Dec 27 2021 Day 263 Mark 9:1–10:45

But Jesus said, “Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. 41 For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.

The disciples have come to Jesus to tattle on someone who was casting out demons in Jesus’ name, but wasn’t actually following the group. The disciples tried to stop him, and Jesus explained why they shouldn’t do that. Whoever is not against is, is for us. Anyone who gives a follower of Jesus a cup of water will not lose the reward.

In these times of division, I’m drawn to this section. How many people think they have the key, the only way to God? My faith tradition was founded at a time when there were huge divisions between the protestant reformers and the catholic papists, each claiming their way was the only way. And since that time there have been major divisions within my tradition, between those who follow a more conservative theology, and those who follow a more liberal theology. There are even single dioceses or congregations that split apart because of seemingly irreconcilable differences.

The time during the split is horrid, going all the way back to the reformation. It’s hard to exert your unique identity, and be who you believe you should be without somewhat demonizing those you’re leaving. And those who have been left can’t help demonizing the break-aways.

While I’ve spent my whole life in one tradition, I suspect these observations about divisions is not unique, but played out through Christendom everywhere.

I’m not suggesting that there aren’t differences, or that divisions don’t need to happen sometimes. As people grow in their spirituality and their understanding of God and of God’s word to them, sometimes there may be such big differences that warrant splits. I for example would be hard-pressed to worship all the time in a tradition that does not believe women can be in positions of leadership, in both the catholic and protestant realms.

And having said that, the divisions don’t need to render the other side demons. I don’t always understand the theology of folks who believe very differently than me. And Jesus says that this shouldn’t matter. Anyone who does an act of goodness in Jesus’ name shouldn’t be stopped. I could disagree with other Christians about their theology, or about their style of worship, but that should never result in me demonizing them; they are doing Jesus’ work. Let them be.

More compelling to me this morning, is the last bit of Jesus’ counsel to the disciples. Whoever helps a Jesus follower will not lose their reward. I live with people who aren’t necessarily Jesus followers. But they certainly help Jesus followers. Maybe their helping, and doing good things is enough, even if they aren’t Jesus followers directly. I’d like to think so, and it does seem that’s what Jesus is saying.

We should stop fighting, and let differences exist. Loving God and Loving your neighbor is what matters.

Dec 26 2021 Day 262 Mark 7:1–8:38

For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life?



To follow Jesus, we must deny ourselves. The accompanying reflection is from Clare and Francis of Assisi, and they focus on all of the bad things that come from within us – avarice, wantonness, deceit, foolishness and evil looks. This, they argue is what we are to deny. This makes sense to me, especially the day after a holiday that turned into a holiday of gluttony.

I am probably one doctor’s appointment away from being diabetic, and yet I filled myself this past few days with all sorts of sweets and lovely breads. Every bite tasted wonderful. By the end of each day, I had a raging headache, and a zingy feeling in my body. And yet, the next day, I started all over. Caramel corn, homemade bread, chocolates from Germany. Why? What will it profit me to gain the whole world and forfeit my life?

I know Jesus wasn’t talking specifically about me and my gluttonous eating, but the same is true for all sorts of things we do. For some reason, we want worldly things that are tasty, or tempting, or fun or show our power, when we know better.

I’m reminded of the book, The Speed of Trust, by Stephen Covey. He suggests that there are rings of trust, that start with us trusting ourselves. We have to be able to trust ourselves before we can ask anyone else to trust us. Once we’ve worked on self-trust, we can begin to work on trust with other people, and then with groups, etc. But it all starts with self trust.

It’s a funny concept, to trust yourself. But it has to do with making a commitment, and sticking with it, whether it’s completing a task, or avoiding the candy. And it’s interesting that it’s so difficult. I do what I do not want to do, and I don’t do what I want to do. In order to follow Jesus, I need to deny myself. And the truth is, that despite what Covey says, I cannot truly trust myself. I have proven untrustworthy. The only thing that I can and should trust is God, not myself. With God, perhaps I do what I want to do, and avoid what I don’t want to do. Left on my own, I’m certain I’d try to gain the whole world.

Dec 25 2021 Day 261 Mark 6:1–56

“Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”


The disciples have just fed the 5000, and are now in a boat in stormy seas. Jesus walks out to the boat. He notes their fear so he climbs in, calms the storm. The disciples apparently didn’t recognize him, thinking him a ghost. After he climbs in, he reveals himself as Jesus and tells them to not be afraid.

Frequently, I feel like I’m in a boat, rowing against the waves and wind. God comes to me and I don’t recognize him, and my fear increases, thinking God has not heard my cries – if I even remembered to cry out to God in my fear. Perhaps God realizes I’m oblivious to his presence, and makes himself slightly more apparent – Jesus climbs into my boat, reminds me who he is, and tells me to not be afraid.

In a larger cosmic sense that’s what happens with the nativity which we celebrate today. As a people, God is with us. God has always been with us, and yet we don’t recognize God. We float through life in our wind-tossed boat, struggling mightily to row against the big waves. Even there, God is with us, but we do not recognize or sense God’s presence.

God realizes we need a more tangible, imminent sense of God, so God sends Jesus, God in human flesh, to come to live among us. God sends Jesus to climb into our boat. It takes the mundane human form for us to recognize the imminence and power of God. With Jesus in our boat, we again remember that God is always with us.

This morning, I’m thinking about the infant God-made-man entering my life once again, about God-made-man climbing into my boat. Do not be afraid.

Dec 24 2021 Day 260 Mark 4:1–5:43



He replied, “My name is Legion; for we are many.”



Jesus heals the demoniac in Gerasene. The man lived in the tombs and no chains could restrain him. Night and day, he howled and bruised himself with stones. When asked his name, the man replied that his name is Legion, for we are many. A legion was a unit of soldiers in the Roman army, anywhere from 3,000 to 6,000. Jesus demands that the spirit leave the man, the spirits enter a herd of pigs who launch themselves off the cliff.

When you read this story, you have a better sense of the torment of this man. When you live through the torment of this man, you have a better sense of this story.

For the past three long years, my loved one has battled schizophrenia and severe bi-polar disease. These are brain disorders, not unlike Parkinson’s or Alzheimer’s, and yet they have vastly different connotations. We feel bad for people with the latter diseases, and scoff at those with the former. If not scoff, certainly we don’t afford people with schizophrenia the same sympathy.

My loved one hears voices, sees things, and has delusions. The delusions are things that they believe that aren’t consistent with my understanding of the world. They believe they’re married to a famous rapper. The voices and visual things are hallucinations, things they see, hear or feel that I don’t. Most of their voices are friendly, including one of the famous rapper to whom they’re married. We’ve been out to dinner where we had to leave a chair for their husband, or moved where we sat in the car, to make room for the rapper. There are times our loved one wishes they could have some peace from the voices, and there are times they are lonely because the voices have been temporarily silenced.

The voices make them distracted. There’s a YouTube audio of a simulation of what it’s like to have audio hallucinations. I would commend you to put headphones on, and try to make it through. It’s very distracting, and troubling, as the voices are unfriendly and telling the person they’re garbage and don’t know anything. There’s also a video on YouTube of Anderson Cooper trying to do some basic tasks while listening to the audio simulation. He cannot follow simple directions. It’s startling and depressing. And it’s no wonder that people with unmedicated hallucinations are so aloof; they’re deeply engaged in an involuntary world in their head.

Our loved one will occasionally look towards where they’ve heard a voice, as if they’re looking at someone to respond. It’s a clinical sign of hallucinations that helps healthcare providers.

And like the poor man in the story today, our loved one has referred to themselves in the plural, saying ‘we are hungry’, or referring to themselves in the third person, because it’s one of their voices that’s responding to us. Knowing about Legion, and his explanation that ‘we are many’, when my loved one did this the first time, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I knew they were responding for the many.

Of the past three Christmases we’ve shared with schizophrenia, two involved significant crises and long term hospitalizations. One involved running through Portland without clothes because the voices told them to. One involved catatonia, such slow motion and cognitive distance they could not safely cross the street. Between the two Christmas crises, they experienced three months of inpatient psychiatric hospitalization. Last year, we made it through Christmas although the stress makes things harder for them. 2021 involved at least four hospitalizations, of at least 45 days, although it could be more. It’s hard to remember sometimes.

After a tumultuous trip to Pittsburgh, our loved one has been stable-ish. We have been able to again share Christmas traditions with them that have been shelved for the past three years. I don’t think we’re done with the crises, but for now, there’s peace.

The man from Gerasene may have had demons. He may have had a significant brain disorder. Or maybe the two are the same thing. I read this story with a deep sense of sadness about the man’s lost years and the community’s shunning of him. I read this story with a deep sense of sadness about my loved one’s lost years and the community’s shunning of them.

Dec 23 2021 Day 259 Mark 1:1–3:35

And as he sat at dinner in Levi’s house, many tax collectors and sinners were also sitting with Jesus and his disciples—for there were many who followed him.



Moving from the Gospel of Matthew to Mark is jarring to me. Matthew was trying to explain things to his people, to good people of God who did not know Jesus. He explained things from the perspective of someone who know the law to others who knew the law, and trying to explain things new, from the old context. Mark, on the other hand is largely addressing to non-Jews who don’t have the same deep foundation in the law. He’s trying to engage them in storytelling. And I must admit his storytelling sounds like the that of a second grader. And then I went here, and then I did this. And then we went there. (Imagine a breathy, excited child retelling a story, complete with missing bits, and lots of excitement). Jarring, compared to Matthew.

And then we were in Mark. Within the first chapter alone, we learn of John the Baptizer, Jesus is baptized, Jesus is tempted in the wilderness, Jesus heals many, and starts gathering his disciples. Mark packs a lot in, with a sense of urgency that keeps the story moving along at a fast pace.

In the second chapter, he calls Levi the tax collector, later known as Matthew. That night, Jesus as dinner at Levi’s home, which is filled with other tax collectors and sinners. When the scribes of the Pharisees saw this, they questioned why Jesus was surrounded by these sinners. I love this. I love that Levi had a house full of sinners and tax collectors. I love that Jesus had dinner with them, and I love that the scribes questioned Jesus’ actions.

Of course, Jesus had a great answer. Do the healthy need a physician? I’ve come to call not the righteous, but sinners. (Imagine Jesus thumbing his nose at them after this, or concluding with a “so there”).

What does this say about us? Yes, I know we’re all sinners in the cosmic sense, but as people of faith, I wonder if we’re closer to the righteous in Jesus’ story. I come to call not the righteous, but sinners. Don’t we do the right things, try to help others in an attempt to be righteous? If given the choice between the insiders vs. outsiders, those who do the right things vs. those who don’t, righteous vs. sinners, wouldn’t we want to fall in the former category?

Or putting it another way, aren’t there people we know who aren’t in whatever category we put ourselves? What about the unchurched, the atheists, addicts, fanatical religious zealots of any stripe, abusers, homeless? If we were to have a dinner party, who would we invite? The well-heeled, or the shoeless?

I want to be the person who suppers with the sinners. I’m not sure how to do that yet, but I’m working on it. This morning, I’m thinking about next summer, when the weather is nice to be outside, and dining with the tax collectors and sinners.

Dec 22 2021 Day 258 Matthew 27:1–28:20



When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.”



As we finish the book of Matthew, we hear of Jesus crucifixion, the soldiers who protected his tomb lest disciples remove it claiming he’s been raised, the soldier who recognized his divinity, the Marys’ discovery of the empty tomb, Jesus’ final commissioning to his remaining disciples, to make disciples of all nation, and his reminder that he’d be with them to the end of the age. As Christians, the Gospels have the most familiar, and most pithy sections of scripture. It makes sense.

And again this morning, I’m drawn to a section of Gospel that feels underattended. Judas repented.

Isn’t this what John the Baptizer was claiming we need to do? Repent. In my tradition the covenant we make in baptism asks “when you sin, will repent and return to the Lord?” I’m wondering who removed Judas from the list of disciples. I’m wondering if Jesus would have.

For us now to consider Judas an unmentionable seems to me to lessen Jesus’ message that there is nothing we can do that will separate us from the love of God. That God is with us always. That sin is what we do, and repent is what we’re asked to do.

I’m thinking about people who struggle with Christianity and its hypocrisy. We say love everyone. We act like that means everyone who agrees with us. We say all are welcome. We act like that means only people who won’t rock our bout. We say God loves everyone. We act like God cannot possibly love some because of their lifestyle or their excessive poverty or their excessive wealth. It seems like we have a good model for that hypocrisy. Jesus said, I am with you always, to the end of the ages. Scripture writers cast Judas into the outer darkness, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.

What does this say to our brothers and sisters who aren’t religious? Who haven’t been saved? Who don’t know God’s all-merciful love? If Judas’ repentance didn’t keep him in good graces, who’s to say mine will? Judas betrayed. What about people who’ve murdered, or abused, or what about me and my myriad of sins? Is my returning to God sufficient? How do we tell people of God’s unearned love and forgiveness when it appears Judas was the exception? Can there be exceptions? Should there be?

I’m reminded of a story told by Madeleine L’Engle, author of the kids’ book, A Wrinkle in Time. 

She wrote, “After his death Judas found himself at the bottom of a deep and slimy pit. For thousands of years he wept his repentance, and when the tears were finally spent he looked up and saw, way, way up, a tiny glimmer of light. After he had contemplated it for another thousand years or so, he began to try to climb up towards it. The walls of the pit were dank and slimy, and he kept slipping back down. Finally, after great effort, he neared the top, and then he slipped and fell all the way back down. It took him many years to recover, all the time weeping bitter tears of grief and repentance, and then he started to climb again. After many more falls and efforts and failures he reached the top and dragged himself into an upper room with twelve people seated around a table. “We’ve been waiting for you, Judas. We couldn’t begin till you came.”


I know Madeleine L’Engle didn’t write scripture, but I do think her story tells of better Good News than some parts we read, or even some of the assumptions that are woven in all of scripture, like that of Judas. I’m not suggesting that he should be sainted, or churches named after him. Well, maybe I am. What would that say to the world about God’s love?

Dec 20 2021 Day 257 Matthew 26:1–75

“My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want but what you want.” 



We’re getting to the Passion of Jesus. I’m reminded of my visceral feelings every time I read or see “To Kill a Mockingbird”. Every time, I have a secret hope that they will do the right thing, that Tom Robinson won’t be wrongly convicted. Every time he is. And so it is with reading the Passion. Every time, I have this sense of dim hope, that the story won’t play out with the betrayal, torture and execution. Every time it is. I know the story doesn’t end there, but it is an odd human trait that I hold out hope.

If it is possible, let this cup pass from me, Jesus prays while his disciples sleep. Jesus knows what is in store, or at least knows the broad outline. He has been telling his disciples that he will be betrayed and handed over to die on the cross. And still he prays to God that the cup could be passed over. He holds out hope.

He returns to his disciples and finds them sleeping, is saddened and disappointed and asks them again to stay awake while he prays. If it was the middle of the night, if they’d already fallen asleep once, if Jesus was God incarnate, I wonder if it was plausible for him to even remotely think they’d stay awake. But he held out hope that they would.

The next time he goes away to pray, his prayer drastically changes, and I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that. The first time he prays that the cup passes him by. The second two times he prays that if the cup cannot pass, God’s will be done. It’s as if he’s given up the notion that the cup can pass him by and has acknowledged that it cannot. Given that, Jesus prays, God’s will be done. He’s made a slight shift, from hoping that the cup can pass, to praying that God’s will be done, given that it likely cannot.

We hold out hope that things will turn out the way we want them to. I want to hold out hope like Jesus, and pray that if things don’t turn out the way I want, I’m willing to acknowledge and have assurity that God’s will be done.

In my world, it’s easy to hold out hope for a miracle cure for an as-of-yet incurable brain disorder. To hope that arguing people of God will make peace. That children won’t be hungry or abandoned or hurt. To hope the pandemic will stop ruining my loved ones’ plans. I don’t think I’ll ever stop hoping. But I need to be equally committed to the second half of this. If my deep hope cannot happen God, your will be done.

Dec 19 2021 Day 256 Matthew 24:1–25:46

‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’

I love and fear this section, perhaps in equal measure. It’s striking because this section is repeated by the good folks and by the not-so-good folks. Jesus responds nearly the same to both. Whenever you saw someone hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked or in prison you helped them, so you helped me. Or, whenever you saw someone hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked or in prison you did not help them, so you did not help me.

Lord when was it that I saw you hungry? This sentence is repeated a hundred times a day to me, and I’m given a hundred times a day to choose to help Jesus, or not. Being an imperfect, and distractable human, I do not respond by serving Christ all of the time. I’m too busy, I don’t have cash, I don’t have time. I don’t think Jesus cares about my busyness, or limited cash, or time. When I walk past the hungry, or don’t welcome the stranger, I am walking past Jesus, and not welcoming Jesus. Dozens of times a day.

When I do help feed, welcome or visit those who need it, I am immediately reminded that I’m helping Christ himself. It is so clear in their eyes that I’m in a holy space, doing holy work. Unfortunately, that same awareness of Jesus is absent when I walk past. I don’t see Jesus’ eyes when I don’t look in my neighbor’s hungry eyes. I don’t see Jesus cold, when I walk past neighbors who are cold. I sometimes don’t even see my neighbor, when I walk past.

I pray that in balance, I see Jesus more often than I don’t.

Dec 18 2021 Day 255 Matthew 22:1–23:39

For you tithe mint, dill, and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith.



Another rich set of readings. Love the Lord you God with all your heart, and soul and mind. Love your neighbor as yourself. The wedding banquet, questions about resurrection. And yet, today, I’m struck by this simple little sentence. You have tithed mint, dill and cumin. But neglected the weightier matters, justice, mercy and faith. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever heard this sentence in Sunday readings, and it’s a shame, really.

As a person who loves to cook and loves good flavors, this sentence evokes a lot of sensory memories. Mint in on the side of our neighbor’s garage that we’d pick and chew on. Mint tea. Dill and yogurt, dill in potato salad, dill fronds at the farmers market, cumin getting fragrant in the saute pan. These food and smell-related memories are important to me, and for me to tithe those items would be a big deal.

For me to tithe my food resources would be a sacrifice; I nearly hoard exotic spices, condiments, appliances. I would feel like I was offering a big thing. Perhaps the Pharisees did too.

But whatever we value, whatever we tithe, it pales in comparison to the things we should value and share – God’s love, mercy, justice, and faith. I can believe that the Pharisees thought they were sharing these gifts from God, and yet Jesus chastises them for believing their tithe of cumin mattered.

In today’s world, I imagine we all have things we value, and think we share with God as a sacrifice. Time, treasure. Jesus’ pointed question is whether we’re really attentive to what God cares about. This morning, I’m thinking about how to stay focused on the intangible values that God cares about, rather than the tangible items I tend to care about. And given all the talk about food, I’m thinking about breakfast.

Dec 17 2021 Day 254 Matthew 21:1–46

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.



I have read this passage, and studied this passage and preached on this passage. How is it, then that I read this passage today, and it sounds different? Perhaps the Word is living!

I have always thought of this as Jesus exhibiting frustration and even anger at the commoditization of the temple; rather than a house of worship, it had become a place where people made money. Unfortunately, modern day houses of worship fall into this trap as well, for good reason. The light bill needs paying, the building maintained, and people need to tend the building and its people. If we are not careful, we capitalize on the worshippers and make money on them, and our purpose is money, not God. This can be from the selling of things, money making events, or even worrying about the number of tithing worshipers.

This is what I’ve heard and understood this passage to be about in the past. Thanks to the accompanying reflection today from Meister Eckhart, I have a new understanding. He starts by explaining that Jesus is clearly coming into the temple and demonstrating that he alone should reside and have control over the temple. It is not for the money changers, or the dove sellers. It is for God-made-man.

But here’s the new part, at least for me. He then talks about how we humans are made in God’s image; we are more like God than anything else on earth or in heaven. We are the temple over which God desires sole residency and control. We are the temple that Jesus would frustratingly or angrily sweep out everything that isn’t of God. We contain the money counting tables. Oooh.

I’m not suggesting that this isn’t about houses of worship, but I’m grateful for my blinding flash of the obvious. It is also about us.

God wants to be the singular resident of our body, mind and soul. When I’m able to overturn my own internal dove-selling tables, I do find a particular peace. When I get rid of the worry and fear and concern for tomorrow, I can more easily rest in God. This morning, I’m thinking about identifying the money changers in my life, and getting up the courage to overturn their tables.

Dec 16 2021 Day 253 Matthew 19:1–20:34

Jesus said, “For mortals it is impossible, but for God all things are possible.” Then Peter said in reply, “Look, we have left everything and followed you. What then will we have?”



This comes a the end of the story about the rich man, the camel and the eye of the needle. Jesus is telling his disciples that it is difficult for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Upon hearing this, the disciples wondered aloud, ‘who can be saved then?’. Jesus responds with this, that it is impossible for mortals, but with God, all things are possible. Peter follows up with the logical mortal question, ‘we mere mortals have left everything. We’ve done what you asked’. He’s effectively asking if they are the exception to Jesus’ statement that mortals it is impossible. Peter wants Jesus to acknowledge what he’s already given up, and perhaps to acknowledge that Peter has acted in a way that Peter’s actions will warrant God’s grace and mercy. For Peter, it is possible, and Peter’s actions are sufficient.

Oh, I really like Peter. Yes, he can look like a hot-headed, impetuous, mercurial guy. But he also asks the questions others are thinking. He helps bring clarity to Jesus’ statements by testing them, by poking and prodding around the edges. In response to Peter’s questions, Jesus answers the questions many others have, but are afraid to ask.

And Peter’s question here is a good one. If the disciples have left everything and are following Jesus, isn’t that enough? Shouldn’t that warrant a mere-mortal-yet-sufficient-for-salvation effort? Bringing this forward to modern times, I think about people in my church and world. There are people who leave the comforts of home to serve God in mission fields half way around the world. Isn’t that enough? What about people in religious orders, who leave their families to dedicate their lives to God? Isn’t that enough? In a church setting, what about the people who volunteer all their time to help keep the church beautiful and well maintained? Or the musicians, or clergy, or altar guild?

People who have faith and dedicate themselves to God in big and little ways likely wonder if what they’re doing is enough. Maybe they don’t voice these concerns out loud, but I imagine everyone has these thoughts. Or if not that, these dedicated folks might wonder why the effort, when God loves everyone, including the C&E Christians, those who only darken the doors of church or think about church on Christmas and Easter. Isn’t our effort enough? Doesn’t it make us at least a little bit closer to salvation than those others?

Jesus explains that it is God, not us, who offers salvation. God alone. Our actions are done because we want to do them, because it’s how we want to show our love and praise to God. It’s the part of ourselves that we consecrate to God. We do these things because we want to. Yes, God wants us to serve, to help, to worship, even to polish the candlesticks. But God wants that because that’s how we are called to show our love for God. We are not filling up our scorecard, so that eventually, we have enough good marks to warrant salvation, or warrant anything in particular. God alone offers salvation. We need to get over ourselves and our sense of self importance. This morning, I’m thinking about all the ways where I’m keeping a scorecard, and going to try to rip that card up.

Dec 15 2021 Day 252 Matthew 16:1–18:35

I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.



And again, these two chapters from Matthew include so much that it’s hard to know where to start. When preparing for a sermon, that’s always the trickiest part, figuring out what small little bit to consider. A wise priest friend said that best advice he received about contemplating for a sermon, or for doing any bible study for that matter, he got from a scuba teacher. When he went down and looked out over the underwater vista, it was overwhelming. The teacher suggested that he focus on just one square yard, that all of the mysteries of the ocean would be uncovered, one square yard at a time. And so it is with scripture. We need to pick one square yard, despite there being miles of things to consider. Or in this case, several chapters of wonderful pithy statements.

The Kingdom of Heaven. Hmm. I know that at the time this was written, there was a very concrete knowledge about the earth. Not only was the earth flat, but the world was layered, with heaven up there, and hell down there. They were physical places, all defined by their position to the flat earth. The literalists of the world back then turned heaven into nothing more than an invisible space above the clouds. The literalists today, hold on to that notion.

Even back then Jesus was trying to break us free from this sensory understanding, in the prayer he taught us. Thy kingdom come, on earth as it is in heaven. Heaven is not a place, stacked above the clouds. The accompanying reflection is from Eugene Peterson, and he refers to heaven as a metaphor. It’s not that heaven isn’t real, it just isn’t a physical place that we can see, touch, hear, visit, or cognitively understand.

Peterson writes, “Beyond and through what we see there is that which we cannot see, and which is, wondrously, not “out there” but right here before us and among us: God his rule, his love, his judgment, his salvation, his mercy, his grace, his healing, his wisdom.”

I have an inkling of what God’s dream of for this world would be – the love, and mercy, and forgiveness, healing and grace, and plenty. That is my understanding of heaven. A place where that is the constant state, where all of our intentional and unintentional efforts to thwart that blissful state are gone. I don’t know about what happens when we die, but I absolutely believe that we can create God’s kingdom here, and when I look for it, or when I welcome it in, I can see glimpses of it every day. Heaven isn’t up there. It’s right here, if we allow God’s grace to make it so, to make us so.

Dec 14 2021 Day 251 Matthew 14:1–15:39

You hypocrites! Isaiah prophesied rightly about you when he said: “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me; in vain do they worship me, teaching human precepts as doctrines.”



This is the bit in Matthew where Jesus tells the pharisees that it’s what comes out of the mouth that defiles, not the fact that they eat with hands that haven’t been washed. He’s trying to tease apart the actions of the pharisees from the intent of the pharisees. They may do the right things, but the question is why?

As a follower of a tradition steeped in doing the right things, this is worth pondering. We do lots of things especially during worship. There’s a part just prior to Eucharist, where the prayer book provides for either standing or kneeling. There are congregations that wholesale kneel, and others that stand. To my high school eyes, the kneelers knew something I did not. They plunked down at a seemingly random part, all in unison. They must know more, they must be doing it right. So for a while I picked up the habit of kneeling. That part of the prayer is more penitential, so kneeling is appropriate; it gets your whole body in the position of a more humble heart.

But then I attended a church where no one kneeled. In their Sunday bulletin, they actually explained that they believed that through Christ, all were made whole. Especially right before communion, kneeling was not necessary, as we were freed from that sense of unworthiness; Christ’s sacrifice made us worthy, and we were about to celebrate that exact mystery.

What we do doesn’t matter as much as why we do it, particularly if we’re claiming to do things for God. Like the pharisees, it’s really easy to forget why, and continue on with ‘human precepts’, as Jesus explains.

The accompanying reflection is by Gerald May and focuses on the notion of consecration. Consecration is giving something over to God. He explains we can dedicate our lives to a cause, to our family, to a job. But we can only be consecrated to God. He writes, “Consecration means consciously participating in love, intentionally opening ourselves to accept the divinely given gift. It requires that we trust more in grace than in our personal capabilities. It calls for an attitude of willingness, a giving of ourselves to a power greater than our own.”

I’m intrigued by the idea that we can the right things, but if we aren’t doing them mired in God’s love, and because of God’s love, they cease to be the right things, or at least they aren’t consecrated to God. I suspect this happens both to people who are non-believers, where they’d never believe they’re doing something for God. And it happens to well-intentioned believers, like the pharisees and me, who do the right thing consecrated or given to God, but then over time, that God-connection gets lost, and I’m left doing something absent the God-connection. This morning, I’m thinking about how I can re-consecrate my life and actions, giving them over to God and God’s love. This requires a painstaking review not only of my actions, but of my reasons. No autopilot today.

Dec 12 2021 Day 250 Matthew 13:1–58

Listen! A sower went out to sow.

It’s amazing to me how timeless Jesus’ parables are. It’s easy for us to think that we have more distractions, more potential evil forces, more apathy than people in the past. Even our parents didn’t have it so bad! But then you read parables, and realize that our problems are apparently timeless. Take the parable of the sower. He sows seed and it scatters, some falling where it does not grow. 

Jesus explains this parable and the problems he points out are absolutely timeless. Some seed falls on the path, and before it has a chance to sprout, it’s eaten by the birds. This he says is like people who don’t understand. The evil one snatches up the good news before it even has a chance to germinate. We know people like this, people who intentionally or unintentionally don’t try to understand. They’re like kids who put their fingers in their ears, crying “I’m not listening, I’m not listening.”

Some seed falls on rocky ground. It may sprout, but there’s no depth to the soil so it quickly fades. Jesus likens this to people who hear with great joy God’s word, but have no depth in their faith, so when the going gets tough, they get going – anywhere else. Again, I know people like this, who are enthusiastic in their faith, but it’s a shallow faith with no depth. Their version of Christianity demands an easy road, because if things are difficult their faith withers. Worse yet, when bad things happen, they pretend all is well, because their faith cannot withstand hard times. I’ve been to churches full of deeply hurting people, but you’d never know it, because of the shiny face everyone puts on. In both of these cases, God’s good news fades in these people.

Then there’s the seed sown in thorny ground. These folks are the ones who are so wrapped up in the cares and occupations of this life that they fail to make space for God’s good news. Today’s worldly concerns crowd out and drown out everything else. Ouch. Reading this in December in 2021, it’s easy to see this in our current times. The upcoming celebration of Christmas can easily become a worldly concern that drowns out God’s good news. Even without Christmas, we seem to be so busy it’s hard to fit in time for church or worship or devotion or prayer. Even the best intentioned. Apparently, it’s not just a problem with us. Since Jesus’ time, and likely since the beginning of time, people get wrapped up in the trappings of the world. Note to self – try to hold fast to some prayer time, even if it seems I’m too busy. Especially if it seems I’m too busy.

Finally, there’s the seed sown on good soil. It is able to put down deep roots, and it grows and flourishes. We all want to be that seed, all the time. But I suspect few, if any of us spend our whole lives there.

Perhaps the challenge for us is to recognize when we’re struggling with worldly concerns, or have our fingers in our ears, or when we’re stuck in the rose-colored-glasses version of Christianity. All of these are dangerous, and all of these are persistent and timeless. This morning, I’m thinking about the timeless challenges to a deep-rooted and thriving relationship with God, how to recognize those challenges, and how to change my behavior before my faith withers.

Dec 10 2021 Day 249 Matthew 11:1–12:50

“Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?” 

This has always struck me as a little too harsh, especially to Jesus’ poor mother, who has been through a lot already. It’s as if Jesus is dismissing his biological family, entirely.

This morning’s reflection is written by A.W. Tozer, and he focuses on how Jesus showed us God’s nature. He writes, “Christ walked with men on earth that He might show them what God is like and make known the true nature of God to a race that had wrong ideas about Him.” He continues that this is only one thing Christ did on earth, but he did it beautifully. “From him, we learn how God acts toward people. The hypocritical, the basically insincere, will find him cold and aloof, as they once found Jesus”. But to the penitent, the hurting, the hungry, the self-condemning, they will find all the mercy and compassion and forgiveness imaginable.

After making this transition from Hebrew Scriptures to the New Testament, I see this benefit in Jesus. Jesus shows us in human form what God is like.

So what about this “who is my mother, who are my brothers” comment? Is Jesus really being dismissive of Mary? I want to believe not. Mary made great sacrifices. Mary changed his diapers, and dealt with him when he wandered off at the Temple. Maybe what Jesus is doing is trying to show the expansive way God sees family, not to diminish Mary and his brothers, but to elevate everyone else. Everyone who follows Jesus is family, have a vested stake in Jesus, should love him like a brother.

It is true that I have a special connection with my immediate family. If Jesus is here to show us what God is like, I need to figure out the relationship between my love and connection with my immediate family, and what God wants me to do with everyone around me. I don’t think it’s that my children are unimportant, or that I should dismiss my parents’ role in my life, Rather, I should treat all with that same sense of care, love and respect. If I follow Christ, I can strive to have infinite love to offer, because Christ gives it to me. I shouldn’t store it up and give it to the select few in my immediate family. This morning, I’m thinking about how to even things out in how I see and love others. I don’t need to love my family less, I need to love everyone else more.

Dec 9 2021 Day 248 Matthew 9:1–10:42

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.

At this point, Jesus has disciples, or followers, but he has not called the big 12, or the apostles, who end up not only following Jesus, but going out in his name. This little sentence comes before that calling of the apostles.

This story about the harvest being plentiful is one of the common readings at the service for the ordination of a priest. The person has been called by God to be a particular kind of laborer, and in front of the gathered people, accepts that call and acknowledges their role. I really like this part of the service, as there’s something both daunting and empowering in it. There is a lot of work to do. But God will call laborers to do that work.

Oh, how I wish there was a similar rite for God’s calling of the rest of us, some big celebration that acknowledges how wonderful it is to be called by God to be a special kind of laborer. I genuinely believe that we are all called to do a particular kind of Holy Labor, and we know it when we finally find ourselves in that work.

Just like we each may have more than one trait or skill, God may have more than one calling for us; what I was called to do a decade ago has changed. And thinking about my paid work, there were times it felt like a perfect fit, and other times I was just getting a paycheck. But when I was in the zone, I knew it.

If I had my way, there’d be a big deal service for someone who lands in that job, the one that feels like they’re called to it. And by job, I don’t mean work in exchange for a paycheck. Some of the most important work we do is raise our children, care for our parents, or be caregiver. But it is Holy Labor to be sure. Taking some liberties with the ordination services in my tradition, here’s what we need. Imagine if your gathered community celebrated your Holy Labor like this. Your name goes here.

My brothers and sisters, every Christian is called to follow Jesus Christ, serving God the Father, through the power of the Holy Spirit. God now calls you to a special ministry of __________. In the name of Jesus Christ, you are to _______________, _______________, and __________.

You are to make Christ and his redemptive love known, by your word and example, to those among whom you live, and work, and worship, caring alike for the young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor. At all times, your life and teaching are to show Christ's people that in serving the _______ you are serving Christ himself.

To the gathered people:

Q Is it your will that first name be sent to do the Holy Labor of __________?

A: It is.

Q Will you uphold first name in their ministry?

A: We will.

To the person

Q: My brother/sister, do you believe you are called by God to do this Holy work?

A: I believe I am so called

Q: Will you be faithful in prayer, and in the reading and studying of Holy Scriptures?

A: I will

Q: Will you do your best to pattern your life in accordance with the teachings of Christ, so that you will be a wholesome example to the people?

A: I will

O God, most merciful Father, we praise you for sending your Son Jesus Christ, to live and work among us and to serve as a model. We praise you for the many ministries in your Church, and for calling this your servant as a ____________. Therefore, send your Holy Spirit to _______, and make them a ____________ in the world.

Dec 8 2021 Day 247 Matthew 7:1–8:34

Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you. For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who searches finds, and for everyone who knocks, the door will be opened.


This ought to feel comforting. This ought to give us confidence in God’s power and mercy. But this always makes me very conflicted, if not downright testy. Maybe it’s just me, but there have been numerous times in my life where I’ve asked, knocked, and sought, and it definitely did not feel like the door opened, I received, or I found.

I tend to be very stingy in my asks of God; I don’t want to impose, or ask for too much. That sounds ridiculous as I write it, but there it is. So when I do ask or seek, it’s generally for something big, or hard, or scary. Because of the magnitude of the ask, I absolutely remember when it feels like the door didn’t open, or I didn’t receive.

My loved one’s illness, for example. I have asked that they be healed. I’ve sought ways to comfort them while they’re in crisis. They haven’t been healed, and in the height of their crises, I am impotent, despite my prayers. So what to do with this pithy comment from Jesus? Seek and you will find, knock and the door will be answered. Hmph.

I could approach this as if my examples are proof of the statements’ errors or inaccuracies; by my selected experiments, I’ve disproved Jesus’ hypothesis. But if I’m a person of faith, that makes no sense. I have to believe that Jesus is likely more right than I am, that God didn’t likely get this wrong, so perhaps I did. If I hold Jesus’ statements as true, the problem is in my testing or my conclusions. (I know this isn’t a scientific proof, but sometimes that’s how my brain works). Now the hard work begins. I need to reevaluate the things I could have gotten wrong, that would disprove Jesus, and see where I’m in error.

The first option, which is certainly true is that I don’t ask and therefore don’t see all the hundreds of times when God does open the door for me. Even on the worst days, I lay my head on my pillow knowing I did my best, and that I have a lot to be thankful for. Even in my crazy, lead and asbestos filled house, I am very content and happy to be here. Even with an unexpected loss of employment and ministry, I am landing right where I need to be. When I don’t pray for these things, when I don’t ask God for a sense of peace, or for inspiration to write every morning, I don’t see all of the times I received, or the door opened. If I’m only intentional about God’s role in 1% of my seeking, I miss the 99% that’s proving Jesus words. Note to self, try to invoke God’s presence in more than just the 1%.

But even the 1% failure rate could disprove Jesus’ words, so what to do about them? I think these instances are problems in my understanding of God’s movement in my life. I’ve asked for peace and calm when my loved one is in crisis. While it might not come in their physiological crisis, upon reflection, the peace and calm absolutely come to me. I find that when I pray for them to be more calm and grounded, I am the one who becomes more calm and grounded. When I pray that job circumstances occur in a certain way so I’m useful in this world, I find that I discover I am useful in this world, even if my prescription of details were wrong. I seek one thing, and God delivers it, just not in the way I was anticipating. In a former life in local government management, I worked with City Councils who set policy, while I worked on the executive branch – the side that executed what the policy makers wanted. I frequently asked them, ‘you tell me what, I’ll tell you how’. I needed them to tell me what they wanted, and as the professional hired to execute their direction, I could best succeed if I figured out the best ‘how’. Perhaps this is the same with God. You tell me what, I’ll tell you how. “God, grant this situation peace and calm.” And I should stop there. God doesn’t really need me dictating how. Perhaps I should leave that to God.

Dec 7 2021 Day 246 Matthew 6

So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.



I love this. Worry is something I think we all do. And for me, I generally worry about things that have yet to occur, whether it might occur tomorrow, next week, or later today. But if we take Jesus’ words to heart, we need not worry about tomorrow or next week. Today brings its own troubles. I’d even argue that we don’t need to worry about this afternoon’s troubles, either. This very moment, right now, is all we have.

If I think about this present moment, rarely am I worried about right now. Worry tends to creep in when I project possibilities based on now, into the future. Right now, nearly always, is just fine.

My loved one is continuing to make less than stellar choices. And right now, I’m happy and not worried. It’s only when I catastrophize about what might happen as a result of today’s choices that I begin to worry. Yesterday, they helped us with a small house project, and we laughed and had a great time. When they left us, I was genuinely grateful for the time together. Worry creeps in when I think about the bad ‘what ifs’.

And in my house projects, we’re trying to figure out what to do with asbestos floor tiles, and lead paint. About shipping delays, and my non-existent kitchen. But right now, all is good with the world. Later today, I’ll caulk the shower enclosure, and head to the home improvement store to finalize countertop and flooring decision. And when I tackle the asbestos tiles, it will be fine. I’ll call some abatement places, schedule something, and it will be done. I have no doubt that when the time comes I’ll handle it with aplomb. Why worry about it now?

The accompanying reflection is from Henri Nouwen who reminds us that first Christ tells us not to worry, and second, that when we center our hearts in God’s, the other worries dissipate. This morning, I’m thinking about keeping my heart centered on God, and to let anything other this wonderful moment be a concern only when time passes, I’m dealing with whatever it is, and it becomes this wonderful moment.

Dec 5 2021 Day 245 Matthew 5:1–48

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Reading just one chapter from Matthew is packed with so much. The beatitudes, salt and light, and several “you have heard it said”. It was a brief reading, but took a while to get through because each little section has so much to think about.

After making the way through the Hebrew Scriptures, I’m struck by the beatitudes. Nearly each group that is called out as blessed, seems like an affront to the thinking I’ve just finished reading. The poor in spirit, those who mourn, the merciful, the peacemakers, those who are persecuted. I can’t cite chapter or verse, but I have the impression that the previous covenant focused on getting or having a healthy sprit, being happy, being stern, being victors, persecuting those who oppose you or God.

To be clear, I’ve always appreciated the Beatitudes as a nice summary of good, admirable, but not easy traits. And after reading Hebrew Scriptures, I’m struck by the contrast from Hebrew Scriptures they portray to what God seeks of me. I’m reminded of a conversation I was having with a female progressive rabbi friend. We were talking politicians whose policies we both found atrocious. I said something about forgiving the enemy. She responded that this was not her tradition’s belief. Christians introduced the whole ‘forgiveness’ thing. I was actually dumbstruck. She’s a lovely, caring person, who just has a different understanding of what God calls her to do and be.

I am not sure what to do with this impression. I don’t want to paint God of the Hebrew Scriptures as judgmental, or unforgiving. Clearly, there are numerous incidents of mercy and forgiveness. And I think the Beatitudes lays out clearly what Jesus is asking of us. And compared to the messages taught and known by Matthew’s fellow religious leaders and scribes, the Beatitudes may have been foundation-rocking.

This morning, I’m thinking about how different familiar passages sound to my ears, after having read my way through the Hebrew Scriptures. As a 21st Century Christian from the dominant culture, in a wealthy nation, I did not have the historical knowledge, cultural context or the family stories that would make Jesus’ messages so scandalous.

Dec 4 2021 Day 244 Matthew 3:1–4:25

And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”


I love this section of Matthew. It includes the appearance of John the Baptizer, Jesus’ baptism, the appearance of the Holy Spirit, the calling of the disciples and the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. We’re getting into more familiar territory with these readings, and I can remember reading these bits as I proclaim the Gospel, and struggled through writing sermons.

I often tried to put myself in the place of parts of this narrative. What if it was me who say the wild-eyed John the Baptist? Would I follow him? What if the Holy Spirit alighted on me, and a booming voice said “This is my beloved, with whom I am well pleased”. This is what we believe happens at baptism, without the booming voice. But the sentiment is there. You, dear reader, are God’s beloved, in whom God is well pleased. Love, love, love this.

The accompanied reflection is from Hildegard of Bingen, a mystic who I unsurprisingly struggle with. Her music and lyrics are haunting and beautiful, and her theological writings are harder for me to understand. She’s writing about the nature of the undivided, She writes, “Thus these Three Persons are one God in the one and perfect majesty of Divinity, and the unity of Their Divinity is unbreak-able”, and “It is the Father who begot the Son before the ages; the Son through whom all things were made by the Father when creatures were created; and the Holy Spirit who, in the like-ness of a dove, appeared at the baptism of the Son of God before the end of time.”

When I read about the Trinity, I’m reminded of Trinity Sunday, a day where my tradition celebrates the mystery of the Trinity. It’s a difficult Sunday to preach, because of the nature of the Trinity, which is hard to describe or compare to anything we can understand. I believe I’ve actually preached a few known heresies, without meaning to. I had a priest friend explain that one of the reasons we proclaim the Nicene Creed after the sermon is because it will right a multitude of sins that are unintentionally offered up in sermons.

What the Nicene Creed says about the Trinity is that we believe in one God the Father, one Lord, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life. Three persons, one God. Beyond that I cannot parse out the how or why, and I’m left only with acclaiming, Holy, Holy, Holy.

Having said all of that, I do experience the different persons of God differently. When I look out at a beautiful nature scene, I am aware of God the Father, maker of all things. When I cry or am moved by something or someone, I am aware of God the Holy Spirit, by whom we are sealed at baptism and claimed as God’s. And when I see the hurting or the lost, I see Jesus Christ, God incarnate in every person. I don’t know how it works. It is a mystery.

And on a lighter note, if you’ve never seen these funny videos, here’s a link to a video of two Irish guys trying to get St. Patrick to explain the Trinity, and instead keeps professing heresies (which I’ve used in sermons… ugh..). https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQLfgaUoQCw

This morning, I’m thinking about the mystery of the Holy Trinity, and grateful this is one place where I don’t even try to explain or understand. Holy. Holy. Holy.

Dec 3 2021 Day 243 Matthew 1:1–2:23

 "..and they shall name him Emmanuel,” 

I am grateful to be in the New Testament, although I’m very glad to have actually read the Hebrew Scriptures from Genesis 1 through Malachi 4. And I’m very glad to be through it. I need a break from all of the bad things that God either caused or allowed to happen.

Except beginning with Matthew, it turns out that’s not just a trait from the Hebrew Scriptures. Within the first two chapters of Matthew, we have numerous accounts of God’s past and continued permissiveness about crummy things happening.

In the genealogy, we hear of the 42 generations from Abraham all the way to Jesus. Reading through the names, we are reminded of the horrid things that happened in God’s name – Abraham offering his son Isaac as a sacrifice, Jacob cheating his brother out of his inheritance, David having Uriah killed. And then there are the very few mothers mentioned or referred to in this lineage, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba. The genealogy of Jesus is probably like all of ours, a little shady in parts. And Matthew’s including this narration fixes Jesus in a long line of humanity including the good, the bad and the ugly. That’s just the quick recount of the Hebrew Scriptures part of Jesus’ story.

Continuing, we have Joseph betrothed to a teenage girl who it turns out is pregnant. He was going to ‘dismiss her quietly’, so as to not cause her shame. In a dream he was told to go ahead and marry her, and name the child Jesus. We’ve heard this part of the story enough times that we gloss over the hard things here. To be a teenage girl, unmarried and pregnant could have resulted in Mary’s death, or certainly Joseph’s abandonment of her. What a difficult position for both Mary and Joseph, that God put them in.

Then there’s Herod. He tries to use the wise men to lead him to this new threat to his kingship. Luckily God warned them about Herod’s plans, so they did not return to Herod as directed. Meanwhile, God warns Joseph of Herod’s dastardly plans so Joseph takes Mary and the infant Jesus to Egypt, a little over 400 miles. This would have been a very difficult journey by whatever means they had, for this young family. They were fleeing their country for fear of death – the very definition of refugees, and sanctuary seekers.

As if that wasn’t enough difficulty, God allowed Herod to order the execution of all infants under two years old, hoping to wipe out this unknown threat. In my tradition, we commemorate this day as the commemoration of the Holy Innocents, always on December 28. It’s always a bit of a downer, coming so quickly after the Feast of the Nativity, but it helps ground me in the darkness that persists.

After this Joseph takes his family back to Nazareth, still afraid of the Bethlehem drama. That would have been an equally challenging road trip for the young family.

And all of this happens in the first two chapters of Matthew. Bad things continue to happen, either at God’s direction, or with God’s permission. And yet there’s a difference, a difference that we attribute to Jesus’ victory over sin, evil and death. I’m reminded of something that happened at the memorial for Princess Diana. Being a good Anglican memorial, it was full of joyous music and peeling bells. A commentator asked why the service seemed happy, almost like a celebration. The response? We know how this story ends.

This sense of hope is repeated in the prayer that’s read for the commemoration of the Holy Innocents. It reads, “We remember today, O God, the slaughter of the holy innocents of Bethlehem by King Herod. Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord”

It ends with Jesus establishing the rule of justice, love and peace. Even in the sight of all of the horrible things that happens in this world, Jesus comes to remind us that in the end, God wins. Love wins. I am eternally grateful for being reminded how the story ends.

Dec 1 2021 Day 242 Malachi 3:1–4:6

For I the LORD do not change


An interesting way to conclude what we consider the Old Testament, at least for my possibly heretical thoughts about the God of the Old Testament. I have struggled with the smiting, destroying, forgiving, angry, covenant-breaking, first-born-destroying, promise-making God. If God is unchanging, or immutable, is that the God that comes forward in the person of Jesus Christ?

The commentary is from A. W. Tozer, who suggests that of course God cannot change, because of the very nature of change. A person changes 1) for the better, 2) for the worse 3) as a part of their inherent nature, like a child changes into an adult, or a caterpillar changes into a butterfly. Tozer suggests that God, always perfect, wouldn’t change from better to worse or vice versa, and that God’s nature is perfect so God doesn’t need to change from one form to another.

I wholly agree that God wouldn’t change from better to worse, or get better over time. God was perfect in the Hebrew Scriptures. I believe there is some document heresy about God’s form changing, that God the Son is somehow different than God the Father. Perhaps it’s because perfection is perfection is perfection. It’s a constant state, beyond our understanding. I’m way out of my theological depths now, so I’ll stop.

If Malachi’s prophecy and words from God are truly words from God, and Tozer is correct, God does not change. And if that’s true, I’m left with another way to understand Hebrew Scripture.

All of the Scriptures were written by humans. Some were recounting what they observed, some recounting what they were told by others, and still others were recounting what they understand God told them. I’ve heard that every time we recall a memory, we actually write over the part of our brain’s hard drive that stores that memory, with new information. When we go back to recall that memory again, it includes parts of the story that we modified in its last telling. Eventually our memories can be very vivid, very real, and very different than the actual original event.

As a people of oral history, I’m certain this happened to the writers of the Hebrew Scripture. Memories changed, parts were added and deleted – not intentionally, but just as the nature of recalling memories and telling stories. I also suspect that a people of the exodus and exile, there was a lot of anger and frustration about their understanding of God’s protection of them. The psalms accurately reflect a lot of fist waving at God.

Do I believe God offers judgment? Absolutely. Do I believe God does things to hurt people? I don’t think I do. Rather, I think bad things happen in this world, some of our own doing and some of other people’s doing. God does not always intervene, although sometimes God does intervene. When there’s no heavenly intervention, God is still with us, God still loves us, and we will come through the trial with God by our side. Perhaps there’s something to learn, or restore, or forgive, embedded in the trial. God can let bad things happen, but God doesn’t cause them. When God intervenes, I don’t believe it’s a function of the loudness or frequency of our prayers, the importance of the pray-er, or the scale of the problem. In my tradition, every church, every Sunday prays for the nation and its leaders. I don’t believe that President Biden is favored by God any more than the recipient of one person’s prayers.

As I wrap up the walk through the Old Testament, I’m struck by my conflicted thoughts about the God of the Old Testament. My growing edge and the place I need to keep praying and thinking, is about a God which is smiting, destroying, forgiving, angry, covenant-breaking, first-born-destroying, promise-making God. I’m not sure what I do believe, other than God is love, and that’s the lens through which I will always read scripture.

Nov 30 2021 Day 241 Malachi 1:1–2:17

Try presenting that to your governor; will he be pleased with you or show you favor? says

Malachi is prophesying to an apathetic people. A century after the Temple has been completed, the people have stopped tithing, and are not worshipping as they should, and the priests are causing people trouble by the priests’ instruction. The people are also making imperfect animal sacrifices.

As a culture that does not offer animals to demonstrate our dedication and sacrifice, the notion of imperfect or blemished animals is foreign, to say the least. But God suggests that the people take their blemished and imperfect animal sacrifices to the governor, and rhetorically asks will those sacrifices be pleasing. This I understand.

In a very worldly sense, we do this all the time. We weigh the likely outcome, and offer a sacrifice appropriate for that outcome. For example, it’s amazing what kinds of expired, nasty food is donated to food banks. It’s hardly a sacrifice, when the offering to the food bank is what you wouldn’t feed your own family; it’s more like a great way to clean out the pantry. If the king, bishop or governor were to come over for dinner, would that be what they were offered? Of course not. We’d make up a fine meal, with the freshest ingredients. We’d make an offering based on the perceived value of the recipient.

The same goes with clothing donations. I understand that Africa is drowning in our crappy donations. One headline reads, Why Africa is Drowning in our Clothing Waste. These are clothes we would no longer dress our kids in so we donate them. To be clear, I understand there is great need. I am just not sure they need our junky food or clothing.

Finally, the same is true with our money and time. We offer our time and money to all sorts of things before we determine what we have left over for God’s work.

In the case of Malachi’s prophecy, God was saying that the people would not offer the blemished animal to a governor, why would they offer it to God? If our offerings match the perceived value of the recipient or reward we receive in its offering, why would hungry or impoverished neighbors get less than we’d offer a governor? More importantly, why would God get less?

This morning, I’m thinking about how my choices about my time and treasure reflect my implicit and invisible values about the beneficiaries of those choices. My neighbors are no less worthy than my family. Strangers are no less worthy than the president. God is no less worthy than anyone.

Nov 29 2021 Day 240 Zechariah 10:1–14:21

Though I scattered them among the nations, yet in far countries they shall remember me, and they shall rear their children and return.



This section of Zechariah is full of more doom and gloom, breaking covenants, and protecting God’s chosen. God will scatter the people, but even then, the people will remember God. There’s something oddly touching about this. In Zechariah’s prophecy, God scatters the people. But even scattered, God provides the faith and connection for the people that they remember God. This reminds me of the parent who sends their child to their bedroom, but yet loves the child enough to come running if something is amiss. God scatters the people, or God permits captors, or God allows false prophets to lead people astray. But God still loves the people, and gives the people faith and a memory of God. I’m still not entirely comfortable with a God who smites and breaks covenants, but I have a slightly warmer thought about a God who punishes as a loving parent does.

The accompanying reflection today is from Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Life Together, a classic book about Christian community. He wrote that Christ came with the express purpose of bringing peace to God’s enemies. True, Christ had disciples, but in the end they all abandoned him, and he died amongst criminals and the jeering crowds. He writes, “So Christians belong not in the seclusion of a cloistered life, but in the midst of enemies. There they find their mission, their work.” God’s people must live in the midst of enemies, but it’s there they can be the seeds of God’s kingdom, he writes.

Later this week, I’ll meet with the Bishop of the Diocese of Pittsburgh to explore my next ministry call. I live right across the street from a beautiful old church to which I could be assigned. Unfortunately, it’s a community that feels like it’s on hospice, both by their actions and the situation in which they find themselves. During the steel mill heyday, it was an affluent church, probably comprised of those benefiting from the mill, rather than those being exploited by the mill. It’s a building that probably seats 300, and now, there’s a regular group of about 6 that gather. This, by itself wouldn’t be as telling as the attitude of the 6, who lock the doors when service begins, and don’t want to use any form of signage or media to let people know of their ministry. Having said that, they do incredible ministry in the community.

The community has changed around them, and they haven’t.

They are absolutely like a flock that’s been scattered. This is a fantastic mission field. And I’m unsure of their interest or ability to do the hard work to be God’s people in this tired, worn down, and sooty town. I’ve been thinking about this place as I prepare for the meeting with the Bishop. This morning’s readings give me pause, and cause me to think about this place in a new light. Regardless of where I’m assigned, I live in this community and will minister in this community, and that is exciting.

Nov 28 2021 Day 239 Zechariah 5:1–9:17



Lo, your king comes to you; … and he shall command peace to the nations



Today my tradition celebrates as the first Sunday in Advent. There will be three more Sundays of Advent, and then comes Christmas. Advent is a season to prepare, to really think about what Emmanuel means – God with us.

It’s wholly fitting that this is the section of Scripture I came to today. The King comes to you, and he shall command peace to the nations. Here in the US, we don’t have much positive experience with Kings. Our revolt against King George III is what founded this nation. The notion of being ruled by one monarch seems antiquated, and sometimes dangerous. So to read that our king is coming is a foreign abstract notion.

Kings rule. They govern. They manage nations. They set policies, set priorities, and carry out what’s needed for the people they govern. To use the term “King” implies a civil leader, a mundane leader, similar to a city manager or governor, perhaps with a crown.

To use the term “King” probably suggested just another ruler, to a people who’d had a history of good and horrible kings. To me, however, who has no experience with a civil leader king, King takes on a sacred note, because it’s mostly only in scripture that I encounter the concept of a coming king. But maybe I’m confusing my scriptural reading with the original notion of a coming king. All of this is made easier to mix up because of my inexperience with monarchs.

Maybe if we think of the coming king as a civil govern-er, the coming of Christ the King is all the more exciting. Christ the King is a govern-er, but Christ governs from a place of peace and mercy, rather than power and fear.

Christ the King is coming. Christ the King will rule the nations with peace. Christ the King is Emmanuel.

Nov 27 2021 Day 238 Zechariah 1:1–4:14

Then the angel who talked with me answered me, “Do you not know what these are?” I said, “No, my lord.”


Zechariah, a man after my own heart. He has multiple visions involving myrtle trees, horns, blacksmiths, a measuring line, Satan, olive trees, a seven faceted stone, and a golden pipe. After each vision, the angel asks him what he sees, and he describes it in terms I’d use – an olive tree, a measuring line – tangible things. “Do you not know what these are? No, my lord”. That would be me. And honestly, after each description, I’m not sure that I understood what the symbols are. I wonder if Zechariah did, or if he just thought, “holy, holy holy. God is a wonderful mystery.”

Like Zechariah’s question, I wonder sometimes what things in my life are. What are these trials, or coincidences, or changes in my life? If someone asked, I’d likely admit that no, I don’t know or understand, but that God is a wonderful mystery. I think often of the story of the blindfolded people who each grasp a different part of the elephant. One thinks it’s a rope, another a wall, another a tree. Each only understand a small part, based on what they can touch and sense. I think I go through life like that, blindfolded, or at least only able to grasp what’s immediately in front of me. I often think I have the whole picture, but I’m sure I’m just grasping the tail, trying to convince everyone that it’s a rope. Only God can see the whole thing. Only God knows what things mean, or why things happen in the order or timing that they do. Only God can see the elephant.

The accompanying reflection is from Brennan Manning, and focuses on a blind, and uncompromising trust in God. He offers a prayer that I’d like to memorize.

“Abba, into your hands I entrust my body, mind, and spirit and this entire day—morning, afternoon, evening, and night. Whatever you want of me, I want of me, falling into you and trusting in you in the midst of my life. Into your heart I entrust my heart, feeble, distracted, insecure, uncertain. Abba, unto you I abandon myself in Jesus our Lord. Amen.”

I don’t understand the visions Zechariah was shown. I don’t always understand what’s happening in my world. This morning, I’m thinking about entrusting my body, mind and spirit for this entire day into God’s hands.

Nov 26 2021 Day 237 Haggai 1-2

Is it a time for you yourselves to live in your paneled houses, while this house lies in ruins?



Haggai is a small book, only two chapters. And I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it quoted. That, I believe is a shame, as it’s incredibly poignant, especially during these times.

The people of Israel are returning from their time in exile. When they return, apparently they are all busy fixing their own homes, while God’s temple is in ruins. Again and again, God asks the people, “Consider how you have fared.” God’s effectively reminding the people that despite their work on their own homes, because they’ve neglected God’s house, things haven’t fared so well. God’s temple was seen as THE place to encounter God, so to neglect its rebuilding, is to neglect their relationship with God.

Haggai is a book about priorities, about the things we put ahead of God and our relationship with God. I’m sitting in a room that used to have 50+ year old carpet, coal dust covered walls, and cracks in the ceiling. Now it’s painted, the carpet’s gone, and the cracks are covered. Meanwhile, I look out my window at several church buildings, all in various states of disrepair. The one directly in my vision is my own denomination, and there are big rocks that have fallen out and are covered with a blue tarp. I see that blue tarp dozens of times a day. All of these buildings are beautiful, or at least they were at one point. And now, they’re lying in ruins while my home is slowly getting repaired.

I’m not suggesting I shouldn’t be resurrecting this old house, but given Haggai’s prophecy, it’s a little unnerving, how close it is to my reality.

And I don’t think Haggai should be understood to be relevant only in home repairs versus church repairs; that’s just how I relate this morning. The bigger, more universal issue is how do we prioritize, and where is God in those priorities. What are the things that I prioritize above God, and my relationship with God?

For me, I’m pretty good at carving time out of my day to think about and prioritize God. Part of that is because I make public commitments that I then must keep, like writing daily (or nearly daily). Without those public commitments, I probably would have given up. I’m also the person who does better with some external accountability at the gym! Making those commitments that I want to keep anyway is an effective way for me to make and hold time for God.

I’m not as good at prioritizing God outside of those times. Once I’m done with my God-time, I move on to paneling my house, using Haggai’s language. I’m also not so good at reviewing the way my days are set up, to make sure that the way I spend time with God is right for me now. Do I need to be doing something different? Something more? Something more organic? These questions rarely get asked, because once I’m done with my God-time, I’m into whatever comes next.

This morning, I’m thinking about the rocks on the sidewalk across the street. When I see them dozens of times a day, perhaps I can use that as a prompt to help me think about my priorities.