John 1:35-42 Andrew, Apostle

Observation: This text from the beginning of John's Gospel is appointed for the commemoration of Andrew the apostle, which is today. There are a lot of interesting traditions about Andrew, including that he went on to share the Gospel along the Black Sea as far as Kiev, and that he was martyred by crucifixion on an X-shaped cross (ouch!). He is the patron saint of about a dozen countries (including Scotland). But in the Gospels, he is best known for being Simon Peter's brother. Andrew is a disciple of John the Baptist who listens to John's declaration that Jesus is  the Lamb of God, and begins following Jesus around. After spending the day with Jesus, Andrew approaches Simon and they go to meet Jesus together. Andrew introduces Jesus to his closest disciple, and Simon Peter to his Savior. 

Application: I don't think I've ever been much of an early adopter. In seventh grade, when a friend of mine introduced me to the Dave Matthews Band, I didn't think much of them (this was toward the beginning of their career, and as the saying goes, "before they were cool"). They later grew on me...and I'm still a fan of their earlier stuff...but that's another story. 

Being an early adopter involves risk. It involves being perceived as a bit quirky, and being the one who won't shut up about this person or idea or band or trend that may end up being a flash in the pan. Sometimes you'll back the wrong horse. But as we learn from Andrew's story, sometimes early adopters are the ones who will introduce us to a whole new way of knowing God. They can be the first to be tuned in when God is doing a new thing. I am thankful (and I imagine Simon Peter is too) that Andrew was an early adopter. 

Prayer: God, thank you for the witness of Andrew the Apostle, and for all those bold servants of yours who won't shut up about their cool new ideas. May we see your light reflected in their boldness. Amen. 

John 5:19-40 Judgement and Life

Observation: Jesus is in the middle of an argument with the religious authorities after healing a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath. Jesus turns the conversation to his connection with his Father. While they follow the letter of the law, Jesus does what he sees his Father doing. Jesus says his Father has given judgment into his own hands. As the Father gives life, Jesus can also give life. A line that jumped out for me was "You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they who testify on my behalf. Yet you refuse to come to me to have life."

Application: For too long, Christians have made an idol out of the Bible.

We have the Reformation to thank for the idea of "sola scriptura," that scripture alone is the ultimate authority for what we believe and teach. At its heart, this is a good idea, because it keeps us from being led astray by the whims and attitudes of  human leaders. It is good to have a high view of scripture as God's inspired word.

But it's important to remember that scripture gains its authority from Christ, not the other way around.  Too often we treat the Bible like a comprehensive rule book, as with the memorable but terribly misguided acronym, "Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth." That's not what the Bible is at all. The Bible is not just a list of do's and don'ts. It's a witness to God's loving action in the world. Luther called it "the cradle in which the Christ child is found." I've said this hundreds of times, but it bears repeating: We don't worship Jesus because he's the star of the Bible. We read and cherish the Bible because we already have a life-giving relationship with Jesus. Scripture is a great place to find him, but it isn't the only one. 

Like the religious authorities of Jesus' day, we sometimes search the scriptures as though they are the only place where life can be found. And when we do that, we may find ourselves blind to other places out in the world where Jesus is at work, giving life. If we can't see him outside those pages, the true message of scripture isn't getting to us to begin with.

Prayer: Jesus, help us to find you not only in the text of the Bible, but in the text of our neighbor, our community, our world. Let us find you and trust in you there as well. Amen.  

Esther 8:3-6 Pulling some strings

Observation: Esther pleads with her husband, the Persian king Ahasuerus, not to allow the plans of Haman, a court official, to go forward. If Haman has his way, the Jews in the land would all be killed.

Application: One of my favorite quotes from Esther is when Mordecai, a Jewish leader, says to queen Esther, "Who knows? Perhaps you have come to royal dignity for such a time as this." Had Esther, who is also Jewish, not been queen during this time, Haman's plans would have come to pass. Only because Esther uses her power and position to save lives, does Ahasuerus change his orders.

Most of us have some realm in our lives where we have some "pull," some influence.  The question is how we use it. Whether through our jobs, our family connections, our friendships, our standing in the community, hopefully everyone reading this has at least someone they can talk to who will listen to their concerns and maybe help make a change. If not, we at least have prayer, which is a direct line to God, open to all.

As I look at the various places in which I have some "pull," or at least where I'll get a fair hearing, I hope I can follow Esther's example and see my position as a gift from God, for the benefit of others in more vulnerable positions than I.

Prayer: God, help me use whatever position or influence you've given me the way Esther did: to lift up the defenseless. Amen. 

1Thessalonians 5:12-18 Infectious Holiness

Observation: As Paul closes his letter to the Thessalonians, he gives them lots of final advice for their life together. Three very short exhortations stick with me today: "Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances."

Application: I've been making a real effort recently to live into that word, "give thanks in all circumstances," and I've been inviting others to join me. In August, Advent's church council and I kept journals giving thanks to God for a few things every day. We invited the whole congregation to do the same in September. When October came, we actually included "Three Minutes of Thanksgiving" as part of our Sunday worship, and invited one member to share their thanksgivings and facilitate others' sharing thanksgivings too. Ironically, with Thanksgiving Day only two days away, my daily practice of giving thanks has dropped off. Guess it's not too late to pick it up again. 

But "pray without ceasing" is another thing again. It's hard to interpret what exactly that means. Of course you can't literally have your eyes closed and hands folded (or extended out, as I tend to do) all the time. There's a classic of Russian Orthodox spirituality called The Way of a Pilgrim, in which a Russian peasant learns the "Jesus Prayer" ("Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me") and repeats it to himself enough times where it becomes a running loop in his head, even as he goes about his life. I first learned about this book from J.D. Salinger's Franny and Zooey, and it made an impression on me. The Jesus Prayer has been part of my prayer life on and off for at least ten years. 

There are definitely habits we can cultivate to help us strive for what Paul has in mind here, but not all of them will work equally well for all people, all the time. More than any one way of executing it, I think the vision he seems to have in mind is one to hang onto. 

Have you ever watched a movie, and the imagery of a particular scene stuck with you for a long time afterward? Or had a song in your head for days or even weeks at a time? Paul's vision for our joy, thankfulness and prayer is that it be similarly infectious. That whatever our practices of prayer and worship, that they stick with us through the day, and maybe even spread into the "regular" times in our lives where they're not "supposed" to be. That instead of trying to avoid negative thoughts and behaviors, our thankful, joyful and prayerful thoughts would infect more and more of our minds, setting them aside for God. If we need a mantra, we can do a lot worse than "Thank you Lord".

Prayer: Lord, kickstart my life of prayer and thanksgiving again this morning. Set aside more and more of my thoughts as holy, that my life can be a reflection of your reign here on earth. Amen.  

Revelation 16:8-21 Wrath and Repentance

Ruins of ancient Megiddo (photo credit: Guy Davis)

Observation: In this grand vision of judgment, God's angels pour out the last four bowls of divine wrath: heat, darkness, invading armies and an earthquake. Each time, the people of earth refuse to repent of their unjust ways. If you've read the book of Exodus, you'll recognize a resemblance to the plagues God sends into Egypt, when Pharaoh stubbornly refuses to free the Israelites from slavery. The town of "Harmagedon", where the armies muster, is a very real and very ancient place, Megiddo (pictured above). It was an important strategic site, and therefore the site of many ancient battles (maybe the reason it is chosen as a symbol of a final showdown). Babylon was an ancient empire which oppressed the people of Israel and Judah, but was then overtaken by the Persians. "Babylon" in Revelation is a symbol of oppressive human governments, which are temporary, and which God will topple.

Application: I've been a little keyed up before even opening my Bible for this daily reading, and this did not help. I'm stressed out by national and international news. I'm stressed out by professional and family schedules. I'm stressed out by not knowing how to speak out or take action on things that are important to me, and by wondering what good it would do if I did. But in the midst of all this, let's not forget the promised woes for the unrepentant from the good old Apocalypse of John. Phew.

Before I say the next thing, I'll offer the following caveat: sometimes it is best to unplug. I'm not great at that, but I acknowledge it's important to do. Stress and anxiety can be paralyzing, and if we don't take time away from computers, phones, cable news, radio, and the constant flow of information, we'll burn out and be unable to care for anyone else. But that being said...

Maybe stress is good sometimes. Maybe it's the birth of compassion. Maybe rather than whining about how knowing others are suffering is uncomfortable, it's best to be thankful we *can* know, and that we're aware of things about which we *should* care. God certainly cares. Maybe the flood of allegations of sexual harassment by powerful people or popular entertainers, for instance, is forcing people who've never been victims of abuse to walk just a few steps in the shoes of those who have. Maybe that will lead to widespread change and repentance. One can hope.

Biblical plagues, either on Egypt or symbolic "Babylon", are God's jarring call to compassion. They force us to feel in a moment what those in more vulnerable positions have felt all their lives. They remind us that God gets angry sometimes, because God loves our neighbor every bit as much as God loves us. Plagues are an unexpected blessing, in that they humble the proud and soften hard hearts. In the end, they bring about a better world for both oppressed and oppressor.

Prayer: God, sometimes I need to be stressed. Help me lean into it, and walk with you in it. Amen.

Psalm 90:1-12 Teach Us to Number Our Days

Observation: I never noticed before that Psalm 90 is introduced as "A Song of Moses, the Man of God." I don't know of any other Psalms attributed to Moses. It's poignant, as I reflect on the psalm's theme of fleeting human life compared to God's eternity, to think of Moses' long life and all the change he saw. From Egyptian prince, to shepherd, to unwilling prophet, to tribal leader, in one lifetime--no one could accuse Moses of not making the most of his life. And yet looking back, it sounds as though Moses still feels it all went by too fast. Sitting on the edge of the Promised Land, knowing he'll never go in, Moses says "teach us to number our days, that we may gain a wise heart." 

Application: I'm looking out over our back yard, where snow is falling over the autumn leaves I still haven't gotten to rake. Note to self: waiting for all the leaves to fall is not a great strategy out here. 

In the background, Daniel Tiger is singing to my youngest son. Before long, he'll grow out of that, just like his older siblings did. I want to count this late autumn day, as Moses suggested. I don't want to let this day have me, but instead I want to be fully conscious of the tiny bit of good I can do in it, knowing it will fly by like all the rest. I feel God's call to humility: to not let any grand vision or scheme of mine, no matter how noble or worthy, get in the way of the quiet work of being present to God today. I want to be ready to serve God and my neighbor in a small way today, and take joy in it. I want to count my days, to know them as short but vital stories of God's presence in this world. And I also want to make my days count, knowing they are finite, even though God is eternal. 

Prayer: God, teach me to count my days. Especially this one. Amen. 

Matthew 25:29-35 When You See All These Things

Observation: In Jerusalem during his final week before being crucified, Jesus teaches about signs of his return. Many things that are considered constant and eternal--the sun, the moon, the stars, heaven and earth--will no longer function as they once did. Jesus assures his disciples, however, that his words will remain. When the seemingly unshakable seems shaken, this is a sign--just like figs growing ripe on a fig tree--that his coming is near. 

Application: The first few generations of Christians lived in expectation of Jesus' return. Many assumed it would happen during their lifetime. Even when the world they knew seemed to be crumbling, they took solace in the idea that Jesus had already said it would, and that he was near to them in this. 

After the first couple of centuries, and certainly after Christianity became the official religion of the Roman Empire, believers had a dilemma, because the Church had become intertwined with the very system of power that Jesus said would crumble as a sign of his coming. The more time passed, and the more connected to earthly power the Christian message became, the less sense of urgent expectation and excitement there was of a coming judgment. After all, if your life is pretty cushy now, why focus on a sudden reversal? 

There's a certain part of me that gets uncomfortable with these readings about a coming judgment, for the exact reasons I just listed. In the grand scheme, I'm pretty comfortable with my life. I have more than enough resources to get by, keep a roof over my children's head, and even have some fun on top of that. I enjoy a great number of freedoms and privileges that not everyone has. Why focus on bringing those comforts to an end? 

That's what I'm struggling with today: that Jesus' coming means losing a place of privilege. It means our human institutions and status quo will be shaken, and ultimately pass away. It means many of the things we trusted as eternal will be exposed as temporary, and to the extent that we trusted in or benefitted from those things, we'll be exposed too. Many, like me, who are used to being fairly comfortable, will be vulnerable for the first time. 

But the good news is twofold: first, we know it's coming. It will not come when and where and how we expect, but we know it will happen. And second, we can take comfort in the idea that the kingdom Jesus offers us--even to those who are the most comfortable in our current society--is so much better than what we have. When the norms and the power structures we most value seem to be going away, that's a sign that Jesus is near. Maybe not in the literal sense of an actual, physical return of Christ (although I believe that will happen someday) but much more in the sense that Jesus is near when we stop trusting in our own way of doing things and are forced to lean on him. 

Prayer: God, move what is static in me. Stir what is sleeping comfortably. Humble me when I grow proud. If I have placed my trust in any other power than you, may that power be shaken. Amen. 

1 Thessalonians 3:6-11 How Can We Thank God Enough For You?

Observation: Paul is giving thanks for his good friends in Thessaloniki (which today is in Greece) where he founded a Christian congregation, but was forced to leave by a group of his fellow Jews who took issue with his message about Jesus as Messiah. Timothy, Paul's protege, has just come back to him with another glowing report about the people's faith, which encourages Paul. Paul hopes aloud that he can see his Thessalonian friends face to face again. 

Application: Like Paul, I have moved around a fair bit in my life. Thankfully, I've never been driven out of any town before (at least not yet), but from when I was very young, my family of origin lived a somewhat nomadic life, and as an adult with kids of my own, I've kept the tradition. Of course I can't hold a candle to the military families who find themselves relocating every year or so. But still, in my relatively short life, I've lived in at least six different states, and at least a dozen communities. 

This is a double-edged sword, of course: on the one hand, I don't have too many of what I'd call "life long friends." I don't drive home to the house or neighborhood where I was raised, I don't take my kids to the schools I attended, I don't find myself running into high school teachers or kindergarten classmates at the grocery store. I sometimes envy the sense of rootedness in a place that some folks I know have. 

But on the other hand, I feel God has blessed me (and hopefully my kids as well) with a more durable sense of what "home" really is: it's where your family resides. It's where the people you care about gather together. It's even something you carry within yourself; a sense of knowing who you are and whose you are in the midst of a changing world. 

And to Paul's point, in this month of Thanksgiving, I can genuinely say I can give thanks for true friends in communities all over the place. So if I haven't said it recently, to my friends in Indianapolis, Indiana; Columbus, Ohio; Hartland, Michigan; Libby, Montana; Easton, Catonsville, Urbana, and elsewhere in Maryland; Lake Ann and Traverse City, Michigan; and to friends and family scattered across the world since last we met: please know, I'm thankful to God for you. Your lives have been a light for my journey.

Prayer: God, thank you for friends far and wide. Thank you for my family, who have been and continue to be my true home. Please be with my family this week as we celebrate the loving life of Susie Jahn, my paternal grandmother. Hold her--and us--in your arms always. Amen.    

Psalm 70: My Help and My Deliverer

Observation: Psalm 70 is one of several urgent requests for rescue from God. I kind of think of them as "911 Psalms." In it, the writer asks for God's immediate help and deliverance from an oppressive enemy. 

Application: It has been a terrifying week. A place of worship has become the latest in a long line of horrific shootings in our country. On top of that, today is the 79th anniversary of Kristallnacht, an awful attack on synagogues and Jewish businesses across Germany in 1938. These are events that hit us where we live: we realize on days like this that even holy spaces are not immune to evil and calamity. The Enemy can find a way in, and when that happens, God is our only refuge. 

As I reflect on "enemies" today, it's all too easy to think about a bitter, deranged individual, or even a bitter and deranged mob. But in the vast majority of my life, the enemy who does most to oppress and attack me is the enemy I carry within. I'm a sinner. I pass up opportunities to love my neighbor as myself seven days a week. I lash out in anger at those close to me, and I contribute to a culture of toxic masculinity and violent, divisive rage, even by remaining silent when this culture claims its victims. The evil I need deliverance from today, is the evil I know all too well.

Prayer: Lord, Deliver us. Deliver us from the dangers of violence in our world, and deliver us from the violence in our own spirits. May our enemies--especially our inner enemies--be subdued, and do us no more harm. Amen. 

Matthew 15:1-9 Hypocrites and Those Who Try

Observation: Jesus and the Pharisees are at it again. The Pharisees accuse Jesus and his disciples of being ritually impure by not washing their hands before they eat (Remember, they had no concept of germs, so this was strictly a matter of observing/not observing a religious ritual). But Jesus turns their self-righteous attitude right back on them, saying their shirking of family duties in order to become religious students is also a violation of the law: the fourth commandment, to be exact. Jesus repeats his most often leveled charge at these religious scholars: hyporcisy.

Application: The origin of the word "hypocrite" in Greek means, "actor." Actors often wore masks on stage in ancient Greece. In the same way, as Jesus points out, the outward face or actions of a hypocrite does not match their inward attitudes. 

Our culture puts a very high value on authenticity: we like people who do what they say, and say what they do. "Hypocrite" is a pretty serious charge to level at someone, just as it was in Jesus' time. We hate the idea that someone will think we're a poser, an impostor, a fraud. 

I have struggled with this a lot in my life. I want to sound smart, informed, thoughtful, astute. I want to do, say, and think the right things, and if I can't, sometimes I don't do or say anything. 

Ironically, considering how often Jesus called out hypocrisy, that seems to be a very common criticism of religious communities. "They're full of hypocrites." Maybe the perception is we say we believe in God and follow Jesus, but we don't act like it. We aren't great at welcoming strangers, turning the other cheek, selling all our possessions and feeding the hungry, like Jesus said to. So we may as well not try. Right? 

Well, here's the thing about Jesus and hypocrites: he actually hung out with a lot of them. He called tax collectors to follow him. He had mercy on a woman caught in adultery. He called Peter, who later denied him. I mean, he hung out with Judas for like, 3 years! Jesus' problem wasn't with hypocrites, per se...his frustration was with hypocrites who call out other hypocrites on their hypocrisy, without recognizing their own. The whole splinter-eye/log-eye thing. 

The fear of being inauthentic, being found to be less than what we aspire to, is paralyzing. It kills dreams and visions. It tempts us to settle for a mediocre version of ourselves that is worthy of neither criticism nor praise. It incurs no risk, and it accomplishes nothing of what God would have us do. 

If, on the other hand, we actually commit to following Jesus--to the crazy proposition that if we hang out with his people, learn from him, and practice giving of ourselves for the sake of the world, maybe our lives can look a tiny bit more like his--we will inevitably look dumb at some point. Full disclosure, if we try, we will not always succeed. Also, our progress will be indirect, halting, two-steps-forward, one-step-back. And we will be called hypocrites. And we'll feel like it sometimes. All this is true. But through all of that, we get to be with Jesus. We get glimpses--even the tiniest glimmers--of the world, and ourselves, as God would have us be. So here's to trying. 

Prayer: God, help me try today. Help me not criticize others who try, and who fall short in different ways than I do. Help me try in a way that makes others want to try this thing called Christian Discipleship for themselves. Amen.   

Lamentations 2:13-17 "That I May Comfort You"

Observation: Traditionally the book of Lamentations is attributed to the prophet Jeremiah. It is what it says: poems of lamentation, all related to the conquest and destruction of Jerusalem by the Babylonian army in the 6th century BC. What really catches my eye here are the harsh words the poet uses, that Judah's prophets have told "false and deceptive visions," that God "demolishes without pity" and has "made the enemy rejoice over you." But at the same time there are glimmers of hope toward the beginning of the passage: The poet (using God's voice) asks "to what shall I liken you, that I may comfort you?" "Who can heal you?" It's clear that if comfort and healing is going to come, it will come only from God. 

Application: This text is from the Daily Lectionary. I didn't pick it. And truthfully, I probably wouldn't pick it for less than two days after another awful mass shooting, this time in a church during a worship service. It's too harsh, and it hits too close to home. But if our ears are open, maybe it's exactly what we need to hear. 

As a parent, I always have a dual impulse when one of our children hurts themselves doing something I've told them a hundred times not to do, or that I thought they had enough sense not to do without my telling them. Once I've established that they're basically okay, part of me wants to say, "See? That's why I tell you not to do that!" and part of me wants to just wash the scrapes or bruises, get a band-aid, and just sit with them and comfort them until the pain subsides. 

The thing is, they need both. Not at the same time, mind you, but eventually. It's like the Lutheran balance between Law and Gospel. We need to know where and how we messed up, but we also need to know that in God's arms we can still find healing.

Obviously, something like the destruction of Jerusalem, or the latest in a rash of horrific mass shootings, is a much more extreme situation than a child falling and scraping a knee. But in this situation, where we are hurting and confused, and not knowing where to turn, we absolutely need to be talking to God. But God will offer both Gospel and Law: both healing and challenge. 

I have seen a lot of Facebook friends recently react with complete disrespect and derision when folks (particularly policy-makers) share "thoughts and prayers" for the victims of a tragedy. This troubles me for two reasons: first, of course, it puts me on the defensive as someone who prays every day, and believes that it does in fact make a difference, even if that difference is not always what we want or what we can see. But secondly it troubles me because it's clear that so many people of faith fundamentally misunderstand what prayer actually is. 

If I can paraphrase a friend of mine, prayer is not just positive inner thoughts, it's a conversation with God. So if you are really and truly praying, that means you are really open to hearing what God has to say, both by way of comfort, but also by way of challenge. If we really are praying, then it's entirely appropriate at a time like this to ask God, "what do you think about this?" and "what do you want me to do about it?" Maybe we can even be brave enough to ask "what does loving my neighbor as myself look like in this situation?" 

God, like any good parent, is going to have plenty to say to us when we are hurting. The real question is, how much of it are we ready to hear?

Prayer: God, speak to us. Heal us. Challenge us. Comfort us. Give us compassion for our neighbors who are grieving this most recent shooting, and those who are grieving so very many others. Give us compassion, too, for those who may be grieving soon, whose tragedy is still preventable, and give us the moral courage to come together across all divisions and prevent it. Amen.  

1 John 3:1-3 What We Will Be

Observation: John writes to his community about the honor of being called God's children, and what it means for their future. Just as with the Gospel of John (probably by the same author or same community), the theme of Jesus being "revealed" and of "seeing him" is central. What's unique about this passage is the assertion that when we see Jesus as he is (at the end of our earthly lives), we will "be like him". 

Application: Last night, as the cold, dark spookiness of Halloween settled in, I watched an episode of The Twilight Zone on Netflix. It featured an old woman living alone, afraid to let anyone in, for fear that whoever it was would be Death in disguise. After being seriously wounded on the street, a police officer comes to her door (played by a much younger, and frankly man-crush-worthy Robert Redford). Reluctantly, she lets him in. After a long conversation, she befriends the officer only to realize her worst fear was in fact true--that he does, indeed, represent death--but it's not a fear anymore. Death has become a merciful friend, ready to take her into whatever is next. It wasn't scary at all. 

This All Saints' Day, I'm thinking about those who have gone before me, especially those who have put their trust in God. Their witness reminds me that death is not something to be feared: in fact, in Jesus, death is the gateway to resurrection and eternal life. I think based on the Bible, we can be a little bit humble about what we can know about it. John says "We are God's children now, what we will be has not yet been revealed." How will death feel? What will resurrection look like? We just don't know, and it would be foolish to pretend we do. Our only clue is Jesus, whom the Bible calls "the first born from the dead." And we know he told us not to be scared. 

We can give thanks for the examples of people who have lived and died before us. We can celebrate them, and know they are not afraid or in pain. We can trust God with the rest--including all the days we have left.

Prayer: God, thank you for the people who formed us, and have moved on. Thank you for the promise of your resurrection. Be with all those today who are afraid of death, or who are near death, that their hearts may be calm and open. Help us to see you as you are, and be open to the transforming work of your Spirit, who will make us like you. Amen.