Jan 31 2019 Mark 6:30-46

‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.’

The best laid plans... Jesus tells his disciples to come to a deserted place, and rest because they didn’t have time to eat, with all the hubbub of their new ministry. They cross the sea to the deserted place, but the people saw them leave, and beat them to their deserted place. When they arrived, they found more crowds in need of healing. Jesus, being compassionate, got right back into his ministry of teaching.

I’m imagining the disciples were thinking that this wasn’t such a great deserted place after all. So when it’s getting dark, they try to convince Jesus to send them away so they can go find food. Jesus will have none of it. He makes his disciples feed the 5,000. After they do, he makes them return in the boat while he goes up to the deserted place, all by himself.

There are times I’ve felt like those disciples. I’m called away to rest – reluctantly. When I get there, it’s not so restful; there’s more work to be done. And the work is hard. And I’m spent. I respond something like the disciples, “Are we to spend 200 denarii on bread and give it to them?” You have GOT to be kidding me!

But the disciples got their food, didn’t they? And so did the crowd. Despite their doubt and fatigue and hunger, they had what they needed to be fed, and to feed the crowd. They had God.

When I’m at the end of my rope, in need of rest and a deserted place, sometimes I’m called to do even more. Maybe we’re put in that tenuous place to remind us that – in fact – we cannot do it alone. And it’s when I realize I have no more left to give, that I can more readily turn to and accept God’s grace. It never was about me anyway.

Jan 30 2019 Mark 6: 13-29

The king was deeply grieved; yet out of regard for his oaths and for the guests, he did not want to refuse her.




Out of regard for his oaths and guests.. Really? King Herod had John the Baptist beheaded because he’d promised his daughter he’d give her whatever she wanted, and he made this oath in front of his guests. She ran back, told her mom, who got what she wanted by having her daughter ask for the head of John the Baptist.

Herod was afraid of John because he knew he was a righteous and holy man. And yet, because of some stupid oath he’d made at a party, he had the man beheaded. He was absolutely played by his wife and daughter, and as a result, had a righteous and holy man beheaded.

I would hope that I’m smarter or more thoughtful than Herod, to feel backed into a corner because of over-reaching commitments or lines in the sand. But as I’m exiting one phase of parenting, and entering another, I fear I have much to learn. How many times have I chosen commands over love, chosen being right over being merciful?

Luckily, beheading isn’t in my arsenal of parental tools. But anger is. Judgment is. Vindication is. I pray that moving forward, I have the grace to understand that being right or executing consequences sometimes is the wrong choice. Sometimes it is the right choice, but not always.

Knowing when to walk away from some stupid commitment, or promise, or rule, may be the more grace-full path. And might result in no one losing their head.

Jan 29 2019 Galatians 1: 18 – 2:10 Mark 6: 1-13

I was still unknown by sight to the churches..
Is this not the carpenter?

In both the first and second reading, we see how our human eyes and human understanding of what we see can be so wrong. In the first reading, Paul is going to areas where they’ve only heard of him and his conversion story. Paul was converted from the Christian-hating-and-killing Saul. Saul was holding the coats of people who stoned Stephen to death – Stephen credited to be the first deacon martyr.

We take it for granted that Paul was this great disciple, spreading Christ’s word throughout the region. Do we ever think about the fact that it was spread with the same zeal he had for persecution and killing? Of course he is a wonderful disciple. And of course it’s an extravagant example of God’s grace and mercy on a sinner. But sometimes I wonder if I accept Paul’s authority without really accepting Saul’s actions. And Saul didn’t do anything to undo his past wrongs. Scales fell from his eyes, he was given grace, and he became Paul, with the same zeal he’d previously had, but now turned to good.

If this were modern day, if our own personal Saul’s, had a personal conversion experience and started working for God’s grace, how long would it take me to believe? To trust? I think I know more. I think I can judge by what I have seen in the past. I’m skeptical to trust based on someone else’s internal experiences.

Same with Jesus returning to Nazareth. While he’s got wonderful teachings, the people see him as the carpenter. They cannot believe he’s anything other than what they see and have known in the past.

I have always been skeptical in my own life and world when someone professes a faith or has a conversion experience that is incongruous with their past, or is too convenient for their circumstances. And yet, I’m willing to take Paul’s word, and scoff at the people in Nazareth. Of course Paul is a great apostle! Of course Jesus is God incarnate! And if I’m willing to believe that, I need to strive to afford the same trust and grace and hope to the Saul’s of my day, whether that’s in a political arena, or personal.

Jan 28 2019 Galatians 1: 1-17

If I were still pleasing people, I would not be a servant of Christ.

I had the pleasure of serving with our bishop yesterday for a visitation at a local church. In between the services, there was a conversation with the bishop. Paraphrasing a bit, one woman asked why mega-churches had full parking lots and traffic control, while many mainline Christian traditions don’t.

Of course, that’s a million dollar question, and there are theses written about this very topic. But yesterday’s answers were that 1) during times of societal turmoil, people like certitude. They want to be told what’s right and wrong, and more important, if they ascribe to the professed ‘right’, they want to know they’re saved and special, as opposed to all the others who don’t. My faith tradition leaves a lot of room for thinking and discerning about salvation, which is unsettling if you just want the answer. The second hypothesis offered was that some people seek a church experience similar to the culture – people are eager to be passively entertained.

To be clear, I am in no way knocking mega-churches. If people are connected to the true God – all loving, all welcoming, all forgiving, I could care less what venue that connection occurs. And I don’t think Paul was talking about mega churches; I mention it only as an example.

But I think that the bit from Galatians offers a healthy caution about the expectations of the world. Paul is saying that there is marked distinction between pleasing people and pleasing God. That sometimes Christ’s commandment to love God and love our neighbor puts us at odds with man’s desires. At odds with our desire for knowing we are saved while being able to look at those others who aren’t. Our desire to help ourselves, and people like us.

I’m all for pleasing people at the same time I’m serving God. I pray that I always stop to confirm God's will is done.

Jan 27 2019 Hebrews 10: 19-31

And let us consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds..
Here’s another word usage we don’t often hear. Provoke. Rarely do we hear or use ‘provoke’ when referring to anything positive. We use it when we’re talking about fights, war, and other bad behavior.  To me, it’s quite startling to hear it used for a positive thing.
And if you think about what provoke means, it’s even more startling. To provoke is to stimulate or give rise to a strong emotion or reaction in someone. One person does something that results in the action of another. Generally it’s used to blame the initiator for the bad reaction of the one provoked. But there’s always a second agent, isn’t there? There’s the person or event that was the initial provoker, and the one provoked. And because it’s mostly used to describe negative reactions, it would be rare for a good-hearted Christ-follower to want to provoke anyone or anything.
But today we get this startling and lovely alternative.  Provoke one another to love and good deeds. This isn’t just talking about us loving or doing good deeds ourselves. Rather, we are to be the inciter, the one who causes rise to a strong emotion or reaction – but in this case it’s a good reaction.
What a gem this is for me today. We are called to intentionally incite others into love and good deeds. That describes a duty to my neighbor that I hadn’t thought about before. It’s not enough for me to love them. I need to provoke them to love others too. As a deacon in the Episcopal Church, this is a brilliant, pithy way to describe what I believe I am called to do; provoke one another to love and good deeds.

Jan 26 2019 Ephesians 6:10-24

And having done all, just stand.

Since I’ve been my daily writing practice, this is the first passage that has come up twice. It’s bound to happen, but I’m exceedingly glad this was it.

I’ve had a tumultuous couple of years. I had a stalker for a while. Technically, I still do, but she’s in prison now. Very long story, but suffice it to say, I had my ups and downs in my capacity to respond from a place of calm. A dear friend offered this passage, when I was at my wit’s end.

It comes in the midst of a passage of scripture many know; take up the whole armor of God. The belt of Truth, breastplate of righteousness, and whatever shoes that will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace.

As an aside, if anyone’s interested in a fun song and reflection on this passage, that focuses on the shoes, please take a listen to the podcast (Lectio Musica) of a friend Matthew David Morris, and his original song, called Shoes http://lectiomusica.com/shoes. This also came out a much-needed time for me.

So after you’ve done all of that, after you’ve put on whatever shoes you want, your breastplate, belt – the whole armor of God.. after having done all, just stand. This was the scriptural passage that was offered at one hard time. And it endures – and keeps popping up, right when I need it.

When I started my spiritual journey, I’d described that I felt like a leaf travelling down a river, carried by whatever currants were pulling or pushing me. To try to stop in the midst of a river is sometimes more dangerous than just going with the flow. To try to stop takes more energy. So sometimes you do need to just be carried along.

But sometimes, you need to put your feet down – to just stand. As the water rushes past, you stand firm. It may be harder, but it sometimes it’s safer than heading towards the rocky rapids, or the water fall up ahead.

For me, now, I need to just stand.

Jan 25 2019 Suffrages

Let not the needy, O Lord, be forgotten;
Nor the hope of the poor be taken away.

Every day in morning and evening prayer, we pray something called Suffrages. When you're In the company of others, the person leading the prayers offers the first sentence, and everyone else responds with the second line.

This morning, I was struck by prayer, more than the Scripture readings, which is part of the joy of a morning prayer that includes both. It turns out that the Suffrages are based on prayers from almost 1000 years ago, in England, from something called the Sarum Rite. To be clear, I'm not advocating that things 1000 years old are better, or inherently worthy, but they definitely do carry the honor of staying power through time and space.

Let not the needy, O Lord, be forgotten. I'm always struck by this sentence, in that it doesn't identify who's not supposed to forget. Are we asking God to not forget? Or imploring God to let us not forget? This reminds me of a meme I'd seen which was something like, "I keep asking God why God doesn't do anything about the needs and hurts in the world. God asked me the same thing"

For as rich as that first line is of this particular Suffrage, I'm always shaken by the response. Nor the hope of the poor be taken away. After years working with the poor - poor in cash, poor in spirit, poor in health - the people who are most desperate are those who've lost hope. It's always amazing to see people who've seemed to have lost everything, but have not lost their hope. They are beacons of light in otherwise troublesome places. In contrast are those who've given up hope. Regardless of good their station in life, without hope, they are destined to become poorer.

That is my deep prayer today and every day.

Let not the hope of the poor be taken away.

Jan 24 2019 Mark 4:21-34

The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how.

This reading goes on to talk about the mighty mustard seed, the one of the smallest seeds that grows into the greatest shrubs. And this morning, I’m more interested in this introduction, often glossed over for the more exciting bits.

When my son was taking a math test in high school, he was required to show his work as part of the successful answer was not just the answer itself, but the problem set up, and demonstration of the work. He’d always had a really good understanding of math, eventually getting a theoretical math degree from college. But showing his work? He wasn’t so sure about that. So on the answer sheet, he wrote out problem and wrote out the answer. In between he drew a dark shaded box, in which he wrote “Magic happens here”.

There’s wisdom in that phrase, “magic happens here”. Well, maybe not magic.

Making Mark’s story all about us, we scatter seed, leave it, it sprouts, and return and don’t know how. Lots to unpack there. First, we are required to scatter the seed. It doesn’t say that God scatters the seed, or someone else scatters the seed. We scatter the seed. Our active contribution is required in this kingdom of God.

We sleep and rise, night and day. We are not called to watch the seed night and day. We leave it. Oh, how I wish I were better at leaving the seeds I’ve sowed, and not watched or worried about them night and day!

The seed sprouts and grows. Amazing! Without our constant observation and worry, the seed sprouts. In fact, something happens out of our careful observation and worry. Magic happens here.

Finally, we return and don’t know how it sprouted. We are called to return to the fruits of what we’ve sown, acknowledging the mystery of what happened despite our absence.

What I hear from this is that there is we are instrumental in planting the seeds of the kingdom of God. We are not needed 100% of the time, nor are we called to fret and worry when we’ve done our part. But we are called to return, and reap the resulting harvest.

Sometimes the harvest isn’t what we’d planned, maybe smaller or weaker or less fruit-bearing. But in all cases we are called to leave it for God’s work, and return to join in our part of God’s kingdom making. And leave some of it in God’s capable hands.

Jan 23 2019 Ephesians 5:1-14

For once you were darkness, but now in the Lord you are light. Live as children of the light.

I read this passage from Ephesians, and immediately a hymn popped into mind, “I want to walk as a child of the light”. That song has always given me goosebumps, probably because of the emotional arrangement, with suspensions and crescendos, and resolutions. I don’t have any music theory knowledge, so I apologize if those terms are wrong, but if you know hymn, you know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, you might check one out (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ltLVdJTHjs)

What strikes me about this Ephesians passage is what Paul is not saying. He is not saying that through the Lord, we will live in the light. He is saying that through the Lord, we are the light.

I like that distinction; living in Christ doesn’t just put us in a different space with no darkness. It transforms us to that light. This feels like more of a responsibility than just being lit up. We become the very light that is needed in the world. As that light, we can be that light for others. We must be that light for others.

Jan 22 2019 Ephesians 4: 17-32

Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear.

I’ve heard it said that it takes seven positive comments to offset the impact from one negative. From our kids’ behaviors, to our partner’s foibles, it’s far too easy to unleash negative comments, even if they’re slight.

And it’s interesting to me that Paul is basically saying that anything that isn’t useful to building up is considered evil talk. I’m not normally a mean speaker, but I can be sarcastic, snotty and condescending. None of these build up the kingdom, and it’s probably safe to say none give grace to those who hear. What a good reminder that words matter. That anything other than words that build up are not helpful at best, and evil at worst.

I like the idea that good, building up words actually give grace to those who hear. Words speak new truths into the world, either for good or ill. With the simple act of good words, I will aim to create good truths, and give grace.

Jan 21 2019 Ephesians 4:1-16

But speaking the truth in love, we must grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ.

Instead of being like children being tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine, we are to grow up. Grow up in every way into Christ. We are to do this by speaking truth in love.

I’m struck by this concept, speaking truth in love. Of late, when you hear the phrase, “speaking truth. . . “, it’s seems to be followed by “to power”. Speak truth to power. This would never be one of my go-to phrases, or sentiments. It sounds affrontive, combative. And while there are few arguments I shy away from, I’m not generally confrontive to power, at least not directly.

I understand sometimes power needs to change, to see the way things should be, to see how their exercise of power is harmful or unjust. And I guess I’ve always had much more success in affecting that change in power with a less confrontive truth-telling.
Which brings me to the idea of speaking truth in love. Maybe if we appeal to humanity’s deep-seated desire and knowledge that love is the way, speak truth in and to that love, we could move mountains. Influence through love, rather than confrontation.

Paul’s letter to Ephesians talks about all of the different gifts given – apostles, teachers, prophets, teachers. From each of these gifts, I think we should focus more on speaking truth in love, rather than to power. Even in this context, I think our presiding bishop Michael Curry is right. If it’s not about love, it’s not about God.

Jan 20 2019 Psalm 148

Praise the LORD from the heavens; praise him in the heights.

What a majestic psalm this is! It goes through the world as the writer knew about the world and claims that all things should give thanks to the Lord. Among those things called out to give praise are:
- The sun, moon and shining stars.
- Sea monsters, wild beasts, creeping things, and winged birds.
- Fire, hail, snow, fog, and tempestuous winds
- Kings, princes, all rulers, and all peoples young and old
Pretty much everything the psalmist could see.

When I hear this narrative or many other from Scripture, I envision what it might have been like, or at least what Sunday School illustrations have taught me. While I’m sure there are some cultural inaccuracies in those images in my head, the point is that I see these from a context of thousands of years ago.

But what if I could stay in the present day? Hear this and other stories from my view and my world today? The natural world might remain largely unchanged. Sea monsters might be more accurately titled, but wild beasts, creeping things and winged birds remain. Sun, moon and stars might be accompanied by galaxies and planets, and other things we know about now.

Weather phenomena would be accompanied by lahars, tsunamis, and hurricanes.

We would add all of the man-made things in our world, like planes, skyscrapers, tractors. Everything manmade that we see.

And in addition to princes and kings, the people descriptors would be expanded to reflect today’s ruling and oppressed, insiders and outsiders. Government leaders. Blue collar. Homeless. 1%.

This psalm is not supposed to make us think fondly about bygone quaint days and how it all should give thanks. Instead, we should hear the intent – all things everywhere should give thanks to God, because God created all. Ok, maybe the factory worker made the plane, but God not without God-given gifts and life.

I hear this psalm as another example that God’s hand is everywhere, and cannot be escaped or avoided. God created all. Everything is God’s. Everything is precious. And everything should give thanks. Today, I want to walk through my modern-day world with that omnipresent awareness.

Jan 19 2019 Mark 2: 23 – 3:6

They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve done something just like the Pharisees. Set things up, waiting for someone to do what I’ve decided shouldn’t be done – knowing they would do just that. It’s a set up from the first moments.

Maybe it’s kids. They’ve come home too late, broken too many rules. They ask once again for the same permission. You know they’ll break the rule. Or partners. He leaves the toilet seat up one time too many, despite cajoling from you, or promising from him. You know better. You know the argument or dissapointment will ensue.

Maybe the examples are lame, but it happens to all of us. There’s a way we think things should be done, and that way involves someone else also agreeing to that way.

Jesus goes on to say he’s disappointed at the coldness of their heart, and he goes on to heal the man’s hand.

I don’t want to be like the Pharisees, setting up rules and expectations, because that’s how I think things ought to be done, knowing that someone else will likely break them. Why do we do that? We certainly know better, and isn’t there enough angst in the world to not fabricate a disagreement you know is going to happen?

And what if the breach by the other person is defensible – more defensible than my rule. When our oldest daughter was young, she had to be home before dinner time, but regularly wasn’t. This was pre-cell phone time. One day, she came home late, and I knew she would be late. We each took our stupid roles – mom-the-enforcer, daughter-the-defiant. After we’d been through the majority of the argument, I find out she’d been with a friend who ultimately had to go to the hospital for some mental health issues.

But she broke my rule! But she was being a good and loving friend!

Maybe the lesson I can take from this is that sometimes the rules, while designed for good, can get in the way of the humans who were designed for great. It’s not that all rules are relative, but I think all rule breaches deserve a conversation at the breach, a review of the rule, and acknowledgment that world isn’t quite as black and white as the Pharisees think. Or me.

Jan 18 2019 Mark 2: 13-11

When the scribes of the Pharisees saw that he was eating with sinners and tax-collectors, they said to his disciples, 'Why does he eat with tax-collectors and sinners?

And today, we join Mark’s whirlwind narrative of Jesus’ ministry as Jesus called Levi the tax collector. Just to clarify, Levi is the Hebrew version of Matthew, which is Greek. This is the narrative of how Matthew was called and joined Jesus.

Matthew was a tax collector; he was a Jew employed by the Romans to collect exorbitant taxes on his fellow occupied Jews. Tax collectors were not only doing dirty deeds for the Romans, which was bad enough, but they were also known for taking more than they were supposed to, and pocketing the difference. Their employers, the Romans, didn’t care – as long as Rome got what was coming to them.

Matthew was a person who was like the opposite of Robin Hood – taking from the poor and giving to the rich, reveling in his position of corrupted power. Jesus comes to dinner at Matthew’s house, and is dining with his disciples, other sinners and tax collectors.

If we were to fast forward this caricature to modern day, mightn’t modern day wealthy conservative politicians fit the bill of the tax collectors of Jesus’ time? People, who started as equals, but some ended up authorized to tax people who were poorer for the benefit of those in power? To be as clear as I can, couldn’t we agree that our current federal administration could be likened to Matthew and his fellow tax collectors?

And if that’s the case, it seems to me a little damning to the argument of modern day political ranters. Jesus came to dine with not the saved, but the sinners. As Jesus says later in this section, “Those who are well have no need of a physician… I have come to call not the righteous but the sinners.

To be clear, I am not suggesting that the ways of the historical or modern day tax collectors are good or enviable or defensible. But I do feel a little convicted by the Gospel, when I hear people rail against the ungodliness of the modern day tax collectors. Especially when I think about the fact that Matthew is specifically called out as one of Jesus’ original disciples. And Jesus called HIM to follow. Jesus came to save him, not the righteous. I’m guessing that was as hard to swallow for Matthew’s poor conquered peers as it is for us now.

Jan 17 2019 Eph 2: 11-22

So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near.

The writer of Ephesians is talking to a group of “gentiles”, a term referring to anyone not the people of Israel. These people previously were not worshippers of the God of Israel, so according to the law at the time, would not have been included in God’s redeeming love and salvation. This would happen either the result of where they were born, or what/who they chose to worship. In any case, they were outsiders.

The letter to the Ephesians was written while Paul was being held in prison for being a follower of Jesus. He’s continuing to extoll Christ as Lord and this section we read today is encouraging this group of non-Jews in Ephesus to be strong in their faith that through Christ, all are made one. Those who are ‘far off’ was everyone who was considered an outsider, or collectively called the gentiles. There are no more outsiders, when it comes to God’s love, even though some were born Jews and some not.

Ah, to believe in the all-encompassing, border-smashing, radically-welcoming love of God, through Jesus Christ.

And here we sit, thousands of years later, continuing in our limited, bordered, unwelcoming world. In my mind, of course we shouldn’t be building walls, or deporting. But this isn’t just about those other people who build walls, or aren’t welcoming. We all have someone or some group who would not be welcome, who’d be considered outsiders. For some it’s a bright political line – republican v. democrat. For others it’s where you fall on a social issue, like homelessness, or taxation, or the military, or. . .

If pressed, I’d say that my ‘gentiles’ or those far off would be people who are mean, unwelcoming, self-serving, bombastic. My groups of outsiders would be people who espouse a political or social agenda which leaves no room for discussion or no room for anyone who disagrees. This is true on both sides of the aisle or issue.

And yet, Paul is saying that Christ came to bring peace to the outsiders and insiders as well. God loves those on my side of an issue, and those on the other side. As Archbishop Desmond Tutu said, “God loves you, but he loves your enemies too”. And we are called to that love too.

Jan 16 2019 Mark 1: 29-45

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed.
We continue Mark’s whirlwind tale of Jesus’ early days.  After leaving the temple and surprising everyone with his authoritative teaching, he heals Simon’s mother-in-law. As a result, he’s inundated with the whole city at the doorstep, clamoring for healing. It’s exhausting just reading about all the healing and revealing Jesus is doing in Mark’s retelling. And it’s no wonder that his next action is to get up while very dark, go to a deserted place, and pray.
When I look at my personal introvert/extrovert tendencies, I’m either a high-functioning introvert, or a very mediocre extrovert. I truly enjoy being around people, loving them, hearing them, sharing with them.  But not tons of them. On the flip side, I like alone time, but I frequently get fidgety, because I’m not sure what to do with myself and my thoughts.

Maybe as God incarnate, Jesus transcends introvert/extrovert labeling. He was great with intimate gatherings and large crowds alike. And he knew when he needed to retreat, even if by cover of darkness. Maybe we’d be better transcending those labels too, and rather just have enough self-awareness to be fully present in the gatherings, and know when to retreat. And to use our retreat time to its fullest. Pray, reflect, rest.  Then head back out to meet God’s people in all their messy people-ness.

Jan 15 2019 Mark 1: 14-28

And immediately they left their nets and followed him.

This is the second little bit we hear from Mark, after Jesus is baptized by John, John’s arrested, and Jesus is driven into the wilderness by Satan. Whew. Mark packs a lot of details in a small section. Today’s section includes the calling of the first disciples, teaching in the synagogue as one with authority, the first recognition by someone else that he’s the Holy one of God (intriguing that the recognition is from demons), and his driving out of those demons.

This morning, I’m struck by the idea that the first disciples immediately left their way of life, their families, their livelihood – and followed Jesus. How hard is that for us! Both to leave all of those things, and to do so immediately.

In my life, this isn’t so much about moving to a mission field somewhere, although until recently, I’ve believed that’s a likely possibility. On a more hedonistic level, I was imagining leaving employment (aka retirement) early, in about 5 years. Life events have likely changed that. Such is life. For me, the challenge – or opportunity is to give up these earthly things and commit to follow. Even the earthly visions of where my life was heading. Those were my visions and my plans.

The opportunity in following is to stop worrying about steering this vehicle. With a navigator in Jesus, I can fully trust that the destination will be exactly as it is supposed to be. While that could cause some anxiety because I’m not in control, once we realize who is, and turn over the keys, it’s so much easier to be a passenger. Even if sometimes I’m a little like a back seat driver. Again today, I’m ready to put down my net and immediately follow,

Jan 14 2019 Mark 1:1-13

And a voice came from heaven, You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.  And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness
This, to me is wonderous. First of all, I’ve never had this kind of theophany, or where I see or hear God so clearly, either acting in myself or with someone else. To hear God saying ‘you are my beloved’, or to see the spirit descend like a dove would be awesome, if not a little frightening.  And also marvelous. To be that clearly owned and claimed would be comforting, I think.
And yet, I think it does happen to us. First at our baptism, when with they oil of baptism, the sign of the cross is made on our head, we are sealed by the Holy Spirit, and marked as Christ’s own forever.  Maybe we cannot see it, but I know of priests, parents and people baptized who have experienced this kind of marvelous, awesome, comforting and frightening claiming. 
So after this beautiful claiming by God, the Holy Spirit sends him out into the wilderness. Not just sends, which could be a peaceful departing, but Drives him out, which doesn’t sound so peaceful. Instead of a great post-baptism party, Jesus is driven out into the wilderness to be with the beasts. While there, he was tempted by Satan.
Mark’s Gospel doesn’t tell us anything about Jesus’ time in the wilderness; the next narrative is Jesus returning to Galilee to proclaim the good news after John’s arrest.  But I imagine it was a challenging time, tested by Satan.  Despite that, Jesus returns to talk about Good News.  Clearly the Satan-temptations didn’t deter or change his mission. He had a bigger vision of the world than Satan’s.  He had a stronger drive for Good News than Satan did for the opposite. He was marked as God’s own, God’s beloved.  Just like we are.

Jan 13 2019 Heb 1: 1-12

Long ago God spoke to our ancestors in many and various ways by the prophets, but in these last days he has spoken to us by a Son... He is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being.

How much there is to learn from all of the prophets through whom God has spoken! As prophets, they speak of the way things should be, or pointing out the problems of the way things are. Throughout the ages the prophets would have been railing against the wrongs of their time, and hopefully all pointing towards the same dream of God’s.

And as humans, prophets of old probably had human shortcomings and biases that made their message maybe not as precise as God’s own message.

The great news is that through Jesus, we get a prophet who is spot on. As an exact imprint of God, Jesus’ vision and prophecy is God’s. No question and no deviation.

The fact that Jesus was fully human provides an incredible and relatable example of what God wants from us, what God dreams for us.

Jan 12 2019 John 9: 1-38

Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he should be born blind?

This morning, we read about the man born blind. His own disciples ask Jesus whether the blind man sinned, or his parents. This is always a painful part of Scripture – this repeating theme that bad things happen to bad people, or the children of bad people. Anyone with a child - or anyone who’s ever been a child cringes at this a little bit. Our sins result in blindness? Or worse, our parents’ sin causes our problems?

At one time, I was crowing like a rooster about the accomplishment of one of my children. A wise friend of mine commented that she tries to not take personally the accomplishments of her children, because then as a parent, you’re stuck taking personally the failings of your children. How true. We know it’s not really our doing when our kids do well or struggle, but it is hard to not take it personally.

But Jesus dissuades this argument that sin causes blindness passed down from generation. When asked who sinned, Jesus responds that neither the blind man nor his parents sinned. Rather, the blindness occurred so God’s works could be revealed in the blind man. This is a tricky lesson to hear. We would never want to suggest to a grieving parent that bad things happen so God’s works can be revealed; these are not words of comfort. But perhaps they are words of truth. Perhaps what this points to is that God can take broken things and make them beautiful, or that God’s light shines through the cracks in brokenness. And in broken things, broken people, God’s light and action is different, so the resulting reflection of that light in the world is different.

No one wants broken things. No one wants to be broken, or to have someone they love broken. This hits home for me this month, as I deal with the reality of a newly diagnosed schizophrenic child. It’s hard to wonder what we did, or didn’t do; what the child did or didn’t do to be broken. And it is no comfort at all to suggest that the brokenness occurred so God’s glory can be revealed. It is not an excuse, or a defense, or comforting in any way.

But I can begin to get my head around the idea that God can work through this brokenness in ways that are very different from others. God’s work in and through my child will be an unfolding that will be fascinating to share as we journey together these next few years. As the blind man says in this story, Lord, I believe.

Jan 11 2019 John 16: 15-27

When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.

So here is this king eternal. God incarnate. And when he’s about to be taken by force and made king, he flees, alone to the mount. Or as the scripture says, he withdrew. What’s that about? Was it the wrong kind of power, wrong method and wrong time? I suspect yes, on all counts.

He was going to be made king in a political earthly sense. That was not his mission, despite the benevolent power and positive influence he could have had over the people he ruled. If he had been made king, however benevolent, he would have been unable to finish his ministry on earth. He knew that was not what he was to do, nor the time.

He was to be taken by force. While eventually he is taken by force, this was not the time, nor the calling. This is a perfect example of fight or flight. Jesus picked the better path, Instead of fighting this force, he retreated to the mountains.

He withdrew alone. This wasn’t a time for camaraderie or company.

Now granted, as God incarnate, Jesus had an advantage in reading the situation and making a good call. And how frequently do we not?

We are wooed by the power or prestige of worldly titles and jobs – even if our motives are entirely pure. Sometimes we should turn down the opportunity, if it’s not what we’re called to do.

We are goaded into a fight, instead of retreating. This is a personal challenge for me. There is no argument that not’s worth having, especially if I’m factually right. But how much better to retreat, or at least to know when to retreat.

Finally, Jesus retreated alone. Sometimes we need to be in our own company, with our own thoughts, and listening to our own heart and soul.

I pray that I am afforded the grace to know what I’m called to do, when to withdraw, and retreat alone.

Jan 10 2019 Psalm 139: 1-17

LORD, you have searched me out and known me

This section of the Psalms feels pretty personal, intimate even. Isn’t that what we all want? To be sought out, known and loved for exactly who and what we are? The psalmist goes on to wonder where they could go to be removed from the Lord’s spirit.

If I climb to the heavens, you are there. If I make the grave my bed, you are there. If I dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand will lead me.

Ever present. Everywhere present. The Lord who made all that is, seeks me out. Knows my thoughts. That’s comforting and frightening, all at the same time. All my thoughts? Even the not-so-charitable ones? As the psalmist continues, all my restless thoughts? Indeed.

And despite my restless thoughts, my faults and flaws, the God who made the stars knows and loves me. In the movie The Shack, the God figure says to Mack, I am particularly fond of you. And then about another character with the utmost sincerity, I am particularly fond of you. I’m not looking for a theological argument about The Shack, but I did appreciate the genuine way this encompassing love was portrayed.

It’s a big responsibility, isn’t it? To be sought out by God, that well known by God, that loved by God, and that trusted by God to go about in this world, trying to love like God.

Jan 9 2019 John 5: 10

Is it the sabbath. It is not lawful for you to carry your mat.

In today’s morning prayer reading, we hear those horrible Jews who scolded the man and eventually turned on Jesus because Jesus had healed the man, and the man and taken up his mat on the sabbath. It sounds so petty, and ridiculous that anyone had cared above the miracle of healing this man. But they did care.

This is one of many circumstances from scripture where it seems clear that people who’ve encountered Jesus and later his followers miss the point. Who cares about the mat? Who cares about the sabbath rules? This man was made whole. It’s so apparently ludicrous.

But it happens here and now, all the time. And because it’s our rules and our norms, they make more sense, right? Breaking them now is far more important, right? The right color vestments, the right number of readings, the right day to worship, the right way to think about when, how Jesus heals. More importantly, the right people Jesus heals.
All of these expectations and norms and thousands others have insidiously crept in. And while many of these right ways are steeped in the best of intentions, when we, like the Jews in the story, ever say or think that ‘this is not the way things are done’, when the way it was done heals, or mends, or restores . . Who cares?

We all come to God with our understanding of what the right way to do it. But most of that I believe is rooted in my personal understanding of how I best come to God. Or how my faith tradition has historically lived out that relationship. Never should our right ways come between another human and a loving, forgiving, restoring, healing God.

It’s easy to see the Pharisees do precisely that. It isn’t so easy to see this in ourselves.

Jan 8 2019 Psalm 118:1

Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his mercy endures forever.

Sometimes these words sound hollow. Good? Forever? Sometimes crummy things happen, and it’s hard to shout this with any conviction at all. This morning could feel like one of those.

Yesterday, we participated in a court proceeding that resulted in our child being committed to the mental health system for schizophrenia. Mental illness is cruel. Cruel to those who watch and love someone suffering, and more so to the person suffering.

So give thanks? His mercy? Tough. And yet, today I can give thanks. I believe the system will help, and I know that for the near future, my child is safe. I can give thanks to the Lord that we did what we could. I give thanks that I can journey through this with my great husband. I give thanks that we have taken up the phrase “self care” as a daily mantra, and have identified times when we put this drama aside, and talk about something else, or go to the bookstore, or stop for dinner.

To be clear, this isn’t a ‘rose colored glasses’ optimism. Rather, it’s an acknowledgement that despite this, God is good. All the time.

I was struck as I was reading the psalm that THIS is the psalm that we read as we process on Palm Sunday Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good. I know that the Palm procession is the happy part of that morning’s service to be followed by the not so happy reading of the Passion. I’ve never really noticed any irony on Palm Sunday as I read those words, just a sense of contrived emotional toying. Really? Give thanks to the Lord? Always Good? Do you know where we’re heading after this procession? It felt more like a joke, or sarcasm.

But again today, I have a new-found appreciation for the psalms. It’s not sarcasm when I say, His mercy endures forever, or that I can genuinely give thanks. It’s more of a sense of the eternal pervasiveness of God’s goodness. In the midst of, despite, and on the other side of a crummy day.

Jan 7 2019 Ps 103

Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me bless his holy name.

I had a crummy time sleeping last night. My thoughts and heart were racing, I was planning for the unplannable, and entirely wrapped around the axel. I know my thoughts aren’t me. I knew I should be able to focus on that moment. I should have been able to separate me from my thoughts, or me from my heart.

In an oddly similar way, that’s what this line says to me. Bless the Lord, O my soul. The head is telling the soul to do something. It’s as if these two are separate. The intention and action are separate. This would have been a useful reminder last night.

But even if I could have found that, if I could have been at peace with the moment, I would have needed more comfort than just being present. And this morning’s psalm contains such comfort. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy.

I needed that too, in addition to knowing that my thoughts aren’t the same as my soul, or that I could set an intention with my head and have my heart follow. Last night and today and this past month have been super crummy. My husband and I will today go to a commitment hearing for a child diagnosed with schizophrenia, which by the way is a cruel disease.

I am hesitant to share more of that story, as I don’t intend to invoke sympathy or talk out of turn. But if I had a child diagnosed with cancer, I’d share that. So I will not perpetuate the stigma of schizophrenia with silence.

I share because I’ve never had great affinity towards the psalms. Some seemed whiny and angry. I couldn’t relate. Perhaps that’s because I hadn’t been at the same place as the psalmist, so their words didn’t strike a chord. Or maybe I was the whiny one. The psalms weren’t speaking to me where I was, so therefore they were irrelevant. Not a lot of empathy in that, right?

So here I sit this morning, heading into one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do as a parent, and I think I understand the psalms a wee bit more. They speak to us from the depths and breadth of human experience. The need to express anger, betrayal, abandonment, contentment, joy - all of our human emotions. And they call out to God with what we seek from God, based on wherever we are. Smite my enemies, help the helpless and oppressed, dance.

Bless the Lord, O my soul. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy. Indeed.

Jan 6 2019 Psalm 46

Be still, and know that I am God.

On the very infrequent circumstance of my being still, marvelous things happen. When I’m not bombarded with notifications, tasks, endless loops of what should be or what tomorrow will hold. But unfortunately, my normal state is not stillness. My body, and more importantly, my mind is in constant unstillness.

I’ve tried a boat-load of meditation practices – filling my head with a centering word, or trying to empty my head of all thoughts. Maybe two times have I felt like I’ve been still. I did recently read that meditation has this odd paradox, that when we catch ourselves chasing thoughts – when we feel like we’ve failed – that’s precisely when we’ve done something very good. We were able to separate ourselves from our thoughts, recognize the thoughts were very unstill, and return to our practice – that’s a meditation success, not failure. In my head, I believe it to be true.

But in those moments of stillness, I see things in new ways. I understand things differently. I can put together things differently. I think that’s because we all have such hard-wired ways of being and thinking that we don’t even know or see our bias or paradigms when we’re in action mode. But when we slow down, like in meditation, we can separate ourselves from our thought patterns or actions. How we think, how we react isn’t the same as the truth. And when we’re still we can catch glimpses that it’s simply our autopilot response.

When I’m still or maybe fairer, when I’m stiller than normal, I can see that the world’s actions occur. And I respond. But in between, there’s a space where I can choose my response. When I’m stiller I can sometimes access that space which holds the power of me choosing my reaction.
It’s in that space between action and my reaction, where I can sense God’s presence more fully. Maybe that’s because my normal autopilot state is pretty self-reliant. I’m pretty accomplished at doing whatever I decide. Or at least my autopilot self tells me. It’s almost as if my normal state would modify the psalm so it read, be busy, and know that Carter is God. Not that I believe that at all, but without pause or stillness, I think my actions lean that way.

Trying to get to stillness gives me access to that space before autopilot kicks in. That space where God resides, and is waiting to be involved, and guide, and comfort. Be still, and know that God is God.

Jan 5 2019 John 15:1-16

Abide in my love.

When I looked up the definition of ‘abide’, it’s another one of those words used in Scripture that isn’t replicated in the world. The definitions that aren’t noted as “archaic” are
- To accept or act in accordance with
- To be able to tolerate (as in cannot abide)
- To continue without fading (like a memory)
I don’t believe this is what is meant here. What Jesus is talking about is the archaic definition – to reside or dwell. This becomes more apparent with the rest of the portion of the reading:

If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commandments and abide in his love.

This isn’t speaking about tolerance or strict adherence to something. How could it, when we’re talking about love?

But what about keeping commandments? That sounds a little like rule following, or strict adherence. But not if you think about what Jesus’ commandments were. Love God. Love your neighbor.

So what this is saying is if you love God, love your neighbor, you will dwell in God’s love and God’s love will dwell in you. And while this is almost a circular argument, it feels very comforting to me.

Rather than being circular mumbo jumbo, this seems to me like a very positive version of “build it and they will come”. Love God & Love your neighbor, even if you have to fake it because you don’t always feel it. Remember – Love isn’t a feeling, but rather an active empathetic verb. Once you Love God & Love your neighbor, God dwells in you.

With God dwelling in you, it’s much easier to Love your neighbor and Love God. It’s almost impossible to look past fellow humans and not see Christ, not serve Christ, not Love Christ in them. So you’re drawn to Love God & your neighbor even more, and you’ve got more peaceful abiding. It’s nice how it works like that.

Today, I strive to sense God's love abiding in me.

Jan 4 2019 John 14: 6-14

I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these.

Really? Greater works than I do? Isn’t that a stretch? You’re God incarnate. We will do greater works than you? I don’t know about anyone else, but this seems like a tall tale. Whenever I hear this, I wonder how can anything I do be greater..

A dear angel-friend however reminded one of the ways how. As we often joke, she is my OLDEST friend, from playpen days.

I have a loved one in crisis. It’s been very challenging, and it never feels like I’m doing enough or the right things. I’m not even sure what the right things would be. In a long needed phone conversation, my angel reminded me that we are all put in the place to accompany others in this world; to walk with them on their journey. This could be aging parents, children, or friends in need. We are at the exact right place, and we are the exact right people to be there.

Not that I have a God-complex, but I believe what I’m doing with my loved one is a ‘greater work than these’. And I believe my friend’s call and counsel was too.

We do greater works than these when we accompany someone else on their journey in this world – through the good and bad – with love.

Jan 3 2019 John 10: 7-17

I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved. . . I know my own and my own know me.

In my experience, this passage and others from John have been used to support the notion that the only way to God is through Jesus Christ. Jesus is the ONLY gate that matters. If you don’t come through the Jesus gate, woe to you. Woe to you, you loving Hindus, Baha’i’s Taoists, deists of all sorts. Woe to you for picking the wrong gate. Even fellow children of Abraham – Jews & Muslims – woe to you. You should have picked the Gate marked Jesus.

To be clear, I am a Christian, so I believe the gate marked Jesus is a good gate. I believe it leads to God. And I’ve never conducted a world religion survey to know about any of the other gates. And I haven’t conducted Christian theological analysis to understand context or language to affirm what this section is saying. But in my heart, I believe God is bigger than my religion, than my understanding of religion. Even bigger than the incarnation of God through Jesus Christ. Rather, I tend to see it more like John Spong, retired Episcopal Bishop, who wrote:

“God is not a Christian, God is not a Jew, or a Muslim, or a Hindu, or a Buddhist. All of those are human systems which human beings have created to try to help us walk into the mystery of God. I honor my tradition, I walk through my tradition, but I don't think my tradition defines God, I think it only points me to God.”

Maybe this is heresy. But I don’t think so. This morning’s passage continues with these lines from Jesus:
I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock.

I believe we are all children of one God. At the end of the day, I care that there is one flock, not which pen they’re in.

Jan 2 2019 Heb 11:1

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

So what is the difference between faith and hope? I hadn't thought about it until posed the question at a gathering. It's funny that we take these words for granted, until pressed. 'm glad I was pressed.

Hope has to do with an outcome. It's sort of an optimism that things will be ok. I hope I don't run out of gas. I hope the test results are negative. Hope is what we hold on to in the midst or at the beginning of a journey - an optomistic expectation of the destination.

Faith, on the other hand, has less to do with the destination, and more to do with the journey. With faith, we don't worry so much about the outcome or destination. Faith is a deep and abiding sense that the jounrey will turn out ok, even if I run otu of gas. Regardless of the hoped-for outcome, things will be as they should be.

Don't get me wrong. I am a hopeful person. I think we more hope in our hearts and in our collecitve communities. But faith offers a kind of certitude that transcends hope. Hope feels fleeting, less grounded. Faith feels deeply rooted. Faith should give us the assurance that the journey is what matters, we are not alone, and all shall be well, regardless of the destination.

Jan 1 2019 Gen 17:15 The Feast of the Holy Name

Today, the church celebrates the Holy Name of Jesus, because 8 days after his birth, he was taken to the Temple and named Jesus.

The readings for today relate to this theme of the name, and some of these things we read daily:
Psalm 103: And all that is within me, bless his holy name.
Gen 17: No longer shall your name be Abram. And Sarai will be called Sarah
John 15: If you ask anything of the Father in my name, he will give it to you.

And some things we read daily or weekly also reference names:
Canticle 13: Glory to you for the radiance of your holy Name.
Lord’s Prayer: Hallowed be thy name
Prayer of St. Chrysostom: When two or three are gathered together in his name, you will be in the midst of them.

What’s in a name? After all, a rose by any other name. . .

But we’re figuring out now that names matter. When I was growing up, kids taunted other kids, and the response was “sticks and stones can break my bones, but names can never hurt me”. Now we know that’s not true. Names can hurt. It’s bullying and can hurt more than sticks and stones.

So names matter. The names we use for ourselves absolutely frame how we see ourselves. The same is true for others in our world. It’s a narrative we tell ourselves about ourselves and about others, all wrapped up on one word, one name.

When my youngest daughter joined our family, she referred to my husband as apple-head. Maybe because it was because he had little hair, even then. But it was a term of endearment. She referred to him as that again earlier this week, because as she said it’s a sweet name.

I must admit that I don’t have strong attachment to the name Jesus. I like the name Sebastian, or Grace. So I’ve struggled with the idea that the Holy Name is such a thing. But upon reflection, I am grateful, and I owe my life to the fact that God was made man, and had a name, any name. All that is within me, bless his Holy Name.