crawl on top of each other clamoring to be named first. But this was a big deal. They were changing their whole lives. There was no going back. And ahead of them lay a call to travel out of comfortable boundaries, stretch one’s mind and one’s faith beyond the usual grounds, encounter rejection and possibly even expulsion from “acceptable” society, and ultimately be left alone standing at the foot of the cross. This was not going to be a safe journey!
Kierkegaard reminds us that “Christ came into the world with the purpose of saving, not instructing it.” He goes on to lay out the difference between a follower of Christ, one who strives to be Christ and follows Christ’s lead beyond what is easily seen and planned, and an admirer, one who, though looking to Christ, chooses to keep oneself partially detached and at a safe distance. There are lots of admirers of Christ in the world. They are willing to follow Christ as long as the journey stays within the acceptable boundaries of doctrines and definitions, rules and regulations. They are willing to follow Christ and worship Christ as long as they can maintain their secure and stable lives. And they are willing to follow Christ as long as the blessings are plentiful and abundant and they are not drawn too far into social or physical peril. After all, God protects us, right? But admirable though that may be, that is not what Christ calls us to do.
We are not called to stand at a safe distance and admire what Christ does, even emulate Jesus’ very life when it is feasible and fits well into our own. We are, rather, called to follow God into the deepest mysteries of life. We are called to follow Christ all the way to the cross (and you’ll remember how that came out!) But there, at the foot of the cross, we are raised to new life. So, in this Lenten season, shift your focus beyond admiring Christ and become a true follower. It is hard, even risky, but the glory waiting for you within the mystery of God is beyond anything that you could even imagine.
Discussion Questions:1.) What reasons do you have for maintaining a “safe distance” from Christ?
2.) In what ways are you an “admirer” of Christ and in what ways do you think you are truly a follower?
3.) Kierkegaard contends that being a true follower requires sacrifice. What sacrifices do you think we are called to make in this 21st century society?
So go forth, and follow Christ to the Cross!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Sunday, February 24, 2013
Discipleship and the Cross
Bread and Wine Reading: "Discipleship and the Cross", Dietrich Bonhoeffer
Scripture Reading: Mark 8: 31-34
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.
Bonhoeffer reminds us that “death on the cross means to suffer and to die as one rejected and expelled.” Those words—rejected and expelled—are not typical “God-language.” That is not what God does. That is what we do. Bonhoeffer claims that from the very beginning, the Church has taken exception to the idea of Jesus’ suffering. Well, of course we have. It’s incredibly uncomfortable to think that humanity, of which we are a part, would inflict this upon our Lord whom we love.
I think that’s why somewhere along the way it was easier and more comfortable to try to make sense of the whole thing by doctrinally professing that God somehow pre-ordained Jesus’ suffering, that God sent the human part of Godself into the world with the purpose of suffering. I, for one, struggle with that. I’m pretty clear that Jesus’ suffering was not inflicted by God. Joan Chittister, in her book In Search of Belief, describes the suffering of Jesus as “a very human thing”. In fact, she contends that the phrase “Jesus suffered” “may be the two most human words in Scripture.”
The truth is, the suffering of Jesus was part of what made Jesus human. It is also part of the way with which we can identify with that humanness. In our very human suffering, we are connected and bound to the Divine, the God who chose not to suffer for us but to be human enough to walk with us through our humanness, through our suffering. And, I would contend, how many gods have done that? How many “gods”--the god of wealth?....the god of popularity?...the god of security?...the god of control?—how many of them are there at the bowels of our existence, at the very core, at our deepest and most profound suffering? And, more importantly, how many of them can continue walking with you until you are raised to glory?
Bonhoeffer said that “discipleship is commitment to the suffering Christ”. It is following Christ through all that is human that you may experience all that is Divine.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What images do the idea of being “rejected and expelled” as a depiction of suffering hold for you?
2.) What are the “gods” of your existence and how do those “gods” interact with suffering?
3.) What, for you, is discipleship as commitment to the suffering Christ?
So go forth, denying yourself, suffering with Christ, and living the life of a true disciple!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Mark 8: 31-34
Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.
Bonhoeffer reminds us that “death on the cross means to suffer and to die as one rejected and expelled.” Those words—rejected and expelled—are not typical “God-language.” That is not what God does. That is what we do. Bonhoeffer claims that from the very beginning, the Church has taken exception to the idea of Jesus’ suffering. Well, of course we have. It’s incredibly uncomfortable to think that humanity, of which we are a part, would inflict this upon our Lord whom we love.
I think that’s why somewhere along the way it was easier and more comfortable to try to make sense of the whole thing by doctrinally professing that God somehow pre-ordained Jesus’ suffering, that God sent the human part of Godself into the world with the purpose of suffering. I, for one, struggle with that. I’m pretty clear that Jesus’ suffering was not inflicted by God. Joan Chittister, in her book In Search of Belief, describes the suffering of Jesus as “a very human thing”. In fact, she contends that the phrase “Jesus suffered” “may be the two most human words in Scripture.”
The truth is, the suffering of Jesus was part of what made Jesus human. It is also part of the way with which we can identify with that humanness. In our very human suffering, we are connected and bound to the Divine, the God who chose not to suffer for us but to be human enough to walk with us through our humanness, through our suffering. And, I would contend, how many gods have done that? How many “gods”--the god of wealth?....the god of popularity?...the god of security?...the god of control?—how many of them are there at the bowels of our existence, at the very core, at our deepest and most profound suffering? And, more importantly, how many of them can continue walking with you until you are raised to glory?
Bonhoeffer said that “discipleship is commitment to the suffering Christ”. It is following Christ through all that is human that you may experience all that is Divine.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What images do the idea of being “rejected and expelled” as a depiction of suffering hold for you?
2.) What are the “gods” of your existence and how do those “gods” interact with suffering?
3.) What, for you, is discipleship as commitment to the suffering Christ?
So go forth, denying yourself, suffering with Christ, and living the life of a true disciple!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Saturday, February 23, 2013
To Know the Cross
Bread and Wine Reading: "To Know the Cross", Thomas Merton
Scripture Reading: Romans 5: 1-5
Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.
Thomas Merton begins this reading by telling us that “the Christian must not only accept suffering: he must make it holy.” That is probably strange to most of us. Suffering is bad; suffering is unwanted; suffering is something that we all try to avoid. How, then, can suffering be holy?
Suffering happens. I don’t think it’s helpful to dismiss it as the “will of God”, as if God is somehow sitting off somewhere calculating who to inflict next. God is not like that. We all have needs. We will all suffer. And where is God? There…the place God is…is in the midst of all of the suffering. God walks with us through it, loving us and holding us, and gives us a glimpse of what is to come. God, remember, was there, even on the cross. If nothing else, the suffering in the world reveals the heart of God, reveals all this is holy.
Paul said it better: suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and character produces hope…God’s love poured into our hearts. He was right. It is a celebration. Because, you see, when we suffer, when we hurt, when the comforts of our lives are even momentarily stripped away, we are capable of seeing hope. We are capable of imagining something new. Suffering changes our perspectives and reframes what comes next in our lives. It once again reminds us what God has done and what God will do. And it gives us the ability, finally, to see things differently.
Joan Chittister says that “I have discovered over time that the cross is supposed to take its toll on us. It forms us to find God in the shadows of life. Ironically enough, it is the cross that teaches us hope…It is this hope that carries us from stage to stage in life, singing and dancing around dark corners.”
God is continually giving newness. God is continually reframing every frame of our life until all of Creation has been brought about right. God is continually giving us the opportunity to glimpse what lies ahead, to see beauty even before it exists. Even in this season of Lent, when we are surrounded by reminders of suffering, we are given holy glimpses of what is ahead. If you count the 40 days of Lent, they do not include Sundays. The Sundays of Lent are known as “little Easters”, opportunities to glimpse and celebrate the Resurrection even in the midst of the darkness. That is the cause for celebration about which Paul wrote.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What, for you, makes suffering “holy”?
2.) In what ways do you see that suffering changes our perspectives?
3.) What hope do you see in suffering?
So go forth, singing and dancing around dark corners for you are indeed on holy ground!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Romans 5: 1-5
Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand; and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.
Thomas Merton begins this reading by telling us that “the Christian must not only accept suffering: he must make it holy.” That is probably strange to most of us. Suffering is bad; suffering is unwanted; suffering is something that we all try to avoid. How, then, can suffering be holy?
Suffering happens. I don’t think it’s helpful to dismiss it as the “will of God”, as if God is somehow sitting off somewhere calculating who to inflict next. God is not like that. We all have needs. We will all suffer. And where is God? There…the place God is…is in the midst of all of the suffering. God walks with us through it, loving us and holding us, and gives us a glimpse of what is to come. God, remember, was there, even on the cross. If nothing else, the suffering in the world reveals the heart of God, reveals all this is holy.
Paul said it better: suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and character produces hope…God’s love poured into our hearts. He was right. It is a celebration. Because, you see, when we suffer, when we hurt, when the comforts of our lives are even momentarily stripped away, we are capable of seeing hope. We are capable of imagining something new. Suffering changes our perspectives and reframes what comes next in our lives. It once again reminds us what God has done and what God will do. And it gives us the ability, finally, to see things differently.
Joan Chittister says that “I have discovered over time that the cross is supposed to take its toll on us. It forms us to find God in the shadows of life. Ironically enough, it is the cross that teaches us hope…It is this hope that carries us from stage to stage in life, singing and dancing around dark corners.”
God is continually giving newness. God is continually reframing every frame of our life until all of Creation has been brought about right. God is continually giving us the opportunity to glimpse what lies ahead, to see beauty even before it exists. Even in this season of Lent, when we are surrounded by reminders of suffering, we are given holy glimpses of what is ahead. If you count the 40 days of Lent, they do not include Sundays. The Sundays of Lent are known as “little Easters”, opportunities to glimpse and celebrate the Resurrection even in the midst of the darkness. That is the cause for celebration about which Paul wrote.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What, for you, makes suffering “holy”?
2.) In what ways do you see that suffering changes our perspectives?
3.) What hope do you see in suffering?
So go forth, singing and dancing around dark corners for you are indeed on holy ground!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Friday, February 22, 2013
The Royal Road
Bread and Wine Reading: "The Royal Road", Thomas a’ Kempis
Scripture Reading: Matthew 16: 24-28
Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life? “For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”
All of this talk of cross-bearing is getting pretty hard! What happened to that easy road that if you just turn it over to God, if you just believe with all you have, if you just pray and do right by God, God will reward and bless you? Your life will be full and rich and you will everything you need. Yeah, we’d probably much rather listen to that “gospel of success” refrain, especially now as the lords of Wall Street and the princes of finance are literally driven to their knees, as the car dealers who have spent the last several years cranking out those huge gas-guzzling 4-wheel dinosaurs now beg for mercy, and as we all begin to take a good hard look at how we got here at all.
Thomas a’ Kempis’ 14th century words tell us that the cross is unavoidable. We cannot escape it. It does not call us to an easy life; there is no “gospel of success” as we know it. Instead, we are called to deny ourselves—to shun what our earthly self desires, to put others’ needs ahead of our own, and to realize that our walk with Christ is not one that promises earthly blessings. Life is just hard sometimes. Oh, who are we kidding…it’s downright crappy some days! We live with illness and worry and insecurity. We live with grief and shadows and death. And, lo and behold, there is God…God with us…always…whether or not we are successful or blessed. As a’ Kempis said, “if you willingly carry the cross, it will carry you. It will take you to where suffering comes to an end, a place other than here.” A place other than here…and that, my friends, is the royal road, the true “gospel of success”. By denying yourself and walking this road of Christ’s death, by becoming one with Christ even as the cross is raised against the sky, even as tragedy looms on the horizon, you, too, will be raised, resurrected to new life.
Sadhu Sundar Singh said this: “If we do not bear the cross of the Master, we will have to bear the cross of the world, with all its earthly goods. Which cross have you taken up? Pause and consider.”
Discussion Questions:
1.) What do you have trouble with the call to “take up your cross”?
2.) What part of your life is lived within the “gospel of success” and what part is lived as a cross-bearer?
3.) What does it mean for you to “suffer with Christ”?
So go forth and pause and consider!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Matthew 16: 24-28
Then Jesus told his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life? Or what will they give in return for their life? “For the Son of Man is to come with his angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will repay everyone for what has been done. Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death before they see the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.”
All of this talk of cross-bearing is getting pretty hard! What happened to that easy road that if you just turn it over to God, if you just believe with all you have, if you just pray and do right by God, God will reward and bless you? Your life will be full and rich and you will everything you need. Yeah, we’d probably much rather listen to that “gospel of success” refrain, especially now as the lords of Wall Street and the princes of finance are literally driven to their knees, as the car dealers who have spent the last several years cranking out those huge gas-guzzling 4-wheel dinosaurs now beg for mercy, and as we all begin to take a good hard look at how we got here at all.
Thomas a’ Kempis’ 14th century words tell us that the cross is unavoidable. We cannot escape it. It does not call us to an easy life; there is no “gospel of success” as we know it. Instead, we are called to deny ourselves—to shun what our earthly self desires, to put others’ needs ahead of our own, and to realize that our walk with Christ is not one that promises earthly blessings. Life is just hard sometimes. Oh, who are we kidding…it’s downright crappy some days! We live with illness and worry and insecurity. We live with grief and shadows and death. And, lo and behold, there is God…God with us…always…whether or not we are successful or blessed. As a’ Kempis said, “if you willingly carry the cross, it will carry you. It will take you to where suffering comes to an end, a place other than here.” A place other than here…and that, my friends, is the royal road, the true “gospel of success”. By denying yourself and walking this road of Christ’s death, by becoming one with Christ even as the cross is raised against the sky, even as tragedy looms on the horizon, you, too, will be raised, resurrected to new life.
Sadhu Sundar Singh said this: “If we do not bear the cross of the Master, we will have to bear the cross of the world, with all its earthly goods. Which cross have you taken up? Pause and consider.”
Discussion Questions:
1.) What do you have trouble with the call to “take up your cross”?
2.) What part of your life is lived within the “gospel of success” and what part is lived as a cross-bearer?
3.) What does it mean for you to “suffer with Christ”?
So go forth and pause and consider!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Thursday, February 21, 2013
The Relinquished Life
Bread and Wine Reading: "The Relinquished Life", Oswald Chambers
Scripture Reading: Galatians 2: 19-21
For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing.
Oswald Chambers asserts that “there will have to be the relinquishing of my claim to my right to myself in every phase…to be identified with the death of Jesus Christ.” That is certainly hard for most of us to swallow. We who have spent so much of our lives “finding ourselves” and standing up for ourselves are now asked to give up any claim to who that self is. What exactly does that mean? The words to the Galatians essentially say the same thing. If we truly live in Christ, it means that we also die in Christ. It means that our own selves—the self that we have imagined into being, the self that we have worked so hard to protect, the self that we have tried so desperately to insert into our lives—must be relinquished. It must, indeed, die.
Chambers uses the word “co-crucifixion” to describe this dying of our self that we might be raised in Christ. I’ve never really used that term. I’ve used the word “co-creator”, implying that by entering Christ we become part of God’s ongoing act of Creation, that we become part of bringing the Kingdom of God into the fullness of being. But I supposed that the term “co-crucifixion” goes along with that. I mean, how can we become part of God’s Creation, how can we become part of Christ’s Resurrection into New Life without also being part of the Crucifixion? Much as we would like to try to separate the Crucifixion and the Resurrection, much as we would like to relegate one to darkness and one to Light, it cannot be done. It is all part of God’s ongoing act of Creation. It is part of God recreating us into who we are made to be, into one made in God’s image.
And, in the example of Christ, we must die, we must relinquish our own self that Christ may rise in us. Chambers maintains that “it is not just a question of giving up sin, but of giving up [our] own natural independence and self-assertiveness.” As he contends, even the good in us must die, must be relinquished, that we might enter God’s best. He reminds us that “it is going to cost the natural in you everything, not something…Beware of refusing to go to the funeral of your won independence.”
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does “relinquishing the claim of the right to yourself” mean for you?
2.) What does it mean for you to become part of this “co-crucifixion”?
3.) In what ways does this change your Lenten focus?
So go forth and relinquish yourself that you might be raised in Christ!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Galatians 2: 19-21
For through the law I died to the law, so that I might live to God. I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. I do not nullify the grace of God; for if justification comes through the law, then Christ died for nothing.
Oswald Chambers asserts that “there will have to be the relinquishing of my claim to my right to myself in every phase…to be identified with the death of Jesus Christ.” That is certainly hard for most of us to swallow. We who have spent so much of our lives “finding ourselves” and standing up for ourselves are now asked to give up any claim to who that self is. What exactly does that mean? The words to the Galatians essentially say the same thing. If we truly live in Christ, it means that we also die in Christ. It means that our own selves—the self that we have imagined into being, the self that we have worked so hard to protect, the self that we have tried so desperately to insert into our lives—must be relinquished. It must, indeed, die.
Chambers uses the word “co-crucifixion” to describe this dying of our self that we might be raised in Christ. I’ve never really used that term. I’ve used the word “co-creator”, implying that by entering Christ we become part of God’s ongoing act of Creation, that we become part of bringing the Kingdom of God into the fullness of being. But I supposed that the term “co-crucifixion” goes along with that. I mean, how can we become part of God’s Creation, how can we become part of Christ’s Resurrection into New Life without also being part of the Crucifixion? Much as we would like to try to separate the Crucifixion and the Resurrection, much as we would like to relegate one to darkness and one to Light, it cannot be done. It is all part of God’s ongoing act of Creation. It is part of God recreating us into who we are made to be, into one made in God’s image.
And, in the example of Christ, we must die, we must relinquish our own self that Christ may rise in us. Chambers maintains that “it is not just a question of giving up sin, but of giving up [our] own natural independence and self-assertiveness.” As he contends, even the good in us must die, must be relinquished, that we might enter God’s best. He reminds us that “it is going to cost the natural in you everything, not something…Beware of refusing to go to the funeral of your won independence.”
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does “relinquishing the claim of the right to yourself” mean for you?
2.) What does it mean for you to become part of this “co-crucifixion”?
3.) In what ways does this change your Lenten focus?
So go forth and relinquish yourself that you might be raised in Christ!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Surrender Is Everything
Bread and Wine Reading: "Surrender is Everything", by Jean-Pierre de Caussade
Scripture Reading: Hebrew 5: 7-9
In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.
“Surrender”…the whole notion is uncomfortable for us. Literally, it means to give up one’s self, to resign or yield to another. It could even mean to suffer. That is against our grain. That doesn’t fit in with our dreams of pursuing security and success. That doesn’t reconcile with a society driven by competition and power and “getting ahead”. Surrender…doesn’t that mean to lose control? What will happen then?
De Caussade wrote that “what God requires of the soul is the essence of self-surrender…[and] what the soul desires to do is done as in the sight of God.” The 18th century mystic understood that one’s physical being and one’s spiritual being, indeed one’s body and one’s soul, could not be separated. The two were interminably intertwined and, then, the essence and status of one affected the other directly.
So what does that mean? We sing the old song “I Surrender All” with all of the harmonic gesture we can muster. And we truly do want to surrender to God—as long as we can hold on to the grain of our own individualism, to that which we think makes us who we are. But de Caussade is claiming that it is our soul that truly makes us who we are and that in order to be whole, our soul desires God with all of its being. So, in all truth, that must mean that most of us live our lives with a certain dissonance between our physical and spiritual being. We want to be with God. We love God. We need God. But total surrender? But that is what our soul desires and in order for there to be that harmony in our lives, our physical beings must follow suit.
Lent teaches us that. This season of emptying, of fasting, of stripping away those things that separate us from God, this season of turning around is the season that teaches us how to finally listen to our soul. It is the season that teaches us that surrendering to God is not out of weakness or last resignation, but out of desire for God and the realization that it is there that we belong. In an article entitled “Moving From Solitude to Community to Ministry”, Henri Nouwen tells the story of a river:
The little river said, "I can become a big river." It worked hard, but there was a big rock. The river said, "I'm going to get around this rock." The little river pushed and pushed, and since it had a lot of strength, it got itself around the rock. Soon the river faced a big wall, and the river kept pushing this wall. Eventually, the river made a canyon and carved a way through. The growing river said, "I can do it. I can push it. I am not going to let down for anything." Then there was an enormous forest. The river said, "I'll go ahead anyway and just force these trees down." And the river did. The river, now powerful, stood on the edge of an enormous desert with the sun beating down. The river said, "I'm going to go through this desert." But the hot sand soon began to soak up the whole river. The river said, "Oh, no. I'm going to do it. I'm going to get myself through this desert." But the river soon had drained into the sand until it was only a small mud pool. Then the river heard a voice from above: "Just surrender. Let me lift you up. Let me take over." The river said, "Here I am." The sun then lifted up the river and made the river into a huge cloud. He carried the river right over the desert and let the cloud rain down and made the fields far away fruitful and rich.
There is a moment in our life when we stand before the desert and want to do it ourselves. But there is the voice that comes, "Let go. Surrender. I will make you fruitful. Yes, trust me. Give yourself to me."
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does the term “surrender” mean for you?
2.) What is difficult about the idea of surrendering to you? What images does that amass?
3.) What stands in the way of your absolutely surrendering to God?
So go forth and listen to what your soul most desires!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Hebrew 5: 7-9
In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered; and having been made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.
“Surrender”…the whole notion is uncomfortable for us. Literally, it means to give up one’s self, to resign or yield to another. It could even mean to suffer. That is against our grain. That doesn’t fit in with our dreams of pursuing security and success. That doesn’t reconcile with a society driven by competition and power and “getting ahead”. Surrender…doesn’t that mean to lose control? What will happen then?
De Caussade wrote that “what God requires of the soul is the essence of self-surrender…[and] what the soul desires to do is done as in the sight of God.” The 18th century mystic understood that one’s physical being and one’s spiritual being, indeed one’s body and one’s soul, could not be separated. The two were interminably intertwined and, then, the essence and status of one affected the other directly.
So what does that mean? We sing the old song “I Surrender All” with all of the harmonic gesture we can muster. And we truly do want to surrender to God—as long as we can hold on to the grain of our own individualism, to that which we think makes us who we are. But de Caussade is claiming that it is our soul that truly makes us who we are and that in order to be whole, our soul desires God with all of its being. So, in all truth, that must mean that most of us live our lives with a certain dissonance between our physical and spiritual being. We want to be with God. We love God. We need God. But total surrender? But that is what our soul desires and in order for there to be that harmony in our lives, our physical beings must follow suit.
Lent teaches us that. This season of emptying, of fasting, of stripping away those things that separate us from God, this season of turning around is the season that teaches us how to finally listen to our soul. It is the season that teaches us that surrendering to God is not out of weakness or last resignation, but out of desire for God and the realization that it is there that we belong. In an article entitled “Moving From Solitude to Community to Ministry”, Henri Nouwen tells the story of a river:
The little river said, "I can become a big river." It worked hard, but there was a big rock. The river said, "I'm going to get around this rock." The little river pushed and pushed, and since it had a lot of strength, it got itself around the rock. Soon the river faced a big wall, and the river kept pushing this wall. Eventually, the river made a canyon and carved a way through. The growing river said, "I can do it. I can push it. I am not going to let down for anything." Then there was an enormous forest. The river said, "I'll go ahead anyway and just force these trees down." And the river did. The river, now powerful, stood on the edge of an enormous desert with the sun beating down. The river said, "I'm going to go through this desert." But the hot sand soon began to soak up the whole river. The river said, "Oh, no. I'm going to do it. I'm going to get myself through this desert." But the river soon had drained into the sand until it was only a small mud pool. Then the river heard a voice from above: "Just surrender. Let me lift you up. Let me take over." The river said, "Here I am." The sun then lifted up the river and made the river into a huge cloud. He carried the river right over the desert and let the cloud rain down and made the fields far away fruitful and rich.
There is a moment in our life when we stand before the desert and want to do it ourselves. But there is the voice that comes, "Let go. Surrender. I will make you fruitful. Yes, trust me. Give yourself to me."
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does the term “surrender” mean for you?
2.) What is difficult about the idea of surrendering to you? What images does that amass?
3.) What stands in the way of your absolutely surrendering to God?
So go forth and listen to what your soul most desires!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Merchandising Truth
Bread and Wine Reading: "Merchandising Truth", by Meister Eckhart
Scripture Reading: Matthew 21: 12-13
Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold doves. He said to them, ‘It is written, “My house shall be called a house of prayer”; but you are making it a den of robbers.’
In our 21st century lives, we often fall into the trap of a reward-punishment mentality. Our lives are often reward-driven, even to the point of litigiousness in an effort to get what we think we are due. We believe that by working hard and doing the right things we will be rewarded. And often that carries over into our spiritual lives. How many of us do the things we do because we think we should, because we think that it will in some way earn us points with God, or, even, because we think that we are the only ones that can do them?
Meister Eckhart claims that by having that mentality, we are no better than the merchants at the temple. Jesus cleared the temple not because he thought they were doing something wrong but because the temple should be pure, clear of all merchandising, bargaining, and reward-earning. The temple is a metaphor for our soul, the deepest temple where God should be Master. Meister Eckhart says that “as long as we to get something from God on some kind of exchange, we are like the merchants. If you want to be rid of the commercial spirit, then by all means do all you can in the way of good works, but do so solely for the praise of God.” Eckhart then exhorts us to “live as if you do not exist…then God alone dwells there.”
The Way to God is by loving God—just loving God. All of our spiritual practices, all of our ways of “doing” our religion, all of our ways of living our faith should not be done to further ourselves. Everything we do is done because we love God. At our deepest, purest, most basic essence, we are called to love God. That is enough. God doesn’t really desire to be impressed; God’s only desire is that we love God and love each other and that is the way that we are drawn toward God.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does it mean for you to be a temple of God?
2.) What is the difference between living to please God and living to love God?
3.) What does it mean to “live as if you did not exist”?
So go forth and be a temple for God, a pure expression of love for God!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Matthew 21: 12-13
Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold doves. He said to them, ‘It is written, “My house shall be called a house of prayer”; but you are making it a den of robbers.’
In our 21st century lives, we often fall into the trap of a reward-punishment mentality. Our lives are often reward-driven, even to the point of litigiousness in an effort to get what we think we are due. We believe that by working hard and doing the right things we will be rewarded. And often that carries over into our spiritual lives. How many of us do the things we do because we think we should, because we think that it will in some way earn us points with God, or, even, because we think that we are the only ones that can do them?
Meister Eckhart claims that by having that mentality, we are no better than the merchants at the temple. Jesus cleared the temple not because he thought they were doing something wrong but because the temple should be pure, clear of all merchandising, bargaining, and reward-earning. The temple is a metaphor for our soul, the deepest temple where God should be Master. Meister Eckhart says that “as long as we to get something from God on some kind of exchange, we are like the merchants. If you want to be rid of the commercial spirit, then by all means do all you can in the way of good works, but do so solely for the praise of God.” Eckhart then exhorts us to “live as if you do not exist…then God alone dwells there.”
The Way to God is by loving God—just loving God. All of our spiritual practices, all of our ways of “doing” our religion, all of our ways of living our faith should not be done to further ourselves. Everything we do is done because we love God. At our deepest, purest, most basic essence, we are called to love God. That is enough. God doesn’t really desire to be impressed; God’s only desire is that we love God and love each other and that is the way that we are drawn toward God.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does it mean for you to be a temple of God?
2.) What is the difference between living to please God and living to love God?
3.) What does it mean to “live as if you did not exist”?
So go forth and be a temple for God, a pure expression of love for God!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Monday, February 18, 2013
Turning
Bread and Wine Reading: "Turning", by Henry Drummond
Scripture Reading: Luke 22: 58-62
A little later someone else, on seeing him, said, ‘You also are one of them.’ But Peter said, ‘Man, I am not!’ Then about an hour later yet another kept insisting, ‘Surely this man also was with him; for he is a Galilean.’ But Peter said, ‘Man, I do not know what you are talking about!’ At that moment, while he was still speaking, the cock crowed. The Lord turned and looked at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said to him, ‘Before the cock crows today, you will deny me three times.’ And he went out and wept bitterly.
In his essay, Henry Drummond uses this Scripture to point to Peter’s repentance. We think of repentance as a “turning around”, but, as Drummond reminds us, it was not Peter who turned here, but God. At the time that Peter would rather have turned away and looked anywhere but at God, God was there, with him, drawing him closer. Drummond says that “the scarce-noticed fact is the only sermon needed to anyone who sins—that the Lord turns first.”
Drummond distinguishes between “divine sorrow” and “human sorrow” and claims that true contrition, true repentance happens only when God turns and looks upon us. Genuine repentance happens for us when we finally know how God comes to us when we are completely broken, when we need God the most.
Repentance is more than just admitting one’s wrongs and, in fact, it is more than our somehow feeling compelled to change one’s life. Repentance is even more than turning toward God. Repentance is knowing that God turns toward you, that God is beckoning you forward, away from the hustle and bustle of life, away from old habits and new temptations, and toward that oneness with God. It is finally knowing once and for all that the Lord has turned and looked at you. This season of Lent reminds us that all things are made new in Christ. It is a season when we realize how badly we need to turn toward God, the God who has already turned toward us.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does this idea of God turning toward us say to you about repentance?
2.) What reasons, then, do we often have of wanting to look away from the God, even as God is turned toward us?
3.) What does this act of turning—God’s and yours—mean for you?
So go forth and turn that you might see the God who has turned toward you!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Luke 22: 58-62
A little later someone else, on seeing him, said, ‘You also are one of them.’ But Peter said, ‘Man, I am not!’ Then about an hour later yet another kept insisting, ‘Surely this man also was with him; for he is a Galilean.’ But Peter said, ‘Man, I do not know what you are talking about!’ At that moment, while he was still speaking, the cock crowed. The Lord turned and looked at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said to him, ‘Before the cock crows today, you will deny me three times.’ And he went out and wept bitterly.
In his essay, Henry Drummond uses this Scripture to point to Peter’s repentance. We think of repentance as a “turning around”, but, as Drummond reminds us, it was not Peter who turned here, but God. At the time that Peter would rather have turned away and looked anywhere but at God, God was there, with him, drawing him closer. Drummond says that “the scarce-noticed fact is the only sermon needed to anyone who sins—that the Lord turns first.”
Drummond distinguishes between “divine sorrow” and “human sorrow” and claims that true contrition, true repentance happens only when God turns and looks upon us. Genuine repentance happens for us when we finally know how God comes to us when we are completely broken, when we need God the most.
Repentance is more than just admitting one’s wrongs and, in fact, it is more than our somehow feeling compelled to change one’s life. Repentance is even more than turning toward God. Repentance is knowing that God turns toward you, that God is beckoning you forward, away from the hustle and bustle of life, away from old habits and new temptations, and toward that oneness with God. It is finally knowing once and for all that the Lord has turned and looked at you. This season of Lent reminds us that all things are made new in Christ. It is a season when we realize how badly we need to turn toward God, the God who has already turned toward us.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What does this idea of God turning toward us say to you about repentance?
2.) What reasons, then, do we often have of wanting to look away from the God, even as God is turned toward us?
3.) What does this act of turning—God’s and yours—mean for you?
So go forth and turn that you might see the God who has turned toward you!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Sunday, February 17, 2013
A Look Inside
Bread and Wine Reading: "A Look Inside", by Edna Hong
Scripture Reading: Psalm 139: 1-14
O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it. Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night’, even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you. For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.
Just as Lent is a time of refocusing and redirecting, it is also a time of reclaiming our true identity, of finding that self that God calls you to be. It is a hard journey. The journey through the wilderness of our souls is fraught with hidden dangers and perils that most of us would rather not experience. We will be forced to look at those parts of our lives that are impeding our soul’s vision of who it is, if only so that we will know what parts we need to strip away or even discard. It is a journey with the mission to free our souls to be with God, to finally be who God calls each of us to be from the very beginning of our being. God know this part of us so well. Perhaps God has hidden it so well that we will have to journey to find it.
Edna Hong contends that “the purpose of Lent is to arouse. To arouse the sense of sin…To arouse the sense of gratitude for the forgiveness of sins. To arouse or to motivate the works of love and the work of justice that one does out of gratitude for the forgiveness of one’s sins.” She describes the Christian life, then, as a journey of downward descent, a journey deep down into who we are, deep down into the depths of ourselves, into that part that God knows so well. “It ends,” she says, “before the cross, where we stand in the white light of a new beginning.”
Discussion Questions:
1.) What keeps us from seeing our true self?
2.) What will you find when “you search and know yourself”?
3.) What meaning does the image of the Christian life as one of a “downward descent” hold for you?
So go forth toward deep into your self, the self that God is calling you to find!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Psalm 139: 1-14
O Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely. You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it. Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night’, even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you. For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well.
Just as Lent is a time of refocusing and redirecting, it is also a time of reclaiming our true identity, of finding that self that God calls you to be. It is a hard journey. The journey through the wilderness of our souls is fraught with hidden dangers and perils that most of us would rather not experience. We will be forced to look at those parts of our lives that are impeding our soul’s vision of who it is, if only so that we will know what parts we need to strip away or even discard. It is a journey with the mission to free our souls to be with God, to finally be who God calls each of us to be from the very beginning of our being. God know this part of us so well. Perhaps God has hidden it so well that we will have to journey to find it.
Edna Hong contends that “the purpose of Lent is to arouse. To arouse the sense of sin…To arouse the sense of gratitude for the forgiveness of sins. To arouse or to motivate the works of love and the work of justice that one does out of gratitude for the forgiveness of one’s sins.” She describes the Christian life, then, as a journey of downward descent, a journey deep down into who we are, deep down into the depths of ourselves, into that part that God knows so well. “It ends,” she says, “before the cross, where we stand in the white light of a new beginning.”
Discussion Questions:
1.) What keeps us from seeing our true self?
2.) What will you find when “you search and know yourself”?
3.) What meaning does the image of the Christian life as one of a “downward descent” hold for you?
So go forth toward deep into your self, the self that God is calling you to find!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Living Lent
Bread and Wine Reading: "Living Lent", by Barbara Cawthorne Crafton
Scripture Reading: Matthew 6: 19-21 Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Barbara Crafton begins her essay with the proclamation: “We didn’t even know what moderation was. What it felt like. We didn’t just work; we inhaled our jobs, sucked them in, became them. Stayed late, brought work home—it was never enough, though, no matter how much time we put in.” She goes on to portray aspects of a life with which all of us could identify—buying things we do not need, eating when we are full, and replacing furniture and household goods when they aren’t really worn out. We attribute it to “modern life”, to the benefits and perils of working hard, playing hard, and living a life trying to keep up with our own expectation and images of who we are.
What, then, is your treasure? What receives the highest priority in your life? What gets your attention, your money, your time? In what direction is your life moving?
I, admittedly, have a somewhat underdeveloped and sometimes non-existent sense of direction. Giving me directions by telling me to “go east and then go north and then go due west at the light” is worthless. My new car has a compass, a wonderful tool for the directionally-challenged such as myself. Even better, is the GPS on my Blackberry, with that kind woman giving you exact directions (regardless of the fact that she has apparently never driven in Houston on the week-ends that they close all the freeways at once!). But even compasses and GPS’s get “out of whack” at times, either because the batteries have been changed or because they, simply, have gotten shaken or discombobulated in some way. In essence, they lose their “true north”, the true sense of where they’re going and they then have to be recalibrated, a practice of finding the true north and once again knowing the direction to which they point.
Lent is a time of “recalibration” for us, a time of re-prioritizing, a time of refocusing on what is important, on what our “treasure” is in our life. Life is good, but sometimes it pulls us and shakes us and causes us to point to a place that is not the place we should be. This Lenten season is a way of resetting our own internal compass, that part of us that at the deepest level knows to what and to whom we are drawn. Lent calls us to recalibrate our lives that they might become a true way of “living lent”, of walking toward that which is the “true north”, the Way of Christ, the way to oneness with God.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What drives our needs to “have”, to “hold”, to “possess”, and to “do”? What gets in the way of our ability to “be”?
2.) What are some ways to “redirection” and “recalibrate” your life?
3.) Why is it so difficult for you to keep your priorities, your “treasure” straight in your own life?
So go forth toward a new direction that you might find the Way of Christ!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Matthew 6: 19-21 Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
Barbara Crafton begins her essay with the proclamation: “We didn’t even know what moderation was. What it felt like. We didn’t just work; we inhaled our jobs, sucked them in, became them. Stayed late, brought work home—it was never enough, though, no matter how much time we put in.” She goes on to portray aspects of a life with which all of us could identify—buying things we do not need, eating when we are full, and replacing furniture and household goods when they aren’t really worn out. We attribute it to “modern life”, to the benefits and perils of working hard, playing hard, and living a life trying to keep up with our own expectation and images of who we are.
What, then, is your treasure? What receives the highest priority in your life? What gets your attention, your money, your time? In what direction is your life moving?
I, admittedly, have a somewhat underdeveloped and sometimes non-existent sense of direction. Giving me directions by telling me to “go east and then go north and then go due west at the light” is worthless. My new car has a compass, a wonderful tool for the directionally-challenged such as myself. Even better, is the GPS on my Blackberry, with that kind woman giving you exact directions (regardless of the fact that she has apparently never driven in Houston on the week-ends that they close all the freeways at once!). But even compasses and GPS’s get “out of whack” at times, either because the batteries have been changed or because they, simply, have gotten shaken or discombobulated in some way. In essence, they lose their “true north”, the true sense of where they’re going and they then have to be recalibrated, a practice of finding the true north and once again knowing the direction to which they point.
Lent is a time of “recalibration” for us, a time of re-prioritizing, a time of refocusing on what is important, on what our “treasure” is in our life. Life is good, but sometimes it pulls us and shakes us and causes us to point to a place that is not the place we should be. This Lenten season is a way of resetting our own internal compass, that part of us that at the deepest level knows to what and to whom we are drawn. Lent calls us to recalibrate our lives that they might become a true way of “living lent”, of walking toward that which is the “true north”, the Way of Christ, the way to oneness with God.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What drives our needs to “have”, to “hold”, to “possess”, and to “do”? What gets in the way of our ability to “be”?
2.) What are some ways to “redirection” and “recalibrate” your life?
3.) Why is it so difficult for you to keep your priorities, your “treasure” straight in your own life?
So go forth toward a new direction that you might find the Way of Christ!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Friday, February 15, 2013
In Mirrors
Bread and Wine Reading: "In Mirrors", by William Wangerin
Scripture Reading: 1 Corinthians 13: 8-13
Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
Wangerin reminds us that in mirrors we see ourselves. Perhaps we see more than we want to see, but we see the real self. As all of who struggle with weight, or those nasty lines on our face, or even just some piece of clothing that just doesn’t look the way it did on the headless mannequin in the store know, mirrors do not lie. He says that “mirrors that hide nothing hurt me. But this is the hurt of purging and precious renewal—and these are the mirrors of dangerous grace.”
Others can be mirrors for us, reflecting the “us” we’d rather not see either by gentle or harsh words or even an all-too-obvious facial expression. Wangerin says that Christ’s suffering and death is also a mirror, if only we choose to see it. Perhaps the reason that this season of Lent is difficult for us is that it forces us to face our real selves—our hurts, our failures, our sins. Because this walk of passion and death is not just Christ’s to walk; it is ours. It is a forced walk through the shadows of our own lives, a walk through our pains and failures and the late coming feelings of remorse for things we have done. This season also shows us those places where we have been complicit in the injustices of the world, where we have been part of the crucifixion of the love and compassion and goodness that is Christ. And in this way, “Lent can heal the soul’s blindness.” (Howard, 44)
The season of Lent is truly a mirror of our real selves and our real lives as they are revealed in Christ. Again, this walk to the Cross is hard. But, there…there in the mirror is also your Resurrection, reflected by Christ’s own!
Discussion Questions:
1.) What are the things in your mirror that you’d rather not see?
2.) What does the idea of your own death and your own resurrection reflected in the mirror mean for you?
3.) What reflection of this season of Lent does this provide for you?
So go forth with new awareness that Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection is a reflection of your own!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: 1 Corinthians 13: 8-13
Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
Wangerin reminds us that in mirrors we see ourselves. Perhaps we see more than we want to see, but we see the real self. As all of who struggle with weight, or those nasty lines on our face, or even just some piece of clothing that just doesn’t look the way it did on the headless mannequin in the store know, mirrors do not lie. He says that “mirrors that hide nothing hurt me. But this is the hurt of purging and precious renewal—and these are the mirrors of dangerous grace.”
Others can be mirrors for us, reflecting the “us” we’d rather not see either by gentle or harsh words or even an all-too-obvious facial expression. Wangerin says that Christ’s suffering and death is also a mirror, if only we choose to see it. Perhaps the reason that this season of Lent is difficult for us is that it forces us to face our real selves—our hurts, our failures, our sins. Because this walk of passion and death is not just Christ’s to walk; it is ours. It is a forced walk through the shadows of our own lives, a walk through our pains and failures and the late coming feelings of remorse for things we have done. This season also shows us those places where we have been complicit in the injustices of the world, where we have been part of the crucifixion of the love and compassion and goodness that is Christ. And in this way, “Lent can heal the soul’s blindness.” (Howard, 44)
The season of Lent is truly a mirror of our real selves and our real lives as they are revealed in Christ. Again, this walk to the Cross is hard. But, there…there in the mirror is also your Resurrection, reflected by Christ’s own!
Discussion Questions:
1.) What are the things in your mirror that you’d rather not see?
2.) What does the idea of your own death and your own resurrection reflected in the mirror mean for you?
3.) What reflection of this season of Lent does this provide for you?
So go forth with new awareness that Christ’s Passion, Death, and Resurrection is a reflection of your own!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Repent
Bread and Wine Reading: "Repent", by William Willimon
Scripture Reading: Mark 1: 4-8 John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
We 21st century folks often try desperately to turn the whole idea of repenting into some sort of watered down, G-rated version of the repentance that John the Baptizer proclaimed. We like the idea of a God who tells us to "be good to ourself" and who wants us to be happy. We like equating the Gospel, the "Good News" to a life of comfort. But as Willimon points out, "Whatever the gospel means, we tell ourselves, it could not mean death. Love, divine or human, could never exact something so costly." Then what do you really think John was talking about? It's simple...Repent, change your ways, and get washed.
To be baptized "into Christ" and "in the name of Christ" means to become one who lives Christ. How can we do that without changing, without turning our lives toward God, without walking the road that Christ walked? Willimon claims that "the chief biblical analogy for baptism is not the water that washes but the flood that drowns". This is not a warm bath; it's a torrent of powerful waves consuming your life. It's Noah's Flood all over again--the beginning again and the promise.
Following Christ, following The Way, is hard. There is no "cleaned up", G-rated version. It's just hard. It means giving up one's life; it means being flooded; it means change. Who are we kidding? It means death! Willimon reminds us that "on the bank of some dark river, as we are thrust backward, onlookers will remark, "They could kill somebody like that." To which old John might say, "Good, you're finally catching on.""
But what may seem to the world a truly God-forsaken road through suffering and death is also the road to life. This is truly The Way. It is the road we walk when we realize there is no where else to go.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What stands in the way of us changing?
2.) What's the difference between being willing to "die in Christ" and being "saved" by Christ?
3.) What does repentance "cost" for you?
So go forth that you might die in Christ!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Scripture Reading: Mark 1: 4-8 John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
We 21st century folks often try desperately to turn the whole idea of repenting into some sort of watered down, G-rated version of the repentance that John the Baptizer proclaimed. We like the idea of a God who tells us to "be good to ourself" and who wants us to be happy. We like equating the Gospel, the "Good News" to a life of comfort. But as Willimon points out, "Whatever the gospel means, we tell ourselves, it could not mean death. Love, divine or human, could never exact something so costly." Then what do you really think John was talking about? It's simple...Repent, change your ways, and get washed.
To be baptized "into Christ" and "in the name of Christ" means to become one who lives Christ. How can we do that without changing, without turning our lives toward God, without walking the road that Christ walked? Willimon claims that "the chief biblical analogy for baptism is not the water that washes but the flood that drowns". This is not a warm bath; it's a torrent of powerful waves consuming your life. It's Noah's Flood all over again--the beginning again and the promise.
Following Christ, following The Way, is hard. There is no "cleaned up", G-rated version. It's just hard. It means giving up one's life; it means being flooded; it means change. Who are we kidding? It means death! Willimon reminds us that "on the bank of some dark river, as we are thrust backward, onlookers will remark, "They could kill somebody like that." To which old John might say, "Good, you're finally catching on.""
But what may seem to the world a truly God-forsaken road through suffering and death is also the road to life. This is truly The Way. It is the road we walk when we realize there is no where else to go.
Discussion Questions:
1.) What stands in the way of us changing?
2.) What's the difference between being willing to "die in Christ" and being "saved" by Christ?
3.) What does repentance "cost" for you?
So go forth that you might die in Christ!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Repentance
Bread and Wine Reading: "Repentance", by Kathleen Norris
Scripture: John 14: 2-6
In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.
And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.
In her essay, Kathleen Norris tells the story of a little boy who wrote a poem entitled "The Monster Who Was Sorry". He says that when his father yells at him, his first response is to throw his sister down the stairs, to wreck his room, and, finally, to wreck the whole town. "Then", he says, "I sit in my messy house and say to myself, "I shouldn't have done that."
I shouldn't have done that--famous last words. It's a shame they aren't the first words. That's what repentance is all about. It's not mere confession; it's not mere regret; it's not even just a promise to change. Repentance is turning around. It's doing something. It's making the last words the first words. It's looking around at the house in which we dwell and figuring out how to make it the place that God dwells, to make it the place where the Kingdom of God comes to be. That IS the Way.
I used to struggle with this Scripture: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to [God] except through me." So what happens to everyone else? I think my thinking was just too narrow. I am continually finding that God is much wider than I ever thought God to be. I do, with all of my being, think Jesus is the Way, the very embodiment of the way that God leads us to Godself. No, I do not think that those who do not profess to be Christian are disconnected from God. I do not think that Jesus ever intended that. He was just far too relational and inclusive for that! I think, rather, Jesus, as the embodiment, the very human being, the Incarnation of all incarnations of God, was God, the Divine, walking with us to show us The Way--not the "way", as in one distinct and limiting road, but "The Way", the way to be with God, the way to connect to God, the way to be who we are called to be by God.
And, just as a reminder, the writer of The Gospel According to John tells us that there are MANY rooms. In other words, our messy, little space is not the only place God is. But our messy little space is also the place that God desires to be, to pick us up, to clean us up, and to love us into The Way. There are, indeed, many rooms. We each have our place in the Kingdom--now and for all eternity. But REPENT---turn around---look around---there are many rooms...you are all here together....and it is only when you turn and look into each other's eyes that you will finally see The Way, that you will truly see and experience the one and only God, the God embodied by Jesus, the human and the Divine, the God of the interrelational Trinity, the many in one.
Discussion Questions:
What does it mean to make a place that God can dwell?
What are we called to do to "make a place that God can dwell"?
What meaning does this bring to your understanding of repentance?
So begin this journey by turning around and making the last words first!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
For this season, I will try (yes I will try!) to post at least a short devotional every day on my blog at http://dancingtogod.blogspot.com/. Many of you are part of the email group that gets it every time I post. (For those who have signed up through this blog, you will get it but for some reason known only to Google, you will get it 12-18 hours later. Go figure!) So if there are others that would like to be part of the email group that gets it right away, just email me through the St. Paul's website at stpaulshouston.org. (Go to "About St. Paul's", then "staff").
AND another opportunity...I have been posting my Lectionary notes that many of you get emailed each Thursday on http://journeytopenuel.blogspot.com/ It's a once-a-week post but if you're interested, take a look.
Thanks for being a part of my Lenten journey!
Shelli
Scripture: John 14: 2-6
In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.
And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.
In her essay, Kathleen Norris tells the story of a little boy who wrote a poem entitled "The Monster Who Was Sorry". He says that when his father yells at him, his first response is to throw his sister down the stairs, to wreck his room, and, finally, to wreck the whole town. "Then", he says, "I sit in my messy house and say to myself, "I shouldn't have done that."
I shouldn't have done that--famous last words. It's a shame they aren't the first words. That's what repentance is all about. It's not mere confession; it's not mere regret; it's not even just a promise to change. Repentance is turning around. It's doing something. It's making the last words the first words. It's looking around at the house in which we dwell and figuring out how to make it the place that God dwells, to make it the place where the Kingdom of God comes to be. That IS the Way.
I used to struggle with this Scripture: "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to [God] except through me." So what happens to everyone else? I think my thinking was just too narrow. I am continually finding that God is much wider than I ever thought God to be. I do, with all of my being, think Jesus is the Way, the very embodiment of the way that God leads us to Godself. No, I do not think that those who do not profess to be Christian are disconnected from God. I do not think that Jesus ever intended that. He was just far too relational and inclusive for that! I think, rather, Jesus, as the embodiment, the very human being, the Incarnation of all incarnations of God, was God, the Divine, walking with us to show us The Way--not the "way", as in one distinct and limiting road, but "The Way", the way to be with God, the way to connect to God, the way to be who we are called to be by God.
And, just as a reminder, the writer of The Gospel According to John tells us that there are MANY rooms. In other words, our messy, little space is not the only place God is. But our messy little space is also the place that God desires to be, to pick us up, to clean us up, and to love us into The Way. There are, indeed, many rooms. We each have our place in the Kingdom--now and for all eternity. But REPENT---turn around---look around---there are many rooms...you are all here together....and it is only when you turn and look into each other's eyes that you will finally see The Way, that you will truly see and experience the one and only God, the God embodied by Jesus, the human and the Divine, the God of the interrelational Trinity, the many in one.
Discussion Questions:
What does it mean to make a place that God can dwell?
What are we called to do to "make a place that God can dwell"?
What meaning does this bring to your understanding of repentance?
So begin this journey by turning around and making the last words first!
Grace and Peace,
Shelli
For this season, I will try (yes I will try!) to post at least a short devotional every day on my blog at http://dancingtogod.blogspot.com/. Many of you are part of the email group that gets it every time I post. (For those who have signed up through this blog, you will get it but for some reason known only to Google, you will get it 12-18 hours later. Go figure!) So if there are others that would like to be part of the email group that gets it right away, just email me through the St. Paul's website at stpaulshouston.org. (Go to "About St. Paul's", then "staff").
AND another opportunity...I have been posting my Lectionary notes that many of you get emailed each Thursday on http://journeytopenuel.blogspot.com/ It's a once-a-week post but if you're interested, take a look.
Thanks for being a part of my Lenten journey!
Shelli
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